The Bricks ஐ

Chapter 30 ♥ King of BO$$E$ Part 1

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HASSAN IS TO THE SIDE ♥♥♥♥♥

 

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Notoriety - "the state of being famous or well known for some bad quality or deed."

Yardie - a member of a Black criminal syndicate originally based in Jamaica.

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"His name is money, dark complexion, weird ass eyes, pay attention to that... He run 'round the bricks wit a bunch a other niggas, get em only, I want em dead."

"You sure it's a nigga ,boss, it could be anybody-?"

"Fuck you mean is I'm sure. What bitch you know capable of doing some shit like dis? This a man's world."

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♥Money's POV

~Flashback~

"They say money make niggas act different like that shit a bad thing." I sat closer to the top of the stoop while he stood at the bottom serving bubble bath to the soap feens, the whole time never breaking the conversation with me.

"I don't get it," like most of the time when he tries to shoot me his concepts. I always forget how smart he is, not just street wise but book wise too, he's like a modern day philosopher in the form of a bed stuy coke boy.

"Check dis. A nigga get a fresh ass pair a all white ones, feel me ? Like I mean he been hustlin' hard all week just to get 'em on some real ambitious type shit... You expect this nigga to act the same way he did wit some fuckin chucks on his feet? dats stupid B." he paused for a minute to count the money the old woman had just given him before he looked from left to right and pulled a tiny bottle out of his mouth giving it to her and then acting as if it had never happened. Soon after she walked away he pulled money out of his socks and pockets folding all the same way and putting a rubber band around it and giving it to me. I stuffed it in my sock, putting it away for him just like he taught me.

"I could never respect a nigga that acted the same way he did yesterday, that's what's wrong wit these niggas out here. They so dedicated to stayin loyal to what they think is true that they never allow they self to grow. A man wit out growth ain't a man at all. I act different wit every dollar I make. I work hard for that shit, and it's mine," he looked at me and smirked "Ours... if you pay the cost to be the boss why not play the role?"

"So you're supposed to forget where you came from?"

 

"Nah, you supposed to hate that shit enough to never wanna go back. Strugglin' is a bitch, hell on earth. Never let somebody tell you that you can't buy ya way to heaven, cause even if its heaven on earth that you buyin sweetheart," he licked his lips, "that shit is still heaven. It ain't shit wrong wit change."

~End of Flashback~

The plane dropped in Kingston Jamaica at four pm. The sun was shining, and I was completely out of my element, but more than happy to be off the plane... flying sixteen hundred miles with a gun on you makes you nervous, but I would take that over going somewhere unfamiliar and not being strapped any day.

I collected my Michael Kors carry on bags and made my way out of the dense airport. The scenery was beautiful, everything was foreign to me but I tried to take everything in as quickly as possible. I continued to walk until something hit me... not only did I not know where the fuck I was going, but he doesn't even know that I'm here.