Page 48 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
“Nah, say that shit with your chest. You can rob people but can’t speak the fuck up? Stand on that shit,” Markus directed.
“Money, I didn’t mean to,” the man spoke.
“To do what? Run into her or steal? It can’t be both.”
“R-run into her. I’m sorry, Ms. Lady. My bad.”
Reign said nothing but remained behind Markus, where despite it all, she was safe.
Markus grunted. “Uh uh, give Mr. Marcel back his fuckin’ money. You do some shit like this again, you won’t have to worry about Pietro coming for you because I’m going to do it. You hear me?”
The man picked up the bag of money and tossed it to Mr. Marcel.
“Bitch, if you don’t take that shit back inside and put it on the counter I will put a bullet in your ass.”
The man bolted back inside to return the money and bolted back out past the trio. Mr. Marcel turned to Reign and chuckled. “She’s got to be something special if you over here makin’ ruckus. What you doing over here?”
Reign had now wrapped her arms around herself. Comfort and warmth, while actively internalizing what protection looked and felt like.
“Taking her to get some real pizza that ain’t that bullshit from Maruccio’s,” Markus stated, tucking is gun back. “That nigga come back around, let me know. I’ll call Matteo to let him know I’m putting him down myself.”
“Before or after you tell Marucci his wife’s shit is nasty?” Mr. Marcel joked.
“I’ve told him that. Every time I see him because he brings it over like it’s a cheesecake from Wesley’s or something. I’ll see you.”
“See you, Money. You too, little lady,” Mr. Marcel spoke as Markus threw his arm over her shoulder to keep her close. Reign offered the man a subtle wave and soft smile. She stayed in his possession until they were inside of the pizza restaurant.The smell of robust, homemade marinara wafted through the air with other Italian spices, making her mouth water.
She peeked at the menu, marinara and veal catching her eye. Her appetite was returning after almost years of it being nonexistent. She ate just enough to keep her going, but that was it. Anything bigger than a size eight, Javier said she was fat and unattractive. Depression made her eat, the terror made her starve herself.
Markus studied her. A habit he was finding hard to break. “You want something else?”
Reign shook her head no.
“Speechless,” he groaned. “Your words.”
She cut her eyes at him and plastered a fake smile. “No, Markus Emilliano Money whatever your name is. A slice of pizza is fine because I want to be free of you as soon as humanly possible.”
Markus chuckled as he pulled her chair out and motioned her to sit. “Too bad I lied to you. That train doesn’t come for another forty minutes. I’d rather your mouth be full then fussing about where the train is.”
She curled her lip and watched as he took the seat where he could see the front and back door.
“My name is Markus Emilliano Grant. They call me Money on the streets. Only my sister and aunts call me Emilliano, and typically if I hear it, I’m on their nerves or in trouble,” he shared.
“Information I’m not going to maintain.”
Markus chuckled. “You know, in a regular conversation, I share something you share something. We get to know each other.”
“Or we can just be silent or whatever that song said.”
“Not going to work.”
She huffed. “Speechless Mute on the Stoop is my full name.”
Markus chuckled and Reign mocked him.
“That shit was gold, not going to lie, some of my best work.”
“It wasn’t. Reign Marie Nieves.”
