“Oooh, babe, I saw this dress that was so fire,” Genese squealed as they walked the hall to the store.

  “Oh word?” he said, still watching her.

  She headed to the store to grab the shoes that she had been dying for. She eyeballed the dress, knowing that Tank would come out of pocket. He seemed to think he could just toss money at shit. Well, she was there to catch it. Sure enough, when the cashier gave her the total for the shoes, he reached in his pocket and tossed a stack.

  “Go ahead and get your little dress,” he told her, looking at his phone.

  She smiled and kissed him, grabbing and squeezing his dick, and he grabbed a handful of her ass.

  Yeah, this is gonna be easy for me to get his ass, she thought.

  She grabbed her desired purchase, and soon, the two were leaving the store headed to their next destination.

  “Genese, that you?” she heard.

  She and Tank were headed to the Gucci store when she turned around to see her cousin, Two-Shots. Two-Shots was a relative she didn’t really see like that. He had been in and out of the system since he was 12 years old for everything from assault to robbery. The last time she saw him, he had just gotten charged with grand theft auto. Yet, here he was, looking at her and eyeballing Tank.

  “Hey, cuz,” she said, walking over and giving him a quick hug. Tank gave him the once-over but didn’t seem too fazed. “What you doing here? Last I heard you was—”

  “Yeah, they let a nigga out on a tech,” he cut her off. “Mu’fuckas didn’t read me my rights. So, chilling right now.”

  “Oh, okay.” She nodded, shifting her glance toward Martaveous.

  Her cousin looked in the same direction and frowned. He couldn’t place it, but he knew him from somewhere.

  “Oh, that’s you?” he nodded in his direction.

  “Yea.” Genese smiled, looking up to see Tank walking off, getting on his cell phone, leaving her there to talk with her cousin.

  “What’s ole boy name?” he asked.

  “His name is Martaveous Young. Why? Wassup?” she pushed.

  “Oh. A’ight,” he said, still looking at him. “I seen that nigga somewhere before.”

  “You should. Hell, everybody in Miami know him. That nigga got deep pockets,” she bragged.

  “Oh word?” he smiled, looking down at her bags. “Okay. I see you.”

  “Don’t hate,” she giggled.

  “Must be nice to be a broad,” he told her.

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

  Genese noticed a few females glancing in Tank’s direction and was trying to wrap up the conversation. She didn’t need to give him an opportunity to have a wandering eye. Instead, she needed to make sure his attention was on her.

  “How long y’all been kicking it?” her cousin asked.

  “A couple of weeks,” she told him. “He’s cool. We just taking it slow and everything.”

  “A’ight.” Two-Shots nodded, looking like he was thinking about something.

  “Well, let me get back to my man,” she rushed. “We still got a little bit more shopping to do. But it was good seeing you. You still over there off of Fifty-Fourth, right?”

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  The way that he was looking at Tank, she knew something was up. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he knew that nigga from somewhere.

  “All right. Well, I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

  She gave him a quick hug and headed back to Tank. They continued shopping, and she continued to deal with his hot and cold behavior, acting like it wasn’t bothering her. But she knew how she would get him.

  When they got back to his crib, she thanked him properly for the shopping spree he had given her. They walked in, and she put her stuff by the door.

  “Thank you, baby, for taking me shopping,” she cooed.

  “Yup,” he grunted, sitting down on the couch.

  She walked over to him and dropped her dress, exposing her bare ass.

  “So, you gonna come fuck this pussy or what?” she grinned.

  He looked up from his phone and smirked. Then he stood up, and she walked up the stairs as he followed behind her, pulling out his dick, ready to annihilate her pussy.

  * * *

  It was after three in the morning when Genese heard her phone buzzing. What the hell? she thought.

  Trying to focus, she looked at her phone to see that it was her cousin Two-Shots.

  What the hell is wrong with this nigga? she thought as she yawned, opening the text to see what he could possibly want that early in the morning.

