Free Murderville 2: The Epidemic by Ashley, JaQuavis Page A

presence did to Po. He couldn’t allow her to walk out of his life right now. He didn’t know her well; shit, hardly at all, but the way that she made him feel was too familiar to say good-bye to—at least not yet. He lived in a world where he had seen his street dreams become nightmares, and he had lost the one person that he had ever loved. Then Libertyhappened into his existence, and in her face he saw optimism, in her smile he recognized hope. Something told him that she had been through enough tribulations to last two lifetimes, but she was still standing. He needed her to teach him how to piece his life back together. How to superglue his shattered soul.

FIVE
    PO SAT STARING AT THE BRICKS OF cocaine that were neatly stacked in the storage unit.
    “What’s the plan?” Rocko asked.
    “I’ve got some shit lined up with some real heavy buyers. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow night with a nigga out of Arizona, so I need you to be on point for this one. You’re my eyes and ears, fam. We were getting money back home, but the shit we about to dive into is on a whole ’nother level,” Po said.
    “No doubt,” Rocko replied. “You sure you don’t want to take the work back to Detroit? We know how the game goes back home.”
    Po shook his head in discord. “I already told you, Detroit is my rearview, my nigga. L.A. is where it’s at for me right now. You can put a few plays down back home if you want. Get your money, Rock, but I’d rather not touch it.”
    Rocko nodded. “Understood.”
    “Meet me tonight at the hotel at 9 o’clock,” Po said. “Don’t be late.”
    *    *    *
    Liberty leaned against the door frame as she watched Po rack his .45 and stash it in the holster that sat on his hip. His face was stern, focused, and on the task at hand as he mentally prepared himself for the meeting in store. Black jacket, dark denims, and Polo boots gave him a hood swagger. His fitted hat sat low on his head, almost completely concealing his eyes.
    KNOCK KNOCK!
    Liberty jumped at the unexpected noise.
    “It’s just Rocko,” Po said as he walked over to the door.
    “You ready?” Rocko greeted.
    “You got the shit?” Po asked.
    “Everything’s good,” Rocko confirmed.
    Po turned to Liberty who stood nearby hugging herself. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll be back late, so if anybody comes knocking before then, you blow holes through the door, a’ight?”
    Liberty’s eyes widened in alarm.
    Po walked over to the table and grabbed the gun that lay atop of it. He cocked the pistol and approached Liberty. He stepped close to her and held the gun up to her face.
    “This switch is the safety. All you got to do is click it, point, and pull the trigger. Red means dead,” he instructed as he showed her in thirty seconds how to defend herself.
    She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Why was he preparing her for this? Did he have enemies that she didn’t know about? Was staying in L.A. with him a mistake? Amillion questions ran through her mind in that moment, and he sensed her fear.
    “Look, I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. No one even knows where to find me, but you can never be too safe. This is chess not checkers, Liberty, and if you’re gonna be around I need you to be on point. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t hesitate. You shoot first, ask questions later,” he said sternly.
    She nodded and the way her brow creased in uncertainty was so familiar to Po. For a brief second he saw Scarlett in her. Their mannerisms were so similar that it overwhelmed him sometimes. The way she pursed her lips when in deep thought, the way she swept her hair from her face . . . It was all things that Scarlett used to do. Out of instinct he kissed Liberty’s forehead, then walked out of the door, leaving Rocko looking perplexed.
    Rocko looked at Liberty briefly, then tapped the door. “Lock up,” he said before catching up to Po.
    “What was that?” Rocko asked.
    “What was what,