Malik: I’m hella bored. What you on?
Smiling so hard her eyes tightened, ‘cause she could hear his cursive words and deep voice like he was close.
Aku: Dorothy is out.. Oz is kinda cool.
Of course, God sent her another distraction with Pimp feeling guilty and grabbing her hand to dance...and dance she did. Aku grinded on him with a smirk on her face knowing Devin wanted to be the one she threw her ass back on. They’d had many nights in the club vibing and dancing without a care in the world. That was the version of Aku he wanted for a lifetime, but Aku wanted more. Late nights tending to kids, and times where the only fun she had was at a playground listening to children laugh and scream…her children.
She was a little girl raised in a house built on love and family. Of course, it was what she aspired to have. She was the daddy’s girl that wanted to marry her daddy because good dads were a little girl’s first love. It was where relationships and love manifested for them…where they decided a white dress was the end goal. Love was all she knew. Family was how her family thrived in a world that would’ve rather seen them fail. Love was where they all prevailed. It made long nights and hard days worth it.
“You gonna find your person, Aku.” Pimp whispered into her ear, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Be patient…if I can find it, I know you can.”
Flicking a tear from her cheek, she nodded. His words sat in her chest.
Malik looked at the time.
It had been hours since he sent that last text to Aku and she replied quickly like she always did. Playful, flirty, and slick at the mouth…then silence.
Now, he was in his zone. Shirtless, in his room with nothing but the glow of his monitor lighting up his face. Fingers flying over keys, blue hoodie slung over the back of his chair, his thoughts dipped between lines of code and the sweet smell of za pouring from the suitcase cracked open behind him.
He kept everything tight. Pre-rolls lined up neatly. The glass jars labeled with his own branded stickers, and QR codes that led customers back toPlugged In.
His hustle wasn’t corner boy shit. It was a curated experience… or - Crafted. Everything from the strain names to the packaging was branded like he had a storefront in Melrose…except he didn’t.
He had a trap laptop, a second phone, and a stash spot under the loose floorboard by the closet just in case.
And a dope ass app created by a hood ass black boy.
One wrong traffic stop and they’d have him in the backseat faster than he could say lawyer. The only thing keeping him from becoming another case number was a praying Granny who still left oil stains on the doorframes every first Sunday.
Malik paused, stretching his back muscle. He clicked over to Instagram for a break. He told himself he was just gon’ check the notifications on the Plugged In page, but he ended up on Aku’s story…again.
Her ass was everywhere tonight…literally.
The camera panned to her throwing it back on some neon-lit stage in a packed-ass club. Hair swinging, chain swinging, red bottoms showing as she grinded the air like she invented that shit.
Her face glowed with sweat, and the joy in it made him pause.
Aku always seemed so carefree and down with whatever, but the more he got to know her, Malik wasn’t so sure money could buy her happiness after all. It was probably why she found herself smitten with a nothing ass Crescent Park nigga, when she should’ve been with someone like Zaire. Still hood but talented enough to make it out with millions in his account. Malik had none of that. That insecurity lingered in his brain every time Aku galloped across his memory.
Malik studied the videos over and over again, loving the way her handful of ass moved like water. Then he caught something.
Devin…leaning on the edge of the VIP couch behind her. Half-shadowed, but clear enough if you knew what to look for.
Malik’s stomach turned, but he kept watching. Clicked the next story, and the next.
The comments under the re-shared clips made it even worse.
“Omggg is that Devin?? Please get back together y’all too fire.”
“Her and Dev been meant to be. Period.”
He knew better than to let strangers on the internet tell him anything about anyone’s life, but their words stung a little. Malik wasn’t sure why, ’cause he would never be good enough for an Aku. He was just basking in their friendship since that was all he could offer her.
Two taps at his room door, pulled his face from the phone. Only one man knocked like that.
“Yo.”
The door creaked open and his Pops peeked in, still in his security uniform—navy pants, jacket half-zipped, badge clipped to his chest like he was still policing the block.
