𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

69

Chyna and Cut jumped in the blood red Camero downstairs to meet Rich who had his eyes hyper-focused on his phone. He didn't even budge at Chyna's loving embrace from the backseat on the driver's side.

With her arms still around him, she leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, happy to see her man after so many days apart.

"What's good, baby." mumbling under his breath, phone still his primary focus, he merely leaned his face into Chyna's direction to meet her lips and it was clear that it bothered Chyna. What was his problem?

"What got you so focused today, baby?" Rich started up the car with the slam of the passenger side door without answering Chyna's question. He figured that it would be best not to say the most without explaining it all properly to his lady.

"You told her?" Rich directed his question to Cut who automatically sifted his hand in his duffle bag looking for something besides the stacks of money caressing his knuckles each shuffle of his wrist. Cut also shared a look of apprehension and it was beginning to stir a sense of uneasiness in Chyna.

"Told me what?" Chyna since moved her hands from around Rich's shoulders and looked over at Cut first, then Rich. 

"Nah I ain't tell her."

"Tell me what?"

"You want to tell her or should I?" Rich kept his eyes forward with both hands gripped on the wheel.

"Man, I know y'all fuckin' hear me back here! Tell me what!"

Cut looked back at Chyna for a brief moment, then down to his duffle bag, pulling out a cold 43X glock and handing it to Chyna.

"What the fuck?! What you handing me a gun for?" Chyna pushed Cut hand away from her, scooting as far back into the seat as she could get. She always talked about how she was down for the cause and she was Rich down bitch but she wasn't about to hold a gun for nobody.

"Chill, Chyna, its registered."

"In who name?"

"Yours." Rich shot back in his deep tone. Chyna's eyebrows raised in suspicion at this statement. How did they manage to register her without prints, a class, anything?

"How did y'all manage to do that without me even being there?" questioned Chyna, her eyes bouncing from the gun to the both of them back to the gun.

"Don't worry about that, just know its clean and shit." Cut cheesed his gold-filled smile reassuringly at Chyna, holding the gun back out to Chyna.

"Take it. We 'bout to meet someone."

"Who?" Chyna's gut was twisting back and forth to the point she felt like if she sneezed she was going to shit on herself at any given moment. This ain't the wildest shit that her, Cut and Rich got into from sticking up a nigga to her turning out a girl to be a mule but a gun was just beginning to cross the line, especially since Rich promised she wouldn't have to deal with that shit.

"Ramirez. We finally found him hiding out at some hotel and you're going to meet him."

"Me?! Why?" Chyna's tone gave away just how out of the spectrum this shit was becoming and it was infuriating her how, even with the explanation, there was more that was being left out.

"Because. He tried to kill Princess. Pistol whipped her and shot her in her arm because she clowned his ass for not being able to stay hard. So we need you to lure him out and return the favor."

"And how imma lure him out?"?

"You and him are going to go on a date."

"Wh- how- how did y'all manage all of this?"

"Damn, Chyna, you want to pay this nigga back for fucking up Princess or you want to keep asking fucking questions?"

Rich's voice was dark and from his stare in the rearview at Chyna, you could tell his soul wasn't even in the car with him right now.

Cut apologetically looked back at Chyna, handed her the gun and turned back to look at the road.

"I think what Rich is saying is that, Ramirez wanted to take you out on a date and, of course, Rich wasn't for that shit. Neither was I. But, from what Princess told us, he kept calling Princess Chyna and how he wanted to imagine you while fuckin' her and that sent her off-"

"So that mean you giving Ramirez the okay to fuck on me? Rich you good with that fuck nigga fucking me?"

"Course not baby," Rich reassured in his buttery tone, his fingers fiercely gripping the leather steering wheel. "Ramirez got some information that we want, and we need you to play your role real quick and mooch him up.

Chyna, apprehensive and fearful, cradled the gun in her hands and looked at its glistening chrome exterior gleaming under the afternoon soon.

"A-alright" she stammered, "What you need me to do?"

Cut reached back and tossed her a dime bag of pure white. "Have him do a few lines of this, its laced with arsenic, acrylic powder and rat poison so don't eem jump on this."

With a disgusted scoff, Chyna stuffed the baggie in between her bra and leaned back in her seat.

"Bet your ass I won't."