All the smoke, p.1
All The Smoke, page 1
ALL THE SMOKE
T’LYN
Copyright © 2024 by T’Lyn (KMP Publishing)
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print, electronic or audio form without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are fictions and the product of the author’s imagination.
CHAPTER 1
Solomon “Smoke” Tate.
“Where Solo?” I asked, bypassing Brianna to enter her apartment. Like any other time I came, it was clean and smelled good. I had to get on her ass about the spot smelling like weed and shit when my fucking son lived there too. Since then though shit had been smooth. Well, somewhat.
“Hello to you too, Smoke.” She rolled her eyes as she closed the door.
“You been knew I was coming to get him this morning, Bri. Why you never have him ready when you know when I’m pushing up?”
“I’ve been cleaning, nigga, so I didn’t have to hear your mouth when you came.”
“AKA you been smoking in here around my fuckin’ son.”
“No,” she lied. All she did was fucking lie. “Solo has stuff all over the place all the time. Him and Brianni…”
I cut her off. “Bruh, they’re kids. If you didn’t want to be bothered with that kind of shit then you should have did what the fuck you were supposed to do with my bread.”
She waved me off. “Y’all don’t even believe in abortions in your family.”
“Naw, Bishop and my fuckin’ mama don’t believe in that shit,” I said, referring to my parents. My father was a bishop at the church. “I very much so believe in not procreating with mothafuckas that I have no intention of being with.”
“Yet we procreated.”
“Yeah and I still owe you a bullet to the dome for fuckin’ playing with me.”
Bri wasn’t even the one that told me she was pregnant at first, with her conniving ass; her best friend did. Granted, her best friend told me the shit out of jealousy because she wanted to be with me but knew I was in love with Bri. She had been begging a nigga to have a kid but I kept declining because I was mad young and wasn’t anywhere near where I needed to be in life to have a kid. Yeah, a nigga was in the streets heavy then, working my way up the ladder to work as closely as I could with Rock and Keem, but I was still a small fry. Plus, around the time she was asking I had started to pull away from the relationship.
I was fourteen when I met an eighteen-year-old Brianna and a nigga was in fucking love. She was the baddest bitch on the block and was on my body as soon as she saw me. Having a four year old on her hip should have been a red flag for me, considering I was still a child myself, but I ain’t give no fucks. I didn’t think anyone of her caliber would even look my way, but the older I got, the more I learned she was just as much a bop bitch as the rest of the hoes. She just disguised her shit better.
It took me striking her best friend on some drunk shit to learn how much of a hoe she really was, fucking everything moving that had some bread, including the stud bitches. Still, I was a young, dumb nigga so I kept her around and just started doing me and wearing condoms with her. Bri hated that shit, and because she was so vindictive, she sabotaged all my shit, poking holes in them, and voila; nine months and three DNA tests later, we got Solo.
“Anyways.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, any fucking ways,” I repeated then nodded toward the hallway. “Go get my son.”
I could tell from the look on her face that she wanted to say something smart in return but she knew how short my fuse was. So she stomped her little ass down the hall and a few minutes later her daughter Brianni appeared.
“Hey, Smoke.”
“What’s up, Nini.” I smiled and hugged her when she was close.
“Nothing. I’m going to Shake It, Skate It tonight. Can I have some money?”
Reaching into my pocket, I produced a blue note and handed it to her.
“Don’t spend all this shit tonight and don’t tell ya mother that I gave it to you.”
She nodded and smiled. “I won’t. Thank you.”
After she pocketed the money, she rushed down the hall to put her shit up. Brianni, or Nini as me and my people called her, asked me for shit often and most of the time I did the shit, but only when she asked me directly. Brianna tried that shit all the time, asking for shit the kids didn’t need or want, so I had to shut her ass down. Nini wasn’t my kid, but I had been around for a few years so I always looked out when she asked for shit.
Minutes later Bri surfaced again with my lil man still asleep in her arms. He was dressed in one of the new outfits I had gotten for him, a lil UNC blue Chicago Bulls set and he should have had on the matching shoes I’d gotten for him but he didn’t.
“Fuck is the nines I just dropped off to yo’ ass, Bri?”
“In his room. I don’t want him to mess them up.”
“You didn’t fucking buy them so that shouldn’t matter.” I frowned. “Nigga is five. He not gon’ keep his shit crisp.”
“But he—”
I cut her off, not wanting to hear it. “Go get ’em.”
“He needs them for school,” she argued. “I don’t want him to mess them up before then.”
“Then buy him more because he gon’ wear the ones I bought for him today to this fucking game. Fuck you mean?”
“But…”
“From now on I’m gon’ keep the shit I buy and you get ya own shit for him,” I cut in again. “I ain’t ’bout to be doing all this shit over some stuff that I paid for, bro.”
“Fine,” she snapped and stomped down the hall to get his sneakers after handing him to me.
I woke him up once I took a seat on the couch and made sure he was good. It was the weekend and his mother was so fuckin’ quick to get rid of them that she would half ass some shit and I would have to tweak the fuck out. He looked straight though; face was clean, had on lotion and shit. Things I typically had to talk shit to her ass about.
