Chapter 32

"You good?" Tory asks as I approach the three of them posted next to Daz's car.

"Yeah," I say, giving him a side hug.

Truthfully, I'm far from good. This past week felt like being in a boxing ring. From our botched CPS interview, to Max and I's fallout, I can't help but feel like my back is against the ropes. It's the twelfth round and Life is beating my ass right now. No matter how much I prepare myself for the bullshit ahead, Life always finds a way to catch me off guard.

Still, I gotta roll with the punches. That's why I'm standing in the cold with Munch, Daz and Tory instead of being at home feeling sorry for myself.

I spent the whole ride over mentally preparing myself for the shit that's about to come with welcoming Munch and Tory to the trap. Simon has no idea that the meet-up is scheduled for today, only that it should have been happened. That would have been the case if Simon hadn't abandoned them at the trap last week to meet me at the police station. I know he was worried but I also know there's two sides to every story. Worried or not, he knew that as long as he wasn't at the trap to meet Munch and Tory, then him, Calvin and Curry could continue working on borrowed time.

"Y'all been waiting long?" I ask now.

"Not as long as last time," Tory says.

"But it wasn't this fucking cold or raining either," Munch says.

I still can't believe it's gotten this cold. The rain feels like pellets hitting the back of my jacket. What should have been a light rainstorm has since turned into a shower of miniature icicles.

"I'm sorry for dragging y'all out here today. I ain't know Simon was gonna' leave y'all hanging last time," I say.

Though I can't say I'm surprised. Simon didn't want Munch there to begin with so he damn sure wasn't about to let him in without me being there. That's why I postponed my pity party to make sure I was here today. If Simon is too stubborn to do what has to be done, then I'll do it myself. It's what I've been doing anyway.

"I ain't trippin'. I'm just glad you showed up. You told me 'bout the shit with twelve then never hit back. T thought they sent yo' ass packing" Munch says.

"Packing where?" I ask.

"Upstate," Munch says.

"Well it's good to be home, I guess," I say.

Munch uses his olive green coat to re-cover his nose and mouth. His wheat Timbs are splotched with dark spots from the rain. Daz stands to the left of him with a black bubble coat zipped to his mouth. His hands are in his coat pockets as he shifts from foot to foot trying to warm up. Then there's Tory, probably the coldest and warmest out of all of us. Warm because he's dressed in all-black but cold because he's only dressed in a thin hoodie, black jeans and black Timberland boots. He has on the thinnest layers out of all of us but he seems the least fazed by the weather.

Probably because he's too busy fighting with his lighter to get a flame going. A blunt hangs from his lips while he holds a hand over the lighter in hopes that it'll protect the sparks from the rain. In the end, it's no match for the wind whipping around us.

"Man fuck!" He says, removing the blunt from his lips.

He looks over at me like he's just now remembering that I'm here.

"What they wanted?" He asks.

"Who?"

He pulls cigar residue from his tongue.

"Twelve," He says.

"The same shit they always want. Ace."

"What'd you tell 'em?" Daz asks.

"That if I knew where he was, then she'll be the last to know," I say.

"She?" Tory asks.

"Yeah. The bitch leading the manhunt is a woman," I say.

"How long they had you in there?" Tory asks.

"I don't know. Twenty, thirty minutes. They dragged me down there acting like it was about the girl who died in my club. They kept saying it wasn't an interrogation but when I tried to leave, they locked me in there with the bitch that's looking for Ace."

"Fucking people play all typa games, bruh," Munch says.

Tory nods his head while Daz mumbles, "Mhm."

"So what held you up for a whole week?" Tory asks.

"She got spooked," Munch says.

"She prolly wearing a wire," Daz adds.

"Like somebody we know," Tory says.

Munch laughs. It comes out louder than normal since his coat is still covering his mouth.

"Y'all done?" I ask.

Tory laughs before putting the blunt back to his mouth.

"Anyway, the bitch got mad cause I wouldn't give up Ace so she threatened my sister with foster care. I didn't really think she would follow through with it but I spent the week helping my mama get Paryis together just in case. CPS came through and did an evaluation of us. We kinda fucked it up so now we just waiting to hear back," I say.

