Page 22 of Ghetto Heartstrings
“Ain’t gotta tell me twice.”
Marley stood in the corner pissed while the girls grabbed the money and walked out together, making sure to turn all the lights out. Hopefully, when he woke up, he wouldn’t remember shit.
“Wait!” Yaya yelled behind Reema when they got outside. “How you get out here to this nigga house?”
Reema chuckled. “His car, of course. I told you; I don’t live here. I Uber it, but since I got what I need, I’m getting the fuck on and leaving tonight.”
“You need a ride?” she asked.
“Yaya, come on!” Brook’Lynn yelled from the car, stuffing the last bag in the trunk.
They both ignored her and kept talking. “No, I already got a car waiting for me.” She winked and pulled out her business card. “I own a little hair shop back in Dallas. If you ever come that way, let’s do some business together.”
“Most definitely,” Yaya agreed as they both parted ways. She tucked the card in her bra and hopped in the car. “Marley,” she said. “I hope we got enough money tonight, so you can handle all your business; this isn’t for you.”
“I hope so too,” she agreed, looking down at her buzzing phone. Before she left Brook’Lynn’s house earlier, she and Wise had definitely switched numbers, and now, he was calling. She was gonna call him back when she got from around them, so they could have a more private conversation.
“So,she came way out here and all she can tell you is ain’t shit going on? That’s some bullshit C2,” Perfect told his brother in frustration. He hadn’t been able to call Brook’Lynn since the last time he tried and couldn’t get her on the phone. Since then, Rasta sent a message to Maine for them to stay the fuck off the phones. In his heart, he knew something wasn’t right, or at least he felt it, but since he trusted his pops, he tried to remain cool. If Rasta said they were being watched and needed to go, then they would listen; he didn’t have any other reason to send them away.
C2 shrugged. “Shit, she say they chillin’, what you want me to do? That’s a good thing; you prefer them to be out there running wild and shit?” He munched on a piece of bread.
They both entered the kitchen, where Bugg was standing over the stove in her sports bra and tights cooking dinner for them. She was attractive as hell, and she cooked good as hell too.
“Hey Perfect.” She smiled over her shoulder. “I was wondering when I was going to meet you,” she said, drying herhands on a towel before she walked over and extended her hand to his. She had never met Perfect before, but now that he was in her presence, she saw first-hand why Brook’Lynn loved his fine ass.
To Perfect, it was something very familiar about Bugg; he didn’t know if it was her eyes or her entire body structure that reminded him of Brook’Lynn, or maybe he just missed her that much. His mind was playing tricks on him. “What’s good ma?” He shook her hand and nodded his head in the direction of the stove. “Appreciate that.”
“No problem,” she said, walking away to finish doing what she was doing. “I know it gotta be hard as shit out here without a good home-cooked meal.”
C2 frowned. “We can burn.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled.
Perfect gave C2 a look as they walked out. “I thought you said she didn’t like nobody? Bitch looking at me like she wants to chew my dick up,” he chuckled.
“Fuck outta here man.” C2 waved his brother off.
Stepping outside, they went to the beach house to check on Boom, who was in there with Maine running some numbers. They entered the doors to the smoke-filled room and was greeted by some other island ass nigga sitting there, passing the joint back and forth.
“Who dis?” Perfect asked, grabbing the joint from Boom.
“This Mike, he runs shit on this side. Rasta sent him this way to make sure we make some kind of money while we out here.”
“Doing what?” C2 frowned.
“Working,” Boom chuckled. “Some shit we ain’t never did before. He need some landscapers for his mansion.”
Perfect and C2 both fell out laughing.
“Fuck outta here kid, we don’t work for nobody. What kind of slave ass shit is that?” Perfect asked.
Maine cleared his throat, displeased with the way his nephews were acting. “Don’t embarrass me with that fucking ignorance. That’s the problem with you lil young niggas. Ya daddy trying to show you something different to keep you from going back to the streets; ya’ll don’t know how it feels to put in some hard labor work, but get used to it cause I promise you, you won’t make it in the streets. It’s only two kind of niggas that make it in the game and a very few percentage that make it to be able to tell the story on the outside of those fucking jail walls, so tighten ya’ll asses up.”
Mike was an olive-colored man, well dressed in a crème-colored suit. His hair was shaved down to the scalp and his thin mustache sat right above his tiny lips. He didn’t speak, nor seem amused by anything.
Boom spoke up. “Mike doesn’t talk; he don’t talk to niggas he don’t know, and if he does, that means he fucks with you a lil bit. Guess he ain’t fuckin’ with ya’ll niggas.”
Without saying another word, he got up and passed Maine his card.
