Page 112 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“Well, I move into a new building in the New Year, too. I only set up Mars’s room to show him how it’ll look, and that building has security. But… why wouldn’t I be safe? All your friends paid me dust before.”

I crack my knuckles with my thumb, holding her gaze. “Slime texted me.”

A host of emotions play on her face before it settles perfectly blank. “Again, everyone paid me–”

“Yeah, Ju. Paid you dust. Mars is half you, half Fred. And while muthafuckas may could give a fuck about you, everyone loves Fred, and everyone wants a piece of Mars. And Slime ain’t the same timid ass pretty boy you knew. That nigga…” I shake my head.

Slime was never a timid ass pretty boy. That’s just one of his many masks he presents, the one he presented to Ju. It was easier, since she met him after he hooked up with Fred. Looking back, I almost feel stupid I didn’t see they were more than homies.

Slime is one of the most sadistic niggas I know. He yielded only to Fred. Cool as fuck. Loyal, too. But cross him, and he’ll make you feel it. And the sickest part is, he’d been like that since we was kids. Niggas been calling him Slime since he was in diapers, ‘cause that’s how long he’s been a slick, slimy ass nigga. His levels of vindictiveness rival Shad, and now both me and Ju are on his radar.

And since Slime is now Councilman Jackson, beloved by the people while also calling shots in the Birch, that nigga is very capable of following through on that threat he texted me.

“Look,” I say, coming out of my head and pushing off the couch. “How about you and Mars spend the holidays in Belize? I’ll get you moved into your new place, and let shit blow over with my niggas.”

She looks like she wants to decline, but she knows if I’m offering, it’s more serious than I’m letting on.

“Fine,” she sighs.

“Good. I’ll text you your flight details. You’re leaving tonight, tomorrow at the latest, and you're staying until… when you start your job?”

“January seventh,” she answers, eyebrows pulling down.

“Aight. You’ll stay until the sixth.”

“Rico… what aren’t you telling me?”

I call for Mars, before smirking at her clueless ass. “I just told you, Ju. Slime ain’t who you think he is, and the nigga he is now? I doubt you wanna meet him.”

Mars comes running toward us.

“Guess what?” I ask him, ready to sell this shit again.

I see this nigga all the way from Ju’s front door. My whip is gone, replaced by Set’s matte black lamb truck. He moved most of his car collection to the warehouse he and Nut have when he and Brina moved to their crib from his penthouse, and only keep that and Boog’s Monte Carlo for his everyday cars.

We all got them. An ode to our fathers. That’s the only reason I know he didn’t fuck my shit up. Though, I can’t really be sure.

He’s leaning on the hood of his car, smoking a wood as he watches us walk toward him. Mars gasps, and I know it’s because he’s checking out the car. He’s gotten into building cars like we used to do.

Set’s face is blank as we stare each other down. I wasn’t expecting to see him so soon. If I were alone, this would go differently. But I’m trying as hard as I can to keep Mars from seeing sides of us he doesn’t need to see.

Set drops the wood on the sidewalk and stubs it out before standing straight. “Waddup, Luney?”

His gaze shifts to Mars, and a corner of his mouth lifts. “Waddup, lil’ Tune?”

I glance down long enough to see a grin spread on Mars’s face. “You knew my dad?”

Set nods. “Yup. My day one. So you know what that makes you?”

“What?”

Set opens the backseat of his car and grins. “My day two.”

“Go get in the car, Mars.” He shoots away from me to climb in the backseat. I can’t hear what Set says to him, only his giggle as Set buckles him in and closes the door.

“The fuck you do with my car, Set?”

This nigga shoves his hands into the pocket of his jeans and shrugs. “You had four flats. Pook came to change ‘em out and took it to your crib. I volunteered to bring you and my young nigga home.”