Truthfully, it’s the first time anyone’s asked me that. Me and Tati were hella close. She was the big sister I always wanted. Sometimes it would just be me, her, and Sean, or even me and her with my grandparents at church, or in the library. She was the first person I took to Storyville. We clung to each other in our grief over Sean, and then in a blink of an eye, she was gone, too.
But while she was my sister, she was Nut’s better half. And I had to shove my own grief aside to make sure he didn’t go off the deep end.
I sigh, lamenting on that recurring theme of my life. “Yeah, I do. I miss all of them.”
Rico pops his knuckles as we pull up to the gate. I put in the code for the BBs and it creaks open, letting me pass.
I pull around the fountain, turn off my car, but I make no move to get out. Rico’s tense as fuck in the passenger seat, the most bothered I’ve seen him in a long ass time.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “C’mon Ricky, you can’t kill this nigga,” he whispers to himself. “You kill him, you gotta kill the honeybees. It’s not worth it. You’re trying to get it right. Don’t kill him, Ricky. Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him.”
He brings the heels of his palms to his eyes as he chants to himself, before aggressively rubbing his face from his hair to his chin.
And my dumb ass is stuck just staring.
I almost wanna call Reem, Ty, or shit, even Nut, but I’m afraid to make any sudden movements.
“Ricky. You. Cannot. Kill. Him,” he scolds himself under his breath, before sighing. Then, like magic, his whole body relaxes into the seat. He throws a lazy grin my way, before running his tongue ring across his lips. “C’mon, Shaddy. Let’s go parlay with my pops.”
And they be saying we neck and neck in the crazy department. Yeah aight.
We exit the car and before we get up the stairs, a fine ass woman in a maid outfit opens the door. Her eyes widen at Rico before she averts them to the ground, and steps back to let us pass.
There’s beautiful women all through the halls, pointing, whispering, and giggling at Rico. He seems to know the layout of the Hive, because before I know it, we’re at Pooh’s office.
The door’s ajar, but Rico doesn’t stop and knock. He barges in, so shit, I go in right after him, and quickly learn why we should have knocked.
This nigga Pooh man… he’s leaning back in his office chair, grunting his release down one of his honeybee’s throat, pinning her head down and all.
I cover my ears immediately. Ain’t nobody tryna hear no old nigga getting head.
The girl gets up and saunters out, licking the leftover cum off her lips as she passes.
Pooh tucks himself in, rubs hand sanitizer on his hands, and stands, grinning at his oldest son, showing them fangs of his.
“Oh, isn’t this a treat?”
I lower my hands, ready to take point, but Rico beats me to it.
“After thirty years of being the most useless nigga I know, you’re finally of use to me besides being target practice.”
I blanch, whipping my head to Rico. “Nigga,” I whisper, but Pooh holds his hand up, silencing me.
Pooh may be a pimp extraordinaire, and owner of the Hive, a high-class brothel on the edge of town that caters to the rich and powerful, but he’s still an old head BB, and one of two niggas we do kind of show respect to, the other being Tati’s dad Sarge. Like I’m known for my sawed off, Pooh’s known for that sharp ass razor he keeps in his sleeve, as well as the one he keeps in his mouth. That nigga had literally sliced muthafucka’s faces off for less.
And son or not, he doesn’t seem like the type of nigga to tolerate disrespect.
He grins wider. “I was useful enough to plant not one, but two seeds in yo mama, now wasn’t I?”
“Watch it, before I make good on that promise I gave Ma on her deathbed and finally put one between your eyes,” Rico grits. He takes a step forward, making Pooh chuckle.
“And then you can take my place, where you belong, guiding my honeybees like you were born to do.”
“I’mnothinglike yo tired shrivel-dick ass, old man. The worst type of nigga, on Foe.”
Pooh’s eyes darken. “And yet, you’re flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Spitting image of me, and got my smooth rap to boot. My proudest achievement if I do say so myself, making not one, but two clones of me, full of isms. May God rest Fredo’s soul.”
I grab Rico’s arm to keep him from taking another step and feel how much he’s truly holding back. Pooh could probably do this all day, but Rico doesn't have many more words for his pops.
