CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Present Day
Sosa
The first thing I did when I walked in the back door was slide my arm around Yah-Yah ’s waist, lean down, and kiss that pretty ass mouth of hers before she could start nagging a nigga. She still tasted like whatever lip gloss she had on, and it was sweet and sticky.
“You mad at me?” I asked, grinning because I already knew the answer.
“Mad as fuck, you stay not answering that damn phone,” she shot back, still stirring her pot like she was tryna murder the macaroni.
“And where the hell the ribs at?”
“I told you I handled it bae” I said, smacking her ass before she could go off. “I ordered from I-57 rib house, Zurie’s picking them up for me.”
She side-eyed me. “Mhmm.”
I kissed her forehead. “You look too fucking fine to be mad right now. Chill, I got something for you later on. Let me go holla at the guys.” I told her while smacking her ass, it jiggled slightly and I loved that shit. She smacked her lips which caused me to laugh.
When I stepped back out, the yard was thick with my people.
We had our monthly meetings here. It was safe enough and familiar enough, but today I didn’t know why but shit felt different.
The freight train lick we pulled last week; shit went perfect.
No heat came back on us and there were no witnesses.
We’d hit a shipment loaded with Louis Vuitton and Gucci luggage sets, Rolexes, Cartier bracelets, iPads, MacBooks, and limited-edition sneakers straight from the manufacturer.
Shit you could flip for damn near retail if you had the right fence.
After the split, each man was looking at a piece of six figures.
The crew was posted under the canopy, plates piled with food, liquor bottles sweating in the sun. My lil man was still tearing through the grass with his truck, Trigg keeping loose watch, talking shit with a couple of the fellas.
I stepped up, in front of them niggas, with my voice on full bass.
So muthafuckas could hear me clearly.
“Aight listen up y’all… y’all niggas happy right now, I see it on your faces. But listen, don’t get stupid with this shit. I don’t wanna see no fifty-thousand-dollar watches on your wrist by next week, no iced-out grillz like you just signed a rap deal.” A couple niggas laughed but I didn’t.
“All that shit does is bring eyes on us. This shit in the streets is chess, not checkers. Y’all niggas don’t see me flossin’ every fucking dollar we touch, right, y’all don’t see my girl postin’ gucci bags and diamonds and shit on the internet right?
That’s why we’re still here. That’s why we haven’t been knocked yet, we move smart, and we spend quietly. ”
I paced a little, scanning the faces. They were listening, but not all of ‘em was hearing me. I caught Trigg grinning at something Sontae did, my boy had just “parked” his truck next to Trigg’s Timbs like it was a real garage. It was all good vibes… until it wasn’t.
POP! POP! POP!
Without warning gunfire cracked through the yard.
Screams erupted. Niggas dropped plates, flipping tables for cover.
The smell of gunpowder hit instantly, hot, and metallic in the air.
I spun toward the sound just in time to see two masked men storming the side gate.
one blasting wild shots, killing some of my crew with one bullet this nigga moved like a marksman, and the other masked up nigga was heading straight for my son.
“YO! GET MY SON!” I roared, charging forward with my gun out aiming straight for them niggas dome.
Trigg grabbed Sontae, trying to shield him, but the gunman fired. Boc!
Trigg dropped to his knees clutching his side. The second masked man ripped my boy out of Trigg’s arms like he weighed nothing.
I hit the dirt, bullets snapping past my ear. A third masked man appeared, covering them niggas with more shots, driving the crew back. Yah-Yah ’s screams were loud and panicked, and it cut through the chaos from the kitchen door.
“SOOOOSAAAAA!” hearing her yell my name broke something in me.
I was moving, but them niggas were faster.
The man holding Sontae turned, locking eyes with me for just a second and I saw in his eyes what mine held for years…
no fear. before he disappeared out the gate the bitch ass nigga smirked at me.
The black SUV waiting for them squealed off so hard the tires smoked.
I chased behind it, sending shots to the back of the truck.
But it didn’t stop them niggas from moving.
Moments later it was just silence. Just my ragged breathing, YahYah trying to break free from Mya’s grip, my mama frozen like she had just seen a ghost, and Trigg groaning in the grass, blood soaking through his shirt.
I wasn’t thinking about the police.
I wasn’t thinking about witnesses.
