𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

70

I can't fucking do this. I can't fucking do this!  Chyna thought with a furrow of her eyebrows. 

She pressed her back against the leather seats hoping to disappear with the interior, bouncing her lap up and down the the glock firmly grasped in her hands. She ain't never do no shit like this and even though she took a promise to be Rich down bitch along with, without many people knowing, his bottom bitch, she ain't never want to get to this point. Of all the stories she would hear about her mama being cracked out, doing jobs for dealers and shit, holding up people at gunpoint, she wouldn't dream of being this close behind her footsteps. 

"Rich, baby, I don't think I can do this. You really gotta kill this man? Can't you just," biting her lip, she paused her words as Rich's eyes caught hers at the red light. "I don't know, can't you just shake him up or some shit?"

"That piece is your last resort," reassured Rich, his gaze softening from dark to a more concerned one. "Me and Cut set up a meeting with him. We going to go in first, get the information we need from him. Then, you go up there, looking fine as fuck, and just butter him up. Get the nigga high enough where, as soon as you see him nod off, you bounce up outta there. That shit could knock a buffalo out cold. And, to not suspect shit, we going to bring a non lethal batch up to him so he can try. Shit, I don't know baby, mix the shit in with the lines he already got but do what you gotta do."

At the red light, Rich turned around with his hand on the passenger headrest and looked over back at Chyna, meeting her fearful gaze with a heartening one. Him and Chyna been through it all together after he was introduced by Cut. From not having shit, sleeping in a one bedroom apartment with nothing but a crate and a mattress to taking over a successful business and expanding in the cocaine business little by little.

 He knew the risk of putting Chyna in the arms of that stubby arm fuck was a price, and he knew he put Chyna in tough spots, recruiting girls to work at the club, coaxing a few to mule for him and Blu, being a house mom to the girls who only wanted to strip, and just dealing with the bullshit that came with being the girl of a big drug dealer: the bitches, the bitches claiming to be fucking him, and the bitches who mule who be trying to fuck while all the while stealing money.

He placed his hand on her knee, squeezing it gently hoping to stop her bouncing it up and down and potentially misfiring it. At that moment, he saw the girl he fell in love with all those years ago who was working in the Nordstrom cologne department. When her hair was always silk pressed by the Dominicans and still, to this day, wore little to no makeup with just a lil bit of lipgloss and a smile to take Dade and Broward County out.

Chyna I promise you once we make it out this shit we ain't going back to this roach invested bullshit. Imma get you everything you want; jewelry, clothes, a puppy, a condo. Whatever you want girl, imma make a way for you.

Rich you know I don't care about that shit. I'm down for whatever comes our way, just be down for me, too.

I promise girl. No matter what you going to always be my number one.

Promise?

Fucking right!

Biting his lip, mentally kicking himself for this decision, Rich extended and opened his hand to retrieve the gun.

"You don't gotta go through with the shooting, baby. We going to just hope this shit is enough to take him down and leave me and my bitches the far fuck alone."

Cut stared in shock at Rich and his sudden change of heart along with Chyna, who still wielded the gun in her open palms. He knew deep down that Rich idea to have Chyna carry the piece wasn't a good idea considering she never even practiced with the shit. And he knew that Chyna was more family to him than anyone else and, if need be, he'd shoot 50 rounds in Ramirez head he would, but he silently was thankful he just left that shit up for us to decide.

Looking back at Chyna, Cut gave her a brotherly smirk and nodded at Chyna to signify it was O-K.

Chyna didn't even know she was crying until she tasted the liquid salt across her pinkened lips. Before she was even able to wipe her eyes, Rich reached for her face, brushed the tears off her cheek and grabbed the gun to toss back into the duffle before the light turned green. He didn't say a word but keep driving.

Chyna wiped a few more dewy droplets from her face, her body shaking like she had hypothermia. She felt like she failed Rich and failed at showing her loyalty. She promised to be down and she felt like she let her nigga down. He didn't even look back into the rearview and it was eating her the fuck up like a centipede was stuck in her throat and cascaded down into the Cecum of her intestines.

Moments later, Rich, Cut and Chyna all arrived at the Beaux Arts hotel on Biscayne.

"Imma step out and call this nigga on the burner, i'll be back." the air was still tense in the car and Cut could not take a minute more of the awkward silence. He was getting anxious himself because he had to make sure he left Ramirez with the right shit so he wouldn't suspect a thing but he had to keep reminding himself that that nigga Ramirez always been trouble, always been an asshole, always tryna fuck with the bitches at the club and if he didn't need this connect in Atlanta he woulda blown his head clean off. And he knew that, along with Ramirez being one of many high paying clients.

Rich kept his hands clamped on the steering wheel, raven knuckles stretching until it was evaporated of all color. His mind was on 100 and the thought of this nigga Ramirez causing harm to a nigga workers and to his money shook him sideways like a stripper in church. He wanted this nigga Bad But he had to move his rooks in accordance to protect the King - him.

Cause Rich meant what he said when he said he was coming for all the fucking Knights out in the playing field so him and his Queen could rule.

"Chyna." voiced Rich, his dark tone smoothing across the surface like melted butter.

"Y-yeah?"

"Whatever you thinking, and I know you thinking, don't think that shit." he comforted, his tone percise yet soft. 

It was like he read her mind and it instantly caused her shoulders to fall.

"A-alright. Thank you for that, baby." uttered Chyna after a clear of her throat.

"Thank you."

Cut hopped back into the car, observing Rich and Chyna briefly before smirking and shaking his head. "Y'all back in love I see," he teased.

Rich and Chyna looked at Cut, then back at eachother and grinned.

"Something like that," Chyna mused with a chuckle.

"Alright, lemme go reserve a room for us and shit." without a word, Rich hopped out the car, making long, confident strides to the hotel lobby.

As soon as Rich was inside, Chyna blew an exhausted sigh like she just got done running a mile. "Damn, yo, I'm so glad I don't have to carry that gun and shit. I thought I was about to do the shit Catholics do and confess to my sins and shit." she snickered.

"Yeah?" quizzed Cut, his eyes focused on his phone, scrolling through Instagram liking random pictures.

"Yeah, man, like Blu was coming on to Ana and shit."

Cut paused, looked back at Chyna with a raise of his eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, is it true?"

Chyna waved Cut and his mood swing off, sucking her teeth softly.

"Man, hell no. She cute and all but you know he only be fucking with desperate hoes who dumb enough to have his baby."

Cut nodded in agreement and shook his head with a laugh of disbelief. 

"Yeah, you right 'bout that shit."