Bury Me a G by Tranay Adams

Author:Tranay Adams [Adams, Tranay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Urban Life, United States, African American, Urban
Amazon: B00UY7FRMK
Publisher: Lock Down Publications
Published: 2015-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

***

Tiaz’s nostrils flared as the aroma of bacon snaked its way into his nostrils. His nose twitched and his eyes fluttered as he began to stir awake from his slumber. His eyelids peeled open and he sat up in bed, rubbing away the crust that had formed in the crevasses of his eyes while he slept. He looked to the side of the bed where Chevy had slept and noticed she was gone. He put on his wifebeater and slipped on a pair of sweatpants that lay next to the bed. He stepped inside of the bathroom where he washed his face and brushed his teeth. Once he was done, he carried his hulky body into the kitchen where the scent of a delicious breakfast had brought him. When he entered the kitchen, Chevy was standing over the stove whipping up breakfast: eggs, bacon, potatoes and cinnamon toast. Te’Qui was sitting at the table patiently waiting while playing God of War III on his PSP.

Chevy turned around with a skillet of eggs. Seeing her boo brought a smile to her face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Tiaz pecked her on the lips then turned to Te’Qui. “What’s up, my young nigga? I see you recovered from the butt whooping I gave you last night.” He dapped him up and sat down in the chair. Chevy went around the table filling the plates with food.

“What? Momma, you hear this dude?” Te’Qui smirked. “I was chipping you. You may wanna try finding yourself another game ‘cause Call of Duty ain’t your thang.”

“You’re right, you got me. I’ma have to go into training for our rematch. But in the meantime, how about that Marvel vs Capcom? I know you can’t see me in that.”

“That’s old school, but it don’t matter. I’ll still put hands on you.”

“Alright. I’ma go see if I can find a copy today, Mr. Get Bad.” Tiaz took a bite of cinnamon toast.

Everyone had begun eating. Te’Qui had taken a sip of orange juice and wiped his mouth with a napkin when he noticed the five AK-47 bullets tattooed on Tiaz’s forearm. “That tattoo is hard than a mug.” Te’Quiopenly admired the ink.

“Thanks.” Tiaz managed to say with a jaw swollen with food. He’d begun gathering potatoes on his fork when Te’Qui asked.

“Who laced you?”

“This Mexican fool back in prison.” Tiaz took a bite of the potatoes.

“Do they mean anything, or are they just bullets?”

“They’re five bullets, one for each year I spent in prison.”

“What did you do to end up in the pen?”

“Te’Qui, you’re asking too many questions, baby. Eat your food.” Chevy interjected.

Tiaz held his hand up at Chevy. “Nah, it’s cool. I blasted on somebody.”

“Why, what did he do? Disrespect you?”

“He hurt something I loved.”

“Do you regret shooting him?”

“Yes, but not for the reason you may think.”

“Then why?”

Tiaz wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering. “The person that I shot him over wasn’t worth the five years I spent in prison. Otherwise, I wouldn’t regret pulling those bullets.”

“Who was the person you shot someone over?” Te’Qui inquired.

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