Page 53 of Crash: Love in Scrubs
He struggled weakly. “Speak. Five seconds.” I slammed him again.
“I got a price,” he gasped.
“What the fuck are you talking about? This ain’t the time for riddles, clown ass nigga.”
“She looked good in that lace last night. I never got that Sametra. You lucky nigga you.”
My vision went red. This piece of shit had been watching us. Watching her.
“But look, if you want me to go away, I need to be paid. Everything will stay between me and you. Shit you a better choice for her anyway.”
The audacity.
“I take Cashapp, Venmo, and Zelle,” he joked.
I buried my fist in his stomach, watching him fold. Then I snatched him back up by his hoodie. Right now wasn’t the time for fuckin jokes.
“You ought to be glad I don’t drag you in that house, blow your brains out, and claim self-defense.”
His eyes went wide, and I grilled his ass. I was sick of him even being in my presence.
“You ain’t even worth the cleanup. Nobody would miss you. What the fuck do you want?”
He pulled out his phone with shaking hands. My blood turned to ice seeing the screen—an intimate photo from last night in my bedroom was displayed on his phone.
“I want fifty thousand dollars. And there’s more.”
I pressed the barrel under his chin, careful to keep it concealed from any potential witnesses. “Extortion, damn homie. Going out sad. And if I don’t?”
“I need that, so I’m going everywhere with it. May even sell it to some sites.”
The urge to end him right here was overwhelming. Instead, I cracked him across the jaw with the butt of the gun.
“Get yo pissy ass from round here. I ain’t paying you shit.”
“Last night was very... educational. Amazing what people do when they think nobody’s watching. Medical boards tend to frown on doctors who get too personal with their patients’ families. I mean, I assume. I ain’t the smartest nigga, you know?”
I forced myself to laugh. “I don’t believe you. Nigga, you already lied to me once. The pussy definitely worth sliding for. Once a liar, always a liar. Get the fuck on and find another dummy to hustle.”
I tucked my gun away and tapped his chin almost gently. “Ashe, you just threatened the wrong man’s woman. And that’s a mistake you’ll pay for. I’ll be seeing you, pussy.”
I walked back to my porch and took a seat, gun resting on my knee. I watched him stumble to his car. He peeled away without looking back, but I knew this wasn’t over.
Once I felt the coast was clear, I stood. My mind was. I was furious. Not to mention irritation crept up on thinking about me just letting that nigga make it. I wanted to blow his shit off rightthen and there, but that would take me from Sametra. The very woman he was threatening was what saved his life.
The irony wasn’t lost on me; her existence was the only thing keeping his bitch ass breathing.
This had just escalated beyond some dead-beat dad trying to reconnect. Extortion. Stalking. Taking pictures through my bedroom window. My jaw clenched thinking about him watching us, watching her in her most vulnerable moments. The violation of it made my trigger finger itch.
I went inside and locked the door, then headed to my office. From the back of my desk drawer, I pulled out a burner phone I hadn’t touched in years. Some numbers you only called when shit got real. And shit had gotten more than real.
Rex and I went way back to when I was young and stupid, making moves I couldn’t take back. When Mama got hurt and the medical bills started drowning us, I’d done what I had to do. Stack or starve. And I chose survival. That’s how I met Rex, through his cousin Delaney down in Alabama. Those days were behind me, but some connections you kept—just in case.
The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered. No greeting, just silence.
“It’s Lik. Time to call in that favor.”
A pause. “Been a while. Must be serious if you’re calling this number.”
