Below The Belt

Round 25

DeAndre's POV

"Nigga do I look stupid to you?" I asked the young teenage boy that was currently standing in front of me attempting to hand me money. When he opened his mouth to speak, I held my hand up and cut him off. "If you answer that question imma beat ya ass, lil nigga. Yo ass need to be in school or some shit, not tryna buy no damn xanax off a grown ass nigga in the streets... Take yo ass on somewhere boy."

I watched as the kid angrily stuffed his money back into his pocket and walked away grumbling under his breath. The amount of times I've had young ass kids walk up to me trying to buy some shit... I know some people don't mind selling to kids, but I couldn't do that shit. Not when I had my own child.

Speaking of that kid, he was with my mother again. I dropped him off with her without speaking a single word to her despite her best efforts. No matter how much I hated that woman, as long as I knew that she was good to Antwon and that Antwon loved her, I'd let them keep seeing each other. Unlike her, I didn't make it a habit to ruin my son's happiness for my own sake.

To Antwon, Yvonne was a great grandmother. He'd go on and on about all the great things they'd do together and all the things she'd buy for him.

I don't deny that she's a good grandmother to my baby.

But she lost her chance to try and be a good mother to me.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by another man walking up to me— Difference was, this man carried a camera. Fucking vultures.

"Excuse me, Mr. Kingston!" The white man said as he held the camera up and held a microphone in front of my face. Why is this nigga so familiar? "I'm Vincent Brooks with-"

"I don't care, nigga." I said with a deadpan expression before pushing the microphone away and walking away from him. The sound of footsteps following after me made me chuckle and shake my head. "Nigga you betta stop followin' me 'fore I bust them big ass teeth out ya fuckin' mouth."

"Does Tyreek know he's with someone so... Violent?" This white man had the audacity to ask. "He's such a sweetheart. You'd think he'd be with someone more-"

Pop.

I watched as the man stumbled back and crumbled to the ground, dropping his camera as he held a hand to his nose and stared up at me with wide eyes. I let out another unamused chuckle before squatting down in front of him. "Nigga, I am not my man. He's nice, he only fights for money. I fight because I want to. Talk about my nigga or my relationship again and imma knock those Timmy Turner ass chompers down ya fuckin' throat son." I patted his face and watched as he flinched before standing back up. "By the way, he like niggas. You never had a chance." With that said, I smirked at him, then turned away and continued making my way down the street.

"We beatin' on white folks now, Dre?" A familiar voice laughed, making me look up from my phone to see a group of men sitting on the stairs outside of an apartment.

"Nigga was talkin' 'bout Ty. Ion play 'bout that nigga." I really don't know why no one has figured that out yet. I openly threaten people about that man. I've fought eight people in the past five months for him... Granted, most of those were his fault. He be smiling in niggas faces and shit, making them feel like they got a chance. Stupid pretty smiling ass nigga...

"Look at you gettin' all frowned up and shit, nigga." One of the men, nigga we call Smoke, started laughing. "Ain't never seen you this passionate 'bout no bitch, now you out here fightin' niggas over another nigga."

"Done seen it all now." Another nigga, Bug, chuckled. I wouldn't call none of these niggas my friends, more like employees. I got my products from their employer. I couldn't exactly see myself actually being friends with them though. Not when they're selling the shit that fucked my life up.