Page 41 of The Perfect Verse
“I’m a mom,” she revealed, a faint grin following.
“The fuck got you pregnant?” He sat with furrowed brows. “You drug a nigga, and he wants out?”
“See, that’s why I can’t even talk about this shit.” She grabbed both wheels, but he sat up and caught her by one of her arms.
“Come on now. You know I know you like…” His voice trailed off as he smirked. “Just wondering when you started entertaining niggas.”
She hadn’t, unless Scooter counted, and he counted. It was crazy, but she wanted to keep that part of her life to herself, keep it shielded from the person and the life she once lived. She knew he was no pussy, but he gave the streets up just like she had, buthe was also doing what he loved. She’d never get him involved in anything that could jeopardize his freedom.
“Them.” She shoved her cellphone into his hand. “I found them two months ago, almost three. It was outside of Walmart off 79th. Motherfuckers was trying to rob me.” She smiled. “Reminds me of me and Shona when we were in between foster homes. I ended up taking them home because….” She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “Because they had no one. Now, all they have is me.”
“Damn.” He stared and dragged his hand down his mouth. She’d done some shit over the years, but never that; maybe kidnap a few bitches that stole from her or tried to play with a heart, but taking care of children was never on his radar when it came to her.
“Who are their peoples?”
“I don’t know.” She looked away as tears crowded her eyes. “I’m afraid if I find out, I’ll kill those motherfuckers, but I also know I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. I’m not that kind of bitch to run and hide.”
Her eyes grew dark, and her jaw tightened. She felt herself unraveling if anyone even thought they could take them from her.
“Kids don’t deserve that shit. I sure as hell didn’t.”
He knew their story, knew it all too well, when Chico brought Shonasia to their first trap house. She had beautiful, rich buttercream skin, large, brown eyes, and small but shapely curves. Kaleela was thinner, smaller, but beauty ran in the family, although she dressed in sweats and hoodies.
Together, they were just what The Crew needed when they needed to lure niggas in, then knock them off. Shit was good. Lies and love couldn’t coexist, and once shit got out of control, they exited the game. It didn’t help that Chico couldn’t love Shonasia properly, and Kaleela’s pent-up anger had her hugginga bottle long before she landed in a wheelchair. It only grew worse after that. He was glad she was clean and sober, he hoped.
“X is still looking into it.”
“I bet. Nigga’s reach is decent but limited, sis.” He wasn’t taking a dig at him. He had connections that stretched across the country, even internationally. All she had to do was say the word, and he’d get on it.
“But what if I’m making a mistake? Maybe they were kidnapped, and they have a mom or dad looking for them?”
“Maybe it’s you.”
“And maybe it’s not. Fuck, Chello.” She clenched her fist, roughly swiping the tears from her face with the other. “This shit has me fucked up.”
“They ever question you when you tell them something? Ever act like you won’t come through on a promise?”
“Naw, definitely not Rell. All he wants is hugs and kisses when he tricks me out my change for the ice cream truck. I have a freezer full of ice cream, but something about that music coming down the street excites his little ass.”
“Shit, it excited me, too. Whoever thought of that shit was a motherfucking genius. Now they sell other shit, like those walking tacos. The hell knew putting ground beef, lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, and sour cream in a Doritos bag would fucking sell?”
She caught that look in his eyes and smirked. He was always thinking of ways to make money and not get caught. So far, he never had, but at some point, he had to quietly exit the game and on top.
“Not a fucking ice cream truck, Chello.”
“Naw.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t. My daughter loves ice cream trucks, but imagine moving some product in plain sight? Chico approached me about a trucking business. I investedbecause that’s what we do; we invest in each other, but he’s already out. I can’t move shit in it.”
“What’s keeping you in it?”
“You know when you’re good at something, so fucking good, you don’t realize you can be good at something else?” He shrugged, especially since he expanded his hustle to the gun trafficking game.
“I do, but a wife also deserves to know her husband will always come home, too. Don’t be like me, Chello. Don’t lose out on what you know is yours, thinking it’ll always be yours.”
She hadn’t heard a peep from Chaney since that comment on Facebook she added then deleted. She knew Chaney. She was scared the same Kaleela that she knew would reach out like she was the boogie man. She wasn’t, especially since she had more to lose now—Scooter.
“Pfft. That shit will never happen.” He looked over his shoulder, his jaw twitching at the thought of his wife leaving him. “Mulan knows not to bring that killer, illogical motherfucker out of me. I told her to give me two years.” He’d been saying that since they made it official almost five years earlier. Just when he pitched an exit strategy, he’d be pulled back in as the money came in millions at a time.
“She does, but I’d take her seriously. Trust me on this one, big bro. Get out while you still can, unscathed.” She shrugged, hoping he’d listen.
