Page 56 of Heart Of A Goon II

Something she had probably done a thousand times before. I could hear the defeat in her voice, as she clung onto every lie that he was telling her. The water turned off and I could hear the shower curtain being pushed back.

“Call me when you make it home, Baby… okay? You know I hate when we argue.” His tone wasn’t reassuring.

She was probably reassured, but as a nigga who wasn’t wrapped all that tight, I could tell when a nigga is playing nice, and when he’s actually nice.

The phone chimed, indicating that she ended the call. As soon as the phone call ended, I heard him calling someone else on speaker.

“What up, Ollie?”

“Jerome, you busy?”

“Nah… sitting around. Sigel’s ass been ghost.” He sounded irritated.

“Yeah, he needs to lay low right now… shit, we both do.”

“Not even gonna pretend I wanna know what the fuck is going on. Not like niggas tell me anything anyway.” He yawned into the phone.

Those niggas sat around and waited on Sigel because he was the one who controlled their money. When he disappeared, they didn’t fucking eat. If they only knew that they were getting their palms greased by a fucking pig. Given the chance, he was throwing every nigga in the Deep-water Demons under the bus.

“How your mama?”

Jerome paused. “Nigga, you ain’t call me to ask about your damn sister.”

Ollie chuckled. “I need you to ride with me to run an errand.”

“And you need me because?”

“Bitch, you ain’t doing shit else… I’m paying.”

“You need to run an errand at damn near four in the morning?” Ollie was brushing his teeth now.

He spit the toothpaste into the sink. “You sure got a lot of questions for a nigga that need the money. I can’t drive because I’m about to stomp a hole in my bitch’s back.”

“I don’t have many morals, but rolling up to abuse your battered girlfriend is fucked up.”

“Yeah and fucking on her sister is, too.”

“Nigga, I don’t fuck Sabrina… fuck is you even chatting about. She house pussy, but she not my pussy… I’m on my way.” He was offended that Ollie assumed he was fucking on shorty.

“Bet.”

I took place in the doorway of the second bedroom. Khaos went back down the steps, and stood there, as the bathroom door opened. All the steam exited before Ollie did. I was confused on where he found a towel big enough to wrap around his big ass.

“Gonna break that bitch’s neck,” he was seething as he walked past the bedroom. I didn’t know how far Jerome stayed from him, so I needed to be quick.

I cleared my throat, and this nigga threw a punch. Ducking, I nearly missed his fist, as he charged at me. “Guess I wasn’t that quiet, huh?”

He backed me up into the second bedroom, which had a small desk at the window, and racks with clothing on them. I could still smell the perfume that Montana spritzed before she went out.

Avoiding the different heels sprawled on the carpet, this nigga was coming quicker. “Who the fuck sent you?”

I didn’t respond.

I was sizing him up, and Khaos was in the doorway. He knew to remain there. We didn’t jump niggas over this way. That was the first lesson that Chef had taught us both. We handled business together, but never together.

I would have taken it as disrespect if he had jumped in. It was a sign that he didn’t think I could handle my own. Ollie was cornering me against the desk, as I watched his movement.

He walked with a slight limp, and it was the left leg. Each time he walked, he took a dip. I had a lot of fucking questions for Washington on why the fuck he hired a damn crippled bodyguard.