Hood Misfits, Volume 1 by Brick and Storm

watched quietly as Dame walked down the marble grand staircase with me on his arms. For a minute I felt like a queen. Felt like nobody could touch me. Those same niggas and bitches that tried to get at me when I first got to the house looked as if they were scared to make eye contact with me now because I was on Dame’s arms.
    Then Trigga appeared from around the corner. He was in his usual attire, a black hoodie with sleeves pulled up, designer jeans, Tims on his feet, and brand new tee-shirt. This one had the death skulls on it.
    I stared at those slave shackles or chains or whatever the fuck they were on his wrists again. I looked down at the floor quickly when we made eye contact. I never could read the look on his face, but I just didn’t like him looking at me. Felt like he was looking through me, reading me, and I didn’t like that shit.
    Once Dame made it to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, hooked the cane in the crease of his arms where my hand lay, and cleared his throat.
    â€œAs you can see, a lot of shit has changed around this muthafucka. More changes to come. Sometimes a nigga gotta lose his mind to gain clarity. Loyalty is a big deal to a nigga like me. I don’t trust easily. Even the niggas I trust, I don’t trust. Get me?”
    Dame cast a glance at Dough Boy, who started to look uncomfortable, fidgeting and looking around the room at others.
    Then he looked at Trigga. “Lotta y’all niggas need to learn to be quiet and watch like that nigga over there. The one y’all think slow because he don’t talk much. My daddy always said, ‘Be quick to listen and slow to speak.’ That’s a sign of a true OG. That’s why Trigga rolling with me to this meeting of the bosses tonight. That nigga got my back whether he like me or not. He shows loyalty ’cuz he knows who putting that paper in his pocket. He knows who the fuck gon’ kill for him just like he gon’ kill for me.”
    I watched Dough Boy. He looked more uncomfortable now than he did before. Big Jake grunted as he stood at the door. Strangely enough, his eyes were on Dough Boy too.
    â€œMy nigga Big Jake gon’ always ride for me too. There ain’t another family out there that can take Big Jake’s and Trigga’s loyalty away from a nigga.”
    Dame removed his cane from his arm and told me to hold it before he stepped forward. Most of the women in the room flinched. A lot of the niggas were sweating.
    Dame clapped his big hands twice then rubbed them together. “Trigga, Big Jake, Gina, Dough Boy make a move this way,” he ordered.
    Once they all moved, the room fell deadly silent. I was twitching because Trigga was standing right behind me. I don’t know why that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It could have been because Gina said he had sliced Janky’s and Slammer’s throats.
    â€œNow, I want all you niggas and bitches to look to the right of you,” Dame said, and everyone did. “Now look to the left of you.”
    Everyone did that too.
    â€œWhen you wake up in the morning, some of these muthafuckas won’t be here.”
    Pookie was sweating like he had popped a molly.
    As soon as Dame said that, the cooks started coming from the kitchen with so much food, it looked like a feast.
    â€œNiggas and bitches enjoy your last meal on me.” Dame laughed.
    Dough Boy chuckled too, which made me turn to look at him. But what was most interesting was the way Trigga’s eye twitched as he watched Dough Boy. I had a feeling something was about to go down at the bosses’ meeting.

Trigga
    Niggas were eating like it was the Olympics. Music thumped as Ace Hood spat about his Bugatti. Chicken, meatloaf, pork chops, greens, mashed potatoes, and other dishes filled the table. Dame had some bomb cooks, each one able to cook whatever he wanted—soul food, Chinese, French cuisine, whatever.
    I stood next to Big Jake, behind