Surviving the Valley- Murda She Wrote

5. Screamin' Murda

It's been a few hours since Cliff left, Woddy has fell asleep on a pull out cot beside Murda's hospital bed and Murda lies there, counting the specks and stains on the hospital room's ceiling. He thinks about how, just a few hours ago, he was at The Pynk, ready to catch up with the crew. He zones out, and the image he once saw of stains in the corner of the room's ceiling become a flashback of where everything went wrong tonight.

𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵.

Murda and Cliff sit parked in front of The Pynk. They recite the lyrics of 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯', rotating a blunt back and forth. It's quite obvious, they've done some type of...𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺, prior to this here jam session. Cliff gently brushes her pink, ombré lace front in her car's mirror, applying a fresh coat of mauve lipstick and wiping any smudges Murda made earlier. Murda hits a smooth shoulder rock, demonstrating other new dances he's learned from Tik Tok. It's clear he's mimicking a teenager he's seen do this a thousand times before. Though he's only in his late twenties, he manages to make everything he does look old man-ish. Even between head bops and small dance moves, he still manages to quote every lyric and breath between the hook. He looks to Cliff every few words and leans in, singing directly in her ear to remind her who the lyrics are about. 𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 (𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦) 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 (𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬)𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦 '𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 (𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱) 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯'

Murda outs his hearty laugh, a smile flashes a new glistening grill. He lowers the music and waves his hand to Cliff, who is also waving fingers around to the beat, hitting a shoulder rock of her own. "𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙣𝙖, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙪𝙥" Murda goes. Cliff eyes him with a smirk, she already knows where this is heading. 𝙇𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣'" he says, encouraging her to freestyle over the beat, as predicted. She cackles with laughter. "𝙐𝙝 𝙝𝙪𝙝" he gases her up. She begins to rap a remixed version of the song. "𝙄𝙢𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣' 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙖 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩" she raps "𝙔𝙪𝙝, 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮!" he continues hyping her up. They fall out in hysteria. "𝘼𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙣𝙖" she smacks his chest between laughs. "𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚. 𝙄 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙖 𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨" Cliff reminds him. Murda happily nods, satisfied with what she's been able to offer him tonight. She adjusts her lace one last time, gathers her belongings and reaches for the door. Murda smacks her butt before she can leave. This has become his unsaid "thank you" or "goodbye"

Murda gives himself a few more minutes to finish his blunt, before he turns the car off and begins to head back towards Cliff's office. If he's being honest, he prefers it over any section. When it gets too chaotic, he chills in the back with Big L and Duffy, they'll smoke and watch the security cameras like a game. He enjoys the ratchet fun any other night, but he likes the chill scene more. Too many people in his face, makes him nervous. Nowadays, he only really hits The Pynk to help pack it back out. He holds a status beyond his street fame now, and with that comes trouble, but it also brings more money to the doors of his girl's club. Cliff hasn't caught on to it yet, but Murda's lowkey appearances at The Pynk, have really been for her. He knows how stressed she's been about Miss Hailey LaKeisha Robyn's, thief-in-the-damn-night's scandal, and how she cleared the accounts. Cliff would never take any money from him directly, so he shows up, the groupies follow and the money stacks. It won't hit as fast as him just giving the money straight up, but this is the low profile- helping tactic he's decided on. Since dodging the tour with Tina, he's been cookin' up new music for a potential debut album, helping the boys manage the club when he can and T'ing up with Woddy. Him being here tonight, was no different.