  (305) 658-1233: Yo, it’s your cuzzo Two-Shots. I got your number from Tressa. Yo, hit me when you get this. It’s ’bout ur boy. I remember where I know him from. Hit me ASAP.

  This muthafucka must be out of his mind, she thought, turning over.

  She looked to see that Tank wasn’t in bed.

  Where the hell is he?

  Yawning, she got up and noticed the light on in one of the rooms in the house from the hallway. Walking toward it, she saw him sitting on a chair smoking a blunt and texting on his phone.

  “What you doing in here?” she asked.

  “Chilling,” he said, not looking up at her. “I was about to come wake you up. I gotta go handle some shit, so you gotta dip a li’l earlier than planned.”

  Disappointment showed on her face once again.

  “Okay. So, I can’t just go to sleep and leave when I wake up or when you get back?” she asked, hopeful. “I gotta work in a few hours.”

  He gave her a look that told her the answer. She sighed and stomped off toward the room to put on her clothes. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep. But really, she was hoping he would have let her stay so she could snoop while he was gone.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. He had yet to spend the night at her house, and anytime she was at his, he always had some shit to do that required him to leave.

  Ten minutes later, she was dressed and in her car, driving back to her house. He barely said goodbye when she left. She didn’t like this shit at all. She should have him wrapped around her finger by now. She was going to have to step it up.

  Walking into her apartment, she dropped her bags and got her scrubs out for work for the next day. Getting into bed, she was knocked out within a few minutes. When she woke up the following day, she saw several more messages from her cousin.

  (305) 658-1233: Did u get my msg?

  (305) 658-1233: Hit me when u get this.

  She shot him a quick message to let him know she got his messages. She didn’t know what was so important about Tank that had this nigga so up, but she was going to find out.

  On my way to work. I’ll hit you when I get off.

  She assumed he was asleep since the last message came in at a little after five in the morning, and it was now nine. As she drove to work, her mind was occupied by thoughts of Tank. He was proving to be quite complicated. It was easy for her to pull a nigga. But he was showing to be a bit of a challenge. So she had to figure out her next move. She wasn’t about to be one of these basic bitches that got pregnant too early.

  Pulling into work, she told herself that she wasn’t going to stress about it for the moment and that she would continue to play it cool and see if she could figure out her next move. As long as he was still coming around, then she was good.

  She started her shift and was working her ass off when she got paged that she had a visitor. For a split second, she got excited and thought that it might’ve been Tank. He always said that he liked that she was a nurse and doing something for herself instead of just expecting a nigga to take care of her. She was a nurse, granted, but if she could live in the lap of luxury . . . Why not?

  Walking down to the check-in station, she saw her cousin.

  Oh my God. I’m ’bout sick of this nigga right now.

  “What’s up?” she questioned. “Everything okay?”

  “Ay, my bad to bother you at work, but I need to holla at you on some shit,” Two-Shots said, looking around.

  “Is somebody sick or dying or something? Like, this couldn’t wait?” she pushed. “This is my job.”

  “Not if you tryin’a get paid,” he told her.

  “What are you talking about?” she huffed, slightly agitated.

  “You got someplace that we can talk?”

  She turned and looked at one of her coworkers who was doing the intake of patients.

  “I’m gonna take a quick break,” she told her. “I’ll be back.”

  “Okay,” the young girl nodded.

  “Come on,” Genese said, walking outside with her cousin. “Now, what is it that is so important that you had to come to my job?”

  “As I said, I know your boy.”

  “What?” she sighed. This nigga was sounding like The Riddler.

  “The nigga you was with at the mall. Tank,” he recalled.

  “Yea. I told you everybody knows him. So what?” she shrugged.

  “Yeah, but I bet I know more about that nigga than you do,” he told her.

  “Okay?” she said, not understanding what the hell he was talking about.

  “I know him from the neighborhood back in the day. He was the reason why I got locked up,” Two-Shots told her.