Daz shakes his head.

"That's fucked up. I couldn't imagine a muthafucka tryna' take Kareem from me," He says.

"Ion think y'all got nun to worry about. Them social workers only care when it's too late," Tory says.

The only sound we hear is his lighter flickering on. We all watch him light the blunt and act like it's because he finally got the lighter working. I can tell by how tense the air gets that they must know about Tory's past too.

"Well we 'posed to find out in a few days so fingers crossed," I say.

"Let this be a lesson learned, Candyce. Nothing good can come out of turning yoself in. Next time they tell you some shit about answering a few questions, tell them muhfuckas come back with a warrant. You don't go nowhere with them unless you in handcuffs and even then, they gotta catch you first," Munch says.

Like I needed him to tell me that. If anybody was gonna' teach me how to run from cops, it's gonna' be Ace.

"Thanks, Munch. I'll keep that in mind," I say.

He has the nerve to bow his head like he really taught me something.

"Something good did come out of it though. They closed the murders from my club so I get the keys back today. It's gon' be the grand re-opening," I say.

"Club Legacy part 2?" Daz asks.

"I'm with it as long as Candyce ain't pissing off no white boys," Tory says, handing me the blunt.

Munch looks over at me blowing on the gar and shakes his head.

"Why you always tryna get somebody high, nigga?" Munch asks.

"A nigga can't celebrate good news?" Tory asks.

I blow the excess smoke into the air before passing the gar back to Tory.

"I'm fucking with it as long as wifey okay with it," Daz says.

"How you gon' suggest the shit then say you gotta run it by Vee first?" Munch asks.

"He had to realize who he was going home to. You know Vee don't play that shit," Tory says.

"I don't know why y'all assume I'm talking bout her," Daz says.

"My bad. I forgot I was talking to Mr. Bitches," Munch says.

"What happened to you being a straight shooter?" Tory laughs.

"Shit ain't even last a week. I'm telling you, bruh. Bro ain't got a faithful bone in his body," Munch says.

"Vee thinks so. That's how you know I'm doing sum'n right," Daz says.

A text tone interrupts the conversation. We all check to see who's it is but Daz is the one who lingers over the flip phone in his hand. After he's done reading the text, he snaps it closed.

"I gotta meet with Reese. I'll see y'all boys tonight if Isis ain't on no dumb shit," Daz says.

Tory looks up.

"Ain't Isis the chick that stole from you?" He asks.

"Yeah. She pawned that shit too," Daz says.

"What she stole?" I ask.

"Vee's engagement ring," Daz says.

Niggas ain't shit.

Tory chuckles, shaking his head.

"You gon' have to hang it up one day, bruh," Munch says as Daz daps him off.

"You right but that day ain't today," Daz says.

He daps me and Tory off before hopping in his car. Munch slaps the hood of the car twice. Daz sticks his head out of the window.

"What I told you bout hitting my shit? You gon' put a dent it," Daz says.

"That's what she said," Munch says.

Daz raises his window without answering. I laugh as he drives off.

Once he's gone, we all turn our attention to the traphouse across the street. It's a quarter past nine so it's too early, but more importantly, too cold, for there to be any customers. The entire time we've been standing here, I've only seen three or four junkies approach Simon. Three out of four of them wore coats and the other one was wrapped in a blanket.

I make out Simon standing in the doorway of the trap. I didn't get a chance to see him this morning so I take in his outfit. He's barely fighting the weather in a grey crewneck sweater and lightwash denim jeans. His plaid underwear can be seen from here. Partially cause he's sagging but mostly cause his arms are stretched above his head, holding on to the top of the doorway. He's the only one outside watching us from afar.

"We doing this or not?" Munch asks.

Him and Tory set out across the street without a head's up so that I'm left trailing behind. As we reach the sidewalk, Simon turns back to the house and says something over his shoulder. Next thing I know, Calvin and Curry come storming the doorway. They walk out onto the porch but Simon stays put.

