Page 124 of Quasim III: King Inferno

Red died and those niggas went quiet and didn’t want to be involved.

Reminder: Character previously mentioned in Staten Island Love Story series (Brock)

“Tonight about to be a fucking movie… you know how hard it was to get Collins Ave shut down for tonight,” Brock, my cousin, looked at the videos of everyone on Collins right now.

I put my new Patek on my wrist and looked at that bitch sparkle. A nigga worked hard to get here, and I would be damned if I didn’t show the fuck off.

Brock moved to Miami a few years ago, but he was heavy in the street racing scene. The nigga got ran out of New Yorkbecause he used to throw races. It was either get fucking killed, or dip and he chose smart.

He came down here and rebranded himself, and he was responsible for this weekend. Nigga was paid, and he made sure he did shit on the straight and narrow. Considering how many other race families came to this weekend and would put him on his neck if he tried some other shit.

“What’s the move tonight?”

“Shit… we going on Collins and ‘bout to post up. A bunch of mini races on the strip before Zuri Cruzari and Fendi race tonight.”

Fendi was Brock’s younger brother who he had been teaching the ropes. He was undefeated when it came to the racers out here, and being that Zuri was from New York, we were all waiting to see what shorty did.

“Heard Kano got her a Bugatti to race in tonight.” I replied, mentioning what I had been hearing.

Brock nearly choked on the honey pack he was sucking down, which made me look at his ass weird. Why the fuck did he need a honey pack right this second? It was only me and him, and a fifteen-minute ride to Collins avenue.

“You fucking with me?”

“They don’t play when it comes to the princess of Brooklyn… her brother gonna make sure she in some good shit to race.”

Brock pulled his phone out and went onto the balcony to rant to whoever while I finished getting ready.

Soon as we pulled onto Collins Avenue, there were cars and bikes everywhere. Women had the shortest dresses and shorts on, flirting and tossing their weaves over their shoulders.

Niggas were posted up on their whips or their bikes, talking to bitches. Brock found a spot and whipped into it to park. Soon as we hopped out, bitches were all on our dick.

I wasn’t interested in none of them as I laid eyes on a brown-skinned beauty that was laughing with Zuri Cruzari. She swung her jet black hair over her shoulder and laughed with Zuri as the niggas that tried to talk to them looked pissed.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Not sure… probably one of Zuri groupie friends,” Brock shrugged as he was eyeing one bitch that I knew he was about to use that honey pack on.

She wanted the shit too with the way she was eye fucking him. “Who that?”

I asked her because she had just came over from there. “Her name is Aimee; she’s Zuri’s guest this weekend.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m not about to go over there.”

I looked at Brock. “We posting up over there… wanna see what she about.”

What intrigued me was that she was packing. She wore a pair of baggy shorts that fell at her hips but still hugged her hips and ass. In the back, I could see her gun poking out. Who the fuck was this beauty?

Dangerous.

I wanted her.

“What up, Zuri?” I greeted, even though I didn’t know her, and we never mixed in the same circles. It felt like I should have introduced myself to her.

“You are?” Smart mouth little bitch.

Her sienna skin was covered in tattoos, and her nose housed two piercings, one on each side. Her dark hair was curled, and she had it pinned on her head with a pair of Bottega sunglasses on, even though it was nighttime.

---