Page 7 of Search My Soul (Taylor Family Saga #3)

Several Weeks Later

“Why the hell are you over there looking like you lost your best friend?” Duke teased.

It was collection day, and there were a few people who hadn’t paid their dues for last month.

I played with a lot of things, but my money was never one of them.

Niggas would try your hand to see how much they could get away with, and to be honest, I liked to see just how far a mothafucka was willing to go.

“There goes Denzel right there.” From what Huncho told me, this fool went and bought himself a Benz and had the nerve to park it in the driveway of the trap house.

How the hell can he afford a new Benz when he owes us fifty racks?

Shit like that pissed me off because these mothafuckas took my kindness for weakness.

What they failed to realize was that I allowed them enough rope to hang themselves.

That way, when it came time for punishment, I made sure it fit the offense.

“I see what you did there. We can table this conversation for later, but don’t think I’ll forget.

” I waved his ass off. We were here to do business, not discuss my personal life.

Besides, my people knew that I hated all that soft shit.

The only person I discussed my issues with was my therapist, and that’s only because she legally couldn’t disclose my business.

I tucked my gun in the waistband of my pants before we crossed the street.

I prayed this visit would go smoothly, but I was cool with whatever.

I jogged up the stairs to the trap house and instantly caught an attitude.

These dumb ass fools had the door cracked open with music blaring through the whole house.

All it would take was one noise complaint from one of these neighbors, and the police would carry everyone off to prison. Dummies.

“These cats are tripping.” Duke scoffed. When he lifted his foot and kicked the door open with his gun drawn, I realized this wouldn’t be a smooth visit after all.

“Surprise, surprise, bitches!” Duke sang as he stepped into the front room.

I shook my head as I observed the place.

Beer bottles, empty fast food bags, and old pizza boxes littered the coffee table, accompanied by half-smoked blunts and what looked to be cocaine residue.

I texted the clean-up crew to be on standby because things were about to get interesting.

“Where the fuck is Lik and Denzel?” Duke asked the idiots that were supposed to be working instead of fucking off.

There were four half naked bitches passed out on the couches and two workers at the table counting money.

They jumped out of their seats when they saw us.

This whole scene pissed me off, and I realized that we needed to start doing more pop ups on these folks.

Normally, on collection day, the crew would pull up and load the duffel bags into the trunks.

When we worked in the trap house, we always kept our shit neat, so if anyone were to walk in, they would assume it was nothing more than a family home.

I guess since they weren’t paying for shit, they didn’t have the same pride in it as we did.

“Y’all are some nasty bitches. It smells like bounce dat ass, corn chips, and tilapia in this bitch. Get the fuck out!” I demanded. The girls glanced back at Oso and Trek as if they were waiting for their approval.

“Oh, so you’re slow too? I said get the fuck out unless you would like to be carried out in a body bag.

I’m cool with whatever.” I shrugged nonchalantly.

I hated repeating myself, but I was trying to spare them.

They must have realized how serious I was because they finally got their shit and bounced.

“H-Hey. I thought Duke was coming later on?” Malik, aka Lik, huffed as he jogged down the stairs with his pants unbuttoned. A pretty redbone followed behind him with her wig looking like it had seen better days.

“I’m not here for any small talk. Where the fuck is our money?” Duke asked. I kept my eyes on the rest of the crew while Duke dealt with the leader of this house. This was his job anyway. I only came along because I figured I would get a chance to shoot somebody today.

“Umm, let me go get Den?—”

“Don’t you fucking move. Look, I’m not about to play these childish ass games with you today.

Either you tell me where my fucking bread is, or your family will be hosting a fish fry to raise money for your funeral.

I let y’all get some extra time to get your money up, but you must have taken my grace as me being a fool.

” Duke drew his gun, aiming it at Lik’s head.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time, and I pray you have the right answers for me.

Where is the fucking money?” Even though Duke had threatened his life, he did so in a calm tone.

Duke wasn’t one to yell, even when he was upset.

