Page 116 of The Richest Gangstas in the Room
"I'm not…. I don't know what I'm doing, okay?!"
"Yes you do! You hurt about Trigg's commitment shit so you thinking about going backwards. Don't do it."
"Maybe I just wanna hear what he gotta say."
"Girl." Yah grabbed both my hands, looking me dead in my eyes.
"You playing with fire. Deadass. This the same nigga that left you to die. And yeah, Trigg got his issues, but he saved your life. He the one who been there. Don't forget that shit."
Before I could respond, I heard the front door open.
"Yo, Mya!" Yatta's voice boomed through the house.
I looked up and saw him walking into the living room with Zurie right behind him.
"What's good, sis?" Yatta said, his hand on the small of Zurie's back as they walked in. "Look who I brought with me."
"Hey, Mya," Zurie said, smiling. "Hey, Yah-Yah."
"Hey, Zu," Yah said, smiling back at her sister-in-law.
I could tell by the way Yatta was looking at Zurie that he was really feeling her. They'd been "chilling" for a minute now, goingout, spending time together, all that. But knowing my brother, he probably wasn't trying to put a title on it either.
Niggas.
"Y'all eating Harold's without me?" Yatta said, eyeing the bags on the table.
"You ain't call and say you was coming," I shot back.
He walked over and grabbed a wing anyway, Zurie sat down on the arm of the recliner next to him.
"So, what y'all in here talking about?" Zurie asked. "Y'all look serious."
"Nothing," I said quickly.
Yah looked at me, then at Yatta and Zurie, then back at me, her expression saying everything…Don't do it. Don't go backwards.
But sitting there, thinking about Trigg's commitment issues and Rah's apology, I wasn't sure what the fuck I was supposed to do.
* * *
I knew I was making a mistake the second I walked into the bar.
It was one of them low-key spots on the South Side, it wasn’t too crowded, it had dim lighting, the kind of place where you could have a conversation without everybody in your business. I spotted Rah sitting in a booth in the back, and my stomach did that stupid flip thing.
He looked good. He had his hair in fresh braids, sporting a crisp white tee, jeans, a Northface jacket, and he had some wheat Timbs on his feet. When he saw me, he stood up with that same smile that used to make me weak.
"Shorty what’s up," he said, "You actually slid on a nigga, I thought you was gon send me off."
"I said I would come." I slid into the booth across from him, keeping my distance.
"You want a drink? I already ordered you patron and lemonade."
"You remember my drink?"
"I remember everything about you, shorty."
I rolled my eyes but I couldn't help the small smile that crept onto my face.
