The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you?
I'm not running, nigga I bust my gun and
Hold on, I hear somebody coming
The Notorious B.I.G., Warning
Storm.
"It's time, Storm." I glanced to the church's front steps then looked at Brent emotionally. Layke shifted uncomfortably from across the limousine still wary of Brent's presence. Her movement caught his eyes and he watched her with a thirst for her I had seen all too well before...
"Storm, Harlem meant a lot to all of us. But, I know he wouldn't want you like this," Layke spoke softly, cutting through the tension using her tongue as a sword. I hated when anyone said that name.
"Baby... I love you, okay? I can't make... it back this time. I was ... trying, Storm. Love you.Sorry." Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I heard his voice in my head over and over again. Layke looked away as she squeezed her eyes shut and placed a hand on the life growing inside of her for comfort.
"I know, love, I know." Brent looked torn to be sitting in between to emotionally unstable women.
"MY BABY!" An outburst caused me to snap my head towards the church and the tears to slowly dry up as I witnessed an all-too-familiar hoe crying over the church steps with two little children. Her church hat was almost as big as her ass, but Bre's perfomance was causing all types of unneeded attention.
Actually, why was she here? At my man's funeral? Screaming about him being hers?
"Storm!" Brent wanted to rush after me but I knew he would stay put to help Layke rush after me instead.
I hopped the steps two at a time forgetting the dress I had on. Guests gasped as they viewed me for the first time. Bre's face was priceless as she took in all of me.
"What the hell do you think you doing?" I asked as I stepped up close to her. Her kids stood hiding behind her legs, but I ignored them. I wasn't in my right mind, and though I would never hurt someone's child, I prayed they didn't step out of line in this moment.
"Storm." Was all she could get out as she continued to look between me and lower. I ignored her shocked face.
"My nigga dead in that casket and you claiming him. Why?!" I emphazised each word as I stepped closer to her. I was so close I could've kissed her ass.
"He. Is. DEAD. Why the FUCK. Are. You. HERE?!" I yelled in her face. She leaned back as I yelled at her. Her arms flew back to hold her children protectively. I glanced down at them and realized they were silently crying.
"Mama, I don't wanna go see Harlem." One of them, the little girl, began to cry. I snatched myself back and held a hand over my mouth as tears silently began to seep from my eyes and down my face.
An arm wrapped around my waist causing me to turn around quickly. A darkskinned woman with grey eyes stared back at me with a familiar emotion. I shut my eyes painfully tight as I realized her features resembled the love of my life's features all too well.
Still, she wrapped me in her arms and allowed me to cry as hard as I ever cried. I cried for the loss of my love, I cried for being selfish, I cried for arguing every time I saw him instead of loving him, I cried for him still cheating on me with the dustiest hoe in America, I cried for everything. I just cried.
Another hand started to rub my back gently as my cries started to slow up. Someone, probably Brent, wiped my face up and held tissue to my nose as I blew. Once I was finally cleaned up, I opened my eyes and looked around at the people surrounding me. My mother and father were the ones who had cleaned me up as Brent and Layke hugged me along with Layke's mother.
