hers.
âIâm good, playboy,â Hazel said as she tried to walk away. But the young hustler snatched her back, making her fall into his lap. He instantly began to grope her and feel her nice-sized breasts. âStop,â she protested lazily as she tried to defend her body from his touches. The other hustlers were laughing at her trying to block his gropes, but all the laughing stopped when Seven came through the door with his own key, being that it was his own dope house that he had set up for his runners.
The young hustler who was groping Hazel didnât notice that everyone had stopped laughing because he was too busy ripping Hazelâs shirt off. It wasnât until he felt the cold steel of Sevenâs gun striking him that he knew what time it was.
âAghhh,â the young hustler yelled as he held his bloody ear. He quickly went for his gun and stood up to see who had clocked him, but he immediately lowered his weapon when he looked into the eyes of a killer. âDamn, Seven. I didnât know that was you,â he pleaded as he continued to hold his aching ear. Seven looked at Hazel, who was on the floor trying to cover herself up.
âHazel, itâs time to go!â With dominance, Seven grabbed Hazelâs arm and helped her off the floor. Seven had set up that specific house for his young hustlers to post at while they served his dope; never did he imagine that he would provide Hazel a spot to poison her body. âEverybody listen up,â Seven said in a rare loud tone, so everyone could hear him. âYou see this girl right here?â he asked as he jerked Hazel by the arm, and then paused, making sure every pair of eyes were on him and Hazel. âNobody serves her! Nobody!â
Millie came out of the back room with a belt tied tightly around her arm with her pants unbuttoned showing the hair beneath her belly button. She wanted to see what was taking Hazel so long, but she quickly realized what had happened when she saw Sevenâs face. âDamn,â she whispered, knowing that he was there to rain on their parade.
âI knew it,â Seven whispered when he saw Millie step out. âYou stay away from Hazel or Iâma kill you. Try me if you want to,â Seven said, meaning every word of it. Usually you couldnât pay Millie not to talk shit, but she saw the look in Sevenâs eyes and opted to remain silent, not wanting any parts of him at that moment. âLike I said, nobody serves Hazel or Iâma cut you off. If I hear about any of you niggas serving Hazel . . . no dope for nobody. Then nobody can make any money. I will come and sell out this mufucka if I have to and cut all yâall out the picture. Understand!â Seven said as he took his time and eyed each of the five hustlers who were present. Seven controlled that whole hood and without his dope, it would be a drought. The young hustlers knew who the boss was and from that point on, it would be also impossible for Hazel to cop from her old neighborhood. Her only other option would be to go to the south side to cop, which was a twenty-minute drive or a two-hour walk. Seven dragged Hazel out of the dope house and back to his place. It was the beginning of a long journey, but he was determined to get Hazel back right.
The next morning Hazel woke up to the sound of drilling and with a slight headache. The previous night was like a blur to her. The only thing she remembered was that one minute she was high, feeling good at the spot, and the next minute, Seven was pulling her clothes off and laying her down to sleep in his bed. Of course, Seven slept in the living room again. While rubbing her temples, trying to ease her headache, Hazel groggily entered into the living room and saw that Seven was sweating, shirtless, while drilling a four-by-four over his windows that led to his fire escape, which made it impossible for Hazel to slide a television out again. He was taking every