CHAPTER SEVENAfter Te’Qui and T.J. disposed of the car they’d driven over to Tangela’s house in, they hopped into a rental and headed out to Te’Qui’s crib. T.J. drove and smoked on a fat ass blunt, stinking up the interior of his ride. He found himself glancing over at Te’Qui whose attention was focused out of the passenger window. There was a frown fixed on his face and he looked hostile.
“’Sup, Blood? You tripping off that lil’ b***h back there that I offed?” T.J. asked him.
“That girl was only fourteen, my nigga, fourteen-mothafuckin’-years-old.” Te’Qui told him.
“Limme ask you something, homie,” T.J. said as he made a right turn at the light. “How old were you when you put ten toes down in these streets? How old were you when you lost yo’ homeboy, Baby Wicked? How old were you when
