Page 130 of Certified To Handle You 2

This nigga was about to learn why Sha’Nelle should’ve kept his name out her mouth while she was talkin’ to me.

I knocked and stepped to the side. A few seconds passed before I heard movement inside. Then his voice came through the door.

“Who is it?” the nigga asked.

I ain’t answer. I knocked again and waited.

The lock turned, and the second the door opened, I rushed him before he had time to understand what he was lookin’ at. My gun connected with the side of his head hard enough to throw him off balance, and I shoved him backward inside the apartment while Blaq entered behind me and shut the door.

The nigga stumbled but stayed on his feet. He reached for my arm, so I twisted his shit behind him and forced him toward the wall with the gun pressed against the side of his head.

“What the fuck?” he snapped while strugglin’ against me. “Who the fuck is y’all?”

“Where yo’ keys at?” I asked, pushin’ him harder into the wall.

He tried turnin’ his head like he was gon’ get a look at me. “Man, bruh…Get that gun out my face.”

Blaqson stepped closer and put his own gun where the nigga could see it. “He asked where the keys at,” Blaq said. “Quit makin’ this shit harder than it gotta be.”

For the first time, I was close enough to really look at the nigga Sha’Nelle kept choosin’ over me, and it wasn’t shit fly about this nigga.

I studied the side of his face while anger crawled through every part of me. This was the nigga touchin’ my woman. This was the nigga commentin’ under her pictures, sittin’ with her family and walkin’ around thinkin’ he had won some shit ‘cause she ain’t get on that plane with me.

“I should kill yo’ ass right here,” I told him, pressin’ the gun harder against his head.

“Keys,” Blaqson repeated while lookin’ around the room.

The nigga nodded toward a table near the door, and Blaq found them under a stack of mail. Once he had the keys, I pulled the nigga away from the wall and marched him outside with my gun still pressed against him.

“Bitch if you make any type of noise, I’mma take yo’ shit off yo’ neck.”

He kept tryna figure out what we wanted, but I wasn’t explainin’ shit to him. The message wasn’t for him anyway.

When we got near his car, he looked between me and Blaq before speakin’ again.

“Say, y’all ain’t gotta do all this shit,” he said. “If y’all need money, I got money.”

I stopped walkin’ and pushed the gun against his temple until his head tilted.

“Nigga, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gon’ put so many holes in yo’ ass yo’ family gon’ need a picture to figure out who you was.”

His whole body stiffened when I said that shit.

Blaq opened the trunk, and I shoved the nigga toward it. He caught himself against the edge and turned around before I could force him inside.

“I ain’t gettin’ in my own trunk,” he told me, holdin’ my eyes through the mask. “You just gon’ have to shoot me.”

I licked my lips and looked at him for a second. Then I punched him in the stomach so hard his whole body folded. Before he could catch himself, I drove him backward into the trunk and leaned over him with the gun pointed at his face.

“Shut yo’ dumb ass up,” I told him. “You keep talkin’ like you got choices.”

Blaq helped me secure him with some zip ties and duct tape, to keep this dumb ass nigga from jumpin’ back out, then I slammed the trunk on his ass.

I stood here for a second with my hands on my hips, feelin’ my chest move while everything that had been buildin’ inside me finally had somewhere to go.

Blaqson looked at me from the other side of the car. “You know this shit crazy, right?”

“I ain’t ask you to rate it,” I replied.