Street Soldier 2 by Silhouettes

and made my way upstairs to my apartment. The last thing I needed right now was a chick with hassles. My history with women wasn’t that great. Never again would I get attached to any chick, and as fine as Poetry was, her looks weren’t enough to move me. She didn’t seem like the kind of gal who would be interested in becoming one of my fuck buddies, so getting with her on any other level was a wrap. I couldn’t see the purpose, but maybe I wasn’t looking for it.

Chapter Four
    Wake Up, Before It’s Too Late ...
    I crawled out of bed, still feeling beat as ever. Maybe because I stayed up nearly all night playing Xbox Live and lifting weights. Should’ve been out clubbing, but after all that had happened in my life, I was doing my best to keep things low-key. The streets wasn’t nothing to play with, and I had learned some valuable lessons along the way. Sometimes I felt as if my life was boring, then I was grateful that I wasn’t either dead or in jail. I had definitely been on that path, but something pulled me back. I was afraid that retaliation would be ordered for killing three niggas in a lounge that day, or the police would come looking for me. It hadn’t happened as of yet, and to be honest, I was living day by day. Each day, though, I was trying to get focused. If I made it through that mess, and was still alive, I had to consider it a blessing. There was no other way to look at it. And as worried as I was about what would happen to me, so were many others. Mama kept saying that she was having dreams about me dying, and my half sister, Patrice, used to call every day to check on me. Once things calmed down, she packed her bags and jetted to California. I didn’t think her leaving had much to do with her worries for me, though, and I figured that as soon as her mother died, Patrice would leave St. Louis. She did, and I hadn’t heard from her since.
    I showered, put on my Nike basketball shorts and a white loose T-shirt. While looking in the mirror, I brushed my waves and put some Vaseline on my dry lips. After I put on my socks, I slid my feet into my Nike sandals. I hurried downstairs to open the laundromat, then got on my way to Mama’s house so I could take her the cigarettes and beer she’d asked for. It was only seven o’clock in the morning, but the sun was baking my body in the car like it was an oven. I couldn’t wait for the air to crank up and I had it on full blast. Drake was spilling his lyrics through my speakers and I zoomed down Natural Bridge Boulevard feeling upbeat.
    When I arrived at Mama’s house, I saw Raylo’s car parked in the driveway. I knew it was too early for either of them to be awake, so instead of knocking on the door, I used my key to go inside. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Raylo lying on the living room couch with a sheet covering him. The TV was loud and a bottle of Jack Daniels was on the coffee table. He was snoring so loudly that he didn’t hear me come in. I crept into the kitchen, putting the bag on the table and leaving it there so Mama could see it. I figured she was asleep in her room, so I headed back to the front door so I could leave.
    â€œWait a minute,” Raylo said, clearing his throat and slowly sitting up on the couch. “Don’t leave yet, Prince. I need to get at you ’bout somethin’.”
    I moved closer to the couch and folded my arms. “What’s up?”
    Raylo cleared his throat again, then cracked the bottle of Jack Daniels to help whatever was in his throat go down. “Ahhhh,” he said, slamming the bottle back on the table. “Better.”
    I looked at my watch, as Raylo seemed to be stalling and I didn’t have time. I had to get back to the laundromat to remove my change from the machines, before it got too crowded.
    â€œI wanted to know if I could get a loan,” Raylo said. “Things gettin’ kind of tight around here. Me