Page 17 of Weddings on the West: Vol. I Brick & Destiny

Now why the fuck would he say that? This time, I couldn’t hide the howl of laughter that escaped, ruining my serious demeanor. I was gon’ fuck Kilo up later. Donte evidently thought that was his opportunity and rushed Kilo, swinging at him wildly.

“Damn, fuck nigga! Why you mad at me because you tried to cheat us?” He teased as he dodged each blow.

“Fuck y’all bitch ass niggas!” he huffed, having already worn himself out, but still trying his best to at least get one lick off on Kilo. “Y’all niggas think you’re so much better than us because of that fuck ass last name! Y’all ain’t shit! Your pops wasn’t shit! And your mama ain’t nothing but a young hoe that got fucked three times because she couldn’t stay off that nigga’s dick!”

My jaw clenched as any mercy I had for that nigga flew out the window. After high school, he came to us, talking about how he was tired of struggling and wanted to get on. We didn’t just give him a corner, we gave him a system—a fucking business plan to help him and everyone around him to eat. To hear him talk like he had animosity towards us the whole time had me wanting to come out of character.

I gave Kilo a look, to let him know to stop playin’ with his fuckin’ food, and he knocked that nigga on his ass with one swift punch. That should have been enough, but when Kilo hopped on top of him and started giving him that work, I didn’t even attempt to reel him in. Donte screamed out in pain as Kilo’s fist collided with his face repeatedly—first breaking his nose, then knocking a few more teeth out before cracking his eye socket.

“And just for that comment about my mama, I’ma really turn Amira out, let’s see who can’t stay off a dick!” Donte let out a gurgling sound, trying to speak through his bloodied mouth. I gestured to Pistol to handle that nigga before I had to.

“Aight bitch nigga,” Pistol said, coming out of the shadowy corner like the Grim Reaper. “Time to go.”

“I-I thought I could say goodbye?” he sobbed. I kicked him dead in his face then looked down in disgust, wiping my shoe off on the fabric of his previously white tee.

“Nigga, you thought you were gon’ disrespect my entire bloodline and think that we givin’ you favors? You better hope all three of us don’t run a train on yo’ bitch at your repass. Fuck outta here,” I spat. His screams grew louder as Pistol lumbered over, grabbed him, and threw him over his shoulder. A sick smile spread across his face as he walked out with that nigga like he weighed nothing. Whatever he did to his bitch ass, he deserved it.

We stood there in silence for a moment before Chap poked his head in. Usually I didn’t fuck with twelve, but he was essential. He watched his big brother get murdered by a dirty cop when he was thirteen, grew up, and joined the force. That sounds like a nice inspirational story and shit, until you find out that from the moment he got on their payroll, he was also on ours, making triple the amount that Sleighton PD paid him to make sure we were good. That nigga gave them hell at every opportunity and was an asset to West Incorporated.

“Y’all good?” he asked.

“Peachy,” I said through a clenched jaw.

“Ready for the next one?” he asked.

“Yeah, send him in,” I answered. Chap disappeared through the doorway and Z walked in making a huge smile spread across my face. Zion had been my nigga since diapers—even if his ass was from the East side. Our parents were friends, and his Pops was another one who looked out for us when ours died.

“What’s good, nigga? You slummin’ it today? I ain’t seen you pull up in person in forever.”

“I’m just pullin’ up on you, nigga. Y’all too big to holla’ at a nigga. I had to make sure you were still breathing.” He threw two duffel bags full of cash on the table. Kilo didn’t even move to check that shit because if there was any discrepancy, it was because Zion’s ass purposely overpaid us.

“You just missed Pistol,” Kilo said, dapping him up.

“Yeah, I bet I did.” He chuckled and gave us a knowing look as Donte’s screams died off somewhere into the background. “But what the fuck has been up?”

“First of all, this nigga getting married to a nun!” Kilo said, all giddy like he didn’t just make a muhfucka swallow his teeth.

“Fuck you!” I sucked my teeth.

“I wanna say congratulations… but, you know nuns don’t be givin’ out no pussy, right?” he asked, looking at me in concern.

“She ain’t a nun, just a super-Christian. But it don’t matter because I’m not fuckin’ her.”

“You bout to get married and can’t fuck?”

“I can fuck whoever I want. I just ain’t fuckin her. It’s more business than anything. You know how my Mama is.”

“So, you just gon’ be married to the girl… and not fuck her?” He looked at me skeptically.

“Why you say that like you don’t think I can?” I was offended as fuck because I had never been a weak nigga.

“Because I know you. You be fuckin’. If you gon’ be in the house with shorty for any period of time, I don’t give it long before you end up fuckin’ the Christianity right out that girl.”

“That’s what I said,” Kilo co-signed.

“Fuck both of y’all. She not even like that. And I ain’t no weak nigga. I know how and when to keep my hands to myself. Especially if it’s for the bag.” Destiny was cool as fuck, and like we agreed on before, it was probably for the best that we kept it platonic because chicks went crazy the moment they got a taste of this good dick.

“Yeah, aight,” Z teased. “I know I better get an invitation to the festivities.”