"I know that ain't who I think it is," Calvin says as we walk through the yard.

"That better not be Munch's fat ass," Curry says.

"Yeah that's him. He brought his guard dog with him too," Calvin says.

His eyes are glued to Munch as we climb the stairs. Munch, who never shuts up, is silent as we come face to face with Calvin. His dominance speaks volumes without him having to say anything. Calvin stares Munch in his eyes but his posture is defensive as if he knows Munch is somebody to fear. On the other hand, Munch looks bored and relaxed. It's obvious that he's comfortable asserting his position to younger, less qualified niggas.

Maybe that's why Calvin feels the need to continue with his lame ass jokes.

"I ain't know you was digging for help in the lost and found, Candyce," Calvin says.

Munch yawns loudly, catching us all off guard. He makes a show out of it, holding it longer than necessary. Then he squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes. He looks from Calvin to Curry, then back again.

"Y'all silly ass niggas done?" Munch says.

Calvin smirks.

"If you think I'm boutta let a nigga who lost his traphouse, come and take mine from me, then you got another thing coming," Calvin says.

I jump in before Munch can ease in his string of threats. I don't want this to be anything other than what it has to be. So, I leave the peacock show to the boys and try to reason with Calvin on a business level.

"Either you stay and don't get paid or you stay and don't get paid. It's that simple," I say.

Calvin doesn't glance in my direction. He continues to stare Munch down while Curry and Tory start to size each other up.

"It ain't worth it, Cal. She gon' get want she want anyway," Simon says.

All heads turn at the sound of his voice. Calvin finally breaks his stare to look at me. I can only guess what's going through his head. He's probably wondering what would happen to his dope boy ambitions if he popped off right now. He probably thinks I'm still in good with Caesar and that whatever I say about him now, might hurt his chances of moving up later on.

Eventually, he comes to his senses. He scoffs at Munch.

Then he turns around and goes to dap Simon.

"Whatever you need, bruh," Calvin says.

"I know," Simon says.

They drop hands and Calvin walks back over to us. He tries to leave but Munch stands in his way.

"Munch," I say.

Munch stands there a few seconds longer. Then he chuckles before moving out of the way.

"Nigga fresh off the titty and playing with me," Munch says.

Calvin smirks. He watches Munch as he walks past him. When he's climbed down a few steps, he pauses to look back at Curry.

"Curry," He calls.

Curry looks at him. Calvin nods his head towards the street to show that he's ready to leave. Curry starts to move but not before shooting Tory one more look.

"You all in my face, nigga," Tory says as if they haven't been staring at each other this whole time.

"What?" Curry says.

"You heard me nigga. Stop looking for motivation in my damn face. Go with yo move if that's what you gon' do," Tory says.

If I didn't want Munch to get shit started, then I definitely don't want Tory to finish it. I wanna' get between the two of them but I don't think it's a good idea. I'm pretty sure Curry doesn't like me so stepping in would probably only make shit worse. Luckily, Calvin has more brains than his friend.

"Don't sweat that shit, Curry," Calvin says.

"You might wan' listen to 'em. He tryna save you," Tory says.

Curry smacks his teeth.

"Save me from what nigga?" Curry pats his waist, "I'm always good."

"Pull it out and I'ma show you how to use it," Tory says.

"I don't give a fuck how many niggas you killed. You don't scare me, nigga," Curry says.

"That's what the last nigga said. Y'all boutta have a lot more in common if you don't move around," Tory says.

Calvin gives up trying to talk Curry down so he comes up the stairs to get him himself. He slings an arm around Curry's shoulders.

"It's not worth it, bro. Our time comin'," Calvin whispers to him.

I already know that's not why he's trying so hard to get Curry off the porch. His motivation for keeping a level head may have been about seeing beyond this moment, to a time where he'll own his own trap house. But his movitation for getting Curry to back down is only about one thing: making sure his friend leaves with a head on his shoulders.

Earlier, I noticed that all of Calvin's disrespect was directed at Munch. He never glanced in Tory's direction, not even when he made that comment about Tory being Munch's guard dog. Curry may not be afraid of Tory but, Calvin definitely is. Or at the very least, he's cautious.

