12. Asif

“I don’t know what half this shit is, but it’s good.” Free slurped on the oxtail as we sat inside of a Jamaican restaurant off Pico. The food was aight, but I’d actually had real Jamaican food, so the shit felt like going to Olive Garden for true Italian.

“Nigga, you flinging shit everywhere, and I’m ’bout to lose my fucking appetite.” Low frowned as I chuckled.

“You see me shielding my shit,” I said, guarding the small plate I’d gotten just to have something on my stomach.

“What’s up, y’all?” Milan strutted in off the street, dressed like she was about to be in a rapper’s music video.

“What’s good?” Free eyed her as she switched around the table to sit in the empty chair next to me.

“Why y’all so quiet now? Y’all was just laughing, joking, and everything.” She set her purse on the table.

“What you doing over here, Milan?” I asked, trying to ease the awkward ass moment.

I was annoyed like I usually was when it came to Milan. She was pretty and would do anything to make sure a nigga busted, but outside of that, she was like a gnat that never went a-fucking-way. Not to mention, she had no fucking couth or manners. Everything I’d explicitly told her not to do, like coming and kicking it with me and my niggas, she did it. Had she been my girl, the requests would remain the same, but the fact that she wasn’t made the shit even more irritating.

“I been texting and calling you, but you haven’t replied to me.”

“Aww damn, daddy , why you been ignoring Milan?” Free joked, and when I shot him a look, he and Low stopped snickering like schoolgirls.

Free was cool, but the nigga joked too often and was too old for the shit at twenty-eight. Low, I let him get a pass since he was much younger. Both knew how to get to work though, so the small shit, I could deal with.

“I been wanting to talk in person, but I haven’t had the time,” I spoke honestly.

“Well,” she huffed, “I been on social media all morning arguing with a bunch of hating ass hos.” She retrieved her phone from her purse as Free and Low got back to eating. My appetite was barely there and had now vanished completely.

“Why, Milan?” I asked dryly.

“This thirsty ass bitch… hold on.” She moved around on her phone, nails clacking against it. “This ho Frankie don’ made a whole page dedicated to Milan’s Fits claiming I’m a scammer and I don’t send people their shit.” She showed me the profile named after her online boutique.

“Did you send the shit?” Free quizzed.

“I’ve been busy! I don’t just sit in the house waiting for orders to come through! I have a life!” Milan ran off in reply.

When Low and Free started laughing with their high asses, Milan’s complexion reddened.

“Aye, let me holla at you outside,” I leaned and whispered into her ear.

“Okay.” She half smiled, mood improved just that quickly. Most niggas would love shit like that, but it scared a nigga to know I controlled her emotions. It made me wonder how she would react when I cut her ass off like Anastazia requested I do.

Initially, I wasn’t gon’ cut Milan off. I was just gon’ stop fucking with her, but I realized Milan was too on a nigga for that. She would do shit like this—pop up on me and act like all was well—if I tried to just ghost her. Therefore, I had to sit her down and actually tell her what the fuck was up to get the results I wanted, which was for her to move the fuck on.

We ventured outside of the restaurant, where I leaned up against the wall, watching the cars fly up and down Pico, throwing my hand up lazily to a few niggas who hung out their car windows just to speak to a nigga.

“Milan—”

“They love you.” She smiled, eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around my torso. “I do too.” She kissed my neck, knowing lips were off limits. “You think you can give some of my clothes from my shop to Yolani now that she’s basically your sister-in-law? Because if she posts a picture in one of my outfits, it will blow up.

“I don’t like them other bitches your brothers are with, too stuck-up and for no reason. I got a few homegirls that could snatch their husbands and have them looking like whodunit and why?” She giggled. “That’s crazy because Yolani should be the stuck-up one, not them hos. They don’t have as big of a following as she does anyway, so I wouldn’t dare give them none of my shit to?—”

“I can’t do that.” I cut her off so I wouldn’t tear my ears from my fucking head just to stop hearing her prattle on constantly.

“Why? Baby, this would really help me get my business off the ground and?—”

“Stop talking for a second, Milan, so I can say what the fuck I gotta say.” I removed her hands from being wrapped around me.

“Oh, right. Sorry, dad—baby.” Taking my hands, she simpered. “What did you wanna discuss?”

I regarded her for a minute, watching the way her face lit up as she nibbled on the corner of her lip like I was about to ask her to be my wife or some shit.

“I fuck with you, Milan, and you cool, but we gotta part ways for good.”