We were a lot alike in that way. I would much rather let my gun do the talking than exert all that extra energy.

“Bro, I swear we aren’t trying to get over on you or anything like that. We have most of the money in the back, but Denzel came up short on his end, so he needed a little more time to come up with his part.” Lik seemed like a solid individual, but his best friend was a different story.

“Where is his bitch ass at? Isn’t he supposed to be here with y’all?

” Duke’s question caused me to turn my head, and when I did, I noticed motion coming from outside.

Immediately, I sprang into action. With my gun drawn, I raced out of the front door to catch up with a fleeing Denzel.

He almost made it to his car, but he was no match for me.

I dominated on the track and field team as a youngster and could smoke these young cats on any given day.

My fist crashed against the side of Denzel’s face as he fell to the ground. I pistol whipped his ass as he screamed for mercy. This fat mothafucka thought he could bite the hands that fed him, and unfortunately for him, he would be taught a valuable lesson today.

“Ahh! Wait! Give me a chance to explain!” His silly ass pleaded as blood leaked from his nose.

“There isn’t a damn thing you can explain to me.

You’ve got to be the dumbest thief I’ve ever met.

How the hell do you steal from someone and then post pics of the car you purchased with money that doesn’t belong to you?

” The thought alone irritated me as I reared back and then kicked him in the stomach.

“I-I’m sorry!” Blood spurted from his mouth, splattering all over my new J’s. That shit pissed me off more than anything because this was the second pair of sneakers that had been ruined by somebody else.

“Don’t be sorry, ho. Be careful. Where the fuck is the money? I don’t even want to hear any excuses or pleas. I need that cash in my hand before I have to tell the clean-up crew to make this their next stop.”

“I-I don’t have it all, but I’m gonna get it. All I need is a little more time.”

“You had a whole month to get your shit together, but instead you thought if you avoided us, we would let it go. Naw, youngblood, that’s not how things work around here.

So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna send Huncho to your baby momma’s house and see if she might know where you can get this extra money from.

After all, you magically found enough cash to gift her and your old lady designer bags and diamond chains.

Perhaps they might be willing to part with their new gifts in order to spare your life. ”

“No, no. Please don’t involve them in my bullshit. I promise, I can come up with the money before the end of the day. I’m begging you.”

“Aye, get your bitch ass up! Gon’ have the laws called on us because you’re rolling around on the damn ground,” I grumbled.

I never liked to conduct this kind of business out in the open, so unfortunately, I couldn’t toss his ass in the trunk like I wanted to.

I’d already texted Huncho and the crew to keep an eye on this house, because once the coast was clear, I fully intended to handle business.

Besides, I had something to handle that was more important than this, and I couldn’t afford to be late.

“I told you that I don’t need anyone fussing over me like this.

I had a stroke for crying out loud. I’m not dead.

” Poppa Meech complained as I drove away from his physical therapy session.

He’d recently suffered from a stroke, so we had been taking turns driving him back and forth to his appointments.

Of course, he gave us a hard time because he couldn’t accept someone else helping him with the things he’s always been able to do for himself.

“Do you want some fried chicken from JJ’s or a seafood boil?” Poppa was supposed to be on a strict diet, but I snuck him some of the good stuff every now and then. The man was seventy-nine years old, so I thought he deserved a little cheat day every now and then.

“Umm, I want some of those hot honey tenders you got for me the last time. That seafood boil had me on the commode for three hours last time. Felt like my asshole was breathing fire.” He shook his head as he recalled the memory.

I burst out laughing because my sister Patience called me frantic, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

She thought he had food poisoning or something.

“Alright, bet. I’ve been craving one of those fried apple pies from JJ’s for a week now. Hopefully that thick girl with the purple hair is working today so she can sneak me a couple of extra ones in there. I refuse to pay four dollars per pie.” I fussed.

“You are acting like you can’t afford it. Don’t tell me you’re going broke, Grandson.” I could hear the sarcasm in his tone as he smirked.