The Nine

Chapter 5.2: Dillon

Considering the fact that my reads have nearly doubled in the past couple days and that it's a holiday, I felt that an update was due. Don't forget to share me! I'd really appreciate it.

--

My roommate Mike was still up at eleven when I got back to the apartment. I walked right past him, still thinking about what Deanna might've been hiding behind her back.

"What's wrong witchu fam?" He asked, not looking up from the phone he was on. "Lost a contact again? Glasses dirty?"

"It ain't no time for games bruh, chill." I waved him off and strode in the short hallway that led to my room.

"What happened?" He called to me.

I told him what had happened with Deanna. Mike laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

"A drive-by blowjob bruh?" He was crying laughing.

"Man this shit ain't funny," I told him from across the coffee table.

"Nigga you the only man in history that ever got mad at a surprise BJ. I wish my bitch would hit my shit in my sleep!"

"Deanna ain't my girl though," I told my roommate. "I don't want her yuckmouth ass on me, she just sucked up Tyson a hour before she hit my shit."

"Mane whatchu gone do, sue her for rape? Get off that female shit."

"I ain't on no female shit son," I told my roommate, "she hiding something from me. I bust in her face and I think she swiped some of my kids."

He laughed twice as hard, so hard his bald head was scraping the carpet.

"Nigga ain't nobody stealing your nut round here, how you sound? I know these hoes trifling but you worrying too much kid, don't sweat her."

"You never know Mike, everybody's talking bout how I'm bouta blow up and I got females tryna get with me left and right for the fame. If she's having my kid then her ass a fixture, and Tara ain't gone have none of that."

"Yo girl cool son, I honestly don't feel like she'll trip over it if you just be real with her. Keep it one hundred."

"Yeah, 'bae I cheated, but it was an accident', nigga is you crazy? Imma keep this on the low for a while until I know what the situation is." I went into my room frustrated; I wasn't bouta lose my girl over some sneaky trick.

"We bouta re-up on pads nigga, I'm knowing you bleeding heavy as fuck in there," I heard him say through the door. "Deanna ain't sweating you, she prolly just had a condom in her hand. I done had a bitch ride me when I was sleep before. But do whatchu do, night."

--

I woke up Friday morning in a cold sweat. I took a shower, put in a fresh pair of contacts, and got dressed for work. Mike was still in bed sleep when I took off. I left a note for him to clean up; that nigga was always making a mess.

I was a mechanic at a car shop and loved my job, even if I did come home every afternoon smelling of coolant and motor oil. Ever since I was a kid, I had taken an interest in mechanics. I loved it maybe even more than I did music - if Tyson hadn't persuaded me into joining the Nine all those years ago, I would have made it my dream to become the next Henry Ford. But since stardom seemed imminent, a nigga was much more focused on refining his bars.

There were only a handful of guys at the garage working today and we all got along well. The workload was extra light; we had maybe ten customers total in the five hours I worked.

I had just finished my shift at three when I saw Tyson's BMW pull into the lot. He had asked me to come with him and Destiny to the clinic to get tested. I wasn't sure why, but probably for damage control. If either of their results came back positive, Destiny would really chew that nigga's ass. Shit, I would too if my niece or nephew had a disease straight out the womb.