the money. I’ve been passed around from owner to owner, man to man, since I was a kid. I appreciate youcoming back for me, but I don’t want to feel like I owe you. I don’t want to be indebted to you or anybody else ever again. I just want my freedom.”
Liberty spoke with such passion that Po couldn’t help but wonder what her eyes had seen in her lifetime. The pain from which she spoke he knew nothing about, but he could tell that it was deep rooted.
“You don’t owe me shit, ma. I came back because . . .” he paused as he realized that he didn’t even know why he had come to her rescue, and before he could come up with an answer Rocko interrupted them.
“I’ma need more bags, fam. There’s so much shit in here we gonna live like kings, baby. We on now.”
They snuck out of the house and coasted right past the guards in the van. After dumping the van and the lawn workers, who would soon be able to untie themselves, around the corner, they got into Po’s car and headed out. Liberty had just closed a horrible chapter in her life, but little did she know, she was about to start a new one.
* * *
Rocko and Po stayed up all night counting dead presidents. They were high off life. The money was good, but they both knew the potential flip from the coke and guns was far greater. The penthouse suite of the West Hollywood hotel they chose gave them the perfect view of the glittering city below. It was 4 A.M., and the city was winding down, but Po and Rocko had never felt more alive. Po’s life had taken a turn for the worse when he had lost Scarlett, but meetingLiberty seemed like a silver lining around the dark cloud that hovered over him.
“How we gon’ get this shit back home?” Rocko asked.
“Shit, for me, this is home, at least for now,” Po stated. “Ain’t shit in the D for me, fam. Too many memories there. Without Scar . . .” Po’s words trailed off as he thought of the murder of his first love. A vice grip of pain captured his heart, and he took a deep breath to ease the grief. “I’m not going back,” he concluded.
“Fuck it. We’ll bring the hustle to Hollywood,” Rocko cracked, letting Po know he was down for the ride. “For the record, bro . . . Scarlett’s death ain’t on you. It’s a part of the game, and the fuck boy that called that play is grieving just as hard over his own mama right now.”
“His mama ain’t enough. I want his head, and that’s one trigger that I have to pull personally,” Po stated, tension pulsing through his jaws as he grit his teeth in fury.
Rocko nodded in understanding, then motioned toward the master bedroom where Liberty was sleeping.
“And what about her?” Rocko asked.
Po’s thoughts drifted from Scarlett to Liberty. “What about her? She’s just some chick. I put shorty in a tight spot, so I helped her out. That’s it. The only thing I’m focused on is getting this money. In the morning, I’m gon’ give her a third of this paper, and the bird can fly,” Po replied nonchalantly as he tapped one of the banded stacks of bills on the table before throwing it into the pile. “Meanwhile, this little black book is my key to a new empire.”
The sun crept over the city washing away the sins ofthe night. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the light as Po leaned against the glass, peering out over the city. Rocko lay sprawled across the sofa. Fatigue had been his undertaker hours before, but Po couldn’t rest. His mind was full of money schemes as he plotted his next move. L.A. was new stomping grounds for him, and he would be the new kid on the block, but with Samad’s book in hand, he had an obvious advantage over the competition. As he looked back into the room where Liberty slept he couldn’t help but think of Scarlett. The emotional roller coaster he was on took him through hills of grief, loops of anger, and dips of resentment. He was more than ready to get off this ride of mental anguish, and money was the
Liberty spoke with such passion that Po couldn’t help but wonder what her eyes had seen in her lifetime. The pain from which she spoke he knew nothing about, but he could tell that it was deep rooted.
“You don’t owe me shit, ma. I came back because . . .” he paused as he realized that he didn’t even know why he had come to her rescue, and before he could come up with an answer Rocko interrupted them.
“I’ma need more bags, fam. There’s so much shit in here we gonna live like kings, baby. We on now.”
They snuck out of the house and coasted right past the guards in the van. After dumping the van and the lawn workers, who would soon be able to untie themselves, around the corner, they got into Po’s car and headed out. Liberty had just closed a horrible chapter in her life, but little did she know, she was about to start a new one.
* * *
Rocko and Po stayed up all night counting dead presidents. They were high off life. The money was good, but they both knew the potential flip from the coke and guns was far greater. The penthouse suite of the West Hollywood hotel they chose gave them the perfect view of the glittering city below. It was 4 A.M., and the city was winding down, but Po and Rocko had never felt more alive. Po’s life had taken a turn for the worse when he had lost Scarlett, but meetingLiberty seemed like a silver lining around the dark cloud that hovered over him.
“How we gon’ get this shit back home?” Rocko asked.
“Shit, for me, this is home, at least for now,” Po stated. “Ain’t shit in the D for me, fam. Too many memories there. Without Scar . . .” Po’s words trailed off as he thought of the murder of his first love. A vice grip of pain captured his heart, and he took a deep breath to ease the grief. “I’m not going back,” he concluded.
“Fuck it. We’ll bring the hustle to Hollywood,” Rocko cracked, letting Po know he was down for the ride. “For the record, bro . . . Scarlett’s death ain’t on you. It’s a part of the game, and the fuck boy that called that play is grieving just as hard over his own mama right now.”
“His mama ain’t enough. I want his head, and that’s one trigger that I have to pull personally,” Po stated, tension pulsing through his jaws as he grit his teeth in fury.
Rocko nodded in understanding, then motioned toward the master bedroom where Liberty was sleeping.
“And what about her?” Rocko asked.
Po’s thoughts drifted from Scarlett to Liberty. “What about her? She’s just some chick. I put shorty in a tight spot, so I helped her out. That’s it. The only thing I’m focused on is getting this money. In the morning, I’m gon’ give her a third of this paper, and the bird can fly,” Po replied nonchalantly as he tapped one of the banded stacks of bills on the table before throwing it into the pile. “Meanwhile, this little black book is my key to a new empire.”
The sun crept over the city washing away the sins ofthe night. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the light as Po leaned against the glass, peering out over the city. Rocko lay sprawled across the sofa. Fatigue had been his undertaker hours before, but Po couldn’t rest. His mind was full of money schemes as he plotted his next move. L.A. was new stomping grounds for him, and he would be the new kid on the block, but with Samad’s book in hand, he had an obvious advantage over the competition. As he looked back into the room where Liberty slept he couldn’t help but think of Scarlett. The emotional roller coaster he was on took him through hills of grief, loops of anger, and dips of resentment. He was more than ready to get off this ride of mental anguish, and money was the
Similar Books
