When Lamar returned from the gang leader’s place, he had a slap mark on his face.
“They hit you?” Richard asked.
“No, not hit.
The boss’s daughter slapped me and said, ‘You think one bottle of perfume can get rid of me?'” Lamar touched his face.
“Then I compensated her with another two hundred dollars in cash, and she finally calmed down.”
“So you spent the perfume money + compensation + real perfume + two hundred dollars cash?”
“Yes.”
“How much did we lose?”
“About…
eight hundred?”
Richard closed his eyes: “Lamar, don’t deliver packages anymore.”
“I agree.” Lamar sat on the sofa, dejected.
Just then, Franklin pushed the door open.
His expression wasn’t good.
He glanced at Lamar, then said to Richard: “Richard, Lamar and I have something to talk about.
Could you step out for a moment?”
Richard looked at Franklin, then at Lamar, and immediately understood—Franklin knew about Lamar and Tanisha.
“Alright, I’ll go buy a coffee.” Richard picked up his jacket and walked to the door, but didn’t close it tightly, leaving a crack.
He was too curious.
In the room, Franklin and Lamar stood face to face.
The air was taut like a violin string.
Franklin spoke first, his voice low, with a rap-like rhythm:
“Yo, Lamar, I heard you’re chasing Tanisha /
The girl I’ve known for three years, you’re not her type / You think a bottle of perfume will win her over / She told me you don’t even remember her birthday /”
Lamar wouldn’t be outdone, his body starting to sway, getting into the groove:
“Oh, so now you’re her spokesperson?
/
I didn’t see you being that serious when you were with her / You say you’re friends, but the way you look at her / Is deeper than how you look at Simeon’s car, bro, don’t play innocent /”
Franklin’s eyebrows furrowed:
“At least I didn’t lie to her.
A pauper who climbed out of South Los Santos / I didn’t say I was a ‘logistics engineer,’ I didn’t brag / You can’t even spell your own name, how can you give her a future?
/”
Lamar’s fingers traced circles in the air:
“Future?
Future is now, bro, don’t talk far-fetched stuff with me / You can’t even afford to maintain your own car, what are you talking about money?
/
I’m not stealing your woman, I just want to try / But you come at me with airs, like an older brother watching over me /”
Franklin stepped forward, his voice rising:
“I’m not your big brother, I’m your brother / Precisely because we’re brothers, I’m telling you the truth / Tanisha isn’t your toy, not your collectible / She’s a woman with a brain and a heart, not an NPC in your game /”
Lamar’s voice also rose:
“What makes you say I’m playing games?
/
I, Lamar Davis, have never been serious in my life / But this time I’m serious, believe it or not / If you stand in my way again, I won’t recognize you as my brother /”
The air solidified.
Franklin stared at Lamar, and Lamar stared at Franklin.
The two were like two bulldogs, neither giving way.
Richard held his breath outside the door.
Finally, Franklin relented first.
He stepped back, lowered his head, and his voice returned to a normal tone:
“Lamar, I’m not stopping you.
I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
Lamar’s shoulders also relaxed, his voice muffled: “I know.
But this is my pain, let me bear it myself.”
But this is my pain, let me bear it myself.”
Silence.
Franklin extended his hand, fist up.
Lamar looked at the hand, hesitated for two seconds, then extended his own fist and bumped it.
“Bang.” Lamar provided the sound effect.
“Bang what bang.” Franklin’s mouth twitched.
“Just bang.
Like in the movies.” Lamar grinned, but there was a hint of bitterness in his smile.
Richard pushed the door open, holding a cup of coffee—he hadn’t actually gone to buy it, just stood by the door for five minutes.
“Finished talking?”
“Finished talking,” Franklin said.
“Lamar wants to continue pursuing Tanisha, and I won’t stop him.”
“But you still think I have no chance,” Lamar added.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your eyes did.”
Richard raised his coffee: “Then I wish Lamar success in love.
Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Lamar picked up a can of cola.
Franklin didn’t raise his glass, but his gaze at Lamar shifted from worry to helplessness, and then from helplessness to…
a little bit of blessing.
His phone vibrated:
Hidden event [Brothers’ Quarrel] completed.
Franklin and Lamar’s favorability did not decrease; instead, it increased (+5).
Achievement unlocked: [Rap Mediator]—Your presence taught these brothers to argue instead of fight.
Richard looked at the achievement, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
“Rap Mediator?
I didn’t do anything.”
The system did not reply.
But Lamar started humming an impromptu melody, and Franklin actually began tapping his foot along.
The two black men in the cramped safe house defused a crisis with rhythm and rhyme.
Richard leaned against the wall, thinking: This is probably the magic of Los Santos.
Here, brothers’ arguments can be like rap battles, and reconciliation only needs a fist bump’s “bang.”