“We need your help, Pooh. That nigga Sincere linked up with the Mathers brothers and they’re coming for us.”
Pooh’s eyes harden as they shift to me. “That’s not surprising; y’all niggas took out his pops. Some niggas still believe in going hard for the nigga who sired them.”
Rico scoffs. “That nigga is a pussy and linked up with niggas already mad because he can’t stand on his own two. No need to throw jabs, old man; I’d piss on your grave, but I’d still avenge your murder, if only because they took the opportunity away from me.” He snatches out of my grip and rubs his face a few times.
“That nigga shot Set. Boog’s son. Don’t that mean some shit to you?”
Pooh shrugs, taking his hat off to blow imaginary dust off of it. “Sincere is Ghost’s son, too. Sincere came to me, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: I’m staying out of it, which is really a favor to Baby Boog, anyway. That nigga killed Ghost, and I know he killed Qi Mathers way back. Nigga should have tied up his loose ends.”
“What–”
“Aight. Nigga shot at me, too. Now what? You gone ride?”
Pooh chuckles, taking a seat. “You can’t pick and choose when you wanna mean something to me, son. You either break bread with me or you don’t. Which will it be?”
He makes an inviting gesture, a victorious smirk on his face.
Rico shoves his hand in his pocket before walking over to the bookshelf.
“The day I’ll know true peace is the day I put this through that thick ass skull of yours,” he whispers, standing a bullet as big as my pinky finger on the shelf. He turns and steadily walks out, fists clenched at his sides.
“You’ll never be able to kill me, son,” Pooh calls to his back, but Rico doesn’t break stride.
I rub my temples, trying to remind myself that though it’s just us in this office, Pooh has the Hive locked down, and I can’t actually hurt this nigga.
“Pooh, what the fuck?”
This nigga grins like a cheshire cat, standing up again. “A deal’s a deal. When I get the invite to the next auction, I’ll forward it to you.”
“When you said you just wanted to lay eyes on Rico, I didn't think you’d do the fucking most!” I whisper-shout.
This nigga just waves me off, walking to grab the bullet Rico left for him. A Winnie The Pooh is engraved along it, and he smiles to himself, pocketing the bullet. “Rico is committed to me being the villain in his story, so being sentimental was out of the question. If throwing jabs is the only way he’ll spend more than five minutes in the same room as me, I’ll take it. You’ll understand when that pretty little girl of yours gets older and stops thinking you’re her own personal God.” He squeezes my shoulder, and gestures for me to go first.
The women are scarce now, but two big ass security guards flank us as we walk out the front door.
Rico is leaning against my Jeep, smoking a cigarette. He rolls his eyes when he sees us approaching, and flicks the butt away.
“Like it or not, you’re more like me than you think. And just like me, you’ll probably fall for a broad that is a sinking ship. Then you’re gonna have to choose between sinking or saving yourself. Maybe after that, you’ll understand me a little more.”
Rico snatches the door open and climbs in after me, and we peel off before he does something crazy.
“Use me as a pawn again, and I’ll rip your vocal chords out with my bare hands.” His voice comes out low, monotone, and clear as fuck, leaving no room for error.
“I won’t… but in my defense, how was I supposed to know it would bethatbad? He made it seem like he’d be begging for forgiveness, not antagonizing you.”
“You not knowing is the only reason you’re still able to sing pretty covers of songs to your seed. But if you don’t take me somewhere to dosomethingsoon, I can’t be blamed for what I do to you.”
I roll my eyes at his dramatic ass. “I gotta go by Sahara’s. We can roll through the POD tonight with Ty if you can hold off.”
I glance at Rico when I don’t hear an immediate reply. His eyes are closed, head back on the rest, muttering to himself.
“Aight nigga,” he eventually mumbles, before putting in his airpods and retreating into his own world.
I don’t let up from the doorbell. I already know Sincere’s here at Sahara’s crib, and she’s probably trying to hide him, scrambling.
That thought brings a smile to my face as I keep ringing the doorbell. You need a code to even get into the elevator to get to her floor, so I know she’s wondering how I’m even here unannounced.
It shows when she opens the door flustered, holding her robe closed. Her eyes stretch and she tries to pat down that tired ass weave.
