“Take the calls,” he said. “I sent out a kite to let people know we’re outside.”
Before we even made it three lights down Crenshaw, the phone buzzed in my hand.
Bully glanced at me through the mirror.
“First play, let’s get it,” he said.
I answered and kept my voice steady. “Yeah.”
The dude on the other end paused for a second, then got straight to it. “Brah said you got it.”
“Yeah, where you?”
He told me the corner and hung up.
Bully smirked. “See? We in motion now.”
A few minutes late, we pulled up, and a nigga stepped to the window. He leaned down and looked me up and down while talking to Bully.
“This Gio girl?”
Bully nodded. “You know she’s good.”
The guy nodded. “I heard what happened to ya man. Making moves for him is respected.”
He handed me the money, and I padded the bag forward.
Just like that, my first play without Gio was done.
Bully pulled off, and the phone buzzed again before we even turned the corner.
Stop after stop.
Block after block.
Everywhere we went, people asked about Gio, and I simply responded, “He’s good, I got him.”
And they saw that.
The money started piling up in my lap, and the duffel bag slowly got lighter.
Bully looked at me through the mirror and laughed.
“I know brah has been teachin’ you some things, you movin’ like you’ve been doin’ this all your life.”
I smirked. “I have a good teacher.”
He nodded.
“That nigga Gio gonna be proud of you! Most women wouldn’t do what you are.”
I agreed.
We rode like that most of the afternoon, sliding through different hoods. Blood corners, the Crips knew me well. I even ended up in a few spots where you didn’t ask questions, you just handled business.
Nobody tried me.
Everybody respected me because of my man.
