Thugs With Tendencies MxM (Staten Krown)

11

Sterling Huckabee

These weren't my blocks. Sometimes they were tough, sometimes they felt secure but they maintained firmness. These blocks were built on the back of systematic failures to society. Sometimes you make money, sometimes you stayed broke but you were always poor. Being poor wasn't the amount of money you made. Being poor was not knowing the wealth of the world. These blocks were more like cellblocks. They were prisons for people who didn't want to escape or didn't know how. Most of these blocks are mentalities.

Blocks on a staircase.

Sometimes going up. Sometimes going down, but always going in the same direction.

"Hey wasn't expecting you to be over," I notice Kenyatta.

She is sitting at the edge of the living room sofa. She keeps her head hung down and slouched. Her eyes are red. I think she's just been crying or something like that. She seems like a really moody girl. I've noticed getting to know her. It's a lot different from her sister Cheyenne. Cheyenne was never really moody at all.

"I figured you'd be here. Good morning by the way. You don't leave much do you?" she asks.

"Nah I don't hang in the street too much. Was waiting for Meech to get home."

"Why?" she asks.

"Well don't tell him. It's a secret but my dad has a company and I was thinking about taking Meech up there and having him interview. It's on the other side of Chicago though. On the North side."

"Your dad owns a company?" Kenyatta asks.

I don't talk too much about my background. I know it may come off as I'm entitled or something like that. I don't want to make it seem like that at all. Kenyatta looks impressed though sitting there like that.

"Yeah, he does," I state, "It's not around here though. He'd have to move for the job."

"Lot of white people up there," Kenyatta states.

It's more of a question then a comment I think. I think she figures but she just wants to make sure for some reason.

"It's not about race. It's just an opportunity," I state.

"Well he'd be good at it. Meech would be good at that," Kenyatta explains.

"You can come too. There's always room," I explain.

Kenyatta shakes her head at that moment, "Me? No. I'm a hood rat. Who are you trying to kid? I'm not worth shit. Can't even protect my own family? Can't even help my own little brother..."

She stops talking. There is something bothering her. I can tell she came here because of it by how she is reacting. I decide to walk over and sit next to her on the couch. Kenyatta looks at me for a few seconds. I call tell she's a little nervous today.

"What's wrong Kenyatta?"

"It's Meech."

My heart drops. This isn't good. I can tell by the look on her face. I couldn't lose someone else. After Cheyenne I just couldn't bring myself to lose someone else I cared about.

"Is he—"

She shrugs, "He might be dead. I don't know."

"Fuck you mean you don't know?" I ask, "Kenyatta where the fuck is Meech?"

"You overheard us talking about going to the Mexicans. Well we went to go see some and shit went wrong. It went bad. I had to get out of there. I had to grab the guns and go. I left Meech back there with them. I keep calling his phone but no one is picking up. I don't think he got out. Those Mexicans notice that their shit is missing they might end up killing him if he isn't dead already."