' 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗜𝗡 ' › D. SWING

39.

( two days later )

Rhonda.

"Yeah, and again, I really appreciate you allowing him to stay here with you until he fully recovered. I don't think it's safe for him to be in Los Angeles with Suge and his crew right now. Ever since he's been hanging around them, he's been...different. More violent", Faith said before trailing off, looking down at her nails, sighing a bit. "Look, I ain't even supposed to be helping his ass right now but he reached out to me so, keep an eye on him for me, aight? Again, I really appreciate it."

Faith was one of Puffy's songwriters for his label. I wasn't sure how exactly she managed to get my number but apparently she went out of her way to make sure she got in contact with me. Honestly, I was curious as to why she said she couldn't be affiliated with him but I brushed it off, offering a warm smile.

"Not a problem."

He stood in the doorway beside her and she patted his back, slightly pushing him forward to make him walk in then gave me a grin before she left, leaving me and him just looking at each other while he set his suitcase down by the door which he closed it behind him, "Hey."

"What's up, Pac? Need me to help you over to the couch?", I inquired, watching as he winced while walking forward, holding onto the left side of his abdomen.

He shook his head, though I could tell he wanted to say yes, "Nah, nah. Don't even worry about it, Rhonda. I'm good. This ain't the first time I've been shot and I'm sure it won't be the last. I can handle it."

"Are you s–", I began to ask but he stumbled forward, causing me to stop in mid-sentence and rush over to him, "Whoa, whoa. Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?"

He just chuckled, smiling slightly through the pain as he shook his head once again, "Nah. I'm all good, babygirl. Nothin' hurt over here." I sighed, frowning a little since I was still worried, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as I helped him walk over to the couch before he slowly lowered himself onto it. "'Preciate you."

"Don't mention it", I said with a warm smile, soon sitting down next to him, glancing over his anatomy. He was wearing a white muscle shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and a black long sleeve button-up which he left unbuttoned along with some black Converse Chuck Taylor's complimented by a gold watch and chain. He looked nice. "You need something to drink or anything?", I inquired, meeting his gaze as he stared at me.

He grinned, shaking his head while stretching his arms out along the backboard of the couch, "Nah. Thanks, though. So, what's up? What's there to do in whack ass New York these days?

"For one, New York ain't whack, alright?", I said jokingly, smiling as I watched him look at me with amusement. "And for two, you don't need to be doing anything. You're injured."

He kissed his teeth, chuckling shortly after, "Man, so what? Injuries can't hold a real nigga down. I'm tryna' live my life the best way I know how and that's without fear." He shrugged his shoulders a bit while he continued, "Why is it that just because bad shit happens to you, you gotta' become overly cautious? Regardless of how much you try to prevent shit, if it's gon' happen... it's gon' happen. Period. We can't control what goes down but we can control how we perceive and handle it."

He had a point. And see, that's the thing. Tupac always had a point. He was honestly one of the most intellectual black men in Hollywood if not the most intellectual. Although people tend to look over that aspect because they view him as a violent 'gangster rapper'. Really, he seemed as though he was just trying to speak for those in the roughest neighborhoods who grew up without a voice in society. He spoke for black people all around world, which is why he was given so much respect from them. Truth be told, I respect him, too.