.

Across town, Samore stood there as her parents told her off over the phone about leaving the other night.

"I went to see Marquita." She kept saying as if it would become more believable. "Okay! I'm fine and what am I supposed to do? Just sit around the house all day not doing anything? Well, that's not me."

Glenda watched from the doorway as the teenager switched back and forth across the carpeted floor.

"You know everything in this world that has you wanting so badly to be apart of now..." She told her. "Will still be there when you're older."

Sam glared over at her as her mother hung up.

"That's the point I want it now while it's still fresh and new," Sam explained the best she could before folding her arms across her chest and marching upstairs to shower.

She cried inside of the tub while getting cleaned.

Her life felt ruined—it all felt over.

The only thing that made sense in her little world was Rondo. He was the closes thing to freedom in her opinion. Everybody else was too confined by rules, but not him.

She allowed the soothing voice of Erykah Badu to play low through her headphones. Her eyes closed while she leaned back into the bubble bath. Sam started to think over everything that occurred in the last 24 hours. But the sudden knocks at the bathroom door got her out of her head.

She debated on rather or not to turn up the volume but decided against it. "Who's there?" flew off of her tongue while she wrapped in a satin robe before unlocking the door.

Glenda stood there with a cold look.

What now?! Sam thought.

Their eyes met.

And for a brief moment, it felt as if Glenda was standing in front of a young Glytter all over again.

"Your phone?" She outstretched her right hand.

Sam sighed, "you can't be for real!" She forced a chuckle, but the expression on Glenda's face remained serious.

"We can't have any more slip-ups."

"I can't believe this," she grumbled then handed over the phone. "No privacy whatsoever."

Glenda walked off afterward leaving visions of turning eighteen in Samore's mind as she quietly shut the door. She continued getting clean then headed to the guest room where Sergio was laying in bed. He spread out across the white sheets in one of the twin beds playing pacman on his Gameboy.

"Dang! This gotta be rigged," he uttered.

"I need to get in here right quick," Samore said.

His features started to twist up as she gathered some of the pillows from bed and launched it his way.

Sergio fell to the floor.

"Why you do that?!" he responded, "you broke my gam-"

"I'ma break yo face next if you don't get moving." She informed him. "You lil game freak!"

Slowly he stood and left. "I hate you."

"I'm telling daddy too, watch!"

"And I'm telling you broke my gameboy."

She slammed the door in his face and ran her fingers through her damp hair. After pacing the around the room again her eyes found Sergio's phone which he forgot on the bed. Sam got hold of it and dialed Rondo.

Several attempts were took before it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, Rondo, it's Sam from the other day, remember? I'm calling from a new number cuz my parents trippin. Anyway, I just want you to know to call this phone if you want to hang out again or whatever." She left a message.

.



Back over in the hood, her father was delivering a message of his own or better yet setting an example. Children were off-limits in their set rather the individual who pulled the trigger knew this beforehand or not. Salvatore was an OG, unlike the new-age hustlers and gangsters on the rise in the area.

He came from an era where there were still rules and some morals in the game.

One of those being children—he didn't harm the innocent.

Now here he was with the blood of Mikey Carson on his hands, unintentionally. The police were still hot on the case. So the only thing he could think of in the heat of the moment was getting rid of the common denominator here.

From his conscience and life.

Jamal Johnson, the gunman behind the murder making headlines across the city, was led into an abandoned building that night. They told him it was for a meeting to gather more weaponry since they were beefing with Haywire's people. When he got there, his suspicions arose. Especially on the drive to that location, he was already sweating bullets.

It's been said nobody knew when their exact time to depart from this earth was, but he knew.

Like hell, he had too.

The second his retro jordans settled on the rusted hardwood floors.

He couldn't fight back if he wanted to, the deed was done. His fate was sealed in blood and guts as his limped body caved through a window landing in the alleyway. Jamal gasped while resting on a pile of trash bags.

Would the garbage man even notice him the next day?

He blended in well with the filth—they thought as the trigger was squeezed again delivering a fatal blow to his chest.

There had been rules.

Ones that were never meant to be crossed.

The shooters fled into the vehicle that pulled up at the end of the alleyway. Between the shard glass and bullet wounds, the detectives or officers barely recognized their suspect the next day.

"Looks like our job here is done." One of the officers spoke when the results got back from the department.

Detective Hattie Jameson wasn't buying it—she now wanted to find Jamal's killer knowing it'd only lead her to Salvatore's hideout.

She raised her cellphone to her ear "it looks like your boy was around this way after all." she said while walking. "And get this he even ordered a hit on one of his own. My best bet is the one responsible for the Carson's kid murder."

"Are you sure?" the deep voice on the other end replied.

The detective nodded, "positive." She informed causing his breathing to rise. "You owe me for this one though."

"I got you." Haywire replied.



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A/N: This story is set in the year 2004 meaning it's not👏🏽up👏🏽to👏🏽date this is just a reminder for everyone commenting who missed this tea on the first page of the story.

These were simpler times yall ANYWAY 3 chapters were updated today.