  “Huh?” she said, completely confused.

  “Yea. That nigga is the reason why I went to juvie and got that charge,” he repeated.

  “Okay. So what the hell you telling me for?” she urged.

  “I just figured you would want to help your family,” he shrugged.

  “Help you do what?” she pushed.

  “Help me get in that nigga pockets.”

  She looked at her cousin strangely. Something wasn’t making sense.

  “Bye,” she said, not wanting to deal with it at the moment.

  “So, you don’t give a fuck that this nigga had me locked up?” he questioned. “I did all of that time and lost all of my money because of him.”

  “Okay. Well, cuz, that nigga is a grown-ass man, and so are you,” she said.

  “Yeah, but I got a plan,” he stressed.

  “Okay. Well, I don’t wanna know about it,” she stopped him. “That’s my nigga you talking about. So, whatever the fuck you do, keep me out of it.”

  She wasn’t trying to share anything with anybody, especially her cousin. She had a better chance of getting paid working solo. She wasn’t trying to mess up what she had going on with Tank.

  “Come on, man. Don’t tell me you sprung on this nigga,” he grunted.

  “No, but I got a good thing going with him,” she argued. “So, why would I mess that up?”

  “Yeah, all right,” he sucked his teeth. “I didn’t know that you would turn your back on your family.”

  “I’m not turning my back on my family,” she replied. “I’m just not gonna get involved in some dumb shit. You don’t know this nigga. If you fuck with him, he’s liable to fuck up everything you love. So, I would stay away if I were you.”

  “Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t be around because I’m gon’ make that nigga suffer,” he warned.

  “Do what you gotta do,” she said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I gotta go to work.”

  She walked off, thinking about what her cousin had said. She hoped that he was smart enough not to try Tank. That would be interfering with her trying to get her money. Although she had never been around Tank when shit was bad like that, she knew that everybody feared him. And she didn’t want any part of it. The only thing she wanted was to lock him down. But if her cousin wanted to be stupid enough to go after Tank, then so be it. It was his funeral.

  Chapter Eight

  July 2018

  Two Weeks Later

  “A’ight. So check this out. I got this dope-ass idea, right? You know where Ultramont Mall is, right? I’m thinking we turn the parking lot into like an arena or some shit, and we throw this big-ass concert introducing all the artists on the label. Have everybody in Miami come out. And then we host an after party at one of the clubs up in Wynnewood,” Tank told his boy, Armani.

  “I mean, I feel you. We can pull it off, but you know that’s gonna need a lot of folks out on the streets promoting and shit,” Armani replied.

  “Oh, that’s gonna happen,” Tank agreed. “That ain’t gon’ be nothing. We can get a couple of these young niggas out here on the block and let them make some paper real quick, specially since they always say they tryin’a prove themselves and shit. We got Young Trigga in the studio now, and he ready to drop some new shit on the stage, so with him performing, you know this shit gon’ be bigger than fucking Summer Jam.”

  “Oh, hell yeah,” Armani agreed, excited.

  Tank and Armani were riding through the streets of Miami, hitting up a few traps so that they could collect.

  He rarely visited the traps anymore because he had his folks that were delegated to do that kind of shit for him. But Armani had called him and told him about a situation with one trap in particular that had him hot. One of his men, Red, was starting to feel himself a little bit too much and didn’t realize that he had eyes on him. Mainly . . . Tank’s.

  “So, how you wanna handle this nigga, Red?” Armani said, switching the subject to exactly what he was thinking.

  “Oh, that muthafucka gon’ bleed red by the time I’m done if he done fucked up like you saying,” Tank told him.

  He drove through the familiar streets of Miami, looking at the environment around him. Driving through the hood, he had so many memories of being out on the block and trying to get his come-up. Now, of course, he was living in a different neighborhood, but he was still very much familiar with the hood, and the hood still knew him, which was why Tank couldn’t grasp why Red would try to cross him. Red knew that he wasn’t about no bullshit. So, to Tank, the fact that he was out here on some dumb shit was a blatant sign of disrespect.

