Page 61

Polo

I got the fuck out of dodge because I was smart. Who in their right mind would sit there and allow someone to line them up? I got on the next plane out to Miami and had been chilling ever since.

It was rough when I first got out here because money was low, and Tookie’s broke ass couldn’t help me. Not like I could get a personal loan from a bank or some shit like that. I had to build everything back up because Red wasn’t coming back.

Nobody was coming to save me, but I had pulled myself out of worse shit, so I could always turn nothing into something.

So, that was exactly what I did. Used whatever money I had left to buy a brick and flipped that and was able to purchase some more.

I was moving work so quick that the nigga started to front more work to me, because he was curious on how I was making the moves that I was making.

How I was able to quickly break down the bricks and get them sold as fast as I did. The trash ass work he was supplying wasn’t good, but his price was the cheapest, so I had to get back in the kitchen and cook work like I used to do when I was a teen.

If you wanted to make it anywhere, you had to get your hands dirty. I was never afraid to get my hands dirty and that was exactly what I did. A few months later, I was able to move out that nagging bitch crib, and into a condo in Brickell.

Every day, I woke up and was able to look at the water and the life happening below me. This would have never been had I never decided to leave. If I remained, I would have died and been in hell broke as hell.

The Bajan Butcher shit was a ploy to get me out the city and it worked. If they wanted me, they would have got at me. Niggas could have found me with a quick snap of a finger.

It was easier to get away and stay away. Their precious king was gone and now they were quiet. Niggas idolized those fucking Inferno Gods, and I was the nigga that put King Inferno in the ground.

Of course, the more money I made, the less I was hiding. I had a gang of niggas that was riding behind me and would light some shit up behind me. They were fucking better than those pussy ass Del Devils.

Red died and those niggas went quiet and didn’t want to be involved.

Reminder: Character previously mentioned in Staten Island Love Story series (Brock)

“Tonight about to be a fucking movie… you know how hard it was to get Collins Ave shut down for tonight,” Brock, my cousin, looked at the videos of everyone on Collins right now.

I put my new Patek on my wrist and looked at that bitch sparkle. A nigga worked hard to get here, and I would be damned if I didn’t show the fuck off.

Brock moved to Miami a few years ago, but he was heavy in the street racing scene. The nigga got ran out of New York because he used to throw races. It was either get fucking killed, or dip and he chose smart.

He came down here and rebranded himself, and he was responsible for this weekend. Nigga was paid, and he made sure he did shit on the straight and narrow. Considering how many other race families came to this weekend and would put him on his neck if he tried some other shit.

“What’s the move tonight?”

“Shit… we going on Collins and ‘bout to post up. A bunch of mini races on the strip before Zuri Cruzari and Fendi race tonight.”

Fendi was Brock’s younger brother who he had been teaching the ropes. He was undefeated when it came to the racers out here, and being that Zuri was from New York, we were all waiting to see what shorty did.

“Heard Kano got her a Bugatti to race in tonight.” I replied, mentioning what I had been hearing.

Brock nearly choked on the honey pack he was sucking down, which made me look at his ass weird. Why the fuck did he need a honey pack right this second? It was only me and him, and a fifteen-minute ride to Collins avenue.

“You fucking with me?”

“They don’t play when it comes to the princess of Brooklyn… her brother gonna make sure she in some good shit to race.”

Brock pulled his phone out and went onto the balcony to rant to whoever while I finished getting ready.

Soon as we pulled onto Collins Avenue, there were cars and bikes everywhere. Women had the shortest dresses and shorts on, flirting and tossing their weaves over their shoulders.

Niggas were posted up on their whips or their bikes, talking to bitches. Brock found a spot and whipped into it to park. Soon as we hopped out, bitches were all on our dick.

I wasn’t interested in none of them as I laid eyes on a brown-skinned beauty that was laughing with Zuri Cruzari. She swung her jet black hair over her shoulder and laughed with Zuri as the niggas that tried to talk to them looked pissed.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Not sure… probably one of Zuri groupie friends,” Brock shrugged as he was eyeing one bitch that I knew he was about to use that honey pack on.

She wanted the shit too with the way she was eye fucking him. “Who that?”

I asked her because she had just came over from there. “Her name is Aimee; she’s Zuri’s guest this weekend.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m not about to go over there.”

I looked at Brock. “We posting up over there… wanna see what she about.”

