Heat Vol. I

I̳I̳

The Intent.

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Next Day
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"Ayo who the fuck is Trouble?"

The room sat silent for a while as everyone glanced around the room in confusion.

Could it be?
The original kingpin, The original suitor. Back from the dead fucking with Fauci's territory? You had to be asking for trouble to cross Fauci yet Torrance also known as Trouble wasn't nobody to fuck with.

Fauci was born and raised in Waimea, locally known as Kamuela. His parents were nonexistent in his life but his siblings and himself to managed to finish and feed themselves from the things they'd stolen from local markets and sleeping over at friends homes.

Being the youngest of thirteen siblings, majority either locked up or strung out, Fauci always knew

he wanted to be his own boss. He was the type of man that was all about the Benjamin's and he wouldn't let no man or woman get in his way.

"Man I don't know and I don't give a fuck who Trouble is, let me know when we get our numbers to push this shit out. Gotta enough on our plates as is," Geo, one of the highly respected front runners spoke up. "Yeah man, this shit is strictly between Fauci and T, shit ain't got shit to do with us. Everybody understand?" CJ replied, dropping the bags of weight on the small wooded table in the foyer of the home.

"Now I know you lil' pussies ready to light some shit up wit' all them blicks we just received, but that's a dirty mess we simply can't clean up as urgently if shit hits the fan. The guns were obviously stolen and unregistered out of the U.S. Most likely derived from an inside source...so somebody here is playing both sides," CJ continued as he intensively eyed everyone in the room.

Again, silence.

The dimly lit home filled with cherry maroon colored wooded shelves that touched the ceilings and displayed nothing but Brandy and Original Italian Arturo Fuente sealed cigars. All that could be heard was muffled yelling coming from Fauci's office and crackling wood as from the fire pit that sat boldly under the turned off television.

"All ima say is it's not a coincidence and we definitely will be on the look out for whose behind this bullshit. Now as of tonight, we follow through with the initial request per Fauci with the delivery of the treasure.

Mark your shit, Guard your shit.

Nothing more, nothing less, understand? CJ continued, as the men all nodded in understanding. Shaking his head, CJ exited upstairs leaving the product for everyone to sort themselves.

"This some bullshit, I'm posed to be laid up wit my lul dip tonight," Carlo smacked his teeth as he evenly cut the brick of powder into angular quadrants with a small blade.

"Aye quit bitching, You the one so eager to come work this shift nigga, so less talking more cutting. And what you think, that nigga Torran still hitting for Fauci?" Mezee spoke, slightly glancing around the room for anybody listening.

"Could be, who knows," Carlo replied simply, still heavily eyeing his brick for the most perfect quarters. Nudging him a bit, Mezee simply raised his brow before shaking his head and returning to cutting as well.