“Long story, but something I’m trying to fuck on from time to time.” I shrugged my shoulders as I adjusted her on the gurney.
Nodding his head, he scratched his beard, still examining Synthia with his eyes roaming over her body. “She look familiar. I can’t put a name on where I seen her from though.”
“Trecee,” I spoke. “That’s her cousin.”
He glanced over at me, giving me a sly grin before shaking his head. “You like ratchet pussy, huh?”
“That’s the best way to have it.” I chuckled. “But look, how long is this gon’ take?” I inquired, shifting the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“I’ll call you when he’s done.”
“Make sure she don’t wake up.”
He gave me a questionable expression, seeming as if he wanted to probe around, but didn’t. I could’ve stuck around, but I had some shit other to handle. One of them being, making sure the footage was completely wiped of the wreck and me murking Allen. I couldn’t care less about eyewitness because my height and build was average. It’d take them years to find me based on one description, knowing how many niggas in Memphis looked like me. For good faith, I killed the truck driver too. His part played a major role, more so than Synthia and Allen did, in collecting the loot. It’d be ruled as foul play, but that wasn’t on me. As far as the phones, I collected whatever they had from the boxes and drove them to Telo Wireless.
I didn’t alert Javon of my appearance, so he looked a bit shocked to see me, like he was caught doing some shit he had no business doing with his phone in his hand, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Nigga, you actin’ like you just seen a ghost, tighten up,” I scoffed with a low chuckle, eying the phone clutched in his hand.
Before arriving here, I had my car towed—the one that Synthia drove and had them take it to the chop shop. Whatever parts they needed were useful, but I needed the license plate deadened so it couldn’t be traced back to me. The only upside was that the drive out tags were fake, and the car was used as a decoy whenever I needed to handle something lucrative. It was the only way the cops and county sheriffs would stay off my ass versus riding with no tags at all. It was also the car I let Trecee drive every now and again when she needed a lift from point A to B. It wasn’t the best, but it kept her quiet.
“I wasn’t expecting you to pull up like this,” he responded, looking behind me at the beat up car.
My nigga who towed my car that Synthia wrecked made sure to pull up in something I could use for the time being so I could handle some shit. It’d be good as gone by tomorrow and burned into flames though.
“Them niggas who stole from me, I caught up wit’ ‘em. They were hitting another lick tonight,” I let him know, walking past him and into our storage room to stock the phones on an empty pallet.
Instead of riddling me with questions, he got to it, and the stock room was so loaded that it couldn’t fit us both. Some of the phone spilled out of the room, but this satisfied me, but it had me thinking if it could happen again, and what other measures I could take to ensure that it wouldn’t. The only other way was to tap the phones with chips—tracking devices that would be easy to insert but difficult to remove until they land. I’d be sure to hit up Roxx to see if he could ship my plug some of that cybersecurity shit if he had something like that on him to make sure this never happened again. It’d be a bit much, but it was worth it, and I don’t mind paying an extra stack or whatever it took to make sure of it.
***
I grimaced in annoyance as I examined the stitching above Synthia’s left eyebrow. It added a layer of grit to her pretty ass face, and she didn’t need that. She wasn’t a rough ass woman. The soft attitude is what I liked about her, despite her shitty habits to make money, she was fine as fuck, with a banging ass body to go along with a pretty ass face. I didn’t want her in any pain, and I made sure Roxx’s nurse provided whatever medication would subside it for the time being, until it healed.
Putting her in that position last night told me that she wasn’t a gutta bitch for real and was only looting to make ends meet, but it makes me wonder how far she would have gone had I not used a lucrative system to make sure all of my phones were intact? ‘Ole scary ass bitch was in the front seat shaking the whole time, begging and pleading me to stop and saying all types of shit, fall for the bait, but the deed was already signed. Killing Allen made my dick hard—shit like that gets my dick hard. I haven’t gotten my hands dirty in years, and this shit was deadly. When it comes to my money, I don’t play that soft ass shit. Niggas and bitches will cross you where you stand, thinking you’re soft as cotton until you show ‘em why you aren’t meant to be fucked with.
Allen knew I sold phones, just like every nigga in the hood knew he sold guns. That was rookie as hell on his part not to double check and see if he was stealing from me. He was the jack of all trades and could make a dollar quick, but that was foul. Ain’t no way, I could’ve let him live Scott free without risking my integrity because he wasn’t loyal. He knew better than that shit, and I didn’t feel bad for doing what I had to do. Had the shoe been on the other foot, he would have done the same thing to me. This shit is chess until niggas get out a deck of cards and start playing spades. I ain’t meant to be fucked with, and he crossed the line.
Shaking my head, I exited the room and trotted downstairs to greet my housekeeper, Lola. She was cooking breakfast for Synthia and me per my request. Lola was like family, and Roxx and I rotated every other week or whoever needed her. She had a three bedroom house on the compound to fit our needs and was always on call. Growing up, our parents had a heavy schedule, but my mother was old school and wouldn’t allow another woman in our household, so the only thing Lola assisted her with was picking us up from school. Our mama still cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all while working and keeping the house clean until our father made her get off her feet. Lola was one to keep and we all loved her.
“Buenos dias, Sr. Romelo. Espero que no te importe. Fui un poco pesado con el desayuno. Queria hacer todos tus favoritos.” She greeted me as she wiped her hands on the front of her stained apron.
“English, Lola, English.”
I staggered over to her and wrapped my arm around her for a hug, but left air flow between us, to keep from messing up my clothes. Lola was every bit of five feet, so I had to dip down to hug her. She was gorgeous with a toasted skin complexion, long jet black curly hair, arched brows, full lips, a pretty smile and a set of almond shaped brown eyes. If I was doggish I’d try to get a taste, but Lola was like family, and I wouldn’t cross those lines, despite my taste for Synthia, that was different.
Leaning back on the counter, I glanced at everything around the table. My eyes darted from plate to plate at all the unhealthy shit that would put a nigga on his back.
Playfully, she fanned me away and turned her back to me, as she trotted around the kitchen, to straighten things up.
“Roxx told me you were working on your Spanish, so I wanted to put you to the test. Why haven’t you been practicing, Romelo,” she chastised me. “Roxx is very fluent ya know.”
I grinned because it was true. “My hands are tied with other shit—I mean stuff, but I’ll keep on studying if it makes you happy.”
“Being bilingual is an advantage. Haven’t I always told you that?” Turning around, she grinned with her hand on her hip before shaking her head.
Placing my hands in a prayer stance, I nodded my head. “Yes ma’am. I’ll work on it.”
“Do you want me to fix you a plate. I have more than enough, and if you want me to make you more, I will.”
