Lost In Love: Taraji & DeMarco by B. Melanie

Author:B. , Melanie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K. Renee Publications
Published: 2022-07-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

MENZEL “MIZ” COLLINS

Ipulled up to the warehouse and cut my engine. It was secluded in a wooded area surrounded by trees. I ain’t know where the fuck I was, so I made sure to have my gun on me, along with my nigga Chance. Today I was getting my first shipment from my connect. He hit me up this morning and said to meet up with him at this address. It was out in the boondocks with not too much around but a few factories.

As soon as my Jordan’s 11’s hit the graveled pavement, my head was on a swivel. My eyes landed on the two-armed dudes posted up on the roof as they held AK-47’s. Another two niggas were posted up by the door of the two-story warehouse. Chance looked at me, and I let him know everything was straight. Hiking up my pants, I popped the trunk and grabbed the black duffel bag. Heading towards the entrance, we searched before we were let inside. A big dude armed with a huge AK-47 led us to the back of the brightly lit warehouse. It was empty, besides the long wooden table that sat in the back.

DeMarco and Grip, both wearing black Armani suits, stood with both hands tucked into their pockets. Who the hell do these dudes think they were? I thought as we approached them. I noticed Chance halted his step as he locked eyes with DeMarco, who wore a smirk on his face.

“Yo, Chance, you know dis’ nigga?” My eyebrows knitted.

“Not really. But remember that bitch-”

“Hey, Puta! Watch yo’ fuckin’ mouth before your ass be eating concrete again!” DeMarco yelled.

“Oh shit, my dude! This is the cat that knocked you the fuck out back in New York?” I chuckled, and Chance waved me off.

“Can we get on with this, so we can bounce?” Chance spat as he nervously looked around the warehouse.

“Are you in a rush?” DeMarco looked at him with a mug on his face.

Chance didn’t say shit, but I knew he wanted to. He just kept his mouth shut. I wanted to put a bullet in this burrito-eating fucka face for the disrespect. But I knew I wouldn’t even get the chance to pull my shit out before I was lit up like a Christmas tree. Shaking my head, I dropped the duffel bag on the table. The dude Grip snatched it up and began taking the stacks of money out and stacking it on the table. He was DeMarco's right hand man, and I hated dealing with his ass.

“It’s all there,” I said to DeMarco with a mug on my face, which he ignored.

I watched closely as one of his flunkies ran the cash through the money counter. When he was done, he nodded his head to DeMarco.

“Is there a problem?” DeMarco said when he noticed the displeased look on my face.

“Yeah. What the fuck is all dis’?” I waved my hand around. “My shit is legit! Y’all niggas doing too much!” I was getting inpatient.

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