Direct Message 1 by Nina Evans

Author:Nina Evans [Evans, Nina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Romance, Urban, Genre Fiction
Amazon: B00UY1MO9A
Published: 2015-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Back at the apartment, Rick dropped an 8-ball on the table. Anthony chortled in amusement, thinking that nigga paid him like paying tithe. Always good lookin' out when homie came around. In the satchel bag at Rick's heel Anthony knew Rick had bottles of pills and pounds of that dro, his kickback for connecting Rick to his circle of millionaires, aside from the money that regularly changed hands. Theirs was a “you scratch my back, I scratch yours” relationship.

Anthony dug a nail into the cocaine and took a snort of the pinch of powder, his pupils gradually dilating in pleasure. "Now that's just right," he said with a laugh. His eyes roved over his friend, and he started laughing louder. Rick was looking like a slave nigga with his blue-black skin and scruffy beard, and the sight of the uncouth reminder of the hood back home kept Ant cracking up, especially in the ill-fitting Armani suit Rick was wearing. "Tryna look corporate, my nigga? What's up with the suit?"

"Oh, you know me. Just tryna fit in with a nigga like you, Ant." The drug dealer eyed the celebrity with barely concealed envy, wondering how a regular cat like Anthony Toliver had made it so far in life while he was still scrounging around for scraps. Had to be some way to make a better come-up, Rick reasoned as he dug into his pocket and pulled out two Xan-bars, popping both pills in his mouth and taking them down without water.

Anthony thought somebody needed to introduce his ass to a tailor, but that wasn't any of his business. He drew out a line of white powder and leaned forward to snort, long and hard.

He had known Rick since middle school when they used to sneak into his older cousin's stash and smoke weed in the backseat of his grandfather's beat-up Lincoln. Nobody knew Rick better than Anthony, and what he knew was Rick was out of his element in LA. Anthony put his feet up on the armrest of the couch and relaxed into the cushions. Yeah, they were friends, but sometimes people grew out of friendships.

"I called you over here for a reason, yo," Ant spoke. His voice was raspy from smoking all morning. Alton got onto him about smoking too much, but Ant knew with the money he was making between moving weight and making albums, he could afford a good doctor if his lungs went to shit. He had a Drake mentality: You only live once. For that reason, it was time to cut this leeching ass nigga Rick off. He had a new supplier. Rick was decent at what he did, but not industry excellent, and Anthony was ready to move on to bigger and better things.

"I figured you did," said Rick. He was still smiling, a loopy smile that signaled the bars were doing what they were meant to do, mellow him out and take the edge off the anxiety that cropped up every time he walked into the Tolivers' swanky penthouse.

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