“What?” She stepped back from me, brows dipped as she threw my hands back to my sides. “No! No, I won’t let you do it this early!”

“You can’t control what I do.” I kept it calm, and I could see she was seething like a muthafucka as her eyes misted over.

“You haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself and be better than her!”

“That’s not possible. I told you before that I met somebody.” I stroked my beard, wondering how much a nigga should divulge after I’d already made it clear a minute ago. “I explained to you that I met somebody I fuck with on some real shit, and if I want it to go the distance, I can’t be messing with other females.”

“I cannot believe this shit,” she mumbled almost to herself.

“Milan, you know?—”

“That Stacy or Stazi bitch, really? I fucking hate her and her ugly ass sister!”

The stray toward Leeci was wild.

“Watch ya fucking mouth, and you know her name.” I straightened up a bit, towering over her. “It is Anastazia, you know that. Been told you that shit, but as usual, you hear what the fuck you want to. Going forward, I wanna pursue that shit full time, so we can’t fuck around.”

“Oh my goshhhh!” She hollered out, clearly jolting Free and Low inside because I heard the rickety wooden chairs they were sitting in screech as if they were about to reach for their heat. “You can’t do this to me, Sif! I have been here this whole time! How the fuck can you just move me out the way for a whole new woman!” She tried to wipe her nose, but it was a futile ass effort, as it continued to run along with her eyes.

Folding my arms, I watched Milan, unmoved.

“You knew from day one that this shit was a possibility. I been told you I wasn’t looking for nothing serious. I never promised you shit, love. On top of that, I been explained to you why you could never be my girl, and not only did you continue to do the shit, you acted like you fucking understood. I also told you if I met a woman I wanted, I would have to axe you. You said cool. I then told you when Anastazia gave me word, I was gon’ let you know and end our shit and again you acted like you comprehended that shit. So why you acting like this is mystifying to me.”

“I mean, yeah, I said that, but I didn’t think it was gonna happen this soon and for real! I thought over time, you would change your mind once I showed you a different side of me!”

“Lower ya voice and talk like you got some sense, Milan. You either gon’ speak like an adult, or we not gon’ continue this conversation that don’t even need to be a fucking conversation.”

She huffed, covering her face and shaking her head as she sobbed. This shit was partially my fault for going against my word and keeping her ass around, knowing she wasn’t retaining any of the shit I’d said to her no matter how much she claimed to. Nothing I said mattered so long as I was still dicking her down. So whether Anastazia wanted me to stop or not, I needed to.

“Please, daddy—baby. She doesn’t love you. I do. She is using you.”

“Using me for what?”

“For you! Who you are, what you have, how you look!”

I nodded, slipping my hands down into my pockets as I glanced off for a moment.

“Why you love me, Milan?”

“Because I do! I’ve never felt this way about any man. I can’t live without you, Sif.” She broke down some more.

“You love me, but you vie for attention from other niggas? You love me, but you go to my family functions and start shit with my sisters-in-law? I could go on all fucking day, Milan. You don’t love me. You love how it sounds coming out of ya mouth when you tell bitches you fuck with me. You like all the eyes and parted mouths staring in yo’ direction when you in a nigga’s lap.

“I’m sorry you fell in love, I am, but I kept shit real with you, and I won’t feel bad for doing exactly what I told you I was gon’ do.”

She hugged her shoulders, despite it being quite warm out as she looked down the street, makeup looking crazy as fuck by this point.

Turning her eyes onto me, she stepped closer and said lowly, “I won’t tell, Sif. You are too fine, too popping, and too rich to not have what you want. If you want us both, I’m with that.” She touched my chest. “Stazi will never know I’m still around. I know how to play my role and won’t slip.

“You deserve this. You work too hard to have to stick with one girl. That’s why I’ve always let you do you.” She hugged my body as I stared down into her face. “I won’t take anything away from you either. You can still have me in any position you want me in,” she whispered even lower, licking her lips. With the makeup running down her face, she looked off-kilter as a muthafucka.

Lowering my face to hers, I said, “No. Now go home so you won’t be crying in public.”

“Sif.”

“Let’s go.” I nodded toward her car, that I’d peeped parked along the curb, and started escorting her.

She began crying again but walked until we made it to her car, where I opened her driver’s side door for her. She slid in after some hesitation.

“I love you, baby. Please don’t do this.”

“Drive safe. Text me when you at yo’ destination so I can be sure.” I hated to tell her ass that, giving her hope, but I didn’t want her stupid ass crashing and killing herself over me.

“Okay.” She nodded.

