Faded: The Trillest Kind Of Love

© 2018

Published by Leo Sullivan Presents

www.leolsullivan.com

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

Contents

Message to the Readers

Prologue

Shooter

Nomi Bryant

Shooter

Nomi

Hendreek Perry

Rivica Banks

Nomi

Shooter

Nomi

Rivica

Shooter

Dreek

Shooter

Nomi

Rivica

Shooter

Nomi

Nomi

Dreek

Shooter

Dreek

Shooter

Also by K.C. Mills

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Message to the Readers

This series moves at a slower pace than my usual books. It’s crafted that way to allow you to really feel the connection with these characters. You need to know them through and through to understand how they think, why they react and love or reject the idea of love the way that they do. It’s delivered in a way that is more about them than the noise that makes up the backdrops of their lives.

Now. with that being said, you still receive my signature loving, caring alpha males, and the smart savvy women who steal their hearts, written in my signature style, so I hope you enjoy.

Thanks so much for supporting, and as always, I appreciate each and every one of you.

Prologue

Samiq (Sah-meek) Shooter Young

C ome on, Shooter, Ross dragged his hand down his face and exhaled a long breath before his eyes met mine again.

The alley was dark, with only a dim glow illuminating from the end farthest away from us, but I could still see him. That was planned and used as an asset. Those passing by couldn’t see anything, and I had just enough light to make sure shit played out like I needed it to.

Bruh, fuck this. You either copping or not. Run that money or stop wasting my fucking time.

Fuck, man. I just… He exhaled again, further heightening my annoyed state. One thing that I didn’t play about was my time. The only thing more important than that was my money, and Ross was currently fucking with both.

You know what? Deal is off. Take your ass on before I vent your head. My hand slipped smoothly to the small of my back, and Ross’ eyes stretched wide.

Hold up, hold up. It’s not that serious…

Before I could contain myself, I had my gun in hand and pressed into his chest. Fuck you mean it’s not that serious? You’re wasting my time, muthafucker.

Nah, I’m not. Relax, I got your money. Let’s do business. Ross held his hands up, clearly shaken.

He realized that he fucked up. See, the name the streets knew me by wasn’t just a name. It was validation for how I moved, how I lived my life, and how I handled things that weren’t beneficial to me. I had no issue pulling triggers, and everyone knew it.

By this point, I was irritated, but I was ready to get rid of my last two bricks. Ross was a corner boy who copped from me whenever he could get his money up. He was young and dumb, though, so he wasted more money on bullshit like jewelry, labels, and special edition sneakers, than he really should have instead of trying to stack, save, and flip. Because of that, his buys weren’t consistent. Another reason why he was pissing me off.

I had a little status out there. It wasn’t that I was really running shit, but I was holding my own. At twenty-seven, I was no longer selling by the gram or the ounce. If you couldn’t cop keys and pounds in multiples, then I wasn’t fucking with you.

I had put my time in and earned that right. I had been out there since I was ten years old and went from just trying to eat because my parents were irresponsible as fuck, to trying to maintain. Those days were long gone. I wasn’t rich, but I was comfortable. Even if I was in the streets, I was still smart. I had learned early to save. A flashy nigga was a broke nigga, and that was never gonna be me. Not if I could help it.

Backing away from Ross, I allowed him to pull the backpack he wore from his shoulder. I didn’t trust anyone, so I kept my gun on him while he moved, as a reminder that I’d blow his fucking head off if he played me.

Thirty grand, right?

Nah, thirty-two.

Thirty-two, the fuck? You been charging fifteen each.

Yeah, that was before you pissed me off. They went up a grand each. If you don’t have it, tell me now.

Shit. He groaned and then shook his head. Nah, we’re good.

Just as he was about to make the exchange, I felt someone moving. Whoever it was, walked fast as fuck, and Ross and I both had eyes in that direction. Luckily, I didn’t have shit on me. I learned that a long time ago. My word was bond, and I believed in that. So, if a muthafucker copped from me, he handed over money, and I sent a runner later with the product. I rarely had my hands on it. My name meant enough that whoever I served knew I wouldn’t fuck them, and my prices were the best they could get for the small scale that niggas around there could handle. Basically, they needed me, so they played by my rules. But, I wasn’t grimy and never would be. I always did good business.

Shooter, I need to talk to you.

The fuck she doing here? And with a got damn baby?

My ex, Laura, came barreling my way with a kid in her arms. She was antsy and looked like shit. I could smell her before she was close enough for me to really see her. The only thing that tipped me off as to her identity was her voice. I knew that damn voice anywhere. As many times as I had that same voice screaming my name, it was something I wouldn’t likely ever forget.

What is this shit?

Nah, now is not the time. Take your ass on, Laura.

"Now is the time. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, Shooter. She’s yours, so take her." Before I could get a grasp on what she was doing, she shoved the kid into my arms. Had I not caught her, Laura would have dropped her own baby.

