Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
monday,july 17
HOME
A scene from Poetic Justice was playing on my big TV, filling my living room with the familiar voices. I was posted up on the couch, chillin' with my Chipotle bowl, letting the chill vibe of the movie wash over me. Everybody was doing their thing, and the dialogue had me smiling.
"My cousin, my cousin! Look at my family over here. My cousins. What's up, cousin? -How you doing, boy? Cousin! -What's up, cousin? What's up? I ain't seen you in I don't know when. Goddamn! That's a pretty girlfriend you got here, boy. Y'all make a good-looking couple too. So, what's your name, cousin? Lucky. Little Lucky? Lucky, yeah. With a lady like this, shit, I'd call you Lucky too."
The scene had me chuckling a bit, the way they hyped each other up felt like home. I was halfway through my bowl, just enjoying the mix of flavors and the movie's vibe, when my phone buzzed on the couch beside me. I sighed, setting my food down and reaching for my phone, already a little annoyed that my moment of peace was getting interrupted.
I picked up my phone and saw a text from my dad, and immediately, the vibe shifted. My calm was gone before I even opened it.
"Need you to drop something off. If they try some funny shit, handle it."
I stared at the message, my good mood evaporating. I knew what "drop something off" really meant. Dad didn't just hit me up for small favors. When he asked me for something like this, it was serious. The kind of serious that made you think twice but also the kind that you couldn't say no to.
I took a deep breath, trying to push down the anxiety that was bubbling up inside me. This wasn't my first time dealing with something like this, but that didn't make it any easier. I quickly shot back a reply.
"K, where at?"
His response came almost immediately, dropping an address that was about thirty minutes away. I rolled my eyes, frustration building up. This wasn't how I planned to spend my night, but I knew I didn't have much of a choice. When family calls, especially with something like this, you answer.
I got up and headed straight to my room, flipping a switch in my head from relaxed to ready. I threw on all black—hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. I grabbed my ski mask, pulling it down over my face as I looked in the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, eyes cold and focused, hiding the storm that was brewing inside.
Next, I made my way down to the basement, the cool air hitting me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I didn't waste time, heading straight for the safe in the corner. I punched in the code, the door clicked open, and there they were—my guns. I grabbed two, checked them quickly, and slid them into the hidden pockets inside my jacket.
After that, I went to the garage, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the empty space. My motorbike was parked there, sleek and black, just like my outfit. It was perfect for what I needed tonight—fast, low-key, and easy to maneuver. I climbed on, the leather seat cold against my legs, and put on my helmet.
I clicked the remote, the garage door slowly rising as the night air rushed in. The street outside was quiet, almost too quiet, but that was about to change. I revved the engine, feeling the bike rumble to life beneath me, and with one last look at my house, I sped off into the night.
The wind whipped past me, the city lights blurring as I cut through the streets, focused on the job ahead. I knew what I was heading into, and I knew the risks, but I also knew I couldn't let my dad down. Not tonight. Not ever. The further I rode, the more the anxiety settled into determination. This wasn't just about doing what I was told; this was about making sure things went right. If they tried some funny shit, like dad said, I'd be ready.
Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to the address. It was an old, rundown warehouse on the edge of town, the kind of place where things happened in the shadows. I parked my bike a little ways off, keeping it out of sight, and walked the rest of the way, my senses on high alert.
As I approached, I saw them—three guys standing outside, smoking and talking low. They looked up as I got closer, eyes narrowing as they sized me up. I kept my face neutral, unreadable, even though my mind was racing, planning out every move, every possible outcome.
"Yo, you the one with the drop?" one of them called out, stepping forward.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice steady. "You got what I need?"
They nodded and gave it to me.
As I was walking back to my bike, one of the guys called out, "I didn't know your boss was letting females do his dirty work."
I stopped in my tracks, a cold, angry wave washing over me. I turned around, my eyes narrowing under the ski mask. "Excuse me?" I shot back, my voice icy.
The guy stepped forward with a smirk, clearly thinking he was funny. "Nah, I'm being for real. Letting a lil' bitch do his work wasn't on my bingo card," he chuckled, nudging his boys.
I could feel my blood start to boil, and I clenched my jaw. I didn't come here to get disrespected, and I sure as hell wasn't about to take it.
"Watch your fucking mouth," I growled, stepping closer. The other two guys were looking at me, waiting to see how I'd react, but I kept my focus on the one who had spoken.
"Or what? You gonna make me?" he laughed, still not taking me seriously. He started to reach for something in his pocket, probably thinking he could intimidate me.
That was all the warning I needed. Without hesitation, I pulled out my gun from the inside of my jacket. The cold steel felt familiar in my hand, a reassuring weight.
"Don't test me," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "You really don't want to go there."
The leader's grin faltered as he saw the gun in my hand. The other two started backing up, their eyes wide with sudden fear. The guy who had been talking started to raise his hands, but it was too late.
Before he could react, I fired a warning shot into the ground, the loud bang echoing off the warehouse walls. Dust and debris flew up, and the guys jumped back, their bravado completely gone.
"Shit!" one of them yelled, scrambling to get out of the way.
The guy who had been running his mouth looked terrified now. "Yo, yo, chill! We were just playing!" he stammered, his bravado completely evaporated.
I wasn't in the mood for games or apologies. I took a step closer, keeping the gun steady. "You think this is a fucking joke? You disrespected me, and you think you can just laugh it off?" I said, my voice cold and controlled.
He shook his head frantically. "Nah, nah, I'm sorry! We didn't mean it like that. Just let us go!"
I didn't respond, just watched him with a hard stare. The tension in the air was thick, and I could see the fear in their eyes. They were waiting for me to make a move, and I was more than ready to follow through if I had to.
Finally, I made a decision. I aimed at the ground next to him and fired again, sending another loud bang through the night. "Consider this your warning," I said. "Next time, I won't fucking miss."
The three of them scrambled, hurrying to get out of my way as I put my gun back into my jacket. I didn't give them another look, just turned and walked back to my bike.
The night air felt cooler now, and the city lights seemed to blur as I rode away. My heart was still racing, but the adrenaline was starting to fade. The drama with those guys was over, but the night was still far from done.
