Page 22 of He Thugged Me First

In my opinion, the worst pain in the world was being shot.

I mean, this wasn’t the first time I’d taken a bullet or two, but it was definitely gonna be the last. Unlike most of these niggas I had a low ass pain tolerance, and I wasn’t scared to share that shit.

I just knew all that I could take, and pain wasn’t one of those things.

I got shot a week and a half ago, and I swear I still felt the burning pain sensation in my shoulder and on the side of my neck.

The thing as well was that there was no way around this.

When Mazz got shot, we assumed that it wasn’t meant for him and somebody just had some fucked-up aim.

Now, I disagreed with that because a motherfucker had actually shot my car up with Mecca and me inside.

Somebody was definitely gunning for us, but who?

The difference between the way Mazz ran shit and other niggas was the fact that he was very levelheaded.

He actually treated the game like chess.

Every move he ever made was heavily thought out, and he never set out to take a life unless it was absolutely necessary.

Not only that, but he believed that a motherfucker didn’t have to spill blood and go to war to make money.

He showed me that it was possible to coexist with other niggas in the streets because it was enough money out here for all of us.

The night I got shot, they screamed this nigga Gotti’s name.

He ran product on the north side and was from Indiana.

As far as I knew, we didn’t have any beef, but that was only because we hadn’t crossed paths.

One could never assume because niggas were weird these days.

I don’t know how long I’d taken refuge on Mecca’s sofa today, but I needed it.

It seemed like her place had this peace about it that allowed me to think clearly.

With Mazz moving down and me stepping up, I had to figure out how I’d deal with this.

The part of me who had worked alongside Mazz for all these years wanted to schedule a sit down and get to the bottom of this, but the hot-headed street nigga in me wanted to go tit for tat.

At twenty-five years old, I looked up to Mazz because he had taught me everything I knew about these streets, and I was still learning.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of my phone. When I looked down, it was Quari. “Yeah, bitch,” I answered.

“Open the fucking door.” He hung up right after he said that too.

Purposely, I took my time walking toward the door. This nigga Quari was the most impatient nigga I had ever met.

“Fuck you sitting here like a lil’ bitch for?” he asked as soon as I let him in.

I shook my head with a slight chuckle. “You must not be getting none. You a real disgruntled motherfucker.” I responded by resuming my seat on the sofa.

“What’s next, nigga, sweatpants and no pockets? Sports bras?” he asked, and he and Mazz took a seat on the opposite side of me.

Mazz laughed.

“What’s with that?” Quari asked. I knew for a fact he was referring to what I thought about doing when it came to being shot at.

I shook my head. My brain was overwhelmed.

“Look, lemme go pull up on that nigga Gotti, and I’ll know who shot you,” Quari suggested.

“C’mon, y’all. That ain’t even—” Mazz started. He knew when Quari said pull up he meant pull up , pull up.

“So wait. Y’all don’t wanna know who shot both of y’all?” Quari asked, glancing back and forth between me and Mazz.

“I wanna know who shot me too, Quar. We can’t just go busting people joints though. When niggas are beefing, it’s impossible to make money.”

“Then what do you wanna do? Wait around for a motherfucker to blast again? I get yeen tryna go start shit, but?—”

“You gotta go handle it. Mecca said somebody said Gotti’s name that night. So now y’all gotta go see Gotti.” Mazz shrugged. This nigga was dead ass serious about stepping out of the game, and after a few new wounds, I saw why.

I nodded my head. “You going with this trigger-happy ass nigga, right?”

“Just because I know my way around that heat doesn’t mean I’m?—”

“I beg to fucking differ. Quari, when ya hand is on the trigger you ’ont think. You act off pure instinct.” Mazz laughed because Quari had been that way for years. Shit, even before he became a contract.

Quari laughed. “I handle mine.”

With a laugh caught in my chest, I shook my head. He was right, he handled his and anyone else’s as long as the price was right.

“Finesse.” Mazzier glanced over at Quari.

“Nah. I ain’t got none of that. I’m with the blow a motherfucker down coalition,” Quari responded with a straight face.

