Page 24 of Welcome to the Heart Of A Maniac
My teeth clenched. She’s pissing me the fuck off now. Removing my strap from my waistline, I gripped her by the nape of the neck and shoved the gun into her chin. “Look, I tried to do this shit the easy way, but you act like you’re hard of comprehending. Get Roc’s ass out here, now.”
“Okay! Okay!” Picking up her phone off the counter, she unlocked it and dialed a number. I held onto her tight as she placed the phone to her ear. “Yeah, Roc, you have someone here by the name of Tyree that wants to speak with you about business.” Her eyes peered into mine. “Yeah, I told him that already. Look at the cameras.” My eyes shifted to the camera directly above her head in the corner and I waved the gun in the air, to let him know that I’m serious. I ain’t leaving here ’til he hears what I have to say. I know it was stupid of me to come in here, waving a gun and shit, but I’m desperate at this point.
“He say that he’s on the way.”
“Good.” I released her and took a step back from the counter. Not wanting to be caught by surprise, I told her, “I think I’m gon’ wait for him outside,” and exited the building.
I needed to be out there so that I can see the comings and goings. Roc probably wasn’t gon’ be too thrilled about me being in his establishment with a gun and when he turns up, he might not even want to hear what I have to say. If he’s anything like Maniac, he’d come in with guns blazing and I’d rather not be standing in there when he makes his grand entrance.
Hopping into my truck, I grabbed my cigarettes and placed one between my lips. I ain’t smoke nicotine like that—only when I’m stressed the fuck out. This moment was cause for one. Uncle Trayvon was right; everything was all my fault. I shouldn’t have ever slipped up and snorted that first line of coke. It all started from us having to test the product, to customers not trusting us to buy from us unless we showed them that the product was safe. Dealing with pure cocaine was dangerous. It’s addicting.
It took Roc forever to make it to the store. That alone let me know that the chick inside it wasn’t important to him. The only reason why he showed up is because he probably got some shit in there.
His Range Rover parked next to my truck and he hopped out the passenger side. If I owned a Range, I wouldn’t have another nigga driving me around in my shit.
Pushing the driver’s door open on my truck, my Jordan sneakers touched the ground. “Roc?” I called out his name as he reached for the door. He turned, looking in my direction with a scowl.
Clamping his hands together in front of his crotch, he said, “Better get to explaining yourself, I got a bullet with ya name on it.”
“I got a business proposition for you.”
“You ain’t got shit for me. You need to be telling me why you waving a gun ’round in my shit.”
“She act like she ain’t want to call you and tell you that I wanted to talk to you. I did what I had to do to get yo’ attention. I really think that you’d want to work with me.”
Roc tilted his head to the side and asked, “What makes you think that?”
“I’m great at what I do. I used to work with the Saint-Mercier’s.”
“I’ve never heard of you before. How come you’re no longer working with them now?” He took a step closer to me. My eyes shifted to his driver who stood not too far from us with his hand resting on the gun in his waistline. He probably couldn’t wait to pull that shit on me.
“Let’s just say that we came to a disagreement. I want to try and work with you. I heard that your shit is better than theirs anyway.”
A grin etched on his face. I knew then that he was feeding into my bullshit. “I guess I can give you something and see what you do with it. What do you have?”
I swallowed hard the lump in my throat, knowing that I didn’t have any money to give him since I was going behind his back, I couldn’t ask Trayvon for it.
“I don’t have anything to give you up front, but if you front me, I promise that I can make it and get everything to you.”
Roc chuckled and slapped his driver in the chest. “You hear this shit? He wants me to front him.”
“Yeah.” His driver laughed.
“I should’ve known it was something. I’m guessing you fucked up with the Saint-Mercier’s and now you want to run yo’ ass over here. Nah. I ain’t got time for the bullshit.” Roc walked back toward his truck and grabbed the doorhandle.
“Wait. I left ’cause I want to make a name for myself. Everyone thinks that I can’t do it, and I want to prove ’em wrong. Let me do this.”
Roc poked the tip of his tongue into his cheek and said, “Fine, but I’m gon’ let you know now, I don’t play ’bout my money. I’ll kill yo’ ass and ask questions later. Be on the look out for the phone call.”
“You don’t have my number.”
“Give it to him,” he said and hopped back into the truck.
Maniac
Luxe: I’ll be there in an hour. Just touched down.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I climbed out my car and shut the door behind me. Strolling up to the entrance of the building, I pushed the door in. Lacey’s eye’s cut in my direction, and I hit her with a head nod.
