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“Any day I’m seeing you niggas is a good day for me.”
“Welcome home,” Malachi expressed.
His words halted everything around me.
“I finished business,” I told him, wanting nothing more than for him to understand that it had to be done.
Patting his chest, he tilted his head with a nod.
“She’s safe.”
“She’s safe,” I agreed.
“You’re a better man than me, Makai. I commend you one hundred times over.”
“I’m not. Not at all. I’m just a man that had an advantage. Had you had the same, then shit would’ve gone a lot differently.”
“But they had to happen the way they did and I’m okay with that now. I’m okay, Makai.”
There were so many unspoken words twisted and twirled in the last sentence. Letting him know that I understood far beyond his actual expression, I brought his head closer with the back of my hand.
“I know,” I acknowledged. “I know. I see it every time you look at her.”
Shaking his head up and down, Malachi confirmed my observation.
“And I love that shit for you. You deserve that and so much more, bro.”
“I’ve got everything I need right here, man. I can’t ask for another fucking thing. My cup is running over.”
“Understo—”
Screeching tires burning through the lot caught everyone’s attention.
“Who the fuck trying to get they asses locked up with that bullshit on these folks’ lot?” I asked to no one in particular.
They knew just as much as I did. Or, at least that was what I assumed until the silence began revealing otherwise. As the car in question approached us, I waited for someone to draw, but no one budged.
“You niggas turnt pussy or something?”
“Nah, that nigga just shoot back and he don’t miss.”
Lawe emerged from the Hellcat, releasing enough weed smoke to fog a bathroom mirror. The sealed windows no longer concealed the loud music thumping from the speakers. He bobbed his head and moved his body from side to side.
“What’s up, baby?”
“Fuck you doing here, nigga?” Milo questioned.
“You niggas tried to have a little reunion without me. Fuck you, you big ear, fat lip fucker. And fuck you, you suit-wearing bitch. And fuck you, you wide receiver back having, fry cooking ass nigga. Didn’t call me? Well, I still pulled up.”
“Damn, why we gotta be all that?” Milo wondered out loud.
“From this point on, don’t even say shit to me. None of you. What’s up, nigga? You out that motherfucker?”
“You see me standing here in your face, right? Stop asking dumb-ass questions.”
“I see what this is, you niggas ganging up and shit?”
“No, nigga. You just asking the obvious.”