I wasted no time walking back up onto the curb, ignoring the niggas who called my name out in the streets. Reentering Jamaican place, I saw Free’s and Low’s nosy asses looking like two dogs about to get some steaks.

“What happened?” Free asked, eyes bulged.

“Nothing, you gossiping ass niggas.”

As them niggas complained, mainly Free, I hoped that was the last time I saw Milan’s ass.

“South Memphis Rugrat” played in the big ass backyard of my parents’ place as the party had wound down.

Earlier was the seafood boil, but now niggas were stuffed, some were high, and others tipsy. I was all three, for sure, as I put a forkful of cherry pie Presley made into my mouth.

She could cook her ass off. Once, she made us all chicken tenders from scratch, and you would’ve thought the shit was gourmet by how all my high ass brothers and I were acting over them muthafuckas. I still thought about them things to this fucking day.

“Damn, Shakur’s wife got a sister?” Free quizzed.

“Nope. I already asked,” Low joked.

“What about a clone?” he continued, causing laughter.

“Hey, Free.” Banks walked by, coming in from dance rehearsal with her homegirl. “Hey, Low-Low.”

Free nodded to say what’s up.

“What I tell you ’bout that nickname?” Low smirked as Cemone, Lequay, and Shakur walked up.

“Well, I think it’s cute, and I’m gonna keep calling you that.” Banks smiled widely as my brothers and I watched the whole interaction go down.

“Take yo’ ass inside,” Cemone told her, brows furrowed as he sat down.

“You not my daddy, nigga!” Banks barked back, making Cemone reach for the Gucci belt he was wearing as Banks ran across the yard, calling for Lisara before entering the house.

None of us would get away with whupping Banks, normally because my father would press the issue about his baby girl, but if Cemone told him it was over her flirting with a grown ass man, he might just let the shit ride.

Like us, my pops didn’t play that shit and had made it clear Banks couldn’t date until she finished college. So I knew he would be irate at the thought of her making heart eyes at a twenty-one year old man and a dope boy at that. Shit, I would too. Only reason I was chill was because I knew Low and didn’t believe he’d cross a nigga like that. At least I hoped he wouldn’t, ’cause I’d kill him.

My brothers weren’t as well acquainted with him, though, so they didn’t have that luxury.

We were all laughing at his crazy ass, but Cemone’s face was still balled up.

Turning to Low, he said, “Aye, don’t let Banks get you into some shit, nigga.”

“I ain’t even on that, cuz.” Low shook his head as he looked at Cemone. The latter eyed him for a moment, Lequay and Shakur doing the same, like they didn’t believe him.

“He not. I know this nigga.” I spoke up for him, though I wasn’t happy at all with what had just gone down.

The small conversation between Banks and Low looked friendly as fuck. Same time, Low wasn’t exactly about to diss Banks in front of four of her damn brothers, and it looked more like a crush on Banks’ end than his.

“I’m twenty-one and she seventeen. I ain’t no pedophile.” Low frowned, and I knew his facial expressions enough to know he wasn’t bullshitting.

“Don’t forget it,” Shakur reminded him.

“Banks might as well be a nun,” Free joked, but nobody laughed because the moment was too tense.

This nigga needed to quit selling drugs and do standup because he never shut the fuck up, always trying to pull a laugh up out of muthafuckas.

We kicked it for a minute longer, but I could tell my brothers were making Low’s ass uncomfortable. They wouldn’t move around the backyard like normal, instead choosing to post up by him all night.

“I’ll be at the whip.” Low stood and dapped up me and my brothers. Cemone watched him as he obliged him.

“Y’all, chill out. Ain’t no fucking way I’d let that shit happen. Low’ll be in the ground before he and Banks can become cool,” I let them know.

“I know you’ll handle it,” Lequay said.

“How the fuck he get a nickname already then?” Shakur quizzed, clearly still bothered.

“Because that’s how Banks is. She out there and extroverted. But I can promise you that nigga ain’t spent no time with her. I’m gon’ keep it a buck though. She like him, it’s obvious, but you ain’t gotta worry about Low. Banks ain’t worth his life and his livelihood.”

Lequay and Cemone nodded, and eventually, Shakur accepted my response as well with a subtle head bob. All four of us were uncomfortable with that truth, the fact that baby sis had a crush on a nigga period.

I said bye to everybody else then left out to hop in the whip where Free and Low already were.

As soon as I pulled off, Free said, “Low, did you piss on yo’self?”

