“What? Oh my God,” she squealed. Genese was beyond excited. This was the Tank that she liked. The nigga that gave her whatever she wanted. Everything that she had been mad about, just that fast she had forgotten.

  “All right. I’m about to order something to eat,” he told her.

  “Okay,” she yawned. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

  She headed upstairs to his bathroom and turned on the water. In the shower, she started thinking about how life would be like being with Tank. She thought about the wild sex that they had. He made her come like no other and laced her with gifts. She could get used to this.

  She was almost done with her shower when she remembered that she had initiated her plan to take place that night.

  “Shit,” she hissed as she rushed to rinse off.

  She had texted Two-Shots on the way to Tank’s house. She had completely forgotten about it, and after the dick down she got and all the fun she was having, she changed her mind. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Her cousin would just have to be patient. She knew she owed him, but she couldn’t do this to Tank . . . Could she?

  She hurried to dry off so that she could text her cousin but heard yelling when she stepped out of the room.

  “Nigga, where the stash at?” she heard.

  She tiptoed to the top of the stairs, peeking, and sure enough, her cousin was standing there wearing a mask, a gun aimed at Tank.

  Shit. Okay. Think, Genese, think.

  She could go downstairs and catch him off guard, but then Tank could kill her cousin if she did that. She didn’t want her cousin’s blood on her hands. After all, he had taken a charge for her.

  “Nigga, I hope you know what you doing with the goddamn gun,” Tank growled as Two-Shots grabbed shit that looked expensive, shoving it in the bag he had around his body.

  “Nigga, I know exactly what the fuck I’m doing. Your bitch ass wanna find out?” Two-Shots spat.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing with the goddamn gun.”

  He took the bag off, shoving it at Tank, and cocked his gun. “Put all your fucking money and jewelry in the bag and hurry the fuck up.”

  Tank snatched the bag and put his shit in there. He was seeing red. He sized up the brave yet dumb invader, trying to figure out how quickly he could knock him out.

  “You know your ass is dead, right?”

  “Nigga, I’m the one with the fucking gun,” Two-Shots snapped. “I’ll kill your ass right the fuck now.”

  “Do it, bitch,” Tank challenged.

  Genese wasn’t expecting it, but Two-Shots pulled the trigger. She watched as Tank collapsed to the floor, crying out.

  “Arrgh . . .”

  “Baby,” she screamed, running down the stairs.

  She ran toward Tank, and Two-Shots turned the gun on her, which caught her all the way off guard. They hadn’t talked about that.

  “Bitch, get your ass on the ground,” he demanded.

  She dropped to the floor by Tank and watched him trying to get up. Blood was on the floor, but she couldn’t tell where he was hurt. She was too busy trying to figure out just what the fuck her cousin was doing.

  “Please,” she pleaded, looking at Tank bleeding.

  She was nervous as hell. They hadn’t talked about him actually shooting Tank. What if the nigga didn’t make it? This wasn’t what she agreed to. Two-Shots had lost his mind. He shot Tank, which was going to take this shit to a new level. She looked up to cuss him out, but he was gone, and the door was wide open. A few seconds later, she heard tires screeching.

  “Oh my God. Baby, are you okay?” she screamed.

  Tank turned over and was holding his stomach, grimacing in pain. Her cousin had got away. But she knew that with Tank now shot, this shit was going to get a whole lot worse. She prayed to God that Two-Shots had the common sense to leave. If not, both of them were dead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  October 2018

  “Tank, baby, you got to be still. I’m trying to patch up this wound, but you keep moving. Now, come on. I need you to be still,” Genese fussed.

  She was at his house trying to nurse him back to health. He hadn’t gone to the hospital after getting shot but instead had a private doctor come in and take the bullet out before patching him up. The doctor told Genese to dress the wound with fresh gauze every few hours and clean the area. She was trying to change the gauze and bandage, but he was too busy snapping on her that she couldn’t get to it. He had been pissed off ever since he was robbed and went off every time she turned around.

