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Amaru moved around the store picking out groceries and filling up his cart, on his way home from work. You'd think he had ten people living in his three bedroom house with him, considering how much food he was buying, but those little ones could eat a full deer if they had a chance.
Of course they were back with their dad and Amaru didn't have them tonight, but he always made provision for them when he went food shopping because he never knew when them two were gonna pop up.
He turned to the next aisle and paused, then slowly turned around, but no one was there.
See, he had been getting that weird feeling of being followed all damn day, like he had eyes at the back of his head or something. At first he had shook it off, feeling like it was that paranoia that came with growing up in the hood, but now...
Moments later he pushed his cart out into the early night, one hand on the handle and the other on his waist holding his fully loaded clip. The wind blew cool breeze against his soft skin, entering his eyes yet he didn't so much as blink.
Growing up in a place like this prepared your mind for war at all times. Especially if you had a best friend like the one Amaru had.
He'd chosen not to get involved in gangs or anything of the sort growing up, but he was of the firm believe that as long as a nigga didn't fuck with him, they were all good. But if a mutherfucker decided to step on the head of a sleeping lion, then they gotta prepare to get they head blown off...or however the fuck that saying goes.
Amaru came to a halt when he looked up and found someone leaning on his car.
"You lost?" He called out, pulling out his piece and discreetly holding it between himself and the cart.
The nigga turned around and it all made sense...Trigga Bell.
That nigga came out of the woodworks after his brother was put in a wheelchair, hungry for blood. Rumor had it that his nickname came from him being trigger happy and psychotic, even worse that his brother Trouble was.
Anyway he's TJ's opp, but what Amaru wasn't sure of was why this nigga been following him all day.
"You been following me, why?" He accused, knowing in his gut he wasn't wrong.
"Checking to see if that nigga TJ would pop out, he owe me." Trigga said, smiling and lighting a blunt.
There was something about how he talked and acted that exuded pure danger, unlike his average build.
"Hmm." Amaru moved around to his trunk and started unloading the cart, all the while holding his gun on one hand, with his eyes on the intruder at all times. When he was done, he matched up to Trigga and said, "Move."
"Tell that nigga he owe me some blood and I'm coming for mines. I seen that nigga Qani back too, ain't that the one who put my brother inna hospital? I'm coming mines." All traces of laughter was gone when Trigga said that, his expression cold as ice.
"Move out my car lil nigga!"
Instead of moving Trigga got real close in his face, sizing him up, he smelled like whiskey and weed.
From the corner of his eye he saw a cop car pull up, some cops came down and started talking nearby.
"You tryna fight but I'm here in peace, just passing a message along, chill out." Trigga stepped back, a wicked smirk played on his face. It was obvious he found this all to be a joke, giving how his reputation was set up.
Amaru kissed his teeth angrily. "Look dawg, i ain't got no beef with you. But you over here talking about my family and fighting and shit, but all I gotta say is, I don't do no fighting, if you run up on me or mine imma shoot you in your face. You know what I'm saying?"
Part 9: Friends
Start from the beginning