"Fuck you mean she’s mine? Man, if you don’t get this damn baby. She isn’t mine. I haven’t seen you in almost a year and a half. Shit, a year and a half? My eyes landed on the baby girl in my arms.

Right. Do the math, nigga. Now take her. I can’t do it anymore.

My eyes landed on the sleeping child once more before I glared at Laura. Then I took in her appearance. She had dirty hair matted into a ponytail behind her head, and she smelled like she hadn’t washed her ass in days. Nah, fuck that, weeks. That wasn’t what bothered me the most. Even in this dark ass alley, I could see it. She was fiending for a high. Having been around it all my life in the most intimate way possible, I knew the symptoms. The agitation, the rushed speech, the way her nails ripped across her skin as she moved her weight from foot to foot.

Yo man, take this damn baby, Laura. I pulled the child from my chest, and her little eyes popped open accompanied by a screeching cry.

She’s yours, Samiq. She’s yours. It’s time for you to raise your baby because I can’t, Laura yelled at me before she took off running with the speed of Usain Bolt.

I yelled her name for about two minutes straight before I was snapped back to reality by Ross’ voice…

So, you want this money or what?

Shooter

D amn, you really did that shit, bruh. Hendreek lifted my degree from the table and scanned it with disbelief apparent in his expression.

Why do you act like you’re surprised? I told you I was gonna do that shit. When has my word ever not been law?

Yeah, you did, but damn, I really didn’t believe it. You cost me five stacks.

Bruh, did you really bet five stacks… I paused to make sure I had his attention before I completed my sentence. "…against me?"

Hell yeah. I thought that was easy money. You were in the streets as long as I was. People like us don’t just drop that shit and go to college. Hendreek frowned at me like I had played him on some disloyal type thing for growing the fuck up.

He was right, though. Where we came from, when you were street, you were street for life. You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to go to college. The script didn’t fit my life, but I made it fit. I had to.

You dropped it and opened your car washes, so why the fuck wouldn’t I let them streets go to get a degree?

That’s different. We’re different. You ran shit out there. I was just a player in the game, but you were that fucking game.

Dreek and I were boys, but we were also family in a street sense. We both claimed the same set, and even though we’d earned enough respect to visually remove ourselves from that part of our lives, the bodies we dropped, the tatts that were inked on us, and the history remained intact. We were a part of that shit until the day we died. That was just how things worked.

As far as me being the game, Dreek meant every word, and with good cause, because it was true. Around there, I was a legend. Not in the sense that I was some sort of kingpin or on a grandiose level, but I had always been well respected, and still was in a sense. When I was out there like that, I was a leader. Not really self-appointed or because I wanted to be, but I just took on the role, and when I did, it was handed over to me. Even when it came to me hustling, people chose to deal with me, even when there were other options, simply because of that respect. If you played nice, I took care of you, if you tried to cross me, I also took care of you, which is where the name Shooter came from. However, things changed. I had definitely changed, and I didn’t regret it.

That’s on you, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just a business degree. I spoke modestly, but this degree was the last step, the last requirement I needed to open my next two locations, and I was damn sure happy that I had survived the struggle.

The streets came easy for me. It was second nature in a sense, but school, that shit took everything I had in me to stay ahead of the game. It had never really been my thing. I was more than positive that my charming ways along with popularity amongst my peers and teachers had been the only reason I made it out of high school. It damn sure wasn’t the effort that I put into it.

When I was there, which was barely ever, I ditched class to sell drugs from bathrooms and stairwells, and I rarely ever did my assignments. On the rare occasion that I did turn in work, it was typically completed by a little shorty I was fucking with or some nerd fiending for popularity. The only class that ever held my interest was art.

I had a creative mind, and I loved to draw. I had been good at it since I was a kid. When I was in the streets, I spent a lot of time with cans of spray paint tagging buildings and properties that I had no business even being on. I had never in my life been locked up for drugs because I knew how to be smart with that shit but had been held overnight a few times for defacing private properties. It only made sense that I owned and worked at a tattoo shop. Aside from it allowing me to legally pay my bills and support my daughter, it helped me keep my sanity enough that I never thought twice about going back to the streets.

Daddy, it won’t work.

My entire face lit up when I heard that voice. My baby girl had that effect on me, and that was some dope shit. The highest of all highs with nothing topping it. Not even pussy, which at times in my life I swore was the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Not anymore. Nowadays, that little voice was my high.

Why are you telling him, Ari? He don’t know shit.

Dreek lowered his massive frame enough to scoop Ari’yanna into his arms before tossing her in the air. She giggled while begging him to stop, while he grinned and tossed her into the air once more, knowing that she loved the thrill.

Aye, watch your language, Dreek. I grilled his ass hard as hell, and he grinned, offering a nod.

I didn’t want that type of language around Ari, which he was well aware of. Now, if I was kicking it at the shop or with him, that was a different story. But when Ari was in my presence, I did my best to be a good example for her. Not perfect, just the type of man I wanted her to expect love from when she was old enough. I was still struggling with my ways as it was, but I didn’t need Dreek making it worse. For the most part, I did good with keeping it PG. I occasionally slipped up, mostly if I was frustrated or not really paying attention, but I still did my best. I was a work in progress, which I had to work on daily.