  “I told you I’m good,” he argued.

  “No, you not ’cause you sitting here with blood coming out of the side of your stomach, babe. Damn, I was just trying to help,” she sighed.

  His attitude was getting on her nerves. But of course, she was the reason why he had an attitude, or at least that’s what he was making it seem like.

  “If your ass wasn’t there, I could have handled that nigga. But you came down them damn stairs and fucked shit up and had me tryin’a keep you from getting shot,” he spat.

  “Uh-uh. Hold up, nigga. If I didn’t come downstairs when I did, your ass wouldn’t be here now, Martaveous,” she clapped back. “You would be still lying on that fucking floor dead. So, you not gon’ sit here and blame me like that. I heard the gunshot and came running right to you. You couldn’t keep me from getting shot when you were shot your damn self. If you want to be mad, cool. But be mad at yourself. Or be angry at the next nigga. I didn’t tell him to come in here and rob you. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on until I heard the damn gunshot. But shit, I’m here now trying to take care of you, and you being a complete asshole.”

  She tossed the bloody towel at him, and he sucked his teeth in anger at her reading him.

  “Didn’t nobody ask you to fucking do shit for me,” he gritted.

  “You didn’t have to, Martaveous. When you care about somebody, you take care of them.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “But you know what? If you wanna keep acting like an asshole, fine. I ain’t got to deal with this shit.”

  “That’s the best thing you said all fucking day,” he said, walking away from her to grab his shirt from the couch.

  Genese stood in disbelief. She could get he was upset, but he was just taking everything out on her. She slammed the first aid kit down and went upstairs to his room to get dressed and pack her bag. She had come over intending to spend the night and play the loving girlfriend role, but she needed to get away from him before she showed him her true self.

  After getting all of her stuff, she walked out without saying a word to him. She thought he would’ve at least said goodbye, but instead, he sat on the couch watching TV with an open wound and acted like he didn’t see her.

  Getting in her car, she headed to her house. All she could think about was how her cousin had flipped the script on her. That was not what they had planned. That nigga going rogue had her stressed. Nobody was supposed to get hurt. She wanted to talk to him about the stupid stunt that he pulled. If the bullet would have been a few more inches to the right, Tank might not be alive now, and it would have been her dumb-ass cousin’s fault. All he was supposed to do was rob his ass. Instead, he decided to scare the hell out of her. She couldn’t have that happen again. The fact that Two-Shots had pulled that stunt, she didn’t think that she could do her part. She had a past but not to that level. Her cousin was on some other shit. She knew that he would use a gun to rob Tank, but she didn’t expect him to shoot him. She sent him a text message letting him know that she would stop by the next day before she had to work.

  Tank was out for blood. She had heard him on the phone since he was hurt, and she was watching him turn from Bruce Banner to the Hulk right in front of her. He wasn’t going to rest until he found out who shot him. Genese was going to have to be careful. She knew that if it did get back to Tank that she had anything to do with it, they would be finding her body parts all over Florida.

  Pulling up to her crib, she decided to get some rest and deal with shit later. She needed to clear her mind. She was still working at the hospital, and she needed to get her mind off everything that happened the last few days. Lying down, she tried to erase the image of him being shot from her mind. She needed to get a hold of this and fast.

  * * *

  Getting up the next day and getting ready for work, she decided to make a stop at her cousin’s house. She wanted to talk to him and figure out what the hell possessed him to shoot her man. He wasn’t responding to her text messages, and that had her worried.

  I hope this fool didn’t go do nothing stupid. And he better keep his mouth shut.

  Pulling up to his complex, she parked and headed up the stairs to his unit. She walked in without announcing herself, hearing loud music.

  “Is this nigga having a party or some shit?” she mumbled.

  She walked down the hall and saw him sitting on his couch, high as hell.

  “Ay, what up, cuz?” he grinned.

