Page 31 of Honey's Special Roux

I hung up the phone. Unfortunately for Uncle Merlot, I hadn’t grown up enough in the last couple of years. I did what I wanted, and today was no different. Going eighty in a forty-five, I sped down the streets to Gee’s side of town. I parked my car in front of the garage before I hopped out. My presence alarmed the young boys stationed on the porch.

“What are you doin’ here?” one of them asked. His eyes were wide, as if he’d seen a ghost. Today, I might have been a ghost who was ready to collect a couple of souls before I departed.

“Gee in there?”

Another one nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?” the third boy queried.

“Tell him I’m outside.” I crossed my arms over my chest and kept a stone-cold expression.

The three young boys looked amongst themselves. They shared a quiet conversation before one of them finally stood up and entered the building. Gee’s headquarters were in Fifth Ward Houston. He was in the trenches, to say the least. There was a high crime rate, which meant people paid police off to turn a blind eye to the crimes committed like gang members who killed other gang members.

Gee and I had a similar upbringing. We were two nappy headed boys raised by the streets. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have a father or uncle in the business to make the hard life bearable. His environment created a bitter block boy. The way he ran his business was a product of the trauma he endured growing up. However, I wasn’t the type of person to keep letting disrespect slide. He’d been begging for an ass whupping, and I’d gladly give him these hands one more time.

The door opened, and Gee emerged with a grimy smirk on his face. He’d been in his fair share of wars, the evidence being the scars all over his body. The most noticeable impurity on Gee’s face was a diagonal jagged scar that stretched across his temple down to the right side of his mouth, a knife fight gone wrong.

“Look what the dog dragged in,” Gee stated as he looked at me with a bored expression.

“I ain’t here on no joking’ shit, Gee. You know what I’m here for.”

“What do you want, Marq?” he asked in a calm tone.

“You and your crew have been harassing our runners. I’ve been letting that shit slide, but my patience has worn thin.”

“Is that supposed to scare me or something?”

“You fucked with Chris and nem. Now I’m here to fight about it. You’ve always been scared to catch a fade because your weak ass can’t fight.”

Gee chuckled. “Ain’t nobody scared of Merlot’s lapdog. Shouldn’t you have his dick in your ass? Since you gotta run everything by him like a bitch.”

I rolled my head to loosen up my shoulders. Then I cracked my knuckles. “You’re saying a lot of shit on that porch. Come down here so I can remind you who the fuck I am.”

Gee chuckled. “You think because you had a couple good fights back in the day, you some big bad wolf? Nigga, I’m not scared of you.”

“Fight then.” I stepped forward and had every intention of getting up on that porch to lay hands on Gee.

Pop. Pop.

My ears rang as I blinked in surprise.Did this mothafucka just shoot me?The question swirled in my head as I continued to approach him. I wanted to kill him now.

Pop. Pop.

My steps halted as I felt the pain in my shoulder. He’d rang off four rounds, yet only one hit me. The bullet pierced through my shoulder and the pain increased my rage. Before I knew what I was doing, I charged at him like a wild animal. I tackled him to the ground and used my good arm to punch the shit out of him while I held him down with the wounded arm.

“Get this nigga off me!” Gee shouted to the young boys who were watching from a distance.

I punched that nigga in the mouth and hobbled to my feet. I kicked him repeatedly until the young boys pulled me away from their lame ass leader. With all the power I had left in my body, I snatched away from them and stumbled back toward my car. They helped Gee up who was unconscious. Niggas always passed out from the power of my punches. He had flashbacks of when I’d rocked his friend’s world upside down, and here he was filling in those weak ass shoes.

I applied pressure to the bloody wound on my shoulder. Blood on my hands had smeared all over the handle of my car as I pulled the door open and climbed in.

“Gee’s a dead man walking,” I threatened.

After I pulled out of the driveway, I reached into the glove compartment and grabbed my Glock. With shaky hands, I rolled down the window and let that bitch sing. I didn’t care who I hit in my blind rage. Once I’d emptied my clip, I tossed the gun into the back seat and sped off. My vision blurred.

In my haze, I found my phone and called my cousin.

“What’s up, dweeb?” Dayari asked when she answered the phone.

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