Page 27 of Forbidden Love

Fatz

Three weeks later

It was past noon when I hit the last trap. Sweat stuck to the back of my neck as my belly pressed against the wheel of my truck as I pulled into the cracked driveway of the spot on a 103rdStreet. The place looked fucked up and littered with trash like it always did. Boarded windows and a broken screen door with three pit bulls chained to the post on the patio.

I was already pissed from the sun beaming down on me all day. I hadn’t ate a damn thing and could feel my blood sugar getting low. I’d been hitting all of Sol’s trap spots since early this morning, collecting what was owed. After each spot, I stopped by the warehouse to drop off and count through the money to make sure no niggas skimmed off the top or bottom.

Both Sol and I didn’t trust none of these niggas to operate money or drop off weight. So we did the shit ourselves; a lot of shit fell on me. I didn’t mind it because making money and saving it was something that I never got to do coming up until I moved with my dad. Plus, I would rather have my brother’s back while he made all of the power plays. I opened the door to my truck and noticed that this chaotic block was a little too quiet for my liking.

Usually, besides the niggas on the porch looking nervous to see me coming, it’d be kids and feens out in the streets doing the most. Maybe it was too early in the day for all the extra bullshit. Today I was running early because I had to double back and drop off niggas re-up.

I stepped out of my truck slowly and wiped the sweat off of my forehead. My shirt clung to my back from the excess sweat from ripping and running all morning. I couldn’t wait to shower, shit, and eat. With my lips pressed tight, I asked one of the little niggas…

“Where the fuck my money at?” I looked over at the oldest one.

“Rico got that shit in the safe, Fatz.” He nodded toward the fucked-up screen door.

I didn’t really fuck with going inside of trap spots, niggas usually had my shit ready to go through the corner boys that they had guarding the front. I pulled my gun and pushed the busted screen open. Before I even made it two feet into the living room, I stopped cold in my tracks.

My heart damn near dropped out my chest. My momma was slumped on the couch, eyes glazed with her mouth cracked opened like she was dreaming about some fairytale shit. It broke my heart instantly to see her the way she was when I remembered my momma being the most beautiful woman on earth in my eyes. Her hair was wild and brittle, skin splotched, she looked bony as fuck.

For seconds I couldn’t breathe, memories hit me like bricks as my hands curled into fists.

“Who the fuck?” I yelled as I observed the dingy living room.

“Who the fuck been servin’ my momma?” I looked right toward the kitchen then toward the small dining area where niggas sat at the table with stacks of money and drugs.

Everybody went quiet, the only sound that I could hear was flies buzzing around and the rattle of my momma’s chest as she snored with her eyes wide open. Rico’s footsteps coming down the hall ended the silence. When he appeared, he had the nerve to smirk.

“She a customer, word on the street she stopped being yo momma when Raft had to?—”

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Rico’s body dropped before he finished his sentence. His blood sprayed across the drywall as his skull cracked open like rotten fruit. I held my Glock low in my hand with my chest heaving and ears ringing.

“Anybody else got some out-of-pocket shit to say to me?” I eyed every man in the front room ready to empty the clip.

“Y’all serving her like y’all don’t know who the fuck she is! I told you niggas—” I stopped talking to pinch the bridge of my nose.

I hit the side of my head over and over as I felt my eyes gloss over.

“Fuck kind of sandwich is that, nigga?” I asked one of the young niggas that stood off in the kitchen with a big ass sandwich in his hand.

“It’s yo kind, big dawg.” He quickly walked over to where I stood and handed it to me.

Soon as the sandwich touched my free hand, I took a big as bite. I wanted to shoot his ass in the head for still eating bologna. He fried the meat so it waseatablebut still, the after taste was nasty. I finished the sandwich in seconds as I watched my momma stir awake.

“Go put my money in the fucking trunk and if anything missing when I count up, all you niggas dead.” I warned them as I focused on my momma as they moved around.

I should kill all these niggas for playing on my fuckin’ top like this. Acting like she not my fuckin’ momma. Them young niggas in the front knew the fuckin’ deal when I pulled up, after I warned niggas not to serve my fucking momma. Niggas acted like my momma didn’t used to be beautiful, she used to walk with her head held high.I thought as nobody said shit. I looked back over at her and she didn’t even flinch.

She was unaware of where the fuck she was. I walked over to her and damn near wanted to break down as I smelled the strong stench radiating off of her. I crouched down next to her when she opened her eyes. She looked at me like she didn’t even recognize me since she was so fucking high. Her crusty lips curled into a faraway smile as she waved weakly at me.

“I used to love you so much…even when you let me go hungry for weeks,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

I brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and felt my throat close up.

“Trap is closed, and ain’t nobody eating out this bitch until y’all get her to a fifty-one- fifty hospital and tell them she trying to self-harm herself and others. Wait a couple hours until she starts having withdrawals then take her up there and say you found her on the streets. They’ll keep her and offer her rehab or something. Tell my momma when she start going crazy from withdrawals that if she loves Rashad, she’d get clean. Call the clean-up crew to get that nigga body disposed.” I said nothing else as I walked to the front door.

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