Authors: Boston George

Knee Deep in the Game (10 page)

BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game

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Chapter Nine

Fresh stood in his hospital room getting his things ready when he heard a light knock on his door. He quickly rushed to the door hoping it was Amanda. His whole mood changed when he saw the Chinese detective standing on the other side of the door with an evil smirk on his face.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fresh asked stiffly.

“I just want to ask you a few questions,” the detective said, inviting himself inside the room. “A couple homicides went down last night. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

“How the fuck would I know anything while I'm laying up in here?” Fresh asked, not even looking at the detective.

“You think if I showed you some pictures you could identify the man or men who shot you?”

“Nah, B. I don't know who did what, understand? Is that all? Because I'm not saying nothing else without my lawyer present,” Fresh said coldly as he continued packing his bag.

“Well, here's my card. If you remember anything give me a call,” the Chinese Detective said, handing Fresh his card.

“Yeah, right!” Fresh chuckled, tossing the card in the trash right in front of the detective. “I already told you. I don't know shit.”

“What's good, my dude?” Pop asked as he bumped shoulders with the detective as he walked in the room.

The Chinese Detective didn't say a word; he just gave Pop and Fresh a cold stare.

“Fuck up out of here with that bullshit,” Pop growled, matching the Chinese man's stare.

“We'll meet again,” The Detective said, backing out of the room, never taking his eyes off of the two drug dealers.

“Yeah, I'll see you in hell, cocksucker!” Pop said, slamming the door shut behind the Detective. “I can't stand them mu'fuckas, B. always sniffing around and shit.”

“It comes with the business,” Fresh reminded the young soldier. “Where the fuck is Rusty?”

“He got injured on the job last night,” Pop replied, looking at the floor.

“Word? How did it go last night?” Fresh asked.

“Fifty-fiftyâwe hit up his house and about five of his soldiers. Oh, and Rusty hit up the bodyguard something serious, but we didn't hit him, but the nigga got picked up by the cops though,” Pop informed as he grabbed Fresh's bag for him.

“Rusty took a bullet?” Fresh asked.

“Nah, he got hit by a truck. He a'ight though, just got some bruised ribs and a few scrapes,” Pop answered quickly.

“Damn, y'all niggas was getting it poppin last night,” Fresh chuckled as they headed to the parking lot. “This is only the beginning, because I ain't stopping until that mu'fucka ain't breathing no more, you dig?”

“You know I can dig it,” Pop said, placing Fresh's bag in the trunk.

“Oh, shit, I see you doing big things while I was gone,” Fresh said, admiring Pop's new car.

“You know I had to cop some wheels.” Pop smiled as he hopped in the driver's seat, stuck his key in the ignition, and started up the car.

“I'm proud of you, B. For real you a true, loyal soldier,” Fresh said.

“You looking out for me, why wouldn't I do the same for you?” Pop asked, stopping at the red light.

“How would you like a promotion?” Fresh asked.

“Come on, or you kidding or what?” he answered, smiling from ear to ear.

“A'ight, this is what I'm going to do to show my appreciation. I got this new corner that I'm about to put work on and I want you to run it thorough, a'ight? I'm going to get workers for you and all that, you cool with that?”

“Yeah, I can handle that, that's a dream come true,” Pop responded.

“Good, because it's about to be a few changes around here, plus, my man, Tito, will be coming home next week, so I guess I'll give him your old position,” Fresh said as his face crumbled up from the pain.

“Yeah, I heard about Tito, I heard he's a real live wire,” Pop said, making a right turn.

“Yeah, that nigga do be bugging sometimes,” Fresh admitted. “You two should get along though.”

“So what's your plans for tonight?” Pop asked, changing the subject.

“I'm going straight home. I have a lot of making up to do with Amanda. My other shorty sent me some flowers and shit, so you know she started flippin”.

“Damn, you slipping,” Pop said as he pulled up right in front of Fresh's crib.

“Yo, I'm out, get with me tomorrow so we can set you up for this promotion, a'ight?” Fresh said, giving Pop a pound.

“A'ight, bet,” he answered as he waited until Fresh disappeared inside his house before he pulled off.

Later on that night Pop sat on the bench smoking some piff, thinking about the promotion Fresh had given him. This was a big promotionâinstead of being a goon now he would become a boss and have his own spot to run. Shit was funny like that in the hood, though, because last year Pop would have never thought that he would be running his own block. Everybody always told him that drugs were bad, but if it wasn't for drugs he would still have to stick people up just to get himself something to eat at night. Pop's thoughts were rudely interrupted when he noticed his little sister walking with her head down.