“Nigga, fuck you. Ain’t about being scared, it’s about respect. I got respect for Asif and his people, so I wasn’t about to get into it over some shit I’m not doing. Plus, I get it. If I had a little sister, I’d be the same way.”

“So you don’t think she fine?—”

“Aye!” I snapped, startling Free. He was leaning up from the back seat, head in between the two front seats of my Rolls Royce. However, my voice had jolted his ass to the back. “I bet not ever hear you speak on Banks like that again, cuz, or I swear to God, it’s gon’ be yo’ last.” I kept my eyes on the rearview so we could make eye contact.

“My bad, boss. It was a joke.”

“Quit fucking joking all the damn time. And Banks St. Thomas ain’t gon’ ever be on the fucking table for jokes. That goes for both you niggas.”

“My apologies, boss. You right.” Free nodded.

“I already knew that. That’s him.” Low rocked his head toward the back.

“Man, fuck you,” Free spat, making Low chuckle. “Aye, I want some more pie or some shit. I ain’t wanna eat up all the pie fine ass Presley made, have her husband thinking I wanna smash or some shit. It don’t take much for Sif’s brothers to wanna act up.”

“You do wanna smash though,” Low quipped.

“So! That nigga don’t need to know that, and ain’t like it’ll ever happen. A nigga can fantasize, right?” Free said. “Shit she pretty, thick, and can cook like she been through some shit. Of course I wanna smash.”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” I chuckled, though I didn’t want to. That nigga was crazy.

“I’m gon’ tell Shakur next time I see him,” Low jested, smirking as he inhaled on the blunt he’d been saving.

“See, then I’m gon’ have to shoot boss’s brother ’cause I’m not fighting that big ass nigga. I also ain’t going out like a bitch by running. Plus, he’d catch me anyway. Then his wife gon’ know I killed her husband and definitely won’t let me give her some mourning dick.”

“Please shut the fuck up,” I said, coming to a red light as Low jokingly argued with Free’s logic.

I pulled up into the parking lot of Randy’s Donuts off Manchester, hopping out and trying to tune out Low and Free’s stupid ass conversation as we approached the window.

I placed my order, then waved for them niggas to do the same so I could pay, before taking my phone out.

Me: I miss you.

Anastazia: I miss you too.

She was typing more as them niggas ordered, but I didn’t get a chance to see, as shots rang out. Dropping my phone in effort to grab my heat, I whipped around at the same time I got hit in the side, to let off shots. Low and Free joined in as people around screamed, swerved out their lanes, or ran for cover while the all-black Dodge Challenger shot back.

“Fuck!” I barked, not even caring that a nigga had been hit but that them stupid muthafuckas were able to slide onto the 405 before I could cap their asses.

The angle, the fact that they were speeding, and me attempting not to hit other cars with a bullet fucked everything up.

“Boss, you bleeding.” Free’s eyes bulged at the crimson spreading across my shirt.

It was like as soon as he said it, pain shot through me.

“Call, Stazi,” I said, limping to the car.

Free rushed to open my driver’s side door for me as Low did what I said while hopping into the vehicle as well.

“She coming. Maybe you should let me drive,” Low suggested, but I shook my head as I floored the gas out of the small lot.

The pain was searing, and it seemed like it was taking fucking forever for me to get to the warehouse, despite the lack of fucking traffic. It wasn’t until right when I pulled onto the dirt lot of the warehouse that I started to feel weak, thankfully.

Low and Free hurried from the car to help me out, yelling for the niggas inside to get out of the way. I felt like I was about to pass out as I listened to all of the fucking commotion, but as soon as I got to the medical room where pretty ass Anastazia was, I felt like shit wasn’t so bad.

It was crazy she had that effect on a nigga. Being around Anastazia gave you the same fucking feeling you got when you just had a good ass day and knew when you got home, yo’ favorite movie was waiting for you to be watched. A reminder that life was straight, and shit wasn’t so bad.

“’Sup, beautiful.” I smiled at her as the homies helped me to a bed.

“Hi.” She attempted to put me at ease, but I could see the worry as she peered over me as I lay down.

“You smell so fucking good,” I admitted, and she again gave me that same uncomfortable smile as I felt her soft hands lift my shirt.

“Asif, seriously.” She sucked her teeth as Low and Free guffawed at the fact that my dick was hard already, threatening to tear through my sweats. Her hands on my body overpowered the fucking pain a nigga was in.

“Warn us next time, nigga! I ain’t wanna see that!” Free shouted as Low cracked up.

