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Story of my fucking life lately.

Frozo put up most. I scraped together the rest.

By the time he moved all three sets, my cut came back a little over six bands.

Not twenty.

But six thousand dollars I ain’t have before.

I borrowed another four from somebody I knew through construction, promised that shit back after my next couple jobs. Pulled money I had sitting in two different places. Took damn near everything else I could touch without Sam noticing.

Seventeen.

That was it.

Seventeen fucking thousand dollars.

And I still owed Lev three.

Frozo had looked at me when he handed me my cut like I was the dumbest nigga alive.

“You know you owe me for saving your ass, right?”

“I put money in too.”

“Nigga, you put crumbs in.”

“Still put something.”

He shook his head. “You got too much shit going on.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m serious, Xay. Every time I turn around, you owe somebody, fucking somebody you ain’t supposed to be fucking, got another fucking baby⁠—”

“Keep your voice down.”

We were standing in the back of his damn shop with nobody around, but that wasn’t the point.

Frozo laughed. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. Nigga paranoid in an empty room.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nah, fuck you. I’m tired just knowing your business.”

I counted the money again.

“Six?”

“Six and some change.”

I nodded.

Frozo stared at me.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”