Both of us started to laugh at him, but he was serious.

“Look, I know that shit very well. The thing is, the way you run a successful street business without the bullshit is negotiation and the right amount of force. If you blow every motherfucker down who poses a problem, then who are you gonna negotiate with at the end?” he asked.

“My motherfucking self,” Quari said.

Mazzier shook his head. “You sure you wanna sell dope? I mean?—”

“Fuck outta here. It can’t be that hard.” Quari shrugged.

In reality, he didn’t, but I talked him into being my number two just like I was to Mazz at points.

In order for our shit to flow and run smooth, I needed to have a nigga that I trusted that was just as strong as I was out here.

I didn’t trust many, and the only niggas I trusted like that stood in this room.

“It is that hard, Quar.” Mazz shook his head. I could see he was worried about us, but we had it. My boy Quari just had to take his hands off the trigger.

She was life. I mean the exact reason my world turned every day.

She was the matter behind my rage because all I could think of was what if she had taken one of those bullets.

The streets would be red, and there would be no amount of talking that could input sense into me.

Mecca was probably the only being or thing in this world that could and would send me there.

I watched her peer at her phone like she always did some days, and I couldn’t help but admire her.

She was everything that I never knew I needed or wanted.

We had been at this dance for years, and for years, I was in nothing but denial.

Now it was different. Now, I accepted that my heart belonged to her, and my mind was at her mercy.

I could tell that those shots had scared her, but she wouldn’t tell me.

She was the type to hold shit in and let it explode at the wrong damn minute.

“You told that nigga it was done yet?” I glanced from my food at her as she scrolled through her phone. We were eating homemade flatbread pizza that she’d made. She liked to get those recipes and shit off Pinterest and try them.

She stopped scrolling through her phone and glared at me. “The man isn’t even in Chicago. He ain’t stunting me.”

I shrugged. “See, that’s where you got it fucked up. You’re gonna get that nigga shot if he comes back here with expectations.”

“You gonna shoot the man because he has expectations?” she asked with one of those big, goofy ass smiles plastered on her face.

“Nah. Because he has expectations that involve you. That’s why I’mma shoot the nigga.”

She laughed. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

I shook my head. “Let me fuck, then?—”

She glared at me. “Really, Kasair?”

“Hell yeah. What are you talking about really for?” I mugged her fine ass. She knew I liked when she pulled her hair back into a ponytail to the back. She let that shit flow down her back while her beautiful ass face was on full display. “Yo’ funky feet ass is beautiful.” I licked my lips.

She giggled. “My feet don’t stink, and you need to finish your food.”

“If I do, you gonna let me lick the box?”

With a smile on her face, she nodded her head up and down.

Quari

Most days I was good, but today, I was great.

I couldn’t help but question the God that everybody referred to.

I halfway believed in him because there had to be a higher power up there, right?

But then again, who really knows, right?

Nobody credible had died and came back telling us about him.

Then again, there had to be somebody up there, because after all I’d done in this world, karma hadn’t caught up with me.

I had been putting people out of their joy or misery since I was a preteen, and all I could do was question what I was.

Most days, I wondered why I was able to walk this earth and be here when I didn’t spare a soul, even if it was for a good price.

Who was I to play God, even though I had been paid to do such?

The way I made peace with it was that every day somebody was born, so the world needed space.

God wasn’t keeping count, right? He couldn’t have been.

His creations were flawed, and nobody was perfect, but her.

She had to be put here as my punishment, right?

I loved Love so much and worked day in and out to make sure my life never tainted her because she was the purest thing in my life.

She spread light and positivity into the darkest corners of my brain.

At first, I didn’t know what to do, because I knew for sure whomever was above couldn’t have sent me her.

I wasn’t meant to bask in her. I wasn’t meant to love her because I myself was tainted.

The thing is, the moment I laid eyes on her, I felt the magnetic pull that kept her near.

Love was Love, and I accepted that. I also accepted that for the rest of my life, I’d be protecting her from me.