A Slum Love Crime. (A$AP Rocky Story)

Part Ventisei

I wasn’t too sure on why Rakim referred to Nicole as a ‘bitch’, but I did exactly what he told me to. I took the lead and guided us toward Danny’s residence.

Since we’re in the capital of Guyana, it was rather difficult to locate Arnold Danielson. But luckily, that name wasn’t very popular. We only had to stop at one house before finding the right one. As we pulled up in front of the house in a humid yellow Jeep, there were butterflies in my stomach. Just like Mango, Danny had always been a man of my imagination. So seeing him in person would definitely be something nerve-wracking.

“That was quick,” Ferg said as Rakim turned the car off. We sat in the packed car and stared at the house. The house was nestled on a slight hill, made up of turquoise tiles and reddish roof shingles. A sleepy hollow tree was propped up next to the house, which blocked the boiling sun and allowed a bit of shade.

“Well, are we ready to roll in?” Rakim asked softly. I could tell even he was apprehensive to going to the house. But we had to. If not, what else was there for us to do?

“I know I’m ready,” said Nast. He was the first to open one of the car doors, and we all followed his lead. I hopped out of the passenger side and slammed the door closed a little too hard. The gravel beneath my feet was making them sweat even more.

The guys exited the car slowly and hesitantly. Once everyone was out and the car was locked, Rakim announced that it was time for directions. I stood and waited for him to dictate how we were to behave accordingly, but he looked straight back at me.

“Well…?” I said, urging him on.

“Well, aren’t you the leader of this mission? Tell us what to do.” He said, looking at me just like I was looking at him. I glanced back at the other guys, who were also waiting. So I stepped in front of them and slid my feet idly on the gravel.

“I guess we have to just go in there, obviously,” I started, “but let Rocky do all the talking. If anything, Danny’s going to be on-edge about who approaches his home. So we have to be gentle. And be respectful, too. But most of all, let Rocky do the talking. Don’t ask questions and don’t make statements.”

I looked at Rakim when I was finished, and he gave me a smile that said “Was that so hard?”

So the guys nodded to show that they understood, and we headed for the house. Rakim knocked twice on the glass part of the door. The curtain behind the glass shifted, and something black peeked out. Rakim shot the guys faintly worried looks, but knocked on the door again.

The black object knocked against the glass. “What is it?”

It was refreshing to hear a Harlem accent of our own after hearing so much Guyanese lingo. “It’s an old friend of yours. I’m here to rekindle. I don’t want trouble, honestly. I swear on my Grandmother’s grave. I just want to talk.” Rakim said through the door.

We all knew that his Grandmother was alive and well, but it wasn’t relevant to point out.

The curtains fully shifted, and a blurry face peered at us. Then the curtain closed and the door opened. There stood a man with strong legs and radiant bronzed skin. Although he had a harshly intimidating expression and persona, there was a kind gleam in his eye. He pointed a shotgun at us, and I realized that this was the black thing peeking out of the curtain.

The man lowered the gun a little bit in disbelief. “So you’re back to kill me again, right?”

Rakim held up his hands in surrender. He was genuinely nervous. “No, sir. Like I said, I’m here to rekindle. Shall we discuss over a drink?”