Page 47 of Stand on That

“I’m the nigga who should be lucky you didn’t do something to me,” I smirked. “Where the fuck is my shit? I don’t have all night to play with you, and I damn sure don’t have the patience. Run me my mother fucking dope.”

“Bro what is this?” he spoke to Mya while ignoring me. “You really gave me up when this was your idea? Bro,” his gaze landed on me. “I swear to God, she came at me with the idea. I didn’t know you had dope in her house. I promise I didn’t. She told me you were on and wouldn’t miss it.”

The way he threw his baby mama under the bus made me smile. This nigga was truly a lame. I couldn’t believe him or Mya, but to see him blaming everything on her while she was supposedly carrying his child was bananas.

I walked over to Mario and hit him in the face with the butt of my gun. He let out a deep groan as blood spurted from his nose. “I asked for my dope. Not a weak ass explanation.”

“What I have left is in the bedroom.” Mario’s voice was muffled because he was holding his nose.

I shoved him indicating that I wanted him to take me to the bedroom. Glancing over my shoulder, I made eye contact with Mya. “Bring your ass because if you try some dumb shit, I’m gon’ call my lady to beat your ass then, I’m gon’ kill you for being a stupid ass bitch.”

I wasn’t about to let her walk behind me, so I paused until she passed me. With my gun trained on both of them, I followed them into the bedroom. My lip curled when I entered the room and saw countless bags filled with clothes and shoes. This nigga obviously got rid of some of the bricks and blew the money at the mall and on basic ass rental cars. I wanted to pistol whip that nigga until he blacked out, but I had something better in mind. Letting Mya and Mario live would be much worse than killing them because I was going to make sure they forever remembered the day they decided to take what didn’t belong to them.

I watched Mario closely as he got down on the floor and reached underneath the bed. If he tried anything stupid, his brains were going to be all over the floor. I heard a whistle from the front room, and I knew that Azarius had arrived. Mario looked over his shoulder nervously, and I pointed the gun directly in his face. Azarius walked into the room, and Mario snatched a bag from under the bed and slid it across the floor.

“That’s all I have left. One and a half bricks.”

“One and a half out of five?” I chuckled angrily. “Where the money at?”

Mario stood up eyeing me like a deer caught in headlights. I could look around the room, in the driveway, and remember his conversation with Mya and know where the money went. On dumb shit. He risked his life to get fresh. He wasn’t even stacking the money to get more work. A nigga came up on five bricks and did absolutely nothing with it. He was the dumbest nigga I’d ever come across.

“Go back to the front,” I scowled. If I kept looking at Mario, I was going forget all about my plan to not kill him.

Mario and Mya trekked down the hallway with me and Azarius on their heels. Back in the living room, I eyed the bag that was on the couch that hadn’t been there before. It had to be the bag that Azarius brought in. He went into the kitchen, and I heard him in the cabinets pulling out pots and shit. Mario and Mya’s orbs darted toward the sound, and I was sure they were trying to figure out what Azarius was doing.

Still holding onto the gun, I unzipped the bag with one hand and pulled out the bondage tape. I wanted something that would hold long enough for me to get away from the house, but if Mario was any kind of man, he’d eventually be able to work his way out of it. Not worried about him trying anything, I placed the gun on the back of the couch, and pulled Mario’s arms behind his back.

“You don’t have to do this, man. I promise. I’ll get the money back for you. Just please let me and Mya go. She’s pregnant.”

His comment got a snort out of me. “You didn’t care about her being pregnant when you just blamed the whole thing on her,” I sucked my teeth in disgust. Mya had played the hell out of herself.

“Darius, please!” His voice slightly louder and deeper as he resisted a bit, and that pissed me off.

I punched him in the back of the head and watched his upper body fall forward. “Don’t call my name, nigga.”

I secured the tape around his wrists and stood by the door. I was just waiting for Azarius to be done in the kitchen. After about six minutes, Azarius came back into the living room with a medium-sized pot of scalding hot water in his hands. I couldn’t tell whose eyes were the widest between Mya and Mario.

Mario was about to try and jump up off the couch when Azarius tossed the water in his face. He fell back onto the couch howling like a wounded animal. His screams were filled with anguish, and that brought a smile to my face. He had better be glad that he was still alive. For the rest of his life he would walk around with a severely scarred and burned face, but at least he would be living. And every time he looked in the mirror, he would think about me.

“Let’s go,” I glared at Mya while Mario writhed around on the couch like a centipede.

She jumped at the sound of my voice. I held the bag in my hand that contained what was left of my coke and followed her out the door.

Inside the car, she covered her face with her hands and cried. I absolutely gave no fucks. Again, just like Mario, she had better be thankful that she was alive. Aside from the radio and her sobbing, the car ride back to her house was quiet. As I turned onto her street, the sight of fire trucks and police cars piqued her interest. Mya sat up straight and stared out of the window. The closer we got, and she realized that it was her house that had caught fire, her mouth fell open. She looked at me with eyes full of anger.

In return, I smirked. “When you get the insurance money, I want my shit. Get the fuck out.”

Mya stumbled out of the vehicle, and I wish I could have seen the look on her face when she realized my people had gone into her garage and taken her Maybach. Silly bitch.

I watched in awe as my niece pranced down the aisle at the store we were in and tossed stuff in her little mini cart without a care in the world. “Jaela, you got money?” I asked following her like she was the parent, and I was the child.

She shook her head vigorously causing the beads at the ends of her braids to make a clacking sound. “No, but you do.”

With a chuckle, I shook my head. Jaela was absolutely correct. I did have money, and she could get whatever she wanted. She was spoiled, and she knew it. After I was released from prison, I had to literally beat my parents to the punch when it came to getting her because they didn’t like to share her with anyone. Not even Lo. They were pissed when they found out she was pregnant but from the day she brought Jaela home from the hospital, they lowkey kidnapped her baby.

Jaela didn’t like the housing project she moved into and after only four months out there, she moved back in with my parents. That time around, she worked and saved her money for a year, so she could move someplace better. When she finally got her own place, my mother cried, and my father told her she could go where she wanted, but she was leaving Jaela.

And the way that little girl cried and had tantrums when it was time to leave my parents, some days, it pissed Lo off. Her own kid treated her like a red head stepchild sometimes. Lo always said the way she acted when it was time to go home was embarrassing because people were going to start thinking she was being mistreated at home.