"It means you been giving pieces of yourself away since you was sixteen," he said, his voice softening. "First to help me with the bills after Auntie Mazi passed. Now to finance whatever bullshit Rylo got going on. When you gonna keep something for yourself?"
I stared down at the table, not wanting him to see how much his words were hitting. Truth was, I'd been asking myself the same question lately. Every time I laid under another man I didn't care about, every time I faked another smile, every time I handed over another stack to Rylo... a little piece of me seemed to disappear.
"Look," Yatta continued, his voice gentler now, "After everything we’ve been through, when nobody else wanted three kids, we always had each other’s back. Lil’ sis you gotta know we all we got. And if don’t nobody else got you, I got you, so you ain’t gotta do that weak ass shit.
“I know we all we got, you think I don’t know that or something, why do you think I make the moves I make, because regardless of my situation with Rylo, I always wanna be there for you and Mya.”
“No need for all of that because I’m a man Yah-Yah, and I’m right here and I’m gon always be right here."
"I know you looking out," I said finally, my voice softer. "And I love you for it, big brother. And I hear you, I swear I do."
Yatta studied my face through his black rimmed glasses, trying to see if I meant it or was just saying what he wanted to hear. "So, you gon’ fall back from that fuck nigga Rylo?”
"I ain't say all of that, now" I replied with a small smile. "But I'll think about everything you said. For real."
“Don’t make me murk him Yah-Yah, because if he hurts you, I will…. with no hesitation.” He threatened and I chuckled.
“Chill Yatta, I got this.” He shook his head, but I could see him fighting a smirk.
"Yo’ you know you so fucking bullheaded just like Mama."
"I guess it's genetic. It’s the Taurus in us," I nodded toward the stacks of money. "So, what's with all that paper? Big re-up?"
"Nah." He patted the bag. "I’m tryna set up a meeting with a new supplier from out south. Dude controlling most of the Roseland area, and he got that pure shit straight from the source, no cut, no middlemen."
My eyebrows shot up. "You switching connects? What happened to Tre?"
"Tre bitch ass got greedy," Yatta said, "Bitch ass nigga started stepping on the product too much, then still tried to raise the prices. These fiends ain't fucking stupid, they know when they getting played. My numbers been down, and I can't have that shit, it fucking with my business."
I nodded, understanding the game. Yatta knew how to flip some shit, so whatever he had up his sleeve I knew it was gon be profitable for him, he started out as a corner boy, but his smarts and business sense moved him up quick. Now he controlled three blocks and had a couple of niggas working under him. It wasn’t huge, but respectable enough that these niggas feared him. Niggas didn’t fuck with Yatta because my big brother was really like that.
"This new connect," I asked, "is he solid?"
Yatta shrugged. "We'll see. If his product is what his man’s claims it is and his price is right, that could put me in a position to expand."
I didn't like the sound of that. Expansion meant more risk, more beef, more chances for Yatta to end up locked up or laid out. But I knew better than to say it out loud. This was how he fed us and kept this roof over our heads.
Before I could respond, the front door opened and Mya’s voice filled the house.
"Honeyyyyyy I'm home!” Mya sang out with her silly ass,
“Don’t bring that loud shit in here.” Yatta snapped and I laughed; he was such a fucking grouch at times.
“Yatta, yo’ bitch ass better have saved me some of whatever you cooked! The shit smells like heaven and I'm fucking starving!"
Yatta quickly zipped up the duffel and put it under the table as Mya bounced into the kitchen.
I caught his eyes from across the table. I knew the conversation about Rylo wasn't done, but it was on pause for now.
His words about Rylo pimping me kept echoing in my head though. Was that what was happening? Had I been so caught up in feeling chosen that I didn't realize I was being used? I always thought I was the one in control of the situation, but now I wasn't so sure.
CHAPTER TWO
Sontae “Sosa” Maddox
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I watched my workers move like a well-oiled machine. Four niggas at the kitchen table, weighing product, bagging it up, stacking it neatly. The apartment smelled like baking soda, bleach, and money. The smell I’ve been use too since I was a fucking kid.
Plastic snapped under their fingers. The digital scale beeped every time it reset. Everything moved with purpose, because in this house, purpose was the only thing that kept you alive.