make a bag. (discontinued) ⭢ 𝖬𝖩 ︎︎︎︎

💸 | THIRTY-SIX.

"fuckin' 'round with me you see, I'm hot, I'm five hunned degrees."

, YNW Melly

•••

The night was warm, the atmosphere was tense. It doesn't rain often in Downtown, LA, but as of right now it was pouring. Only leaving Kingston more unlucky than he already had been when he got jumped by the five Cashes.

Making his way to DeAndre's car as they were currently setting in an abandoned and heavily dim parking garage, Kingston hesitantly let out a slow breath, feeling blinded by the bright headlights as a couple DeAndre's accompanies followed on either side of Kingston.

Rolling down his heavily tinted window, DeAndre blew out the thick cloud of smoke from his blunt before turning his head into Kingston's direction. Feeling a shiver go down his spine as DeAndre gave him a hard and unfriendly glare, Kingston uncomfortably and slightly shifted in his stance to uphold a confident exterior but lord knew his interior was far from it.

"You know why I had my goons bring you here, Kingston?" DeAndre menacingly continued to eye him, and Kingston just kept quiet giving DeAndre the silent gesture to continue. " 'Cuz you told ya little friend to come to me about one of them lil greens gettin' shot. And now my girlfriend is in the hospital."

Confusion immediately raced through Kingston's mind as DeAndre spoke. He didn't love Alahndra as much as he claimed to, and simply anyone could see that. They're relationship is toxic, and always has been.

The story goes both ways.

"Dre—"

"We had a deal. One thing I ain't, is a pussy, King. I specifically said, you get close Re'Najsha, get her to open her loud ass mouth about that damn symbol, and leave me to handle it, did I not?" DeAndre unamusingly cocked a brow at Kingston's timid silence.

When Nelopy told Re'Najsha that Kingston was "weird" a while back, it had never been because he was actually weird. Even the most priceless people have their secrets... and this was Kingston's. It'd only make sense because he was such an uplifted student at UCLA, but always hung out in Cash territory always trying to get at Re'Najsha. Because DeAndre knew that he wouldn't be able to do so himself.

DeAndre always knew once Re'Najsha and him blew up, she'd hate him for as long as she lived. Although his intention was to never hurt Re'Najsha, he had to push her away and let her go. Because if they had continued their little entanglement, DeAndre knew Re'Najsha would've been in Alahndra's position right now if not dead.

Not to mention the two come from two very different backgrounds. They obviously bumped heads often, but even though DeAndre released Re'Najsha from his toxic grip that didn't mean he was gonna pause from his consistent routine. DeAndre was still DeAndre.

Deceptive, ruthless, and vindictive.

He lived in his own world, and he'd do anything to survive. And he wasn't planning on letting anyone stop him. "Yeah, you did say that, but DeAndre—" Kingston began to reason, only to be cut off for a second time.

"Exactly. And now my boys and me got Cashes on our ass more than we already did." DeAndre frustratingly spoke, "So now I gotta handle shit myself, again. Fuckin' useless." he mumbled the last part shaking his head.

Re'Najsha was the only person who was aware that Alahndra had shot Jailen, and DeAndre was knowledgeable of that. Once other gangs heard of Alahndra getting shot, the dots were slowly but surely connected to Jailen's shooting. Meaning word was getting around fast. All because Kingston pointed Re'Najsha into the direction of DeAndre.