“Are we still going to the game tonight, Daddy?” he asked sleepily as he fucked with my chain that looked just like his, only mine said Smoke while his said Solo.
“Yeah, that’s where we going as soon as we leave here.”
“Is Bishop going?” he asked. My pops was the one that got us the tickets to the Royals game. I wanted to decline the shits because I had no desire to be anywhere with him or my mother, but my son loved them and looked forward to spending time with all of us. He was actually going with them after the game and I’d get him back in the morning because I had some business to handle later.
“Yeah, he rocking with us,” I answered just as his mother entered the room again with his shoes.
“And Gigi?”
I smiled. “And Gigi too.”
I changed his shoes then stood, standing him up so he could walk on his own. I babied him because he was my baby, but he was still a little boy and I wasn’t going to be carrying his ass around and shit.
As we headed out Bri asked if I would give her some bread because she was taking Nini out, but I kept it moving on her ass. I wasn’t giving her shit simply because I’d already given baby girl some money and because I wasn’t doing shit for her.
At first I was still breaking Bri off and taking care of her personal bills shit, but when I found out she was fucking niggas for bread literally, selling content on the internet, I fell back. I wasn’t with that hoe ass shit and she wasn’t using none of my money to do the shit. I still paid her bills though, bought shit for my son, paid his tuition at school, and looked out for her daughter from time to time but that was it. Her ass was on her own as far as her personal needs.
I paid the landlord personally as well as paid her lights and water in person. She was free to do what she wanted as long as my son wasn’t present. She also knew no niggas could stay at her crib while I paid her shit. If she wanted to get a boyfriend, cool. If she wanted to move him in, that was fine too. She just knew his ass was gon’ be the one paying the bills. I was doing her a favor by paying the bills and she’d better thank my brother for that shit.
I got Solo in his seat then climbed in the driver seat of my Challenger and took off into traffic with Loco and Sire’s album on full blast. Solo’s little ass was in the back bobbing his head to the music as he looked out the window. I smiled at the sight because my son was my lil road dog. Besides my brother and two homeboys, he was all I had. My fucking heart. I didn’t do a lot of shit right and I wasn’t living right, but I was gon’ do everything in my power to make sure he was good. He would never want for shit, him or Noah, my older brother.
As I weaved through traffic, a call from my boy Scoot came through. Me, Scoot, and Bino went way back. I met them in elementary school when they called themselves being bullies, but they met they mothafuckin’ match when they pushed up on me. Niggas mistook me being a church boy, a preacher’s kid, for me being pussy so they got the shock of their lives when I dusted both of their asses up in the bathroom at school, leaving ’em both in there leaking.
They came to me days later apologizing, begging a nigga to be their friend. Because I didn’t have any, I agreed, but made them cut all that bully shit out. I wasn’t trying to intimidate mothafuckas and shit like that. I just wanted to chill and be me. If a nigga got out of line I would beat his ass and put him in his place, but I didn’t want to be known for issuing ass whoopings unsolicited.
“What
“Not shit. Fuck you at?”
“Traffic with the lil one,” I answered, glancing in my rearview to look at my son who was all in my shit.
“Sup, Uncle Scoot!” he shouted.
He spoke to Solo. “What’s good, lil man! Fuck y’all going, Smoke?”
“Bishop got tickets to the Royals game tonight.”
“Word, I forgot you told me that. We still doing that tonight?” he asked, referring to our reup with Rock.
“Yeah, we are. I’ll hit you after I get Solo to my parents’ crib and shit.”
“Bet.”
We disconnected the call and I turned the music back up and vibed all the way to the arena. We parked in the VIP garage since we had floor seats and headed inside. I was impressed as we made our way to our seats. I had been to a few of these games but hadn’t ever sat courtside. Niggas had decent seats, but I was stacking my bread and living too, so I didn’t blow too much of shit.
Sitting anywhere in this bitch was straight for me because I just came for the experience. I was, however, glad my son was experiencing the luxury shit at a young age though, because my parents damn sure didn’t bring me and Noah to do this shit. It could have been because they didn’t have the bread they have now back then, or hell, because they didn’t want to. Either way I was happy my son was there and a part of it.
“Bishop! Gigi!” Solo shouted, then darted in the direction of my parents who were already seated right behind the home bench.
My mother scooped him up and settled him in her lap and my father bumped fists with him. When I got over there, I took a seat in my assigned chair, leaving one of them open for Solo between us.
“Hello, Solomon,” my mother said and I tossed my head back.
“Solomon,” my father called out and Solo answered even though my parents called him SJ since he was my junior. “Not you, son.” He smiled at him then looked at me. “You didn’t hear your mother speak?”
“I spoke back.”
“Verbally.”
“Be glad I spoke, period,” I mumbled lowly. He knew I kept shit very minimal with them. The only two reasons we still spoke at all were off the strength of my brother making me promise to not shut them out and because my son loved them.