Somebody had just declared war… and they did it the dirtiest way possible. They took the one thing in this world I could never replace.
I couldn’t blame anybody for this shit but me. I made too many enemies in my past, I stacked grudges like bodies, and now I had to play with the devil. Whoever did this shit knew exactly how to reach me. They didn’t come for my money. They didn’t come for my empire.
They came for my son.
And in doing that, they ripped my heart straight out my chest.
* * *
One Week Later
The crib was a fucking tomb.
I sat on the couch staring at my phone like it was the only thing keeping me alive. Because right now, it was. Every second that passed without that call was another second my son was out there somewhere, scared, maybe hurt, maybe worse. And I was trying not to let myself think about worse.
The house still smelled like bbq and shit and it made me sick to my fucking stomach. It made me wanna burn the whole shit down.
Yah-Yah hadn't stopped crying in seven days.
Literally, she would just pass out from exhaustion, her face was swollen and wet every single day, even in her sleep she'd whimper.
She'd wake up calling for Sontae, forgetting for just a split second that he wasn't here, and then reality would crash back in and she'd break all over again.
I watched her now, curled up on the other end of the couch, her knees pulled to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her hair was wild, her shit hadn't been done since it happened. She was holding one of Sontae's shirts, holding it to her face, breathing him in.
"Baby, you gotta eat something," I said, my voice rough from not using it much. She didn't respond, she just kept rocking.
My mama had tried earlier, bringing her some homemade soup and crackers, but Yah-Yah threw the shit across the room, screaming that she didn't want food, she wanted her baby. My moms just cleaned it up, she didn’t have a smart ass remark or nothing.
Which was fucking rare for Shaunie. She knew Yah-Yah was hurting.
My crew had been hitting the streets hard, shaking down every snitch, every corner boy, every fucking person who might know something. Yatta had his ear to the ground. Draco and Mook was ready to burn the whole city down. But we had nothing. No leads. No witnesses.
Nobody knew shit, or if they did, they weren't talking.
Trigg was still recovering from getting shot. The bullet went clean through, but he was fucked up mentally. He blamed himself for not protecting Sontae. I told him it wasn't his fault, but I could see it eating him alive. Shit was eating all of us alive.
My phone buzzed and I snatched it up so fast I almost dropped it.
No Caller ID
My heart stopped. "Yah-Yah," I said, my voice tight.
She looked up, her eyes red and swollen, hope and terror both etched on her face.
I answered, putting it on speaker. "Who this?"
A voice came through, distorted and mechanical. They was using one of them voice changer apps.
"You know who this is, Sosa."
"Where the fuck is my son?" I said, my hand gripping the phone so hard it might crack.
"Relax. The boy is fine. For now."
Yah-Yah let out a sob, her hand covering her mouth.
"If you hurt my fucking son—"
"You ain't in no position to make threats, pussy ass nigga," the voice cut me off.
"If you want him back, it's gonna cost you."
"How much?" I said immediately. "Name the fucking price."
There was a pause, like they was enjoying this shit.
"Five million. Cash only pussy."
My jaw clenched. That was damn near everything I had liquid. The rest was tied up in product, property, shit I couldn't move fast. But I didn't give a fuck. They could have it all.
"I need proof of life," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to know he's alive and okay."
"You'll get your proof," the voice said. "But listen carefully. You got seventy-two hours to get the money together. No cops. No feds. No tricks. You try anything, and you'll get your son back in pieces. Understand?"
"I understand," I said, every word like swallowing glass.
"Good. We'll call you with the drop location. Keep your phone on."
The line went dead. I sat there, staring at the phone with my chest heaving. Five million. Seventy-two hours.
Yah-Yah was looking at me, her face desperate. "Sosa, please tell me you can get it. Please tell me you can bring our baby home."
"I'm gon’ get it," I said,
"I'm gon’ get every fucking dollar and I'm gonna bring our son home."
"Promise me, Bae" she sobbed, crawling over to me, grabbing my face with both hands.
I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tight as I could. "I promise, baby. I swear on everything, I'm bringing Sontae home."
She broke down completely, her whole body shaking with sobs. I held her, but inside I was already moving. Already calculating. I had money stashed in different places, I had product I could move quick, and I had connections that owed me favors.
Five million in seventy-two hours.