Me, You, and Mason

13

"What do you see?"

Ken scoffed. "I don't know, man. Any plans I had for the next five years got fucked when Chico got killed. Fuck makin' life plans."

"What were the plans?" Sage sat up in his seat a little.

"Me and Chico, we were gonna go into business together. When the robbin' and the drug shit got old, we'd open a car wash or somethin'. I don't know."

Sage smiled slightly at the thought. "Chico did love cars, man."

"Don't I fuckin' know it? How you think I ended up with that hunk of metal at the house?" He referred to the car Chico had been working on for the past year.

"He got real close to finishing it though."

"Not close enough. I don't even know how I'ma pay for all the parts it needs, let alone the paint job and the subwoofers— man. Nigga left me with a whole fuckin' DIY project."

Sage chuckled. "Maybe you could use it. Take your mind off other shit."

"Yeah, maybe."

The two cruised on, arriving at Ken's boss in a timely manner. And while the car was disassembled, Sage and Ken were gifted their paycheck, which was stuffed in a duffel bag, and sent on their way.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" Ken nudged as they made their way home.

"I guess," Sage chuckled, thanking God that it was a lot less traumatizing and a lot more painless than he anticipated.

The two made it home as Ken recalled the arrangements a friend of theirs was making for a kickback, the welcome-home party he'd promised Sage.

"Brandi's gone be there, so that means Tricia shouldn't be trippin' when you go back to work at the Skyboxx," Ken nodded, locking the door while Sage grabbed his phone from his room and returned to the living room.

"I missed three days without givin' her a heads up. What'chu mean Tricia shouldn't be trippin'?"

"Brandi already knew we was gon' be gone, so she already told Trish. You know she's like that lady's watchdog," Ken chuckled as Sage witnessed the numerous notifications from Darcy-Ann.

"Fuck," it was with eyes widened in horror that Sage's stomach dropped through the couch.

"What?" Ken had just thrown down their newly awarded duffel bag on the coffee table.

"I think I just lost my girl."

Ken scoffed. "That girl you trickin' on?"

"My girlfriend, Ken. Show some respect, bruh."

"My fault, OG," he snickered while sitting in the recliner and unzipping the bag. "What she mad about? You late payin' her rent?"

"I ain't tell her I was goin' off the grid and leavin' my phone here."

"Good. Tellin' somebody that usually defeats the purpose."

"But Brandi knew— Oh, nah, this is bad," Sage scrolled up to see Darcy's voice memos. He was almost scared to listen to them. "She fuckin' cussin' me out and shit."

"You got a crazy one, huh? They be the best ones—"

"Aye, shut the fuck up for, like, two seconds, Ken."

Sage attempted to call her to no avail. He'd even attempted to send texts, but they'd gone through green.

"Aye, lemme see your phone," he called while skimming over her harsh parting words.

"Hell nah, man. I gotta touch base with my own—"

"Ken, for real."

With a kiss of his teeth, Ken found his device and tossed it to him.