I was pissed at how they turned their backs on my brother after he got jammed up on some armed robbery bullshit. The police tried to frame him as the getaway driver, but I knew fucking better than that shit. My brother wasn’t on that. He was on the straight and narrow. He wasn’t soft or no shit like that, he was actually as thorough as they came. He just didn’t get caught up in no street shit. He had big plans for himself. He wanted to go into construction and start a troubled youth program and shit. He would never be on no stick up kid BS. I knew that, and deep down our folks did too, but they were so caught up in image and shit ever since Bishop got on at the megachurch.
They were so caught up in that shit that they turned their backs on their own son. Not me though. I loved my brother and no matter if he was innocent or guilty, I was gon’ ride with him. That was why I grinded as hard as I did in the streets and skipped out on sitting courtside on my dime. I was footing the bill for an attorney for him.
One of the ladies from the old church where Bishop was the pastor gave me some bigshot lawyer’s info from out of town. I retained him immediately and got him working on my brother’s case. I was vexed about the shit too because as much bread as I was spending with him he should have some fuckin’ results, but all I was getting was the runaround. He ain’t have long though before I pushed up on him.
Deciding to cut his losses, my father turned his attention back to Solo until he started to beg for snacks. I gave him some bread and let him and his grandfather grab some shit. I busied myself with my phone, but like I knew she would, my mother tried to start conversation with me.
“He looks cute but I wish you would cut his hair.”
“He like his shit like that.” I shrugged, referring to the lil curly fro my son liked to rock. I just kept it temped out and shaped up with my girl, Nyla.
“Solomon, your language.”
“Ma, this how I talk.” I sighed and shook my head. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to hear it. I prefer it actually.”
It was hard as fuck to fake the funk with them. I hated how they tried to fucking play my brother, but I at least came around because of that dumb ass promise.
“Okay, okay, I know you’re upset with your father and me, so how about this…” She turned more toward me in her seat. “How about you come to the church on Sunday and—”
“Can’t,” I cut her off. “I gotta go see my brother.” I smirked. “You know, the other son you gave birth to but abandoned.”
“Solomon, that’s not fair,” she replied, trying to sound sad, but I wasn’t buying it. “We love Noah.”
“I can’t tell,” I mumbled. “But tell me… why was y’all so willing to accept my wrongdoings but not his? I got in way more shit when we were kids and I had a kid out of wedlock and mad young but y’all looked past all of that.”
She tore her eyes away from me briefly, likely trying to come up with whatever lie or excuse she could.
“Things with your brother were complicated. The timing of his situation just wasn’t right.”
“Word, so y’all sold ya own son out for a spot in a pulpit for Bishop?” I pointed to the direction he and my son walked in. “But y’all love him?”
“Baby, your brother—”
I cut in again. “Is the only reason I even share space with y’all, Ma, and the only reason I let y’all fuck with my son. I was prepared to abandon y’all just like y’all did him, but he begged me not to because for whatever reason he still loves y’all, but not me. I don’t care about y’all just like y’all could give a fuck less about him. So instead of faking the funk in church tomorrow, you should go see him and thank him for all that and that I let you see Solo, aight?” I glared at her. “Now, my son coming back so let’s cut the communication and let him enjoy this game.”
I could see the tears well up at the brim of her eyes the same way they always did when I gave her ass the cold shoulder, but I wasn’t moved. I tuned into the game with my son. I wasn’t with the fake ass shit and me and my brother were a mothafuckin’ package deal to everyone, including the people that gave us life. You ain’t get to have one without the other. Fuck that.
CHAPTER 2
Kaori Randall.
“Kaori, when are you going to get tired of all of this?” my grandmother asked as we pulled away from the police station.
She had just come to bail me out for what seemed like the millionth time because I had tracked Jamal’s car to another bitch’s house, went over there, fucked the car, him, and the bitch up. She got away while I was beating his ass and called the police so I ended up in jail… again.
“I know, Granny, I’m done this time.”
She scoffed. “You said the same thing last month when I picked you up, girl.”
“I know but…”
“I don’t want to hear it, Kaori Randall. I’m tired of it and I’m tired of spending money to get you out of there for this nonsense.”
“I’ll give you the money back, Granny.”
“Oh, it’s not me that you have to give the money back to.” She chuckled sarcastically. “You know I’ve been done spending my money on you and this foolishness you have yourself involved in.”
“Granny—”
She cut me off. “Just shut the hell up.” She was livid because my grandmother never cursed. “It is high time for you to grow up, Kaori. You’re twenty-five, smart, beautiful, so talented, I mean, I could go on and on, but it doesn’t matter. Because of a man you have watered yourself down to some kind of lowlife hussy who cares about nothing but proving what? That you have the man they want? Jamal has been up to these same shenanigans and antics since you were both nineteen!” I could see the disappointment all in her eyes. “You’re not tired of coming home to a house, where you pay all of the bills, full of niggas smoking and eating up all of the food you bought? To a grown man sitting in front of a TV on a video game that you also bought? And he has the nerve to cheat on you and have you out here fighting and going to jail?!”
