HARDAWAY | trilogy

V3 - Chapter Eighteen.

𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎 "𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐓" 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐒

               "I don't give a fuck! — You find her or it's yo' funeral!" He angrily spat, slamming his phone down on the kitchen island, he peered over his shoulder when he heard me chuckle.

"Damn, I woulda hated to be on the otha' end of that call."

He turned around facing me, "the hell you doin' at my shit?"

"I can't just visit my big brotha; no reason?"

"Na', whatchu want?"

"A'ight," I stepped further into the kitchen, "that li'l braud you lookin' for, Yolanda. . ."

He scrunched his eyebrows, "whatchu kno' bout her?"

"Nothin'. . . Just figured you should let her rock wherever she at."

He chuckled quietly, "oh, you kno' sumthin, baby brotha'. . Where she at?"

"Yo' guess is just as good as mine—"

"Even better question — who you kno' that kno' where she at?"

"A friend."

"A friend?" He reiterated, "stop playin' wit me, Rico. Who dis friend? You can tell me or I'll just find where she at."

"Mercedes told me—"

"Of-fuckin'-course!" He laughed loudly, "yo' pussy-whipped ass com' strollin' in my mufuckin' crib to tell me yo li'l braud got my fuckin' property!"

"She ain't got her—"

"Ion' give a fuck!" He intervened in a loud tone, "she clearly kno' where da fuck she at. You better tell me sumn or I'd hate to have to show up at pretty li'l miss doorstep for a second time."

"Don't play wit me, J. ." I defensively voiced; aware of him referring to Mercedes.

Amusingly, he chuckled. "Nigga, I don't fear you like these otha' scrubs boy. Ion' interfere wit what the fuck you do so you interferin' in mine for what, som' pussy? You better sho' me the same mufuckin' respect before I do step into yo' shit."

"I wouldn't be hea' if I ain't believe she needed to stay out dis shit."

He looked at me with mirth, crossing his arms over his chest. "Give me a good reason; you do, I'll leave shorty alone."

"She was raped by a John last night," he took in the information with the same blank expression, "you kno' even we don't play that shit."

"Aight, I'll off the John, but Yolanda; I need her back."

"You have plenty of hers left, Capri. Let dis' one slide. She nineteen and prolly wanna be at som' body college. Let this one go. Have som' — what they call it — decency."

He snarled, "that just sound like som' Mercedes shit. A'ight, you want her life sparred and out from under me, you kno' what it takes," he rubbed his fingertips together; money.