Don't Be Worried (StudxStud)

  "Gambling," my father said, throwing a heavy bag onto my stomach, stuttering me out of my.....interesting dream. "Huh-Wha?" I grabbed my gun from under my shoulder (that shit hurt, but my father suggested it) and was a step from blasting his ass when he grabbed it and threw it across the room. "Girl you heard my voice...now get yo musty ass outta bed and head down to Bug's house," he ordered, throwing my gun towards me.
  I caught it (fully loaded mind you) and began towards the shower. I was curious about what was in the bag, but I'd find out sooner or later. I stripped off my sticky clothes and dropped them into the dirty clothes hamper and stepped into the wet shower. I peeled off my durag off and switched it for a shower cap, I couldn't let my waves fuck up again.
  I turned the shower on, the hot water running over me as I considered the life that I had before me (like always). Maybe if I didn't have to make money this way I could finally go to school and not be tutored. You know, I had never entered a public school yet I still knew how to work my way into a fight and win it. Gun or no gun.
  I scrubbed myself, then dried off, putting on my father's standards uniform. All black. An all-black Nike hoodie with a black swoosh, off-brand black shoes that resembled all-blackVan's, oh yea....and me.....all black.
  I gave myself a tiny smile as I ran my brush over my shining, clean waves. "Dats wassup," I whispered to myself, knowing damn well I was fine.
  I rummaged around for the gun I took out for possible killing and stuffed it into the front of my jeans, hidden under my clothing. The reason why we wore black was because black makes you look skinnier, so you can't see us or our guns. It was also my idea when I was seven because I was just then joining my father's ranks.
  As I lugged the large bag my father had given me down the stairs of our raggedy apartment, I couldn't help but not be suspicious of our neighbors not being suspicious of us. I mean, we had plenty of money, and that showed in our clothes when we didn't have a "mission" or "money-maker" or "job". My dad and I were fly.
  I jumped into my dad's 2019 Buick and rolled down the window as he began smoking. It annoyed the fuck out of me, as much as he smoked, he wouldn't be around next year.
  Some people considered me a stud. I really didn't. The type of "field" I "worked" in couldn't be compatible with fake nails and hairs and cracks and creases.....unless you were gonna hoe your way through. Catch a few things on the way too.
  I ran my hands over head, God I enjoyed doing that. I remembered when my dad threw a fit after me coming home with my hair almost to the brains, his precious daughter's somewhat long locks destroyed. His expression was priceless.
  "Now be nice to Bug, Xamiya. You know we need that money," he argued, like always. "Already got enough," I mumbled under my breath, but I rolled up the window as we approached Bug's mansion.
Bug low key scared me. He literally looked like a bug. His big eyes with black rings of either tiredness or highness under his bloodshot eyes, his dry, ashy skin, and he always smelled like tuna. The man dressed clean though, dare I say, and that was the only reason why he had hoes.