{2021 MJFA's Best Urban winner}
Michael Jackson, street thug, makes contact with a young girl around his age. He was battling his own inner problems and just when he thought life just wasn't getting better, she humbled him.
She intrigued him, she w...
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"WHO else comin'?" Michael asked, glancing at Uly who walked casually beside him as they approached a location of "secrecy" somewhere not too legal for anyone's liking—police to be specific.
It was a place of illegal monetary deals where they money launder, engage in drug trafficking—anything to get their hands on money. It was a typical thing around here.
Uly looked side to side before shrugging his shoulders. "Not too many niggas would be there. Long as we do the trade all should be well."
Richie would usually be of great help in these situations but he was still currently locked up from his last arrest.
"We needa make this quick. I needa pick Naija up from the mall." Michael said and Uly raised his brows as they walked up the steps of the small white house. Fumes of weed could already be detected from outside.
"She there by herself? I thought she'n like all that shit." He asked and Michael dryly laughed while banging loudly against the door. "She insisted." He shrugged. "She been tryna get out her comfort zone but I know her ass prolly freakin' out as we speak."
She was hesitant to run freely around knowing her cousins were lurking around like animals. He kept in mind of her cousins and was as well uneasy about the situation but he was down with whatever she was down with.
Uly nodded his head before knocking again, harder than Michael did before. "Are these niggas here? Takin' a damn long time to come ans-" he was interrupted by someone finally opening it, discreetly and cautiously.
It was a tall Hispanic boy around their age, clothing nice and baggy. His hair was faded at the sides and curly in the front. He had tattoos on his neck and arms ranging from words to art.
Uly was about to say something smart before the two paused and stared at each other for a moment. "Hol' up...Manny?" He jerked his head back.
Emmanuel, Esmeralda the tattoo artist's boyfriend, was recently out of prison. "Wassup?" He dapped both of them up while holding the door discreetly open.
He had two different colored eyes, his right a dark brown and the left a bright hazel.
"When you get out?" Michael asked as Emmanuel scratched his head, looking up at the sky like he was trying to think. "Like a few weeks now. They let me off easy." He shrugged with a cocky smile.
