3. Lil’ Bo Peep & Brickly
Three
Lil’ Bo Peep & Brickly
brICK
“I’m tellin’ y’all niggas! I saw my life flash before my eyes! The only reason I’m still here today is because the nigga must have got the gun off Shein or some shit!” I busted out laughing at Kilo’s goofy ass.
“Nigga, what you mean?” I knew better, but I had to ask.
“The gun was cheap as fuck! Muhfucka literally said ‘pew-pew’ and the bullets shot crooked. I ain’t never seen no shit like that before,” he continued with half of a hot honey lemon pepper wing hanging from his mouth.
“Nigga, you lyin’!” his best friend Drew said with a half smile.
That nigga was one of the most stoic people I’d ever met, only coming in second to Pistol’s mean ass.
Since Drew married his girl, Luv, and they had a baby on the way, he had lightened up a little.
Still, if you looked at him too long while he was smiling, he would start knockin’ shit over.
He was cool though—never had much family growing up, and he and Kilo locked in young.
That automatically made him a member of our dysfunctional ass family.
“I ain’t. Y’all niggas tryna’ ride with me to get this lick back though?”
“Lick back for what? You just said the nigga missed,” Drew said, looking at him in disbelief.
“Yeah but pulling a gun on a nigga like me is a death sentence. You rollin’?”
“Nigga, fuck no. My girl would kill me if I got shot out there fuckin’ with yo goofy ass.
That man should have shot the fuck out of you!
I would have shot the fuck out of you—and I wouldn’t have missed!
” Drew rolled his eyes, knowing damn well if my brother truly needed him, he would be ten toes down.
“His wife offered to suck my shit off! If he wanna be mad at anybody, he need to be mad at that bitch! Ima hang that bitch-ass muhfucka from the ceiling by his ball sack,” Kilo mumbled.
“Nigga, what?” Drew asked.
“Nothin’! Muhfucka, is you riding or not?” Kilo asked.
“Don’t pull up on that nigga,” I scolded. “We got enough eyes on us from that bullshit you did last week. Sit yo’ silly ass back.” Kilo was always runnin’ off and doing some erratic shit that left me cleaning up his fuckin’ mess.
“Ugh!” He looked at me in disgust. “You stay preaching like you so calm and collected, but when you get mad, yo’ ass turn up worse than me. Since you hit your thirties, you been a lame ass nigga! You used to be the first one to wanna blow some shit up!”
“It’s called growing up, bitch-nigga. I hope once your nuts drop, you will too.” I said, earning another small chuckle out of Drew.
“Nigga, fuck you!” Kilo spat.
As if she felt I was having a good day, Kalida West decided to ruin it. She had been uncharacteristically quiet the last week, but I knew that was about to change.
Ma
I need you to pull up to this address @ 6
For what?
Ma
Did I ask you to question me, or did I ask you to come to this address, nigga?
You didn’t ask me anything.
Ma
I’ma ASK you if you want the left or right cheek when I shoot yo’ silly ass. Keep playin’ with me!
I’ll see you at 6.
“Now what’s wrong with you?” Kilo teased.
“Yo’ fuckin’ Mama! She gets on my damn nerves with her bossy ass.”
“I bet you won’t say that to her face though!”
“You damn right! She’s crazy as hell!” I had to laugh.
Each of us went through that phase when a lil’ nigga started smelling’ himself and thought he could buck up to his parents.
In each instance, Ma put us on our asses, and we all had the scars to show for it.
Why any of us thought we could do something with that lady was beyond me.
She had the hardest niggas in the city pissin’ on themselves when she walked in the room.
It didn’t matter though, if somebody tried to touch her crazy ass, we were putting them in the ground. If we didn’t do it, her right hand, Main, would handle them. He was an OG and was best friends with our pops. When he died, Main made it his mission to take care of us.
“What she want?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She wants me to meet her somewhere. You know yo’ mama fuckin’ crazy!” I spat, checking my phone as another notification came in.
Ma
Nigga you better not be talkin’ shit about me!
I shuddered and put my phone back in my pocket, leaving her on read before returning to my blunt.
I had a few hours to relax before I had to deal with whatever hell Ma planned to throw at me.
Technically, I was working, but as the owner of Dreams, the hottest strip club in The Sleigh, a nigga could make money in his sleep—and I did.
When Ma came to me after college and offered me my own business, I knew without question that I wanted a strip club.
Pussy sells, but the illusion of pussy was a fucking goldmine.
