Page 166 of Own It

I inspected Nate again before recognition set in. He was a boxer well before my time, but I recalled him being mentioned among my father and uncles whenever a boxing match aired. Now the shit was all coming together—Rakim had followed in his father’s footsteps.

“Aight, and what you doing here? Like, what the fuck is the purpose of this visit, my nigga?” I felt antsy.

None of what Nate was saying made sense, and the only thing that kept circling my mind was the fact that Rakim knew my location. Of course, his stalking ass did.

“Can we get some privacy?” Nate watched me intently, non-verbally requesting for Morris’s absence.

“What?” Morris caught on. “This my spot!”

“Aye, just five minutes.” I pleaded with Morris, watching the way his mouth balled up in annoyance.

“Five fucking minutes, nigga!” Morris slipped past Nate but not without sizing the nigga up and then slipped out, being sure to slam the door.

“So if ya son know where I’m at, why he not here too? Sent you to kill me?” I tried to laugh it off as if I weren’t the least bit spooked.

“He ain’t here ’cause he know you ain’t on his level,” he replied.

Sucking my teeth, I waved him off. “Is that what he thinks?”

“Let’s be real and honest here, youngblood. You are nowhere near on my son’s level in anything in life. I’m not some little bitch you’re trying to fuck or impress, so stop with the facade, Shaun. If you were comparable to Rah, he wouldn’t be putting dick to your girl while you plant yo’ ass on that sullied couch for days on end feeling depressed. You also wouldn’t be hiding from him. The fact that you didn’t do too well at concealing yourself is neither here nor there,” Nate spoke candidly, making me feel like a bitch.

“Okay, so.” I shrugged, having no rebuttal.

“Don’t fret though. That’s the purpose of my visit. I want to assist you in either killing Rakim or taking over his um, empire so to speak.”

That definitely got my attention.

“Ho-how would I do that?” I sat down, finally feeling comfortable enough to. “I don’t know shit about yo’ son, but like you said, he and I operate on different scales. I don’t even know where that nigga gets his coffee from or if he even drinks coffee, so I damn sure ain’t got the resources to take him out.”

Only reason I caught him out at the club that one night was because I got lucky when I spotted the muthafucka he’d sent to threaten me. And even then, I didn’t know Rakim was the one I had the issue with.

Nate remained near the door.

“That’s where I come in.” He pointed to his chest. “You have two options. I can give you his precise location, then you pull up and kill him. Or, I can front you some bread for you to start building your own shit to eventually pull the rug from up under him.”

“So he’s a dealer?” I asked to be sure.

“He is.” Nate bobbed his head curtly.

So that kind of explained how the nigga was so well connected in an underground sense.

Glancing off briefly, I regained eye contact with Nate, then said, “I want the money.”

Even with Nate’s help and Rakim’s exact location, killing the nigga wouldn’t be an easy feat. I could easily walk into the room and be subdued, but with a good amount of bread, I could at the least take Rakim out financially or skip town and start up my own shit elsewhere.

“Then it’s settled. I suggest you start by trying to bribe some of the people who work with or for my son,” he said.

“Okay, like who?”

“I’m already giving you the money, nigga. I can’t do every fucking thing. Plus, Rakim doesn’t tell me much of anything. All I know is he is involved in illegal drugs. As far as what he does or who works for or doesn’t work for him, I’m none the wiser. We aren’t exactly close.” He looked into the distance for a minute as if he was in deep thought, so I remained silent until I saw him return to the present.

Standing, since Nate had gripped the door handle to exit, I asked, “Why? Why you doing this shit to ya own son?”

Nate paused, looking down a bit as if trying to find a way to explain this shit to me.

Looking into my eyes, he said, “I just never really cared for Rakim. He was always very disrespectful, even as a young boy. He fumbled my boxing legacy over a bitch, and now he’s just getting too big for his britches, poisoning the minds of his brothers. Rakim is like a cancer I should’ve cut out a long time ago.”

I bobbed my head slowly, not understanding fully but enough to see there was some tension or rivalry between father and son. I thanked God my father wasn’t like this, but better Rakim than me.