Prophet and Endi: On My Block by Mills K.C

Author:Mills, K.C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-10T00:00:00+00:00

ten

“Boy, don’t be slamming my door like you don’t have no sense.” Prophet smirked and kissed his mother on the cheek. She stayed fussing at him about one thing or another but that was his OG so he wouldn’t dare complain.

“My bad, Ma. What you cook?” He inhaled the aroma of seasoned food that only Donna Otero could prepare. At least in his opinion.

“Nothing for you. I grilled some chicken and made some vegetables and rice.” She kept her back to her son while continuing to wash dishes.

“Damn, I can’t eat?” He frowned, filling one of the chairs at her tiny kitchen table. She lived alone, so there wasn’t much need for anything more.

“If you stay out of those streets long enough to get you a decent woman then maybe you could.”

This time she cut her eyes at her son who lifted half his face into a grin. “Why you always trying to push me off on somebody? You’re my one and only. Ain’t no room in my life for anyone but you.” He winked at his mother who sucked her teeth.

“The only thing taking up your time is running those streets. You’re too old to be banging, Prophet. Didn’t you learn anything from losing your brother?” She fussed this time with her back to him again. He was grateful because his face quickly twisted into an angry scowl.

“I’m not banging and why you always gotta do that?”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Prophet was at the top. He rarely got his hands dirty anymore because he didn’t have to. He and List had done their time, collected bodies, and pushed enough dope to land them in leadership roles. Their loyalty and commitment to 101 was unshakeable and recognized by those that filled those roles before them.

They were hood celebrities and untouchable. Not in the physical sense but there was an unspoken rule that nobody fucked with Prophet or List without paying a hefty price. Even if they could handle their own, the old heads laid a blanket of protection that covered the entire state and crossed over to a few others.

“Because I lost one son and I don’t want to lose another.” Her eyes lowered to his hand which rested on the table, fingers curled into a loose fist. “I can’t go through that again.”

“I’m good, Ma. You ain’t gotta worry about me.”

“It’s not something I can turn off, Prophet. Now go wash your hands and I’ll fix you a plate,” she fussed, not wanting to linger on the idea of losing the last physical piece of her heart. Losing the first half when Armon died cut her deep and the pain still surfaced daily. Worry was inevitable and she lived a daily nightmare knowing that the life her son was indoctrinated into was a death sentence or a one-way ticket to prison at the very least. She prayed that God kept his hands on him regardless of the sins she knew he was guilty of.

Prophet did as she asked, returning from the bathroom to find a plate loaded with two chicken breasts on a bed of rice.

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