What intrigued me was that she was packing. She wore a pair of baggy shorts that fell at her hips but still hugged her hips and ass. In the back, I could see her gun poking out. Who the fuck was this beauty?

Dangerous.

I wanted her.

“What up, Zuri?” I greeted, even though I didn’t know her, and we never mixed in the same circles. It felt like I should have introduced myself to her.

“You are?” Smart mouth little bitch.

Her sienna skin was covered in tattoos, and her nose housed two piercings, one on each side. Her dark hair was curled, and she had it pinned on her head with a pair of Bottega sunglasses on, even though it was nighttime.

“Polo… King of Miami,” I smirked.

She didn’t look pleased, and neither did shorty beside her. “I ain’t heard that.”

“Then you not talking to the right people, mama.” I turned to the beauty who wasn’t paying me a lick of attention. “What’s your name, baby?”

“Unin.” She said.

“That’s a unique name… what is it short for?”

“Uninterested.” She rolled her eyes and walked away, going to talk to the other girls. Brock was cracking up behind me.

I never let shit like that get to me, because I always got the girl. She may have been acting all cute now, but most women put on an act whenever they were around their girls.

“Oh fuck…I owe that nigga money,” I heard Brock as he tried to blend in with everybody. I turned to see who he was talking about and saw the Quameer Inferno walking with the Delgato twins.

He wore his Inferno Gods vest with his locs pulled up on his head, and a fresh lineup. His walk had a slight limp to it, but it would only add to the bitches going even more crazy for his ass. Women were gushing like Usher popped up out here.

“Oh shit… those twins are so fucking fine.” One girl said as they walked behind Meer, who had his eyes locked on me.

I had heard his stupid ass survived and wasn’t interested in his ass dying. It was his brother I wanted more than anything, and that was what I accomplished. He smirked, exposing the gold in his mouth.

“He coming over here,” Brock’s spooky ass whispered.

“Nigga, he ain’t thinking about that mone?—”

“What the fuck up, Bitch? Where the fuck is my money?” Capone came up on the sidewalk and choked Brock up, leaning up against the shrubs.

“Wh…what up, Capo? How you been?” Brock stammered, while I looked up at his brother. These big ass niggas had to be illegal.

He was staring at me, and I stepped back because the nigga looked like he was fighting off his impulsive thoughts. “Hey, Pops,” Shorty came over, and he hugged her.

“You good?” He questioned while he kept eye contact with me.

She looked at me and laughed. “I’m good… right, Polo?”

“You straight.”

“Don’t fucking tell her if she straight, bitch.” He snarled. “She’s always fucking straight… anywhere she goes.”

Meer had finished talking to whoever and walked over. His boots were sloppily untied as they cleared the curb, and he walked over toward me. “What up, Polo?”

I was more nervous than a prostitute at a GYN appointment. He was inches from me, and I could smell revenge on him, but he never made a move. Brock was pulling all his money out and handing it over to Capone, who was amused.

When his twin walked over and shoved him in the damn shrubs, I wanted to run down the block with my feet kicking my ass. Brock had always been pussy, which is why he allowed them to run his ass out his damn city.

“Ya’ll fucking bullies,” I spoke up, because I couldn’t display fear.

They both turned and looked at me simultaneously. Shit was fucking creepy with the way they smirked with a mouth full of gold. “And what the fuck you gonna do about it, Bitch?”

“You really comfortable with that bitch word… Fuck you!” I spit at their feet, and Cappadonna smiled and got hype.

As if he had been waiting his entire life for this shit. He walked calmly over toward me, and Meer stood between us. “Nah, he killed my brother… you don’t fuck with a nigga like that.”

I thought I was hearing shit when I heard the words leave his mouth. “Killed the king?” Aimee said.

“Kings never truly die, do they?” Zuri picked in her nails as Kano came up from around the car. Another tall ass nigga that needed to be locked away in the zoo.

“Shit, they said Elvis still in Vegas, so who the fuck knows,” Capone shrugged and counted his money.

“Either way, that nigga fucking dead.” I replied, feeling extra big because I had his brother stopping Cappadonna because I killed his brother.

He smirked, showing his fangs in his mouth. The smirk made me fucking uneasy because the shit was creepy. Sent chills down my fucking spine, as I watched Fendi walk up.

“A Bugatti is fucking cheating… I heard we were doing Corvettes.” Fendi complained, and Kano leaned up from behind his sister.

“She can use whatever the fuck she wants… Brock said it ain’t a problem, right?”