Page 49 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
Her Hispanic accent wasn’t as thick as her father’s, and she spoke perfect English. Still, her heritage ran deep within her pores. She looked like my people, but when she opened her mouth, it gave way that she wasn’t from around here. Ethnicitiescame in all different shades, though, which was why people saw me as a Black man and her as a Mexican woman.
“Fuck all that. Why you break in my shit?”
“I didn’t break in! You let me in!”
“I let you in the gate because I thought you were Uriah.”
“Right. Cumface…” She snickered.
“My cameras didn’t trigger you, and you don’t have a key to my shit. Your people went out of their way to sneak you in, and that poses a problem for me. That actually means war, which is some shit y’all can’t afford right now, being as though your father is already beefing with the cartel. The same cartel he’s swapping you out for. You’re a fucking peace treaty, and I’m not the nigga toprepyou up so that you don’t get yourself killed. That’s your mama’s job.”
Solana rolled her eyes and snapped her neck. “Well, she’s dead, so...”
“Well, ion know what to tell you.” Looking her over again, I frowned. “Where the fuck your clothes at? Put that shit on.” Tossing my head for her to move, I nearly popped a vein when she didn’t budge. “Yeah, your ass not gone last a day with the Rodríguez Cartel.” I chuckled, but it wasn’t shit funny.
Not only had my night of nuts been interrupted, but my safety had been compromised. I wasn’t fucking with it. Turning, I made the short walk to the dresser and snatched up my phone.
“Who are you calling? Your Don? It’s no use…”
Blocking her out, I dialed the number and waited very fucking impatiently for him to pick up. The voicemail came on, but his voice interrupted the greeting as he intercepted the call.
“Shio!”
“Aye, what the fuck going on?”
“Whatever do you mean, Cuppacio?” This nigga had jokes. He knew what the fuck I was talking about. There was no way Solana was here, and he didn’t know.
“This girl. Ines daughter. She in my crib.”
Solana was picking at her nails as if I hadn’t just had a gun pressed to her head. When she started biting down on her cuticles, I had to look away. Shorty was pretty, and her lips looked like they longed to be kissed, but her ass was trouble. And I needed her out of my shit, like yesterday.
“You told him you would get her right.”
“I ain’t tell him no shit like that!”
“Well, she here now. Handle that.”
The phone line went dead, and it took everything in me not to toss that bitch across the room. I felt like I was being set up. I didn’t know what the fuck Don had going on, but I wasn’t with his obstacles, games, and nonsense-ass riddles he liked to dash out. I didn’t have time for this shit—not when my plate was already full.
“I could have told you that your Don already knew,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Pulling my pants up on my waist, I swiped my wallet from the dresser. Even though my eyes were on the Afro-Mexican beauty, I was mentally running down my list in my head.
God first.
Make sure the family good.
Eye them Cuppacio boys, the little and the big ones.
Build a relationship with my brother.
Get my brother rich. Health and Wellness.
Stay on top of my mob shit.
Keep Hobo alive.
Get through this fucking meeting.
