Hard As It Is

Chapter 11

I smack my lips at him, "Don't play on her top like that, and watch yourself when you speaking on our name." 

Quez looks at me for a moment before I hear that Windex bottle laugh, "Whatever nigga."

I roll my eyes sitting back down as the door to my bedroom opens. Shaq walks in taking a seat in my desk chair, but not before taking the blunt out of Quez's lips. "Y'all niggas was gonna smoke it all huh?" He questions us plopping his feet up on my desk.

I reach over punching his leg not to hard but hard enough to hurt.

He groans putting his legs down.  "Don't walk up into my shit like you pay rent? How the fuck you get in here anyway?" I question Shaq who stares down at me a small smirk on his face, and his chocolate eyes gleaming.  "You left your door unlock nigga, by right that gave me permission as your brother to enter."

What? I don't remember leaving shit unlocked?  My eyes widen as I shake my head in disbelief did this nigga really?

"Nigga you-
I start to question before he speaks interrupting me.

"Chill Jet I'm a fix the lock before I leave I just wanted to see if I could still do it," he tells me and I place my face in my hands. Quez just found the whole thing funny as we spent an hour passing around the blunt until it reached roach size.  

After around thirty minutes into that hour my head started spinning as we joked around and laughed at the craziest of things.

"Bruh I'm seeing stars! There's like four million tiny ones on the your bedroom ceiling," Quez tells us seriously. I look up to try and see what he's seeing. However the only thing thats up there is my light, I stare at it a while, then back at Quez who tries to reach for whatever he's seeing. I look over at Shaq to see him looking confused as ever too.

"Quez ain't shit up there but a big ass light bulb," Shaq tells him standing up from the chair, walking by the bed side.

"Move your ass out of the way!" Quez groans trying to reach and push Shaq away.

Shaq looks back at me before grabbing the hands on his stomach. "Where you get this weed from?" He asks me and I smile, "No one I grew this shit myself, I got my very own garden."

The corners of Shaq's mouth pull upwards, "Word? So what you plan on selling your own shit?" He questions me stroking at his small stubble on his chin.

I shake my head, "Nah I just do the shit for fun an experiment, I'm not trying to start nothing." I tell him watching Quez sleeping. Shaq let's go of Quez's arm, walking back towards the chair. He sits down before telling me his voice coming off as sincere yet stern, "Jahmir, I don't think you should let anyone else know that you grow your own shit especially August." He lets me know and I turn my head to the side to stare up at him.

He wore a comatose expression, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but somehow I felt it, "Don't worry I don't plan on telling anyone, besides if August eventually decides I'm not worth the hustle, then I need to have something to fall back on. However in the end, either way I have deceived the nigga don't you think?" I cock a brow a small smile on my lips, though a curious one as I wait for his answer.

Shaq's  red eyes narrow for a second, " Be careful Jet." He tells me instead his eyes soften for a moment probably realizing what I said was the truth. He knew there was no point in arguing with me on it.