Rebel (A Rihanna and Eazy E Love Story)

Talent on the Rise (Chapter 26)

Eric's (Eazy E) POV

As I hit the corner and pulled up to Pat's spot, I saw my day-one homie out there doin' what he always do—bench-pressin' weights like he trainin' for war, blunt hangin' from his lips like it's part of the routine. We been tight since we was rockin' Pampers, but after my cousin got clapped, it was like we made some unspoken pact. We hit them streets together, no questions, no hesitations. Pat? He ain't just a homie. That nigga my brother, blood or not.

I put my car into park,before I even kill the engine, he already clocked me. He tossed the bar up like it ain't nothin' and sat up, ash from his blunt fallin' onto his sweats.

"Ay, nigga," he called, sliding into the passenger seat as soon as I opened the door. "Where the hell you been at? I been pagin' yo' ass all week. Thought a nigga got ghost or somethin'."

I smirked, leanin' back in my seat. "Man, chill wit' all that. You know me, nigga. I move in silence. What you hittin' me up for, anyway? You finally break yo' streak of bad ideas or nah?"

Pat chuckled, puffin' the blunt like I ain't just roast him. "Nigga, if I did, we wouldn't be sittin' here, would we?"

I turned to Pat and asked, "Cuh, you make that drop?"

He leaned back in the seat, takin' a slow drag off the blunt, and said, "Nigga, I ain't make one drop—I made five. These niggas hittin' me up back-to-back for re-ups. Had to keep it movin'. I been callin' to let you know I was headin' to the spot to re-up so you ain't think we got ganked. But yo' ass wasn't answerin' or returnin' calls. What's up wit' that?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, already knowin' I was about to deflect. "Man, only four things make you go ghost like that: the hustle, yo' kids, yo' moms... or a chick. So which one is it?"

I smirked, leanin' into the wheel like I wasn't about to give him nothin'. "Nigga, I'm always gettin' that money, kids and moms come first, and the other one? That's none of yo' business."

Pat damn near fell out laughin', slappin' the dashboard like I said somethin' wild. "Oh, so now it's like that? You bein' all secretive 'bout yo' shit? Yeah, it's gotta be a new broad. Ain't no other reason yo' ass been duckin' calls. Who she is, nigga? She got you this tied up?"

I just shook my head, lettin' Pat get his laugh on. Truth be told, the nigga wasn't wrong. I saw him paging me on Friday, but I was caught up with Rebel.

Saturday? Man, we came back from Vegas late, and I had to handle a few drops of my own. Sunday was for my kids—had to give them that time—and by Monday, I needed to catch some rest. Couldn't be out here runnin' on E, especially with that date lined up with Reb later that night.

And Monday night? Sheesh. Let's just say a nigga got lucky. Still sittin' here lowkey reminiscing on that good good Rebel put on me. Had a nigga floatin' ever since. Pat might've been clownin', but if he knew the half of it, he'd probably be jealous as hell.

While I was lost in my own head, replaying the night Reb and I spent together, Pat's voice snapped me outta it. "Ay, nigga, you goin' back to school or somethin'? Why you got a chemistry book up in here?"

I looked over, and sure enough, Rebel's chemistry textbook was sittin' right there on the dash. Damn, I'd completely forgotten about that. She must've left it when I scooped her from school on Friday. Now this nosy-ass nigga was about to turn detective mode on me, askin' more questions than the damn police.

Before I could even grab it, Pat snatched the book up, flippin' it open like he was tryna solve a mystery. He spotted "U.S.C." written on the inside cover and raised an eyebrow. "U.S.C.? Who the fuck you know at USC, nigga? You got some college broad or somethin'?"