Page 1 of Kassir and Rebel
Chapter 1
Kassir Moore
The aggravating sound of my damn cell vibrating on the marble top of my side table pulls me out of much-needed sleep and I groan as I sit up to grab it. When I move, Tyshon grunts then eases her head from my lap to the sectional cushion.
She slept here. Shit!
Fucking around with my nigga and partner from the cradle to casket, Suleem, I smoked too damn much last night and slipped the fuck up.Shit.
My cell vibrates again. While shaking my damn head at it, and my oversight with Tyshon’s ass, I snatch the phone up. It’s a text from Jay-Roc, my DP brother and coach of the D-Ville Ballerz, the streetball team my gang sponsors.
Jay-Roc: The new jerseys just got here.
Me: Bet. What time is practice?
Jay-Roc: 6.
Me: I’m going to try and fall through. If I don’t, still pass them out.
Jay-Roc: No doubt.
After reading his last text, I check my other texts and my missed calls. Between the block party next week and the tournament in a few weeks, my phone has been blowing up. When it comes to my hood and DP, I’m gon’ always show up every time and represent.
Diamond Falls might not be the biggest city, but it’s my city, and D-Ville projects is my home, where I lay my head,alone.Only one woman has the pleasure and privilege of occupying my bed; it’s reserved for just her. I disrespected her once out of necessity and I don’t even want to risk that again, which is why Tyshon sleeping here is out of the question, even on my damn sectional.
“Ay! Tyshon,” I say while lightly tapping her ass. For a minute, she doesn’t budge but then her head starts to shift.
“What?” she groans.
“You got to bounce. It’s already morning and I got shit to do.” After stretching her arms, Tyshon slowly sits up. When she turns to face me, I see the tight ass frown plastered across her face. “You drove here?” I ask because I real shit don’t remember. At my words, her frown only gets tighter.
“No. You brought me here and I need a ride,” she snaps.
“Clean up and I’ll get you an iDrive,” I tell her before standing.
It’s late as fuck and Linnea will be here soon with my son, Kassan. Besides not wanting him to see me with random chicks, I’m not trying to hear Linnea’s loud ass mouth. Although she and I started and ended the same night we hooked up, she loves starting shit. In her mind, having my son places her in some unrealistic spot in my life and sometimes she acts the fuck up. I let it slide for the most part because of my son, but today, I’m not in the mood for no shit.
For the most part, our relationship is good. It’s taken us damn near five years to figure this co-parenting shit out but we have. Because at the end of the day, we both realize the only person who matters is Kassan.
Although her mouth is reckless, Linnea is a good ass momma so I make sure she and Kassan are always straight. Until I die, I will make sure they have a roof over their heads and a home filled with whatever he needs and wants, but as for us, we are not together in any way.
“Damn, Serious. It’s like that? A bitch can’t even get a ride home?” Tyshon snaps as I trek into my kitchen, calling me by my street name. “It’s bad enough you won’t fuck me in a damn bed,” she utters while walking to my bathroom down the hall.
I don’t even bother responding to her because it is what it is and Tyshon knows it. This isn’t her first time here. We’ve been lowkey fucking around for about six months. Because I can’t have the one woman I want, I admittedly settle with the next one, but with some standards. One chick at a time and she can’t be for the streets either. I have a rep to protect.
No one can mention Douglasville Projects without saying the names Serious or Bank, our street names, or our government ones, Kassir and Suleem. The government may have come in, shaken shit up, renovated the ten-story building and the units inside, and even renamed it, but Suleem and I run it. With our DP gang, we control the complex and everything from here to Bedford Street. Nothing happens in our territory without our knowledge or approval.
Before grabbing a bottle of OJ from the fridge, I order Tyshon’s ride then hit Linnea. She doesn’t answer my call but she texts a few minutes later.
Linnea: Sorry. Woke up late. OMW in 30.
Me: Bet.
When I walk back into my living room, it’s empty, no Tyshon, so I place my OJ on the table and head down my hall. As soon as I bend the corner, the bathroom door opens and she steps out, pulling her dress down over her thighs. When she lifts her head, she jumps slightly, startled.
“Shit! You scared me.”
“Who the fuck else is gonna be in here?” I ask.
