Butterfly

by Ashley Antoinette

“Here, let me,” Meek stated, taking Yara from Bash without permission and then walking side by side with Mo toward the exit. Bash trailed behind them, already placing the phone call to the doctor.

Meek

Morgan nodded toward Yara, who was resting comfortably in his arms, head positioned in the middle of Meek’s chest.

he had tucked his gangster vibrato away to entertain her with one dance. She loved that part of him. He was hard, but not cold. Gangster, but not cruel. It was the day she discovered he would do anything to make her smile.

“You still knocking bitches out without thinking twice?” he asked. “When they get disrespectful,” she answered. “Then you’ll forever be the greatest … Ali,” he said.

He craned his neck backward so he could look in her eyes, then he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I hate yo’ ass too. Hate you like a mu’fucka.”

“Keep your eyes down, homie, before I rip ’em out your head,” Ethic said, snickering.

“You want a nigga name or not?” he barked.

“I want to marry you because I hate yo’ ass,” he responded. He pecked her lips, then set her down on her feet.

Got me buying the whole fucking cow just to get some milk.”

“Somebody order a best man?” Meek asked as he walked into the building. Dark denim, Christian Louboutin spiked black sneakers, and a black fitted V-neck T-shirt.

Ahmeek placed eyes on Morgan. The way the outer corners of his eyes creased and his forehead relaxed as the corner of his mouth lifted in appreciation made Morgan look away. She

Isa shook his head. “Nah, Ali. I ain’t gon’ never do that,” he said.

Ethic could call out an entire army on Mo’s behalf on any given Sunday. He

“Your first time got to feel good, Ali. It ain’t about me. The door is open. I’ll walk through it later. I got the key now, so a nigga gon’ come and go as he please.

He finessed the side of his face as if he wanted no problems. “That mean something different. What is it with pretty girls and their demands?

Ethic doesn’t receive disrespect very well,”

“Ezra…” Alani was the leash on Ethic’s gangster. She kept it in check. Kept him reeled in, because if she let him off it, he wandered out the yard—and when that happened, it was dangerous for everyone.

“One fucking finger on her and I’ma cut your lights off, my nigga,” he said, putting his burner under the man’s chin.

“If pain is what you like to give women, mission accomplished, Isa. I feel it.”

“A nigga like to bless his meal.”

“Mo, I ain’t the nigga to hit something and give the shit back. You hear me?” he asked. “If it’s what I think it is, I’ma be possessive over that shit, and I’ma want it when I want it. That

“Hold your ankles, love,”

He took a knee, like Morgan deserved a little respect,

So thoughtful. Kind. No voids in his ability to show emotion, but far from soft … only behaving this way because it was her. His dream girl.

“Yo, bruh, you ready to mob?” Ahmeek asked, standing with Yara in his arms.

“So, you finally doing what Messiah asked you to do?” Isa asked.

“Be careful with her, bro. We all know how it ended last time. Mo’s family. We all fucked up when it came to her. She don’t deserve that twice.”

If you saw Ahmeek, he was strapped. At the doctor’s office, in church,

“Might want to lower that gun, old man, before I lose my patience. By the time you cock that bitch back, I’ll serve that ass the daily special,” Ahmeek stated

Hakani,”

Isa knew to let Ahmeek work. They had very distinct roles, and Ahmeek’s was in the gift of gab.

“Business is interrupting you, Mo. How can I be of service, love?” Ahmeek asked.

“Nah, Mo. A nigga chest been mad tender since you walked out my room this morning. What the fuck have you done to me, love?”

Ahmeek Harris was such a gangster, but he had the gentleman thing down to a science.

“Nah, love, in this equation, you the only one with the potential to break hearts around here. I’ma carry you proper, Morgan Atkins, but I got a feeling you gon’ drop a nigga shit on the floor, walk all over it, ding my shit up,” he stated.

He didn’t have much to his name, but the house he’d left with Bleu and the car he’d taken with him were paid in full.

Bleu Montgomery, his best friend and Saviour’s mother, was one of few people he cared for. Saviour

Besides Morgan, Bleu had been the only other woman Messiah had ever loved, but their bond was different. Mo drove him mad, his emotions for her were so intense that he had a hard time staying sane when in her presence.

Bleu kept him sane … balanced … she grounded him, and he couldn’t wait to see her.

She had run to him, and he had turned her away because he was pissed that he was dying, and he could never, would never let her watch him fade to black.

He squeezed her tight, strong arms trapping her. He kissed the side of her head, getting emotional himself but fighting the burning of his eyes by closing them. This woman was his best damn friend. He owed her everything. She had let him use her in ways that he knew had stained her soul. She had stuck by him, giving him everything, setting no limits in ways that would have eased his transition. She had loved him, and in return, he would always love her. He

“I called the hospital. I came to the hospital. They told me your file had been archived. That it was with the patients that had been terminated. I threw a fit at that hospital when they refused to show me a body.

You handled their entire family wrong the first time. This is your chance to fix it.”