Page 47 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“Imagine you had just got in the truck like you were supposed to,” he quipped.
Reign attempted to spin around to no avail, there wasn’t any more space. Pressed against him would be the only position she would be able to turn her body into. His gaze lingered down at her.
“You did this. Now you got to stare at me,” he said with a smirk.
“You would be so lucky,” she grumbled, looking away.
“I could say the same about you.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You’re like every other black man who got rich off curb servin’ nothing special.”
“Oh?” Markus taunted, licking his lips.
“Oh please, save the charm for one of the girls in the salon,” Reign scoffed. “I’m not it.”
She turned away only for him to reach down in the crowded space and turn her attention back to him. She swatted him away. “If I have to suffer through your body being pressed against mine, please don’t add to my disgust.”
“You talk a whole lot of shit to be jealous,” he teased.
“Jealous of what? Please tell me what there is to be jealous off,” she quipped, hoping he would stop talking, the train would stop and she could get off and get some air. Whichever came first, she would take happily. But the smell of him, the weed tangled in the cologne of his knit, the suffocation of his presence and his body on hers wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t going to be good for her.
“I hear you, Speechless.”
She turned away again, this time biting her tongue so she didn’t reply back. Her smart comments were only adding fuel to his fire. They were sandwiched in for two stops until the third, where a handful of people got off. Markus looked from his watchful gaze as if she’d disappear. He analyzed the scene, spotting his goons. He nodded, tapped her and started off the train.
“We got twenty minutes before the train you need to be on comes. There’s a pizza place up here,” he stated.
“I’m not hungry,” she protested.
“That little attitude is telling me something different. Not to mention, I felt your stomach grumble against me five times. Come on.”
Reign caught up to him and walked alongside of him. “You don’t know how to say please do you?”
“I don’t,” he retorted. “Never had to use that word.”
Reign placed her hands into the pocket of her coat and walked down the sidewalk, taking in the sights. “Where are we?”
“Little Italy. It’s ran by the Moretti Family.”
Reign looked around. “But everyone is black.”
“You’re in Majestic Heights, the whole city is black. The Moretti Family are descendants of southern slaves. A handful came up here, went over to Monte Seleno.”
“Where’s that?”
“Upstate. Translates to moon mountain. They went there, integrated and got ran out. They love you as long as you ain’t fuckin’ on their daughters or corrupting their sons. This is their slice of freedom and entrepreneurship. Most of the old heads died off. Matteo and Marucci are the heads of the family regulating all this shit.”
Reign buzzed. “Almost sounds like P-”
A man running out of a nearby store ran straight into her, knocking her into Markus. In one swift move, he caught her and put her behind him. It was like a flash of lightning how fast he moved to move her and drew his gun.
“You can’t see where you goin’, muhfucka?” Markus barked, stopping the man in his tracks, causing him to drop a plastic bag of money. “And you stealing?”
The shop owner stepped outside, a gun of his own drawn. “Money, good lookin’ out.”
Markus’ eyes went dark for moment, until he remembered Reign had trauma of her own and she was too close. He hadn’t even killed anyone in front of Nia. “Ain’t no good lookin’ out, this nigga ran into the lady. Apologize.”
The man, who had now pissed himself, darted his eyes over to Reign and stammered. “I-I’m sorry.”
