Page 185 of The Coldest: Stay Dangerous Part 2

“My bad… I mean, I’m sorry about… you know…”

Everyone’s eyes expands, with Shad’s dramatic ass clutching his chest, but I keep going.

“I… y’all my brothers. As much my brother as Fred. And… Keeping Mars away was a bad call. I… I guess I wanna say…”

Words fail me, and I throw a desperate glance at Nut for him to help my ass out.

“Yeah, nigga, we forgive you. Don’t do it again!” He points at me, and I release my breath.

“The world is really ending,” Shad says, still in awe. “This nigga is apologizing. I know Ty gon’ be mad he missed it.”

“Don’t trip, I recorded it. Knew it was coming the second this nigga cleared his throat.” Reem taps on his screen then shows Shad, whose eyes expand even more.

“Fuck y’all. That’s the first and last apology you niggas ever getting from me,” I spit. “Turk, bring ya ass. We need to go on a run.”

“Fasho,” he says, thankful the heat is off him. Even though if he knew what I have planned for us, he wouldn’t be so eager to ride with me.

Oh well. Surprising him is more fun.

Turk takes a long pull of his blunt before blowing the smoke out of the cracked window.

He’s been eyeing me all evening. He got in my car when we left Nut’s crib, and we went to the Maine Lobster Shack for their endless shrimp promotion. After we were full off garlic shrimp scampi and butterflied shrimp baskets, we went to see a double feature at the dollar theater by the Birch. They were showing the first two Fridays, and every time I laughed at Craig or Smokey or DayDay, Turk’s eyes got wider.

We stopped by the Birch, and after I confirmed with my lil’ homie that all is well, I drove Turk around the city, cruising to my special playlist as I waited for time to pass. Turk didn’t say a word, opting to listen to music and roll up, facing a whole blunt as I hopped on and off all the different expressways all through and surrounding the city.

It’s just after midnight, and we’re parked on a quiet street in Thunder Hills. It’s one of the historically Black neighborhoods in the city, and one of the richest Black neighborhoods in the country, like Lightning Heights. All the old money families still got their original mansions in Highland Ridge, but the new money niggas, or niggas that settled here after the originals, built midcentury houses in Thunder Hills, then Lightning Heights. Rolling Estates is still a lil’ white, besides Set and Brina and their Bebe’s kids.

More recently, a lot of younger millennials been moving into the neighborhood. Niggas making money from streaming or content creating and need a vibe to show off, so they get in one of these houses on a hill with a view of the city. So no one’s gonna say shit to Turk about hotboxing my whip.

“Rico,” he drawls. “Why the fuck we on Autumn and Wyn’s people’s street?”

I reach behind my seat and grab my kit. A small bag with all my things.

Opening the zipper, I pull out my extended clip and change out the regular clip of my piece. I won’t need it, but just in case… I take my suppressor out and fasten that on my piece as well. They’re not that lax around here to disregard gunshots.

“You’re smart enough to figure it out, Big Turk.”

“Bro,” he intones, but I ignore him, pulling the pack of cigarettes and matches from the center console into my hoodie pocket.

“Rico, for real. You can’t kill them, bro.”

“Why?” I ask, chuckling, never looking up from the tasks at hand. I already shaved my face earlier, as well as cut my hair down to my scalp. Pocketing my brass knuckles, my mask is the last thing out of the bag before I put it back behind my seat.

“You really can live with yourself knowing you took out their parents?”

“I’ma sleep like a fuckin’ baby on Snow’s chest knowing that in her new lease on life, she won’t have to deal with the weird ass, bitch ass niggas who birthed her for all the wrong reasons. And to be real, they death certificate been signed. Snow’s surgery and shit just moved up the date.”

Turk puts out his blunt, slipping it in a capsule before pocketing it. “Auty never gon’ forgive you. Forgive us. For whatever reason, she keeps sparing them.”

“And that’s cool… for y’all. You let Haze feel like she in control ‘cause you feel like that’s gonna keep the peace between y’all and I respect that. But that’s not how I handle mine. Once Snow start acting outside of her best interests, I take over and I don’t give a fuck how she feel, because in the end she’ll be better for it. So foreal, you can stay in the car and have plausible deniability, or you can come up in here, help me stage this house, and sleep better knowing this is one less thing weighing on Haze’s heart.”

Fredo ended up sitting me down after we took over the Birch, since he claimed I did too much with my tussle with Ty-Ty. To pass the time, he handed me a psychology book, and told me to study it, claiming if I could self-diagnose myself, I could pass the psych test for the Marines when the time came.

Instead, I tried diagnosing all my niggas. So far, only Nut has actually been formally diagnosed with anything, but I was on the money with OCPD with sociopathic tendencies. So of course I think I’m right about everyone else, too. Including Big Turk and his baby mama.

When he doesn’t respond right away, I pull the mask on just to my forehead and open my door. “You’sa cuck, on Baby.”

That gets him activated, and my grin spreads behind the door of my trunk when I grab the gas can I filled a few days ago.