She nodded.
We waited a bit longer, and Bully made an excuse to go outside.
“Hello? Islah, you still there?”
“Yeah, Bully, what is going on with Gio?”
Bully sucked his teeth. “Mannn, you, the issue with that man is you.”
“Me?” she repeated. “How?”
“The nigga is like obsessed with you. He will not get over the fact that you left his ass.”
I looked at Keith, and he gave me a slight nod.
“Bully, I told Gio a few times that we were done,” Islah stated, her hands shaking again. I placed my hands on top of hers to ground her as she continued talking.
“Islah, that nigga don’t want to hear that shit. I told him that, Kronic told him that, yo mama even told him that, and if you’re callin’ me, I know you know how that went. The nigga is going crazy, and to be honest, I’m scared for you.”
Islah looked at me before she responded to him.
“You’re scared for me?”
“Yeah,” Bully responded quick. “This nigga is not listening to anybody. He’s telling everybody you not leaving him. He said you going to come back to Cali with us, he?—”
“Wait,” Islah said, cutting Bully off. All three of us stared at the phone, hearing two words that stuck out.
“You said come back to Cali with us. What do you mean?”
The line went silent for a few seconds.
“We in Atlanta with him, me and Kronic. He was gonna come either way. We thought if we came with him, we could change his mind, or make sure he didn’t end up dead.”
Islah stood up, dropping the phone. She was shaking her head.
I picked up the phone; the nigga was still talking.
“Aye,” I said low, making him be quiet. “You need to get your mans together, let him know this is not what he wants.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
I smirked. “I’m Islah’s nigga?—”
“OH SHIT!” he said, cutting me off.
“Listen, I’ma keep it G with you. I don’t know how niggas do shit in Cali, but here, we are not with this shit.”
Bully tried to talk and plead his nigga’s case, how they been down for years, how she left him while he was in jail, and I had to let him know that I didn’t give a fuck.
“I don’t know what you are going to have to do, but I’m not playin’ ‘bout my girl. Y’all will be leaving here with your nigga in a body bag. I’m not the one to fuck with.”
He exhaled hard on the phone. “Iight, I’ma try to talk the nigga into going back home. Tell Islah I’ma talk to Kronic and try my best.”
I hung up the phone, and Keith stood up.
“This sounds like it’s ‘bout to be some shit,” he said, stretching.
I nodded. “It will be for them, not me.”