vomit exploded out of his mouth,
splattering all over my designer tee shirt and Ashleigh's zip-front
silk dress.
Ashleigh screamed in horror. "Gee!"
All I could do was hold my arms out and look
down at the gulash oozing down my shirt. I didn't want to touch it.
Gee had dropped to his knees to finish puking his guts out. He
looked bad.
And his vomit was mixed with blood.
***
I took Gee to the bathroom. I had changed shirts and
so had he. I was rinsing my gold chain in the sink as he kneeled at
the toilet bowl behind me. We didn't have much longer before we
were scheduled to be on stage and I was trying to hurry.
"You okay now, Gee?" I asked, as I stared at
the reflection of his stall in the mirror.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I heard him say.
"You sure? Do you need to go to the hospital
and see a doctor?"
"No. This happens all the time."
"You throw up blood all the time?"
"Uh ... no. That was some new shit."
I dried my chain off with paper towels, then
put it on and went and helped Gee to his feet. His legs were
unsteady at first, but after a couple steps toward the sink he
seemed okay. I wondered if Ashleigh was going to make it back here
in time to see us perform. She left to find a clothing store nearby
so she could change outfits.
My phone rang. I answered it because I
thought it was Ashleigh.
"Hello?"
"You been ducking me, nigga?" It was
Milo.
"Of course not," I lied. "Wussup?"
"Why haven't you been answering my
calls?"
Milo never called me. I only called him, or
just showed up in person whenever I needed to re-cop on pounds
of OG . I knew what this call was about, and what all of
his other calls I "missed" were about.
Monifa's spoiled-brat ass. Running her
mouth.
"I know why you haven't been answering,
nigga. My sister told me what happened. You got me fucked up. What
makes you think yo boy can put his hands on my sister?"
"What? My boy? He didn't touch her."
"She said Gee threw her on the ground."
"He didn't throw shit. We
both placed her on the ground. Gently. She was
trying to attack one of my artists."
"You think I'm stupid, nigga? It ain't no way
in hell you can place my hype
sister gently on the ground. Yall slammed
her!"
"She was—"
"I don't give a fuck what she did or what she
was about to do! She told me she caught you cheating and was about
to fuck the girl up she caught you with. You should've let her
handle her business, or learn not to cheat on my sister at all. But
you—and especially yo homeboy—better not ever put
your hands on her again!"
"Okay, I'ma let her ass get shot next time,"
I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take
them back.
"What?!" he hollered. "What slick shit did
you just let come out of yo mouth?! Never bite the hand that feeds
you! First rule of the streets! See, I was gon' spare you and only
fuck up yo homeboy. But now yall both got something coming."
"Milo, I—"
"Shut the fuck up and take yo lick. My niggas
will be seeing yall real soon. And don't think I don't know where
yall at right now. Social media is a bitch."
He hung up.
"Hello?" I said, not sure if he’d really hung
up. Yep, he really dunked on me. I put my phone in my pocket.
"Milo?" Gee asked.
"Yeah."
"He trippin'?"
"When is he not?"
I hated bowing down to Milo. But he was the
plug, and I was eating real good off of his strain of weed so I had
to bite my tongue sometimes. He didn't deserve to be the plug, in
my opinion. He treated niggas that copped weight from him like
peons instead of respectable business partners. I told myself once
my rap career took off I was going to rob him and kill him, or just
kill him. It wouldn't be a murder-for-hire job either. I was going
to pop him myself.
On our way out of the bathroom, the door
burst inward at us, startling me and Gee. Five brothas—no, six—were
filing in and I instinctively reached for a pistol on my waist that
wasn't there (Ashleigh made us leave our weapons in the car per the
promoter's
splattering all over my designer tee shirt and Ashleigh's zip-front
silk dress.
Ashleigh screamed in horror. "Gee!"
All I could do was hold my arms out and look
down at the gulash oozing down my shirt. I didn't want to touch it.
Gee had dropped to his knees to finish puking his guts out. He
looked bad.
And his vomit was mixed with blood.
***
I took Gee to the bathroom. I had changed shirts and
so had he. I was rinsing my gold chain in the sink as he kneeled at
the toilet bowl behind me. We didn't have much longer before we
were scheduled to be on stage and I was trying to hurry.
"You okay now, Gee?" I asked, as I stared at
the reflection of his stall in the mirror.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I heard him say.
"You sure? Do you need to go to the hospital
and see a doctor?"
"No. This happens all the time."
"You throw up blood all the time?"
"Uh ... no. That was some new shit."
I dried my chain off with paper towels, then
put it on and went and helped Gee to his feet. His legs were
unsteady at first, but after a couple steps toward the sink he
seemed okay. I wondered if Ashleigh was going to make it back here
in time to see us perform. She left to find a clothing store nearby
so she could change outfits.
My phone rang. I answered it because I
thought it was Ashleigh.
"Hello?"
"You been ducking me, nigga?" It was
Milo.
"Of course not," I lied. "Wussup?"
"Why haven't you been answering my
calls?"
Milo never called me. I only called him, or
just showed up in person whenever I needed to re-cop on pounds
of OG . I knew what this call was about, and what all of
his other calls I "missed" were about.
Monifa's spoiled-brat ass. Running her
mouth.
"I know why you haven't been answering,
nigga. My sister told me what happened. You got me fucked up. What
makes you think yo boy can put his hands on my sister?"
"What? My boy? He didn't touch her."
"She said Gee threw her on the ground."
"He didn't throw shit. We
both placed her on the ground. Gently. She was
trying to attack one of my artists."
"You think I'm stupid, nigga? It ain't no way
in hell you can place my hype
sister gently on the ground. Yall slammed
her!"
"She was—"
"I don't give a fuck what she did or what she
was about to do! She told me she caught you cheating and was about
to fuck the girl up she caught you with. You should've let her
handle her business, or learn not to cheat on my sister at all. But
you—and especially yo homeboy—better not ever put
your hands on her again!"
"Okay, I'ma let her ass get shot next time,"
I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could take
them back.
"What?!" he hollered. "What slick shit did
you just let come out of yo mouth?! Never bite the hand that feeds
you! First rule of the streets! See, I was gon' spare you and only
fuck up yo homeboy. But now yall both got something coming."
"Milo, I—"
"Shut the fuck up and take yo lick. My niggas
will be seeing yall real soon. And don't think I don't know where
yall at right now. Social media is a bitch."
He hung up.
"Hello?" I said, not sure if he’d really hung
up. Yep, he really dunked on me. I put my phone in my pocket.
"Milo?" Gee asked.
"Yeah."
"He trippin'?"
"When is he not?"
I hated bowing down to Milo. But he was the
plug, and I was eating real good off of his strain of weed so I had
to bite my tongue sometimes. He didn't deserve to be the plug, in
my opinion. He treated niggas that copped weight from him like
peons instead of respectable business partners. I told myself once
my rap career took off I was going to rob him and kill him, or just
kill him. It wouldn't be a murder-for-hire job either. I was going
to pop him myself.
On our way out of the bathroom, the door
burst inward at us, startling me and Gee. Five brothas—no, six—were
filing in and I instinctively reached for a pistol on my waist that
wasn't there (Ashleigh made us leave our weapons in the car per the
promoter's
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