Niggas flocked from all over the state just to pay for a peek of pussy they would never even get to sniff, and I had some of the baddest girls in the country.
“Aight nigga, we gone,” Kilo said as he and Drew stood to dap me up.
The two of them had stopped by to grab lunch before they went back to work.
Kilo branched out and started a grow house, and Drew owned a dispensary in his shopping center.
I respected the fact that Kilo used his resources to put Drew on and give him a legit hustle.
Where we were damn near spoiled from birth, Drew had seen some shit being in the streets his whole life.
Much to my dismay, the next seven hours flew the fuck by. Before I knew it, I was pulling up to a huge, two-story house with a ridiculously manicured lawn complete with a ginormous fountain with baby angels and shit.
“Where the fuck does this lady have me?” I mumbled to myself as I climbed out of my new Bugatti. I had just got her, and she was my pride and joy. I locked up and noticed Ma’s black Maybach pull up next to me. Main quickly parked and hopped out to open the door for her before turning to greet me.
“What’s good lil’ nigga?” he teased.
“Not shit. How you doin’ old nigga?” I joked back.
Main was the closest thing we had to a father figure and helped Ma raise us.
He was the one who taught us how to piss standing up, shoot, and all the other shit that turned lil’ boys into niggas.
He taught us everything but how to fight—Ma taught us that.
We exchanged niceties before I turned and stepped over to greet my mother.
“So, what’s this about?” I asked.
“Remember our deal?” she asked with a sickly sweet smile on her face.
“What deal?” I frowned up, genuinely trying to remember which deal with the devil that I needed to pay up on this time.
“I have a venue set for your wedding in six weeks, Brick. Will there be a bride present?”
“Ma,” I huffed. “That’s what this is about? No, there won’t be one.”
“Perfect,” she chided. “Follow me.” She didn’t say another word as she turned and swished her way to the front door. I swore that woman always had a built-in Beyoncé fan because it wasn’t even windy, so there was no reason for her hair to be blowing like it was.
“The fuck is she talkin’ bout?” I asked Main, who gave me a nonchalant shrug as we walked up the steps—ten steps to be exact, with a different commandment engraved on each one.
If that wasn’t enough, the huge double front doors had big stained-glass windows with “Blessed are all that enter,” etched on top.
“Nigga, is this a cult?” I whispered to Main with wide eyes.
Again, he chuckled and looked off. I knew Ma was crazy as fuck, but if she tried to make me repay my debts by selling me to some weirdos, somebody was getting shot.
Main assumed his position in front and rang the doorbell as I took up the rear.
“Good evening,” a voice boomed as the door swung open. “Welcome to my home.” We walked into the foyer and were greeted by an older couple, both dressed in their Sunday’s Best at 6 p.m. on a gotdamn Tuesday.
“Coop,” Ma greeted as she looked him up and down in disgust. The woman next to him looked like she wanted to say something but knew better.
“This is my oldest, Brick… and you know Main,” she said, nodding her head back as Main stood there like top flight security.
He would joke with us in private, but around anyone else, it was strictly business.
“Reverend Isaac William Cooper II of Endless Prosperity Church of God in Christ, and this is my wife, Sarah,” he said, treating his wife like an afterthought. Hell, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there anyways, so I guess it made sense.
What the fuck kinda name is that for a church? Sounds more like a fuckin’ MLM company.
“Brick,” I said, shaking his hand awkwardly. “So, you go by Coop?”
“I absolutely do not,” he shot back, giving Ma an ugly glare that she completely ignored.
“Aight then, Coop. So, can I ask what this is about?” I blurted out, unable to stand the suspense anymore.
“Your mother didn’t tell you?”
“All she told me was that I needed to meet her here.”
“Well… Your mother and I are business partners,” he started. I knew the nigga was shady. All the flashy religion had to be a front, because anyone in business with my Mama had to be straight from hell.
“He owes me money. His church is one of the businesses that I use to wash, and the motherfucker has been skimming off the top for the past year. Unluckily for him, I came to collect,” Ma corrected, looking down at her nails like we were boring her.
“You knew?” he asked, cutting his eyes at her. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“She was waiting on the shit to add up,” I said with a shrug.
“Like when Walmart lets you keep comin’ in to steal until you hit that certain threshold.
Consider this your felony.” Common sense, she gave the nigga enough rope to hang himself, and he did just that.
I looked at them to continue because I still couldn’t figure out how I fit in this equation.
“A-and… In order to keep our business relationship solid, we struck up a deal. She told me about your situation.”
“My situation?” I frowned.