The System Has Failed by Ms. Michel Moore

Author:Ms. Michel Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Cree calmed down, regaining his composure after he and Justice forced NayNay to call their ultimate intended victim a few more times. They still got no satisfaction of him picking up or confirming he was on his way. Kicking two or three good-size holes in the house’s walls, then stomping some toys that were scattered around the filthy home, relieved a little tension for Cree, but not much. Pacing the floor, trying to figure out what their next move would be if Moe Mack didn’t show up soon, was causing him to sweat and get thirsty. Not to mention that NayNay’s light green contact lenses seemed to be glowing, throwing him all off his square. Damn this is some real fucked-up bullshit. He swallowed a lump in his throat, realizing it was now a quarter past six and he was late taking his pregnant girl some food. We should’ve been outta here by now.

NayNay, who was still on the floor, was now in an upright position, leaning by the fireplace. Seeing Cree’s rage firsthand and the promise of Justice’s bullet, she opted to do as she was told in hopes of living to see another day. “Excuse me, but can you please check on my son?” She was humble in her request. “Or bring him to me?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that li’l dude,” Cree reassured her, trying his best not to make eye contact after closing all the open windows in the house. “I was just back there and he still sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, but—”

Justice came from the rear of the house with NayNay’s jewelry box, her bootleg Coach purse, and an armful of men’s clothes, which had to belong to Moe Mack. “But what, bitch?” he cut her off, spitting on the carpet as if he were outside. “Don’t make me put that tape back over that complaining mouth of yours!”

Still tied up, praying for nothing except her and her child to survive this ordeal, NayNay didn’t argue. Even when Justice dumped the contents of her bag onto the floor, rummaged through her wallet in search of cash, then called her several broke-ass hoes, she still refrained from her customary rude and most times obnoxious outburst of putting a person in their place whether they be young or old, black or white, or even male or female. Yet, this was a much different circumstance from the normal controversial, petty crap the self-proclaimed Linwood Hood Diva found herself usually caught up in. This time around, Miss NayNay losing control of her well-known short temper could cost not only her life, but also that of her small son. She had no choice. Seething as her baby daddy’s formerly insignificant worker stuffed his pockets with her many ten-karat rings, three pair of gold hoops, and a diamond tennis bracelet she received for a birthday present, NayNay still kept quiet.

“Hey! Where’s all that other gear you and your wide-assed sister be flossing, acting all high profile?”

“Excuse me?” NayNay timidly spoke, trying to loosen the tape that was cutting off the circulation in her hands.

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