Munch and Tory may have gotten a bad rap for walking away from Ace's business, but Tory's reputation precedes him. All of Munch's work was flushed down the drain the minute he turned his back on the organization. It'll take a lot more than that to undo the work Tory's put in. Being the top hitter ain't a title to be taken lightly and Calvin knows that.

"Come on, nigga. Caesar wants us on the block anyway," Calvin says.

He pulls Curry down the steps and surprisingly, Curry lets him. Curry turns around to look at Tory one more time. Calvin notices and taps his arm, making Curry look at him instead. He makes sure he keeps his attention until they're around the corner. Once they're out of sight, the pressure lifts off my chest. This went a lot better than I thought it would.

"Well that was intense," Munch says.

Tory smirks.

"What's wrong with these new niggas?" Munch says.

"I don't know. Niggas tweaking to be apparel," Tory says.

"They think they get a pass cause they young," Munch says.

"Shid. I'll put anybody on a T-shirt. It's one size fits all 'round here," Tory says.

Munch laughs. They dap each other up. Everything seems back to normal until I realize Simon is still in the doorway watching us.

"Y'all," I say.

I wait until I have their attention.

"This is Simon," I say.

"Twin," Simon corrects.

Munch steps up first. He holds his hand out for Simon to dap.

"Munch. What's good witcha, bruh?"

Simon looks at Munch's outstretched hand and ignores it.

"Munch is gonna' be in charge of the trap now. He's gonna' be overseeing operations, handling the girls, dealing with Daz and keeping track of the money. Nothing has to change on your part so just keep selling and you shouldn't have nothing to worry about," I say.

Simon looks like he couldn't care less.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks.

It's not like I have a choice. If I don't hear about it now, then I'll have to hear about it at home.

He pushes past me, going out onto the porch. Munch goes inside, clapping and rubbing his hands together.

I give Simon my undivided attention.

"You coulda told me this shit was happening today," Simon says.

His sweater sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. I remember how hot he felt when Gutierrez approached us. I'm guessing he's burning up now that I've kicked his homies to the curb.

"I already told you this was gon' happen," I tell him.

"Nah. You told Caesar to tell Calvin and then you lied about it," Simon says.

I roll my eyes.

"Either way, you knew this day was coming," I say.

"Right 'cause you getting yo way ain't nothing new," Simon says.

"Boy please. This," I twirl my finger around to indicate everything around us, "was about business. You wanna' make money. I need to make money. But neither of us can do that when you clocking on somebody else's time."

"The fuck is you talkin' 'bout, Candyce? Stop acting like we dead broke! Didn't you just pay bills?"

"And what the fuck do we have leftover? Exactly. I don't know about you but I miss the way shit was before Ace left. I wanna get back to not having to worry about money. So what I can't understand is how you could be mad at me for doing something that's gon' fill both of our pockets. Why you so desperate to go back making chump change with niggas you barely know?" I say.

"Cal and 'nem was only here 'cause you didn't think I was ready! Now I am ready and you wanna' bring in two more niggas? For what?" Simon says.

"You can't run a traphouse by yourself, Simon," I say.

"That nigga Munch can't either! Didn't I just hear Cal say he lost his shit?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Then explain it to me," Simon says.

"It's not my business to explain. All you need to know is Munch is here to do things the right way. Calvin was a corner boy. Munch is a trapper. Munch is the better choice cause he knows what he's doing cause he's done it before. I can't believe I have to explain this to you," I say.

"If Munch so good at what he do then what you need this other nigga for?" Simon asks.

I follow his gaze to Tory. I almost forgot he was out here.

Simon's already having a hard time understanding why I brought Munch in. Explaining Tory's role in all this will be like talking to a brick wall.

I wave him over anyway. Simon flexes his jaw. He stands a little straighter as Tory walks up. I don't blame him for getting defensive. Tory is probably every white women's worst nightmare. From his black fits to the dreads hanging in his face, he could put the most liberal white women on alert.