My bad, baby girl. Uncle Dreek knows better than to use that type of language around a princess.

Daddy still says bad words too. She grinned at him once he had her in his arms again. Daddy, can you fix my iPad?

It’s not broke, baby. You didn’t charge it. Go plug it in. I kissed her on the cheek before I left the two of them to go and grab my phone, which was going off in the kitchen. The second I realized who was calling, I felt my entire mood change.

Yeah?

Shooter, your mama out here causing a scene. Not like really bad or anything, but she’s just loud and refuses to leave. You need to come get her before they call the cops.

Shit, I grumbled before I looked through my house to where my baby girl was talking Dreek’s head off.

Can you keep things cool until I get there?

Yeah, but hurry up. She’s really showing her ass trying to get a lil extra.

My dad with her?

No, just her.

Aight, I’m on my way.

Fuck. I felt my teeth grind a little before I slipped my phone into my pocket and walked back over to Dreek. Once I pulled Ari from his arms and kissed her cheek, I lowered her to the floor. Go plug in your iPad and let me holla at uncle Dreek for a minute.

Okay, Daddy. She took off running to her room.

Dreek and I both watched until she disappeared from our sight.

What’s up?

You busy right now?

I need to run a few moves. What you need?

Whatever you have going on, can it wait, or you need to head out now?

I can move a few things. What’s up, though?

I need you to stay here with Ari for a minute while I go take care of something.

With raised brows, he peered at me. Take care of what?

Nothing like that. My mom. That was Cynt who just called. I need to go handle that.

Yeah, I got you. You need something for her?

Your ass better not be holding while you’re up in my spot where my daughter lays her head, Dreek.

Whereas I sold drugs by the pound, Dreek never touched it on that level or at all for the most part, but he carried for recreational use. He had a little problem with pills, but as far as I could tell, he had it under control, or at least I felt like he did. Either way, he was a grown ass man, and my opinion on his life wasn’t relevant. As long as he followed my rules and didn’t bring it around Ari, then his business was his own.

Man, relax that shit. You know I would never do that. I respect how you raise Ari. I just know a few people in this area that I can hit up. You know I never carry shit on me when I’m in your spot.

I knew better, but I would never take shorts where my baby was concerned. In the three years since I got confirmation that she was mine, she had become my priority. The day that Laura left her with me, I found out that Ari had just turned a year. My first thought was that Laura was pregnant when I left her, and I knew for certain that she was using, so I had Ari checked out at my mother’s insistence. By God’s grace, she didn’t have any adverse effects like developmental delays or any lingering health issues. I knew that Laura was using when Ari was conceived, but after I ended things, she disappeared on me, so I wasn’t sure if she stopped. I was relieved as hell but still wanted to murder Laura. My entire life changed for my daughter, and like it or not, I had to do right by her. It was hard as fuck sometimes, but I made it happen, and I was gonna keep making it happen.

My bad, you know I don’t take shorts when it comes to Ari.

You good, bruh, no explanation necessary. I get it. Dreek nodded as confirmation and then offered a pound, which I accepted. "Go take care of your people. I got baby girl. She owes me a rematch on that dumb ass color game she plays all the time.

Yo, don’t tell me you let a four-year-old put it to you, Dreek. You getting outsmarted by a kid, fam?

I chuckled, and he ran his hand over his head and grinned. She’s smart, Shooter. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say her little ass be cheating.

I shook my head and left him there to go let Ari know that I was heading out for a minute. Since Dreek was a big ass kid to her, she didn’t object. I appreciated the fact that he loved her just as much as I did because I needed that help from time to time. Outside of her babysitter, Shannon, who had been with her for the past two years, Dreek was about the only other person I allowed to be around Ari on some one on one type of thing. I didn’t even allow women I dealt with to be around her.

If anything ever came up and Dreek or Shannon couldn’t care for Ari, then I canceled everything and did it myself. It really complicated things from time to time and made simple things harder than they needed to be, but my daughter was my life, my heart, my soul, and I wasn’t about to let anything or anyone disrupt that.

After checking in with my baby girl, I prepared to go deal with my mom and damn sure wasn’t looking forward to it. This was the part of my life that frustrated me the most, but there wasn’t anything that I could do about it. I loved my parents, but they couldn’t, or rather refused to shake that monkey off their backs. For as long as I could remember, my parents were addicts. It’s the only life I’ve ever known them to have. The fucked up part was that I went from hiding their addiction to facilitating it.

It was the only thing that I could do to keep them both safe, and as horrible as it was, it was my burden to bear. My money paid for the one-bedroom apartment that my mom and dad shared along with all the bills associated with it. That was to make sure they didn’t end up on the streets or doing some dumb shit that would get one or both of them killed. My money paid for the high that they were always on, but again, that was to keep them alive and not on the wrong side of a bad situation due to chasing that same high.

Truthfully, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried to reverse the