Lighter Shade of Brown (Urban Fiction) BWHM

Chapter 13

As C's glanced the faces of his homeboys seated in his living room, he shuffled his thoughts, attempting to decide exactly where to begin. There was so many things needed to be addressed and cleared out that it figuratively fucked his mind. How did one ask there compadres' since knee high, to fight, bleed, and possibly die in the streets with him? There were no words that would make anyone in that room forsake peace just to gain ground by starting a game positioning war, which would no doubt drench the block in blood. Blood that would assuredly belong to not only their enemies, but also their friends and loved ones. He shook his head as he squared his shoulders, while locking his hands in front of his chest. There were just no words.

Impatience saturated the air in the room, manifesting itself in moving limbs, finger tapping, and bouncing knees. There was enough nervous energy to power the block. It pulsed from his hombres like a downed power line submerged in water. They would not wait much longer without knowing what the lick was. He had to get his shit together, fast.

A dude name Tigo, who'd reached his limit, shoved himself from the wall he'd been leaning on. Plunging his hands in his pocket, he cleared his throat. "You got us all here," he said, waving his hand around the room. "Plan on telling us what's this all about, bro?"

"He right, folk." Putt added from his spot on the love seat. "Can't lie, this vibe is starting feel just a little dramatic. Wouldn't be surprised if Nino Brown came strutting out the kitchen walking a Doberman."

All eyes flew to the entrance of the kitchen. After a few tense moments of waiting, a round of laughter cut the air and released some of the tension from the room.

"Boy, if Nino falls through here, he better hope that ass is Teflon blessed," C's said, as his laughter died down.

"Know that's right." Julio pounded the side of Ant's fist with his in dap. "Holmes will definitely catch his cut up in here today."

"Hell yeah." Juan agreed, from his spot at the table.

"Okay," C's said, nodding his head. "Glad to see you still 'bout that life."

"'Bout that life?" Jose questioned, a vato with a facial tick, eyes crossed. "Homey I live that life day to day. So stop trippin' and just tell us what this is all about."

C's came to a stop in the center of the room with several pairs of unblinking eyes trained on him. "A call to arms. All hands on deck are needed for a move." Slowly, his gaze connected with every pair of eyes in the room. "If you not 'bout these problems, let's get this shit straight right now. There's the door, and an out." He nodded toward the door, without looking in its direction, waiting a beat, he surveyed the room through hooded lids. When no one moved, he continued. "Since the time of our Papis' the block has known peace. Blood has rarely ever had to be shed, and we've been able to maneuver around our yards without the hindrance of fear."

Roberto, the vato from next door, tsked. "That's because vatos out here in these street recognize."

"It's because they tolerate," C's swiftly replied. "We stay in our lane and rarely ever switch gears, holmes. Putt you hold the same territory your pops held before he went to prison. And Tigo last I check you were still reping the Yard like Big Pay did before you."

"Yeah we all hold the same ground our pops held, except you," Tigo snapped with an attitude. "And your point is?"

"Slow your motherfuckin' roll, T," C's countered through clenched teeth, his hands fisting at his sides as he drilled Tigo with a unit. "This ain't that. I'm not callin' any of y'all out or tryin' to check your..." His voice trailed off, while his mind got in his ass about being soft on his hombres. Closed mouths didn't get fed. "You know what, fuck that. Yeah I am. Because there is no excuse as to why we not runnin' P'Cola, and most of the surrounding areas. Instead of being beasts around this bitch, we stuck spinnin' D's on the same turf, while we got the Haitians coming in lockin' spots down left and right, and don't even get me started on the Argentinian takeover. Their game is so smooth they're runnin' their product through my licks transport system."