Page 11 of Save Room for Us

Niggas just might have saw me as a tyrant, but I begged to differ. It was a reason I was where I was and why I had niggas on my mob eating like they never had before. No disrespect to my pops and brother, niggas before me, but it was real shit. No nigga who worked for me could say they weren’t eating good. I took my freedom and money making very fucking serious.

Peeping the screen, I saw the shit was from my nigga Low and knew it wasn’t good. Low usually only came to me, especially if he knew a nigga was busy, if he just couldn’t help it. That was something I appreciated about that young nigga.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, rising to my feet and shutting this whole shit down.

Grabbing my shit up, I left out the office, telling Diamond’s smiley ass I had to dip and wouldn’t be back for the rest of the day, to which she nodded and didn’t say shit else, thankfully.

Hopping into my Maybach, I sped off to the warehouse where Low and them niggas were. I got there about forty minutes later, due to the fact that the shit was somewhat out in the middle of fucking nowhere, California.

“Fuck happened?” I walked into the room to see one of my soldiers, Ram, laid out on the fucking table with his stomach covered in blood.

“One of them bum niggas tried to rob him,” Low replied, shaking his head.

“Nigga, what you got on?” Grady, one of my other niggas, eyed me while grinning.

“Dress shirt and pants, muthafucka. Act like you been somewhere before,” I shot back. “This ain’t no time to belaughing though, nigga. You should be combing the streets finding out who the fuck pulled this shit.”

Grady’s smile faded before he said, “Shouldn’t Low’s young ass be doing that?”

“Nah, I ain’t delegate that task to Low. That shit is for you. Me and Low gotta figure out how to save this nigga without taking him to the fucking hospital and opening an investigation.”

Sighing, Grady nodded, gave Low a look, and walked out of the warehouse.

“He losing a lot of blood, boss, and the nigga we usually call for shit like this is on vacation with his family. He’ll fly back for us, but Ram gon’ be gone by then,” Low explained as I stared down at Ram.

“Fuck.” I ran my hand down my face. “Take that nigga’s chain off and let me go change,” I instructed Low, who nodded.

I had no choice but to take Ram to the hospital, even though at this point, he didn’t look like he would make it. However, I couldn’t take him while wearing that MFM chain that I told his ass not to get. I wore one, but niggas weren’t bold enough to step to me like they would Ram. A muthafucka trying to rob me was a muthafucka with a death wish, or harboring the faith of a mustard seed, and niggas knew that.

Same time, Money Fiends Mob was well known in the streets, and every nigga knew if they were down with my shit, they were getting paid like a muthafucka, so it was no shock that a nigga saw Ram with that chain and wanted to hem his ass up. Niggas in LA were starving, so seeing a muthafucka with enough chains and bread to feed them for a year or more straight was too tempting to pass up.

I changed into my wife beater, joggers, socks, and sneakers, before securing my do-rag around my head, making sure my dreads stayed behind me. Leaving my office I’d had installedhere, along with a few other amenities this muthafucka needed, I met Low, who was still standing at the table with Ram.

“What next?” he quizzed.

“Let’s get him in the black van, and we gon’ drop his ass out front of the hospital,” I instructed.

“Aight.”

Low fell in line, and moments later, we had Ram in the back of the van. Low did his best to keep Ram’s ass somewhat coherent and awake until we made it to the rurally located hospital.

“Ram,” I called out as I pulled up to the front, “if they ask, you don’t remember what happened or who shot you. I’m gon’ handle the shit, aight?”

Ram somewhat nodded before Low groaned while lifting him and tossed him out of the back, his body rolling along the concrete as a few people around screeched in horror. I didn’t wait around as I mashed the gas on this unmarked van, slowing up some down the street only so Low could close the doors.

Once Low and I got back to the warehouse and cleaned up, we parted ways, him agreeing to let me know what the fuck went down with Ram at the hospital once I got back, while I kept tabs on Grady to see what the fuck he found out.

Hours later…

“He gone.” Low shook his head as I stood before him, Grady nearby and shaking his head as well.

“We need somebody in house for this shit,” I said, pondering. “Ram could’ve been saved. The shit wasn’t that bad, it was just all that fucking wasted time.”

“Who, though? Most people too scared to come work for the underworld niggas,” Grady said, and that shit was true.

The nigga I’d usually went to, Dr. Mirran, I’d lucked up on his ass. He was greedy and wanted all the money being offered; he didn’t give a fuck about being afraid. However, he still workedin a hospital, had five kids, a wife, and even a fucking mistress, so he often took forever, or there were always workarounds needing to be found, like today with his bitch ass being on vacation.

“I’ll find somebody. Don’t trip. You make sure I know who the muthafucka was that robbed Ram by this time tomorrow, nigga. Our get back turnaround needs to be less than twenty-four hours. I don’t want this being some weeks long type shit.”

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