  “Bruh, the shit I’m bugging on is this nigga really thought we wasn’t gon’ see ten grand gone,” Armani said. “This nigga bugging, man.”

  “I know where every fucking cent of my money goes,” Tank said, gripping the steering wheel. “That ain’t no fucking chump change.”

  “Not to that nigga, apparently,” Armani mumbled.

  “Even if it is, it’s my fucking chump change,” Tank argued.

  “Well, there’s more. Vick said he think that nigga been cutting the work down to make his own and shit.”

  “A’ight.” Tank nodded, furious.

  They were less than five minutes away, and nobody knew they were coming, which was exactly how he wanted it. He was going to run up in there and catch that nigga off guard. He was going to take personal satisfaction in making Red piss himself. And if he said anything that he didn’t like, then everybody knew what it was.

  Pulling up on the curb, he and Armani hopped out and headed up the walkway. The trap was right smack-dab in the middle of the projects, which was how Tank liked it. He knew that cops would take more time coming to the projects than they would in the white people’s neighborhoods. Plus, the house belonged to an old couple. So Tank simply paid their mortgage and moved them across town.

  Walking inside, he saw everybody busy at work. Two females, Gia and Aleesha, were in the kitchen counting money.

  “Hey, Tank,” one of them called out.

  “Wassup, baby girl?” he said, walking over to her.

  “What’s up?” Armani greeted, looking at Gia.

  She was bad as hell. He wanted to holla at her, but he didn’t mix business with pleasure. Tank made that clear. If anybody was gonna fuck a bitch that worked for him, it was going to be Tank.

  “Ay, where that nigga Red at?” Armani asked.

  “He out in the backyard. They bought one to spark,” Gia said, smiling at him.

  She was feeling Armani too, but she also knew the rules.

  “Yo, get that nigga shit and bring it out to me,” Tank told her, interrupting their stare.

  Seeing that he was serious, she quickly nodded her head.

  “A’ight, I got you,” she rushed.

  She got up and disappeared to the back where the boys had put their work. Heading to the back door, Tank and Armani walked out to see Red and a few others standing and smoking.

  “Oh shit. What up, yo?” Red greeted seeing Armani and Tank come out. “If it ain’t the living legends in the flesh.”

  “Which is more than I can say for your ass,” Tank replied smugly.

  He wasn’t impressed with the compliments. He could get any nigga to dick ride him. He was there for one purpose: to find out where the fuck his money was and if this nigga was stupid enough to be stealing from him. Red could tell that Tank was upset but was clueless about what.

  “What up, my nigga?” he asked.

  “You ain’t think I was gonna find out?” Tank spoke.

  “Find out what?” Red asked, looking around, confused.

  “Find out that your stupid ass been cutting our shit to make some extra money,” Armani spoke up.

  Red stood stoic, which only pissed off Tank even more.

  “So, what’s up?” Tank asked. His face was balled up tight, and he was ready to do some damage. “You got my money?”

  Red shrugged as if it were no big deal.

  “Look, man, I just figured I’d take what I was owed,” he told him.

  “And what the fuck was you owed?” Tank spat, stepping toward Red.

  “Shit, I was taking what was mine. You out here eating good and got us muthafuckas working for you and shit like you fucking God. What the fuck for? To say we fucking work for you?” Red questioned. “We the ones out here getting shit done while you out there trying to act like you got damn Renaissance man and shit wanting to be muthafuckin’ super manager and shit. Dang, we the ones out here getting it.”

  The niggas standing behind Red looked mortified. They knew what was about to happen. Red had fucked up. Tank was enraged. His blood was boiling. He looked at Armani, and even Armani was in disbelief.

  “This nigga got a goddamn death wish,” Armani said, shaking his head.