Chapter 2

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It has been a week since I last saw her. I bet she's probably wondering why I haven't hit her up yet. Well, a nigga had been mad busy. With the new shipments that are being made, and these damn marijuana and gun charges, I had a lot of shit on my mind. So, baby girl is the least of my worries right now.

If you were wondering, the name is Elijah; Elijah King. I am an upcoming Kingpin in the streets of Miami. I had been slangin' dope since I came out my mother's womb, and I was born to be a hustla'. My father was one, and I guess you could say that he sort of passed it down to me. Old man taught me all of his ways from how to shoot, kill, package, and even, cook the shit. I am multi-talented; no nigga can play me. I am slowly building my empire and pretty soon I'm going to be running the entire state of Florida. Until then, I'm just going to continue to stack my stash.

As I blasted Nas Watch Dem Niggas, I slowly cruised up the block in my all-red Charger SRT8, making my presence known in the neighborhood. I pulled into one of my trap houses and hopped out the car. It was payday. On Sundays, I would collect all the money that was made within that week and take it to my main trap house where everything was recounted. Once I made sure that all the money was there, I would then pay my workers and store the rest in a safe, where only I knew the code.

As I walked up to the house, I saw two of my guards laughing it up. I walked towards them real calm, not letting them notice my anger.

"Damn, a nigga wanna laugh too." I grinned, casually.

They quickly got into position knowing that they fucked up. "It was nothing, Mr. King." One of them replied back, sternly.

"Than why was y'all laughing? C'mon bruh I just wanna laugh too. Don't hold back on me now." I smiled at them, trying to reassure them that I wasn't going to harm them.

The one that stood next to me relaxed a bit. "Okay, so Rodney over there done fucked some random chick a few days ago, and every time that nigga try to pee, his shit start burning." He let out a small laugh.

My face turned stone hard real quick. "I don't find that so funny." I slowly pulled out my pistol and aimed it at his foot. "So, not only did you not make me laugh, but y'all muthafuckas over here hollering like some fuckin' hyenas." I let out a single bullet on his right foot. He quickly dropped to the ground, clutching his leg tightly as he winced in pain. I shifted my eyes to the other one that was still standing. "Fuck you lookin' at me for? Help that nigga, and take his gonorrhea havin' ass to a damn clinic once you're done." I turned around and started making my way back to the house, not paying attention to that nigga's loud screams.

The second I stepped foot inside the house, the smell of dope filled my nostrils. "That is what the fuck I'm talkin' about!" I beamed with excitement. Topless bitches were everywhere, breaking the coke down, and there were a few naked ones in the kitchen cooking it. I walked inside my office, catching my right hand Jerome counting the money.

"Wassup, homie?" I dapped him up, while taking a seat behind my desk. He looked at me with confusion in his eyes. "Bruh, some of the money is missing."

"What the fuck you mean some of the money is missing?"

"There's about ten grand missing man." He started recounting the money. I leaned back into my chair, trying to figure out who had nerves to steal from me. "We got a little thief on the loose." Jerome didn't say anything; he just kept counting.

One thing I do not play about is my money. My money is basically my child, and as an overprotective daddy I don't let people mess with my baby.