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“Why are you there by yourself? What’s wrong with you?” she pressed.
“Shorty, I’m straight. My uncle literally just left. I’m finishing off the blunt, so I won’t have to smoke in the car. Where’s Khari?” I asked, changing the subject.
“She’s in her room, sleeping. We’ll talk when you get home because I know that something is bothering you, Billionaire. You are smoking more than you ever have since I met you. Please be safe, and I love you. You don’t have to get me the stuff from the store. Just come home,” she said.
“I’m still going to get it. I love you too,” I said and then hung up.
I ain’t want to tell Normani that a nigga was stressed about the possibility that my baby mama may not wake up from this shit. It was really me worrying for Khari, though, because I knew how this shit would hurt her. Normani and I had just gotten married, plus she was pregnant. I knew how emotional a pregnant woman could be, and I wasn’t trying to start no shit, so I would just put my feelings on the back burner.
I stood up from the bleachers after I finished my blunt and pulled up my sagging sweats. The second I turned around, a lil nigga was standing there with a lil ass pistol pointed my way. I don’t know if I was distracted by the phone call I was having with Normani, but I didn’t even hear the lil nigga when he made his way over there. Usually, I was aware of the shit happening around me, but I had to admit that I’d been caught slipping this time. Well, in this case, I would have been caught slipping if this was a real killer who had approached me.
This pussy ass nigga was standing there, hands shaking, so the gun was shaking. If he was a real killer, the second I turned around, he would have put a hole in my chest. Even a fuck nigga would have shot me while my back was turned, but he ain’t even do that. I could see it in his eyes that he was scared to do this shit. The whole time, I was trying to figure out if I knew this nigga from somewhere, but his face was unfamiliar as fuck. I knew I hadn’t fucked his bitch recently because I was only fuckin’ one woman, so what the fuck could this possibly be about?
“If you’re going to use that motha fucka, you better use it now! Pointing a gun at me is equivalent to shooting me, nigga, so pull the trigger if that’s what you came here to do, my man,” I said, cool, calm, and collected as I made my way down the steps.
He wasn’t ’bout it because the second I moved, he was supposed to shoot me. If the roles were reversed, that’s what I would have done. Sweat poured from his forehead, and I watched as the gun shook in his heads. The second his eyes got off me was when he fucked up. Before I could even make it to the bottom step, I lunged for his ass, pinning him down on his back, and I tussled to get the gun out of his hands. Once I did...
“Pow! Pow!”
“Arrggghhhhh,” he hollered out in pain after I bust two slugs into his kneecaps.
The second he screamed, I raised my foot and put it right on his neck, adding so much pressure, which instantly shut him up. His hands were waving around as he pointed to his chest, trying to tell me that he couldn’t breathe. Blood seeped through the knees of his light blue jeans, which is where I shot him.
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nbsp; At that moment, I had to decide whether I wanted to kill this nigga or let him continue to breathe. The thing is, he wasn’t a threat. Lil nigga had snot coming out of his nose and tears falling from his eyes. I was actually fuckin’ offended that somebody like him even thought they had the balls to take me out. Because I was married and doing the whole family thing, did these motha fuckas think I’d turned pussy?
“Who sent you to do this shit?” I asked.
The gun was still in my hands and aimed at his temple because I wanted him to think I was about to kill his ass. I needed him to sing like a motha fuckin’ bird right now. Honestly, I thought this nigga had to have run with Reggie or some shit. That fuck nigga was probably mad that I was continuing to raise Khari. Word on the street was that he was looking at a life sentence, so he probably had one of his little niggas come to take me out on his behalf. That shit was fuckin’ crazy because even if this nigga did kill me, Reggie still wouldn’t be able to have a relationship with Khari. I went ahead and removed some of the pressure I had on his chest so he could tell me who sent him.
“Don’t kill me, man… I got a son… I got a girl at home who needs me,” this bitch ass nigga cried.
I laughed, like really fuckin’ laughed because I was pissed that he even thought I gave a fuck about his bitch and his child, when a few seconds ago, he didn’t give a fuck about mine.
“And I don’t? I got two kids, one on the way, plus I got a wife! What makes your situation more important than mine? Five seconds ago, when you had that gun trained on me, you basically said fuck my kids and my wife, so fuck your family too, nigga! Who the fuck sent you? I ain’t asking again, because the next time, I’m going to end your fuckin’ life with this same gun that you tried to take me out with!” I barked.
“Pastor Davidson… he... he sent me. Listen, man... I don’t... I don’t know what for. He offered me twenty- thousand dollars to take you out, and he... he gave me ten thousand upfront. I needed the money because I’m living in an efficiency with my family. I was going to use the money to get us a nice apartment. I know it was stupid, but I was desperate, and I needed the money,” he said.
He was crying the whole time he spoke. I’m not even going to lie, when he said that Normani’s father was responsible for this hit, my mouth damn near touched the ground. I just knew Reggie was behind this shit. I had this nigga so pressed that he would stoop this low and try to take me out? Wow! This nigga was really a motha fuckin’ fraud out here. He stood his ass up there on that pulpit, preaching all that shit to people when he was a whole conspiracy ass motha fucka. Not even going to lie, this shit was comical as fuck because he was a Godly man, living a double life.
“When the next time he’s going to be at the church?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night for bible study. Please, man!” he cried.
“Yo, shut the fuck up! Doing all this fuckin’ begging, sounding like a little ass bitch! Next time somebody sends you to do a grown man’s job, you let them know that you a pussy and not a killer. You screaming about yo’ fuckin’ son and yo’ bitch when you sold them out for twenty bands. All yo’ family worth to you is twenty bands? That ain’t shit! One of my wife’s Birkins cost that much. The only reason why I ain’t going to kill you is that you not a threat to me! Trust me, me deciding not to kill you don’t have shit to do with your ol’ lady and your son. They wouldn’t have been the first widow and fatherless child in America. Here, take this little ass gun back and give it back to yo’ granddaddy,” I said and threw the shit at him with enough force on him to break his fuckin’ face.
I walked away from him, got in my car, and sped off. Normani’s bitch ass daddy wanted to get a nigga’s attention, well he had it now. I would pull up on that nigga tomorrow and pay him a little visit.
Even with the shit that just happened, I still took my ass to Walmart and got the shit my wife had asked for, although she had texted me again, telling me to just come home and that she didn’t need the items anymore. I was about two minutes away from the house as I thought about whether I would tell Normani the shit that had just gone down. I wasn’t trying to stress her out with this shit, so I probably wouldn’t say shit. If she found out, it would be from her bitch ass daddy, and not from me.
I pulled the car into the driveway and parked on the side of Normani’s Mercedes. I got out, grabbed the bags of groceries from the backseat, and headed up the driveway. The second I was in the house and walking into the kitchen, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I looked up and saw Normani making her way down. I went into the kitchen, set the bags down, and in no time, she joined me. She went over to the refrigerator, posted her back against it, she looked over at me.
“They ain’t have the brand of whipped cream that you be getting, so I had to get another brand,” I said as I pulled the items out of the bags for her.
I knew Normani. She was staring me down, trying to figure out what I wasn’t telling her. The way women think, she was more than likely going to figure this shit out all on her own. She looked down at the tan colored Gucci sneakers I was wearing, and I looked too. It ain’t hit me until then that there were little specks of blood on them.
“Is that blood on your shoes, Billionaire?” she asked, damn near running over to where I was standing.
