Natasha James had fallen in love at a young age with non-other than Snake, a big time drug dealer. Years after being "happy" Snake's past catches up with him and he got 25 to life no parol.
Natasha left to raise 4 kids in her own.... How wil things...
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"Alright baby boy." I groaned as I lugged Nasir our the car into the house into his room.
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"Sheesh your heavy lil boy."
I went downstairs and turned on the TV getting comfortable, not before Ryan made her present known by barging in with shopping bags with her Coach Sunglasses covering her eyes. Ryan and Natasha were true divas in diapers. They had been down to ride for each other since forever. Ryan had a little one running around, but she kept on the low.
"Hey Tashhaaa!" She spoke plopping down on the couch.
"Whatever it is the answer is no."
"I wasn't going to ask go get dressed." She shoved a bag in my hand. "Your makeup cute by the way."
"Thank you."
"You welcome. Why you still sitting down. Chop chop. I'm going to go to my room-"
"Bitch my guest room where you moved most of yo shit in is not your room," I cut her off standing up fixing my jeans.
"Damn jawn you thick friend." She slapped my ass.
"You a fool and you got more ass than me. And why you rushing me I did my makeup already all I got to do is slip whatever this shit is, on." I shook the bag.
"Ight whatever I'm getting in the shower."
"Yep." I respond letting her know I heard her.
She walked off to "her room" while I went to make food for the pact of wolves that would come in a later on. Nalani was a tutor. Melly was at her very last cheer practice. She train the rookies on the team for the following year. She's officially a graduate, but a doubt she going to college. She is not a fan of school. Harlem plays basketball for his college team. They are share one car so they had to wait for each other in order to leave their extra actives. I have a busy crew that was always ready to eat. Nasir was a pretty deep sleeper so I allowed my bass in my my old school jams playlists fill my ears making my task fly by.
