Page 88 of Anything Necessary for Her
Taking my gun off my hip, I soundlessly locked up and left the room, fastidiously making my way toward the entrance where I’d heard the other muthafucka trying to be as inconspicuous as me.
Before I even hit the corner good, two big niggas in masks approached, making me let off. One rushed me after being hit, and a fight ensued.
As I fucked him up, I heard the other coming my way, so I started to deliver the same treatment to his bitch ass beforedropping him. As I got ahold of my gun again to shoot his ass, a sharp pain seared through my neck and limbs, making me feel for the needle lodged into the side of my throat. I let the shot off as I became woozy, stumbling away to exit the warehouse before everything went black.
I came to what felt like seconds later, but judging by the fact that my wrists were tied in front of me and I was now in the back of a big ass van with them two niggas I’d shot, groaning and driving like fucking madmen, I knew I wasn’t in the clear.
Meticulously reaching down into my sock to retrieve my blade while they moaned and winced, bleeding out everywhere, I quickly reached to slice the neck of the nigga in the passenger seat. It was difficult as fuck considering my wrists were tied too damn closely together, but I made it happen.
“Oh shit!” The driver screamed, swerving while also trying to keep an eye on me and his homie who could only gurgle and gyrate with his hand shielding his gouged ass neck.
Wasting no fucking time, I leapt a bit to jam the knife into the driver’s neck as soon as he pulled into a warehouse parking lot, crashing into the side of the shit.
He hurried out of the car like he was escaping the nigga fromTexas Chainsaw Massacre, while hollering a bunch of gibberish before falling to his knees in the dirt.
Frantically, I whipped my fucking head around, trying to find a way out of this fucking van before sitting on the center console and then falling into the driver’s seat. I was too tall and big for this shit, having to ignore how my feet were laid across the nigga in the passenger seat, dead as fuck with his eyes wide and hand still splayed across his neck.
Angling my body toward the left and almost pulling a fucking muscle, I yanked on the door’s lever to open the shit since that bitch ass nigga had slammed it shut upon his exit.
Just as I got it open, tumbling out, I heard some niggas running out of the warehouse, causing me to panic while attempting to scramble to my fucking feet. When I spotted Prime and Asif, confusion hit me like a freight train. Asif was grinning for some fucking reason, and his father was mugging me, a hint of bewilderment laced throughout.
“Told you them niggas that used to run with you couldn’t handle a nigga that used to run with me.” Asif shook his head, stepping toward me and making me back up. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why he and his pops orchestrated what the fuck had just gone down. Realizing this, Asif said, “My pops wanna holla at you about baby girl.”
Eyes bucked, I said, “He couldn’t hit a nigga up or have me come through?”
Asif laughed at my befuddlement while Prime stared me down, irate. I could tell by the way his nostrils flared subtly he wanted to swing on a nigga.
“I tried to tell him that, but he extra as fuck. Wanted to kidnap you. Told his ass he would get that old head killed, so he sent two, but . . . that shit ain’t work either.” Asif swept the area, taking in the two niggas I’d murked on the way over.
“Let’s go.” Prime turned his back to us, and Asif nodded for me to go first.
I did, already wanting to speak with Prime, but not in this fucking way.
We entered the warehouse and trailed Prime until we were surrounded by a bunch of fucking cars.
“Used to be his warehouse, now he store all his projects here,” Asif informed, untying my wrists once we’d stopped walking.
“I’m trying to decide if I wanna smoke you, put you in a fucking coma, or run you the fuck over,” Prime said, a look of contemplation on his face, letting me know he was dead ass.Pacing, he chuckled satirically, then said, “’Cause not only did you sneak around with my daughter, you got the nerve to still be fucking with her. Banks ain’t even supposed to date until she twenty fucking five.”
I nodded as Asif chuckled into his pineapple soda he was sipping on, clearly unfazed by this shit. I almost questioned why he was even here but quickly realized he was the only thing standing between me and a bullet from his father’s gun or a blow from his fist.
“Banks? Twenty-five, Pop?” Asif stared over at his dad as if to say ‘get real,’ but Prime ignored him, keeping his menacing stare lasered in on me.
I knew what Asif meant though. Banks was too outgoing, too pretty, too alluring, too independent, and too against authority of most kinds to be single until that age.
“My main issue though, Low, is that I don’t want my daughter with a street nigga, as hypocritical as that shit sounds. I was young, making money, and had the world at my fucking feet once, just like you, and it didn’t take much for me to fall into pussy that ain’t belong to me on occasion,” he stressed. “I especially don’t want my baby with a nigga I ain’t been able to vet yet.”
“I wouldn’t have this nigga around me or taking over if he was fucking off, Pop,” Asif chimed in.
“While I get that, Banks St. Thomas is my daughter, and you’ll understand this shit better when Sophie gets older.”
“I understand it now and agree with what you saying, but I’m letting you know I wouldn’t vouch for a nigga, especially in order for him to be with my baby sister, if he was on bullshit. Low ain’t no bitch, no slouch, nor is he interested in falling in pussy that ain’t his.
“Stop undermining yaself as a father, Pop. Same way you raised me and my brothers to be a certain type of man, you andMa raised Banks to be a certain type of woman. She ain’t boy crazy, misguided, nor air headed. She ain’t flouncing around in front of drug dealers ’cause she like bad boys and it’s exciting. You raised her better than that, and she been around niggas in the game enough for it not to exhilarate her.”
I watched Prime’s face soften—only a bit—as his son kicked facts to him. His eyes panned from Asif to me before he asked, “What’s the intentions? ’Cause if you not trying to be somebody’s husband, this ain’t the relationship for you, young nigga.”
“I’ll be back.” Asif walked off, leaving the two of us alone. I knew that nigga well enough to know he wasn’t coming back.