  She looked around at the room and was pissed. He had new stuff everywhere. TVs, boxes of Jay Ts, and even some of the jewelry he had stolen from Tank. Bags of weed were sitting on the table, and a bunch of people that she had never seen before were sitting around smoking. She was just scanning, but she knew that he was blowing through his money.

  He shot him just to blow through the money on bullshit?

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” she snapped.

  “Ay, yo, who the fuck you talking to?” one of the niggas stood up, walking toward her.

  She looked at the dirty-looking dreadhead unfazed.

  “First of all, nigga, you don’t know me. I’m talking to my cousin. So, you might want to calm the fuck down,” she charged.

  “Man, if y’all don’t get this bitch,” he snorted.

  “Ay, kill that noise, man,” Two-Shots spoke up.

  “Better yet, how ’bout this?” she interrupted. “How ’bout all y’all get the fuck out?”

  They all started laughing, and she stood, arms folded, not backing down. Two-Shots could see she was serious and dismissed everybody. They stood up, mumbling and calling her names as they walked out, grabbing a blunt to smoke outside. As soon as the door closed, she was on her cousin’s ass.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed.

  “What’s good?” he leaned back.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she yelled as she pointed at everything in the room.

  “What? A nigga came up on the lottery,” he shrugged.

  “No, a nigga is bringing attention to himself,” she stressed. “Have you lost your mind? Are you crazy? You did all of that, and you spent it on bullshit. Then you still got this nigga—” she stopped, realizing how loud she was, and lowered her voice. “You still got this nigga’s jewelry. What the fuck you gon’ do? Wear it as a target? ’Cause that’s what the fuck you gon’ be.”

  She was pacing the floor, clearly agitated at the lack of concern that her cousin had.

  “You know this nigga got everybody in Miami looking for you?” she pressed. “You might as well just throw the damn jewelry away ’cause ain’t no pawn shop or jewelry store gonna buy it. He got everybody on the payroll. You blowing money on stupid shit, Shots.”

  “Man, come on with the sermon, bruh,” he groaned. She was blowing his high, and he didn’t want to hear it. “I told you I got this. You just need to worry about what the fuck I tell you to do.”

  He gave her this scary look that she had never seen before, and she wondered what the hell he meant.

  “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? And when in the fuck did we discuss you shooting him?” she rambled.

  He stood up and walked over to her, standing over her and looking down at her.

  “Kill the fucking questions, G,” he said. “I shot that nigga ’cause he needed to be knocked off his high horse.”

  “You got to be smart,” she interrupted, slightly afraid.

  “No. You need to play your part,” he stopped her. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “Do what the fuck you supposed to do. Fuck that nigga and make it easy for me to get what I need.”

  She snatched away from him, and he sneered.

  “You don’t fucking scare me,” she said slowly. “I ain’t one of them punk-ass niggas outside kissing your ass. I’m trying to help your ass. ’Cause all you doing is begging for this nigga to come find you and kill you.”

  “Then I’ll wait and see what happens,” he smirked. “I got your bitch-ass boyfriend right where I want him. So you just play your part until I need you again.”

  She backed up and rubbed her temple in frustration. “You need to chill the fuck out before you get us caught up,” she warned.

  She knew it was a bad idea going along with him. His dangling that charge over her head was getting old.

  “You done?” he asked cockily. “You fucking up my high.”

  She rolled her eyes and gave up.

  “You know what?” she sighed. “You gon’ do whatever the fuck you wanna do anyway. Go ahead. When he kill your ass, keep my name out of your fucking mouth.”

  She stormed out of the house and stomped down the stairs, past his boys to her car. He was going to get her caught up in his bullshit because he was trying to stunt for his friends.

  That’s the problem with niggas now, she thought as she went to her car. Always trying to show off and shit for muthafuckas that they don’t even fucking know. Dumb ass.

