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DON’T DIE OUT HERE

I had no business still being in Sable Cove, but here I was. Condo over the water, balcony view, fully unpacked. Like I lived here.

Every other weekend, I was in Southwave. Rivera made that easy. His side of the city loved me. I was the pretty outsider with a fiery head and no morals. Velvet South knew me by name now. The seafood spot with the blue neon lights? My table stayed reserved. Sable Cove was slowly becoming mine.

I’d seen Yummi around. She moved like the city kissed the ground she walked on. Her curls. Her soft voice. The fake fairy tale aura that got her ex killed by Mula. I’d seen her, but she never saw me. Until today.

I was at the salon on Eastwave Avenue, getting my curls touched up by this bad lil’ stylist I’d found on Instagram. It was girls in every chair, music low, incense burning, drinks on the dryer table. The kind of hood-rich peace I liked.

Then she walked in with a Louis duffel, gold hoops, and a cropped T-shirt. The room shifted when she stepped in. She was selling her bikinis—everybody was hyped, showing love. The energy pissed me off.

I kept quiet, scrolling on my phone, until she walked over to me.

“Wanna buy one, bitch?” she said, smiling like a villain.

I lifted my head. “Bitch?”

She chuckled, cocky and unbothered. “What you think I don’t know who you are? Didn’t my man tell you to take your ass back to that lil’ snowy hometown you crawled out of? That’s what he told me. You’re not built for Southwave.”

That’s when I stood up. My chair damn near slid back. I was hot. “First off, ho?—”

Before I could finish, Yummi pulled a whole Glock out her damn Louis. Without hesitation, she shoved the barrel in my mouth and pushed me back down in the stylist’s chair. My heart dropped.

The entire shop went silent. The music, the laughter… gone.

“You thought we were gon fight, huh?” she said low, her eyes unblinking. “Play with me again, and they’ll be sweeping you off this marble in pieces. Stay away from my nigga, and out of Velvet South. Don’t let this soft look fool you. Better ask about me.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. My mouth was dry as metal pressed my tongue. My heart pounded out my damn skin.

One of her homegirls finally snapped her out of it and grabbed her arm. “Yum, chill… Not in the shop.”

Yummi didn’t move for a second. Then she eased off me, slid her gun back in her waistband, and grabbed her duffel like it was nothing. She walked out slow, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

“Don’t die out here.”

The bell above the door chimed as it closed behind her.

I sat there shaking. I wasn’t scared, I was furious. I ran to the back, locked myself in the bathroom, and called Rivera. As soon as he answered, I screamed into the phone.

“Nigga, I want them both DEAD. I’m not playin’ no more. Mula and that bitch gotta go!”