“My bad.” I smirked at Anastazia. “Aye, y’all, get the fuck out!” I barked at Low and Free, as they took their chortling asses on.

“I can barely focus with that thing like that,” she commented, gathering all of her shit.

I just admired her as she stayed focused, face all serious. She could’ve been about to poison a nigga, and I wouldn’t even know right now.

“I’ll try to make him go down, but no promises.” I was delirious from all the blood loss, and that, mixed with the high this girl gave me, had me on one.

Staring me in the eye, she smiled and said, “Count to twenty for me, freaky ass,” before placing an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.

Laughing, I started but only made it to five before I passed out.

Opening my eyes, I felt a tightness in my side, reminding me of what the fuck had happened. I was much more clearheaded though, mind on one thousand trying to remember if I knew of anybody associated with that fucking Dodge Challenger.

“Feeling better?” Anastazia asked.

“Little bit, but why the fuck you knock me out?” I asked, watching her saunter over with a water pitcher.

“So I could remove the bullet and sew you up.”

“All I needed was some whiskey, and I would’ve been good,” I explained.

“You’ve let someone sew you up and remove a bullet while awake and with no medication?”

“Both times I got hit.” I nodded, taking the cup of water and sipping it. “I don’t need that other shit you muthafuckas be using on people.”

“Well, I will know for next time. How does it feel?”

“Tight and sore.” I touched my abdomen lightly, feeling the thick ass gauze.

“Did you want some medication?”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’m good. I got some whiskey in that locker though. Hand me that.”

“Alright, well I’m happy you are good.” She did as I’d asked. “You did lose a nice amount of blood, but you’re fine.” She rubbed my hair before kissing me slowly. “I will check on your vitals in a second.” She started off, but I grabbed her hand.

“Nah, don’t leave me.”

Simpering, she said, “I was just gonna clean up a little. You attached to me already?”

“I am.” I nodded. She giggled as her cheeks turned a little red underneath her brown skin. “Lay down with me.”

“It’s too small?—”

“Come here.” I tugged her, and she relented, removing her shoes first before lying next to me, smiling. I gulped some of the alcohol as she stared up at me, head on my chest.

“I hate the smell of alcohol.” She turned up her cute ass nose as I chuckled.

“So can a nigga get a kiss still?”

“Is that appropriate for a patient?”

“Absolutely.” I nodded. “Only way I’m gon’ heal is if we kiss.” I pecked her as she smiled against my mouth.

Placing her hand on the side of my face, she pressed her lips to mine before we parted our mouths to introduce tongue.

Like usual, my dick hardened immediately as I moved the blanket she’d laid on me out of the way. Her scent, soft ass hair and lips, and the way her body felt under my hands didn’t help my situation even a little bit.

I wanted to fuck this girl so bad I could feel it. Anastazia had some wet shit between her legs, and the way it hugged a nigga’s fingers the few times I’d been able to feel it, I knew the shit was fire.

“Ah.” I winced in pain as I tried putting her on her back.

“Okay, enough of the fun stuff.” She moved out of the bed before I could grab her ass.

Taking another gulp of the liquor to ease the pain and tightness in my side, I shifted in the bed as Anastazia covered me with the blanket.

“I ain’t staying here. I gotta get to the crib and handle some shit.” I tossed it back off.

“Asif, no. You need to rest?—”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead. Right now, I need to figure out who the fuck mustered up the muthafuckin’ courage to shoot at me.” I stood to my feet slowly.

“Let me remove the IV first.” She came up, placing her soft hand on me and forcing me to sit back down on the bed. “Did you see their faces?”

“Just the car and plate. They wore masks, which was smart on their end despite them taking a dumb ass risk by shooting at a nigga.”

She stared at me for a minute as she removed the IV from my arm.

“If you don’t know who it is, then where are you going to handle business?”

“You too nosy. Remember we spoke on that,” I joked, wanting to deter the conversation because it wasn’t some shit I wanted her privy to as protection. It was enough that she was working for me.

Giggling, she nodded. “Sorry, I’m a curious person.”

“That’s why you so smart. You gon’ ask some shit so you can know,” I stated and watched the way the corner of her mouth lifted slightly into a closed mouth smile. “Can I go now, doctor? Or do you have some other treatment for me?”

“You can go, but be careful. You can’t move how you usually would.” She started to clean up as I began dressing slowly.

She’d only taken my jeans and shirt off, so I was in boxers and a wife beater at the moment. Tugging my hoodie down, I kissed Anastazia on the side of her face, making her smile, before getting a squeeze of that ass then heading out.

