"Nigga quit pacing in the floor and shit you making me nerves bad," Noles added.
"Haitians swapped out his bag at the airport in Florida, and he didn't realize it until after he landed in Houston," Juste explained.
I leaned against the bar. "Shit, boy. He must've took a loss loss the way he pacing." I said.
"Loss ain’t even the word," Enzi said, stopping in the middle of the floor. He looked like he was sweating through his shirt.
"How much?" I asked.
He hesitated. "Enough to make Abdul stop smiling at family dinners," Pierre muttered. That told me enough.
"Man hit the weed and chill out. We gon help you get your shit back, but you gotta let yo uncle know what's goin on. I’m in business with him, I can't cross him out." Juste said with his arm outstretched.
"We is?" Noles questioned, looking at Juste. Juste shot him a bird without turning his head.
I didn't smile. I watched Enzi instead. His hands shaking slightly. Eyes moving too fast. I knew that feeling. The weight of a mistake that got bigger the longer you let it breathe. "You check cameras?" I asked.
"Airport footage? Man, that shit federal," Enzi replied.
"Not airport. Before that. Who packed it? Who saw it. Who knew you was traveling."
He blinked. "Just my crew."
"Your crew sloppy," Pierre said.
"Shut the fuck up," Enzi snapped.
I held up a hand. "Stop talking emotional," I said. "Emotion don't solve shit."
He stopped pacing. The room felt tight. Smoke hanging low. Music from the front barely reaching the back-office area. "He gon skin my ass alive," Enzi said, fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers weren't steady. That told me more than his mouth ever could. He dialed a number and put it on speaker, letting it ring before leaning up against the bar like he could brace himself for what was coming. The air in the back of Velvet felt tight. Smoke hanging low. Music from the main floor muffled behind thick walls. No windows. Just brick, liquor bottles, and men pretending not to be nervous.
The phone clicked. Abdul answered. They started speaking to one another in a different language. Fast. Sharp. I didn't understand the words, but the tone didn’t need translation. It wasn't long before Abdul was screaming to the top of his lungs, making the speaker on the phone blare. The sound echoed off the walls. He wouldn't let Enzi get a word in. Just yelling. Rage layered with authority. Noles snickered under his breath, watching the facial expressions flash across Enzi's face. Pierre shook his head slow. Abdul's voice carried weight. Not just anger. Ownership. "Og chill, before you have a heart attack." Juste's voice cut in, stepping closer to the phone. "We gon help get ya shit back. Just chill."
"Enzi, you involved my business partner?" Abdul's voice boomed through the phone before he started raging again in a different language.
Enzi swallowed. "Shit, it's what you was gon do anyway unc," Enzi responded, cutting him off.
"You don't know what the fuck I was gon do, Enzi," he yelled. "I’m hanging up now before I have a damn heart attack. Juste I'll call ya." The line went dead. Silence sat heavy for a second after. You could feel the Pressure in the air.
"Look like ima be around in the swamp for a lil while. Can I stay with one of y’all?" Enzi said, leaning up against the bar like he was already moving in.
"Hell Nawl," we all said at the same time.
He blinked. "Damn fuck y’all too."
I grabbed the blunt from Juste's hand and took one pull. Slow. Let the smoke sit in my lungs before exhaling toward the ceiling. Smoke curled up, hit the dim lights, flattened out like it ain't know where to go. The back room at Velvet always felt like that. No windows. No air moving. Just brick, liquor, and men breathing too heavy. "So you gon tell us what the fuck you lost or nah?" I questioned, watching Enzi instead of the smoke.
He threw back a drink and looked around at us before gripping the counter like it might steady him. "Passports, documents, and Diamonds," he breathed out. His words hung in the air.
"Nigga what?" Noles said, looking at him, dumbfounded.
"You mean to tell me you gave them grimy mutha fuckas a way to bring more of their ass over here, information, andDiamond?" Pierre questioned. "You green as hell for that shit Enzi. Your uncle ain't gon let you move shit else after this."
"Pierre, you think a nigga tryna hear that bullshit?" Enzi snapped.
"God damn Enzi. No way we getting all that shit back," Juste muttered, staring hard at Enzi like he was measuring what kind of liability he just inherited.
"We can take a loss on the passports," Pierre said, calmer now. "Them diamonds and documents we can't." Juste nodded once. Diamonds were leverage. Currency without paperwork. The documents were control. Names. Routes. Connections. That's not just money lost. That's exposure. I leaned my shoulder against the wall, arms folding across my chest.