“Mane, ain’t nobody no woman beater.”
“Says the nigga with a DV charge.”
“Stella deserved dat shit.”
“Youdeserveto leave that shit alone. You supposed to be getting ready to work. Not goin’ on quests with big-ass guns to murder bitches that ain't worth a day in jail, let alone the one fuckin’ calendar year you did behind her.”
“Mane, I been ready to work! I been waitin’ on you.”
“So is you ready or you waiting?”
I smacked my teeth in response while holding on to the seat as the aircraft turned. Looking down again, the clouds below seemed like a soft, deceptive blanket that I knew was hiding an endless drop.
“Did yo’ mama get a check for you when you was a kid?” I had to know.
“Tunan, you had the opportunity to ask me when work would start the other day.”
“When?”
“When you was letting bitches twerk on you and yo’ wife at the gender reveal. And when you brought the Ferrari back to the Dungeon.”
I was hearing Don, but I was too busy focusing on where the self-flying copter was going. How this nigga just sat there like nothing was wrong was beyond me, and I was sure copters weren’t meant to fly this high in the sky.
“Matter of fact…” Don leaned forward. “Did I ask you to give me the car back?”
My head snapped at him. “Fuck you talmbout? It’s yo’ fuckin’ car.”
“Do I look like the type of nigga to drive behind another nigga? If I gave you the keys, it’s yours.”
“I can’t take no car from you, Don.”
“You already did. I’m sick of you driving that mildewed-ass Infiniti around. Shit ain’t a good look. You making me look like a cheap, petty-ass Don whipping that busted shit.”
“I rather work for my shit. I’ll prove myself so I can earn my own riches and buy what the fuck I need. I appreciate it, but save the car-buying for the bitches.”
Taking money from my brother was one thing, but another grown-ass man buying or giving me a car was out of the fucking question.
“A nigga driving a hoopty with pride. Ain’t that some shit. But, shit… I’m glad you said that. You know,”—Don flicked his hand. “Proving yourself. That’s what you doing today.”
“Hunh?”
“You thought it was that easy? Yo’ brother vouch for you, you marry his bitch, and give his blind ass directions?” Don laughed. “Nah, ain't shit easy ’bout the Rinaldi Mob. You, for sho’, gonna have to work for this shit.”
The door slid open, and a gush of wind entered, making it hard to breathe. I was fighting with my lungs, and again, Don was sitting there poised as a motherfucker.
“We call this, survival of the realist. Four obstacles. At the end of each one, you’ll enter the next. You’ll have instructions on how to navigate at each habitat.”
“Habitat?”
“Yeah, nigga. Now get out.”
“What? Nigga… You… Outta yo’… Fuckin’ mind! Who?” I gulped.
Don chuckled. The wind was beating my ass, making it harder and harder to breathe. I’d never gotten hit the way this wind was taking me out.
“See, that’s the thing. You niggas always think y’all got a choice. This my shit. And what the fuck I say, goes.”
My seat belt clicked, freeing me from the seat.
