Falling For A Hustler 3

By: Jerniqua K.

Brick



“WHAT!” I yelled into the phone. I had just gotten back from dropping off a few pounds of Kush. My phone had died an hour ago and I was just now getting Tyriq’s message. Just when I was getting ready to call him back, he was calling me from my mother’s phone.

Suddenly, I felt like shit. I never wanted this shit to happen to Lyric. I just wanted to teach her ass a lesson. I jumped in my car and sped to my mother’s house. Instead of knocking, I used my key and walked in, running toward the guest bedroom. When I saw Lyric lying in the bed with tubes in her, I almost lost my fucking mind. This shit had to be some type of cruel joke.

“Get the fuck out,” I said lowly.

“Brick–” Tyriq said.

“GET OUT!” I yelled.

Both he and my mother left the room, giving me my privacy.

“Man, Lyric, I fucked up! I’m sorry, ma. I should have never sent you out there like that. It’s just my pride was fucking with me and I couldn’t let the shit go.” I looked at her, hoping for some type of response but I got nothing. “I believe you, Lyric. I believed you ain’t do that shit from the moment you told me,” I admitted. “Truth is, I let the shit that Journee did to me cloud my mind and when I found that necklace, I put my guard back up. I should have just listened to you, ma.” I closed my eyes to keep the tears from falling.

Then, out of no fuckin where...it hit me. I kissed Lyric on the forehead and then on the lips before barging out of the room.

I searched for Tyriq and my mother. When I found them, they were in the dining room. My mother was nursing a glass of wine while Tyriq threw back a shot of Goose. They both looked stressed out and seeing them like that was doing nothing to make me feel any better.

“Did she wake back up?” my mother asked with hopeful eyes when she saw me.

Not being able to answer, I shook my head and looked at my nigga. “Yo! Where the fuck is that bitch Yandy?”

“Man, bruh, I lost that bitch when I heard gunshots. In all honesty, I ain’t give a fuck if that bitch made it or not, I just wanted to make sure Lyric was good.”

I shook my head and bit down on my tongue in an attempt to calm myself down. Roderic was supposed to have been an easy lick. The nigga was sloppy as fuck! He kept his money where he laid his head, and that was in the middle of the hood. Wrong move.

The nigga had gotten drunk as fuck in Da Jump Off one night and started speaking on me as if he knew me or something. Before I could say a word, my lil nigga Pep was all over his ass.

“Mufuckas facin’ bids don’t walk out no fuckin’ prison cell in a year. Niggas out here singing they ass off and y’all fuck niggas all out here on his dick.” I watched as Roderic took a swig from the cheap ass Amsterdam bottle he was holding before he burst out in drunken laughter.

Rather than getting pissed off, I found the shit amusing. The hate was real and to be quite honest, I didn’t even know the nigga, so he couldn’t have been a relevant muthafucka. His stupid ass was far from a threat to me. Just off of his actions, I could tell that he had come from nothing and didn't know how to act with the little chump change he was bringing in. He took another swig of his drink and I shook my head. The nigga couldn't even afford top shelf liquor and actually felt like he could come for me. The fuckery! I ran muthafuckin Benton Harbor. Niggas knew my name! I was prepared to let the shit ride so my night wouldn’t get fucked up, but my crew had other plans.

“Don’t worry bout shit, boss. Lemme handle this nigga,” Pep said as he removed his chain and handed it to me. Instead of stopping him, I sipped the Henny I had in my glass and prepared myself for the show. “Yo, we got some type of problem, homeboy?” Pep asked as soon as he made it over to Roderic.

Roderic looked Pep up and down and chuckled. Just like everyone else, he was underestimating my lil nigga. His size didn’t intimidate anyone at all but he had the heart of a lion and you had no choice but to respect it. Dude went hard for his team. It didn’t get more loyal than that if you asked me. Pep was by no means a big nigga. In fact, he stood about 5’7 and was skinny as hell, but he was reckless as fuck, and that’s exactly why I kept him around. He lived for this shit.

“I know you?” Roderic said in a failed attempt at a joke. Instead of gaining laughter, he had muthafuckas looking at him upside his head like he was crazy. They knew.

“Shit, you ain’t gotta know me, my nigga. But check this, I need you to keep my nigga Brick and any feelings you got toward him out ya mouth,” Pep said. He had a smile on his face as he grilled the fuck out of this nigga. His right hand was at his waist and the other lay lazily on his slight beer belly.

Roderic took another swig of the dry ass Amsterdam he was drinking on and looked Pep up and down before glancing in my direction. I nodded my head at him and lifted the Rosé bottle in the air. This weak ass nigga wasn’t fuckin’ with me by a long shot.

“That muthafucka couldn’t come holla at me like a man? He had to send his flunky?”

“Nah, nigga, he just ain’t got time to entertain simple minded muthafuckas like yaself. I don’t give out too many warnings, though.”

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