Page 139 of Certified to Handle You
I kept my eyes on both of them, lettin’ what I said sit for a second, ’cause I wasn’t just talkin’ to hear myself. I wasremindin’ them exactly what almost happened and how close that shit really got to goin’ left.
Pressure ain’t say nothin’ at first. He just took another pull from the blunt and watched me for a second, then his eyes slid over to Yunique like he was seein’ her for what she really was now instead of just part of the situation.
Kay’Lo leaned back in his seat with his jaw tight, and even though he still wasn’t talkin’, the way his eyes stayed locked on her let me know he was already past feelin’ anything about it.
Ain’t nobody questioned it or try to talk me out what I was about to do. It was just understood.
I turned from them and walked toward the door, knockin’ twice on the wall so the pilot knew what I needed, and after a minute I felt the jet adjust, droppin’ down just enough so I could open the door without fightin’ the pressure behind it.
I grabbed Yunique by her arm and dragged her up, ignorin’ the way she fought against it, ’cause at this point it ain’t matter what she wanted.
I got the door open, and the rush of air hit immediately, but I held Yunique firm while she screamed, tryna grab on to anything she could.
“Please! Please don’t?—”
I ain’t say nothin’ else. I just pushed her ass.
Her scream cut off the second she disappeared out the jet, and I stood there for a second before I shut the door back and locked it. When I turned around, Pressure and ‘Lo was lookin’ at me, then at each other.
I walked back to my seat like it was nothin’ and sat down, pickin’ the bottle back up.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I ain’t feel like cleanin’ up four bodies anyway.”
And just like that, it was quiet again.
The Chop Shop
Now that I was back in Da Trill and in my element, I ain’t even gon’ lie, my head felt clearer than it had in days, like everything was finally back where it belonged and I could move how I was supposed to without holdin’ nothin’ back.
The shop smelled like it always did with a mix of metal, oil and somethin’ darker that never really went away no matter how much I cleaned, but at this point I was so used to it that it barely registered unless I actually stopped and paid attention to it.
I had gloves on, and my hands was workin’ overtime in this bitch. I grabbed one of these nigga’s arms off the table, lifted it and dropped it into the open trash bag at my feet before reachin’ for the other one without even lookin’ twice.
I bent down, picked up what was left near the table, and slid it into another bag, pullin’ the plastic up tight before settin’ it off to the side so I could keep goin’ without stoppin’.
The floor needed to be cleared, the table needed to be clean, and everything that wasn’t supposed to be sittin’ out had a place it was goin’, and I handled it one piece at a time like it was just another part of the process.
Behind me, Kwest was tied to a chair with his head droppin’ forward every few seconds like his body ain’t know whether to stay up or give out. His face was already fucked up, his lip split, one eye swellin’, and every time he tried to breathe too deep it sounded like it hurt him to do it.
He kept mumblin’ under his breath, tryna say somethin’, but it wasn’t comin’ out clear enough to matter.
I ain’t pay it no mind anyway.
I grabbed another trash bag and snapped it open, then reached down and picked up a leg from beside the table, liftin’ it like it ain’t weigh nothin’ before droppin’ it in. The plastic shifted when it hit the bottom, and I pulled the bag up a lil’ to make room before reachin’ for the next piece without stoppin’.
“You know what’s crazy,” I said, glancin’ back at him for a second while I worked, “I ain’t even as mad as I should be.”
He tried to lift his head when he heard me, like he was tryna understand what the fuck I meant by that, but he ain’t have enough strength to hold it there.
I bent down again, slid some fingers into the bag, then twisted the top and tied it off before settin’ it to the side with the others. My hands kept movin’ while I talked, doin’ what needed to be done like it was regular.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I went on, reachin’ for another bag, “what you did was stupid as hell… Kickin’ in ‘Nelle’s spot, takin’ that money, puttin’ a gun to her like that… yeah, that part was foul.”
I looked back at him again, this time a lil’ longer.
“But that shit gave me time with her,” I added. “Real time. And not all that in-passin’ shit we usually be on.”
He blinked at me slow, confused, like that wasn’t the direction he thought this was gon’ go.
