Life In New Orleans

4: Cedric

I couldn't help but stare as she walked away. Baby girl was blessed, I couldn't front.

"Ahhhh shit. Homeboy at it again, wazzam with it fam?" DJ grinned. His long dreads swung with every movement.
"Nothing man" I couldn't believe I still didn't have Mercedes number. I walked to my car and sped off. I had "business" to handle anyway.

I made it home to find out my dad wasn't there. I texted him.

Me: "Wya?"
Dad💸: "Trap. Slide thru"

I got back in my car. On the ride there all I could think about was my moms. How she gave me up when i was 5 and turned to drugs. She even stole from us, she died a few years later right before my seventh birthday. Shit still hurt, although she fucked up. That was still moms, my heart.

I made it to the trap and walked in. Our trap was different, it was actually pretty decent looking. I walked to my dads office in the back.

"What's up"

"Son, glad ye decided ti come by yeah" he grinned.

He knew I hated this shit, especially after knowing how drugs and slanging affected moms. But I was in the business by association and blood so leaving wasn't a choice. Especially with my father being the biggest drug lord in Jamaica and now New Orleans.

I just stared at him. He continued. "Listen, we're celebrating ta'night. Especially for you my son. You did ya part this week." I just stared at him blankly again. Fuck this nigga talkin' bout?

I guess he caught on to my confused look. "Listen , Yeah. I want ya to enjoy yourself tonight. Meet up at club Penthouse in Iberville at 10 tonight."

"K." I simply said. I left, got in my car. And went home. I'm tired of this lifestyle. Tired of moving away, tired of my bullshitting dad. Everything. I showered then layed down in my bed, thinking about the mysterious Mercedes.