Power (Romantic Suspense) by Kenya Wright Page A

it, so we need to lay low.”
    I centered the gun’s barrel on Domingo’s right eye. “But most of all, we don’t do it, because I just motherfucking said we won’t.”
    I had no idea how long we stayed there in silence. Never had I pointed a gun on a friend. I probably could’ve handled it better, but I’d been high on the weed and my ego.
    Rasheed took his time getting up from the couch.
    I still kept my gun on Domingo.
    “Eh” Rasheed handed me the blunt. “Why don’t you smoke, man.”
    Not moving the gun, I took the blunt and placed it between my lips.
    With a nervous laugh, Rasheed headed back to the couch, but not before grabbing his own gun and Domingo’s. He lounged over there and placed both pieces on his lap.
    Domingo’s eyes watered as he glanced between both of us. He was lucky a tear didn’t leave his eye. I might’ve shot him just for starting the whole beef and then punking out like a baby.
    “Rasheed thinks you motherfuckers need to smoke some more and get back to this music,” he said from the couch. “What’s next Biggie or Tupac? Naw. Rasheed thinks we should probably slow it down. What about some Luther Vandross?”
    Finally speaking, Domingo cracked a weak smile. “Man, you don’t play Luther in a room with just men.”
    “You’re right about that.” I blew smoke out and nodded. “Maybe I should be pointing this gun at Rasheed for that idea.”
    “For real.” Domingo forced a laugh and pocketed the house keys. “Thanks for the house.”
    “You’re welcome.” I lowered the gun, finished the blunt, and sat back in the chair.
    We returned to hanging out, but barely. We might’ve stayed down there for another ten minutes, just to show each other that everything was still cool. But tension thickened the air, and I knew, just like the other two understood, that things had changed.
    We would never be the same again.
    Vivian and Domingo moved into the house the following week, and she’d never left. Since then, it had been remodeled. She’d built on an extra room, had it all painted pink with white shutters and bordering. A garden was planted in the huge back yard, along with a new pool.
    Mom and Dad had actually visited her many times and helped with a few things. It had been the only place they’d bought with their own money. They could never really let it go completely, volunteering to paint or plant something for her during their retired years.
    Now hundreds of balloons decorated the front porch. Glitter crosses hung from the branches in the front yard’s trees. Cars packed the block. Music and noise resonated in the area.
    No guests were outside, but armed men stood along the front perimeter and probably the back. They didn’t have their guns out, but I knew what resided under their jackets.
    Domingo knew I wouldn’t shoot him here, but he probably figured Rasheed’s soldiers would have no problem filling the place with bullets. Rasheed had employed his family and none of them had a sane bone in their body.
    Before walking up to the house, we waited for Fuji to arrive with the Segway board. He’d delivered with no problem. SpongeBob wrapping paper encased the big box. He held it for me. Meanwhile, Mary Jane stood by the limo looking scared as hell, but no less sexy. That dress committed a crime that I hoped to serve serious time for.
    I gestured for 305 to come over.
    “Yo, what’s up, Boss?” 305 had a swag about him that always made me laugh. He’d named himself after the area code of his home city. Miami. He also walked with a bop like the pimps did in old 70s movies. He always kept a chew stick in his mouth and shades over his eyes. On chill evenings, he talked about the beaches and Cuban women he’d made love to back in the day. He told me that he would show me around the city and we’d paint the town.
    “You heard about Rasheed?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Heard he wet Rasheed’s men in the back of the club. Both of them dead. Now I have two funerals to go to