Page 85 of Adonis Gates
“I didn’t even know he was taking it,” he chuckled humorlessly. “You figured it out, so you keep it.”
“Vado…”
“Keep it, Adonis,” he reinforced. “I got caught slipping, you figured it out. It’s yours.”
“You got a soft spot for the nigga.” I sighed.
“Maybe, but that’s not what happened with this,” he pointed to the bag. “I’ve been going to see a doctor for about a year now because I’ve been struggling to remember things, or hell, make clear decisions.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I found out sometime last year that I had Early-onset dementia?—”
“What?” I frowned and nodded.
“I’ve been struggling with it for a while now, Brock knew,” he confessed. “It was getting harder and harder for me to remember things. I had more good days than bad, but it’s progressing quicker than I thought it would, which is again, why I was in such a hurry to get everything over to you. He was therefor a few appointments when the doctor came by, so he was privy to the extent of my condition and when they told me that I only had about four more years if that…” he shook his head. “He must’ve taken advantage of that. Gino or my accountant are usually good at catching any slip ups, but hell, we’re all getting old.”
“That’s why I’m gon’ murder that nigga,” I spat. “I can’t lie, I’m sick of him V, and after hearing this shit,” I shook my head, “he gotta go.”
“Don’t do it on my behalf,” he replied. “I’ve been in the game for a while, so I’m not missing this.” He pointed to the bag.
“It’s the principle, Vado,” I tried reasoning. “You’ve been taking care of that nigga damn near his whole life. The nigga took advantage of you at your fuckin’ lowest,” I griped.
I was heated. Vado was like a pop to all of us who grew up fatherless and had looked out for every fuckin’ body. Brock didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as us, and I was gon’ make sure he wasn’t able to do that shit another day.
“Well,” he stood and rounded the desk, stopping to lean back into it. “It seems like your mind is made up, so I’ll have to accept and respect that, as you have for me all these years. All I ask is that you leave a body for his mother to bury,” he requested. “She doesn’t understand the streets and how they work, and hell Brock doesn’t either half the time, but just do me that one solid so she at least has some kind of closure.”
“Aight,” I nodded and stood. “I got you.”
I embraced Vado for a long ass time. I didn’t think he’d be gone tomorrow or no shit, but it was hard as shit to stomach the fact that there was a chance he wouldn’t be here one day. I knew we all had expiration dates, especially with the shit we did, I just didn’t expect his shit to be as soon as the doctors were anticipating.
I gave him one last look before I grabbed the bag and bounced. I was supposed to go grab Zig and Deek before making a move on Brock, but I’d let them know I was gon’ be dolo. I didn’t feel like being around anyone, and I really wanted to handle the shit with Brock on my own.
I pulled up in Northwood, parking in my old driveway, making sure I had both of my guns tucked in my back, before climbing out of the car and walking through the cut in the backyard that would lead to the street behind the house I knew Brock was in. Deek took care of all the cameras in the vicinity for me, so I was good.
I crept up on the porch of the house and the light was off as requested, so I shot a text to E-Man, one of the niggas on the inside, from my burner phone to let him know I was outside. I waited until he opened the door before I entered.
“It’s him, Grady and Serg in there,” he let me know. “They already know they on cleanup.”
Nodding, I bypassed him and journeyed down the hall. Brock was doing what he did best, running his fuckin’ mouth. When I entered, Grady glanced up at me. I subtly shook my head. I didn’t want Brock to know I was there just yet.
“I wonder when that lil’ nigga goin’ back to school. Damn. It’s impossible to get close to him when his lil’ ass locked up in his brother’s spot,” Brock complained. “I told you niggas to find out where he stays anyway.”
“How the fuck we supposed to do that?” Serg asked. “It ain’t like he share locations with us or no shit.”
“Y’all around the nigga when y’all workin’,” Brock snapped. “I even asked where he holdin’ at and you niggas have brought me nothin’!”
“Nigga, we don’t know,” Grady barked back. “We meet Zig or Deek at a random location for reup, or they come to us.”
“Y’all can’t follow them?”
“Naw,” they said in unison and shook their heads. “We gotta uRide there and wait for them to leave before another one they order themselves pulls up.”
They weren’t lying. When they copped, we had our own drivers that worked for uRide that would scoop them and take them back to their spots. I wasn’t taking no chances on any of them following one of us.
“That bitch ass, paranoid ass nigga,” Brock growled, punching his hand.
“What’s your issue with the nigga?” Grady asked. “Didn’t you used to be at the nigga’s mom’s crib and shit when we were jits?”
“Fuck his mama!” he snapped. “Bitch thought she was better than everyone else just like her mothafuckin’ son. That’s why she got that ass beat to death.”
My trigger finger started to itch hearing the nigga talk about my mother. When she was alive, she loved his ass like he was her own just like his fucking mother did me. Brock was just sick in the fucking head.