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The nigga leaned closer to me.
“Nigga, you know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. Everybody at the stash house got wacked, and Crackhead Sammy saw Harold and his little partner running out of that apartment. You and him went in there and killed all of them and took all the money stashed there!”
My stomach dropped when I heard there was a witness to us leaving that spot.
“Look, we didn’t take any of that money.”
I said, my voice cracking from panic. Everything he was accusing me of, he was saying like it was facts, and I knew it wasn’t. At least not all of it.
“Look, we did go over there, and when we saw Chase shot on the ground, we panicked and ran out, but we didn’t do it.”
The car got silent for a second after I said it.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“Where the fuck is the rest of the fuckin money, nigga?” he yelled. “
“I-I don’t know that part,” I stuttered.
“Look, I swear to God, I don’t have your money.”
Before I could say anything else, two of them grabbed me and started digging aggressively through my pockets. Panic exploded through my chest because I remembered I still had all of the money on me that I took from the ground in the stash house.
“Hold up.”
One of them pulled the stack from my hoodie pocket.
My heart damn near stopped beating.
The nigga flipped through the money before spreading the edges of the bills apart. The blood stains showed immediately, and right then, I knew I was going to die.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, where the fuck is the rest of the money?” the man barked, raising the gun again.
My mama always told me there would come times in life when I questioned God. Times when fear would make me wonder why things were happening to me. But she also told me never to stop praying. Never stop asking God for mercy, no matter what the situation looks like.
“That’s just money I found on the ground there, man, I promise. I swear to you, I don’t know where the rest of the money is.”
“Pop this nigga mayne!”
“But I can get you some money! I swear I can. It’s not that money, but I can try and get the 200,000 back for you!”
“From where?”
“From my family.”
“What family you know coming up off of that kind of money?”
“I’m a Quatar!”
They looked at each other, tripped out by what I said. It wasn’t known to many, and my mama didn’t even know that I knew. But back when I was younger, Mecca Quatar stopped by the house on a rare visit, and I heard their argument about my mama and his relationship over the years.
From that, I knew my mama had dealings with him beyond cleaning his house, and I knew that Amir isn’t the last of Mecca’s sons around.
“Please don’t kill me. Let me try to reach out to my brother Amir for the money, please!”
Chapter 8
Jasmine