  Getting in her car, she wished that she hadn’t got involved. But it was too late now. She just had to figure out a way to keep her name out of it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  2001

  “Stacey Cooper, you’re under arrest for possession of narcotics and drug trafficking.”

  “Let me go. Get off me. I didn’t do shit.”

  “Damn. This bitch is high out of her mind.”

  “You need to call DSS. She got two kids in the house. One of them looks to be about 3 or 4 years old, and the other is about 9 or 10.”

  “Let my mom go. Let her go. Mama!”

  “Don’t you fucking touch my kids. It’s all right, baby. These pigs is just fucking with me.”

  “Where are you taking my mama?”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re just taking your mom to get her some help. Somebody’s going to come and get you soon and take you out of here.”

  “I don’t want to go with you. Noooo. Get off me. Noooo.”

  Two-Shots woke up and looked around, thinking that he was still being dragged to the car of the DSS worker. Lately, he dreamed almost nightly that his mother had been arrested and charged with drug trafficking, among other things. She was high out of her mind when the cops came and got her, walking around with no shoes and drooling. She was laughing at them when they pulled up and cussed them out. She felt like she was invincible, but when they opened the trunk of her car and saw all drugs that she had, not to mention the stashes all over the house, she got the worst of it.

  She was holding weight for her boyfriend, Mook, who was in custody on a different charge, but because it was at her house, she took the charge, and, ironically, her nigga was let go. Mook turned his back on her and got a new bitch like it was nothing. Two-Shots blamed himself because he should’ve done a better job at stashing it or getting rid of it for her so she wouldn’t have gotten locked up. She may have gotten her ass beat, but at least he would have her. Now, his brother had been taken away in foster care, and he hadn’t seen him in years.

  He looked up at the ceiling and thought about how his mother looked the last time he had seen her. She was skinny as hell and looked like she was still high. He had watched her scratching like crazy, and she barely even knew who he was. It hurt like hell that he couldn’t be with his mother. He’d always taken care of her. Yeah, she would get high, but he would always be there to clean up after. Things would be fine, and they would be back to the grind like nothing ever happened. But now, his mother was gone, and he was staying at Mz. Ave’s.

  It wasn’t bad there, and she seemed to be a nice old lady. He just didn’t like her constantly telling him what to do. And he damn sure didn’t like Martaveous.

  Every time he turned around, Mz. Ave was talking about how great Martaveous was and how he turned his life around. She praised him like he was Jesus.

  “Fucking lame-ass nigga,” he mumbled in the dark.

  “Ay, man, your li’l ass need to stop all that goddamn crying like a bitch and shit,” he heard.

  Martaveous was in the same room across from him, trying to sleep. Mz. Ave had them sharing a room, and the two younger kids shared a room across the hall.

  “Nigga, fuck you,” Two-Shots spat.

  He could hear Martaveous jump up and run across the room. He sprang up, ready for whatever. He was tired of this nigga fucking with him. Even though Martaveous was bigger than he was, he wasn’t going to go down easy.

  Martaveous grabbed him and pushed hard. He stumbled back, but he didn’t fall.

  “I’m getting real sick of your shit,” Martaveous growled.

  “Do something then, nigga,” he challenged.

  Martaveous was ready to oblige. The nigga was getting on his nerves with all the whining. Almost every night he was waking up to him talking in his sleep and calling for his mama.

  “You better shut your crybaby ass the fuck up,” he warned.

  “Y’all all right in there?” they both heard.

  “Yeah, we good, Ma,” Martaveous called out. “I was just helping David pick up something he dropped.” He lowered his voice and looked right at him. “Get in the bed before she come up here.”

  Two-Shots looked at Martaveous with rage. He wanted to kill him. Every time he looked at him, he wanted to take a knife to his throat. He hated that Mz. Ave treated him differently.

  That’s all right. I’m gonna get that nigga one day, he thought to himself as he got back in bed, his eyes on Martaveous.