I stopped by my spot to take a shower, then brush, floss, and rinse my mouth since I’d damn near drank that whole fucking bottle of liquor. Once done, I double-checked the burner for today’s schedule, then left out. I knew Grady would be checking traps for me, so I pulled up on 47 th and Denker to see his whip parked outside.

When I saw him walking out, I hit my horn, making him pop his head up from his phone screen. He frowned for a second, probably wondering what the fuck I was doing here, before making his way over.

“What’s up, Sif?” He reached through the passenger window in attempt to slap hands with me.

“Get in the car.”

Again, he hesitated before glancing around and doing what the fuck I asked.

“You heard what happened?” I kept my eyes peering out the front windshield, but I could feel Grady watching me.

“Nah.”

Nodding, I chuckled and asked, “You ain’t know I got hit?”

“Word?” His eyes bulged.

“Word, nigga.” I turned away from him again. “Shit don’t seem right. I ain’t been shot at since I was new to this shit. Muthafuckas know better now… unless…”

“Unless what?” Grady quizzed, shifting in his seat a bit to look at me fully.

“Unless they were getting paid top dollar or was promised some shit by a nigga they think got more street clout than he do.” When I finished speaking, I let my eyes park on Grady.

“Me?” He jammed a finger into his chest. “Sif, dog, you know damn well I would never do that. I didn’t even know where you was yesterday.”

“Nah, but you know I frequent Randy’s, G. It’s nothing for you to have them niggas post up and wait.”

“Okay but?—”

“Get out.” I shoved my driver’s side door open and hopped out. When I banged on the hood of my car, Grady fell in line, climbing out of my whip.

I dapped a few niggas up en route to the trap, with Grady right behind me.

“I got everything handled in here,” Grady said once we were inside.

“Sit down.” I sat at the table. “Y’all niggas, wait outside,” I told the niggas working inside this particular trap.

With no questions asked, they hopped up and darted to the porch, clearly happy to be excused from whatever the fuck was happening.

Grady took forever to walk into the kitchen with the yellowed lighting, pulling out the chair slowly, making it scrape across the tile before descending into it, perspiration already above his brow.

“What’s up?” he quizzed, eyes widening momentarily as I placed my heat onto the table. “Sif, I swear to you I had nothing to do with that shit.”

“We ’bout to play a game. A good way for me to see how loyal you are.”

“Huh?”

“Russian Roulette.”

“Nah, I’m not playing that shit!” he barked then calmed down. “Sif, I’m not doing that.”

“Either you do it, or I’m blowing ya fucking brains out right here and right now. You’ll be cleaned up and bagged the fuck up in about an hour, and I’ll move on with the rest of my fucking day. Or, you do this and possibly go on with ya life.”

“Man, how is this gon’ show I’m loyal?”

“Go first.” I slid the gun his way. “Oh, and don’t even think about trying some shit either.”

Drenched with sweat by this point, Grady took the gun and sluggishly put it to his head. He took a couple short breaths before shutting his eyes, pursing his lips, and pulling the trigger. When the gun clicked, he liked to fell over.

“Aight—”

“Again.” I cut him off.

He opened his mouth to protest but decided against it, placing the gun to his temple again. By this time, he was crying a little bit, but it didn’t faze me as I watched.

Grady did it again, bracing himself before pulling the trigger, and another click sounded off. He let out a loud exhale and waited to see what I would say. I took the gun, aimed it at the brown vase on the bar and let a shot off at it, causing Grady to jump at the sound of breaking glass.

When he turned away from the shattered vase, his eyes were wide as fuck with fright, realizing I’d accurately guessed which chamber slot held the bullet.

Standing as I put the safety on, I leaned across the table, ignoring the shooting pain in my side as I said, “Don’t ever underestimate how the fuck I move, Grady. Once more was all it would’ve taken for me to let you kill yo’-fucking-self.

“Now you got a few days to present to me who shot at me. I don’t give a fuck how long it takes you, nigga. You bring that muthafucka to me at five days and one minute, and you dead. You don’t bring me shit, you dead. You can run and you can hide, nigga, but I’m gon’ find you. I’m gon’ catch you, and until I do, you won’t ever be able to live normally.”

“I-I got you, Sif.” He nodded, sniffling.

I didn’t trust this stupid ass nigga and found it mighty interesting that I hadn’t been shot at in a minute until he and I started having issues. Come that fifth day, if I didn’t have what the fuck I needed, Grady was dead. I couldn’t have a muthafucka I didn’t trust around me.