“Yo, come here!” Pop yelled, waving little Brittany over. “What's wrong with you?”

“Mommy stole some man's money, now he's upstairs beating her up,” Brittany said as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye.

“Damn, that's fucked-up,” Pop said aloud, feeling sorry for his little sister before changing the subject. “So what you been doing upstairs all day?” he asked quickly.

“Nothing, just watching TV but we don't even have no cable, no toys, no nothing,” little Brittany said in a close-to-whining tone.

“A'ight, bet, this what I'm going to do. I'm going to buy you a Playstation 3, a'ight?” Pop said, ruffling his little sister's hair.

“You promise?” little Brittany asked excitedly with her eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Yeah, I promise I'm going to bring it to the house tomorrow afternoon. You just have to promise me you will cheer up, okay?” he told her.

“Oh, thank you so much, Pop,” Brittany said as she gave her big brother a big hug, then skipped off to the playground.

“A little girl shouldn't have to live like that,” Pop said to himself as he watched his little sister head to the playground. Pop's thoughts were quickly interrupted when he felt his Nextel vibrating.

“What's good, who this?” Pop asked with authority.

“Damn, how many girls you got calling you? It's Melissa,” she said.

“Oh, what's good, ma?” he greeted.

“Nothing, you busy?” she asked.

“Nah, not at the moment. Why? What's goodie?” Pop said trying to sound extra-smooth.

“Nothing, I was just seeing if you wanted to come through for a little while and chill since I don't got school in the morning,” she said.

“
Claro
,” Pop answered, letting her know that he would be there, using the only Spanish he knew, trying to impress her.

“Okay, I'm in apartment 11J,” she said.

“Okay, cool, I'll be there in about twenty minutes,” Pop replied, glancing down at his watch.

“Okay,
papi
,” Melissa replied, pressing the end button on her cordless.

“What the fuck took you so long to bail me out?” Bamboo growled as he shot Nancy and his lawyer a cold stare.

“Nigga, I been sitting in this mu'fucka for about eight hours so don't start no bullshit,” Nancy spat, rolling her eyes.

“So, how shit looking?” Bamboo asked, looking at his lawyer.

“Well, basically, they don't got nothing on you, it's really King that's fucked since he said the guns and vest were his. All you have to do is keep your nose clean and keep reporting back and forth to court until this shit blows over,” the lawyer said confidently.

“That's what I'm talking about, that's why I pay you the big bucks,” Bamboo said, snatching Nancy's pocketbook. “Yo, here, make sure you put money on King's books, and pick up his case,” Bamboo ordered as he handed the lawyer an envelope full of money.

“Will do, Mr. Bamboo,” the lawyer said, stuffing the envelope in his briefcase. “Y'all make sure y'all drive home safely, okay?”

“Yeah, you too,” Bamboo said as he slid in the passenger seat of Nancy's car.

“This little nigga Fresh thinks he can play with the big boys, huh? I got something for that clown,” Bamboo said out loud to nobody in particular.

Bamboo's only mission was to erase Fresh from the earth, and he planned on doing that by any means necessary.

“It's about time you got here,” Melissa said, stepping to the side so Pop could enter.

“My faultâI had to go pick up some yak real quick,” Pop slurred, already feeling saucy from the liquor he consumed earlier. Pop had to do a double-take when he noticed what Melissa was wearing.

She wore some red tight booty shorts with some red furry slippers along with a tight black wife beater. The ponytail that she wore made it easier for Pop to see all of her pretty features.

“I thought you had forgotten about me for a minute,” Pop said, undressing Melissa with his eyes.

“How could I forget about you with your fine self?” Melissa questioned, looking Pop dead in his eyes. “So, how's your family?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“They cool,” Pop answered quickly.

“How's your mother?”

“She's all right, I guess,” Pop said, shrugging his shoulders.

“You guess?” Melissa asked.

“Yeah, me and my moms don't get along too well,” Pop answered.

“What about your father?” she moved on to the next question.

“I don't know him!” Pop replied stiffly.

“You don't know your father?” Melissa asked in disbelief.

“He went out for a snack one day and never came back,” Pop answered, finishing off his cup, only to fill it right back to the top.

“Did he get killed?” Melissa asked weakly.

“Nah, he just never came back,” Pop said in a flat tone.

“Aw, poor baby, come here,” Melissa said, placing Pop's face on her firm but soft breast. “Did you hear from Fresh since he got out the hospital?”

“Yeah, I picked him up from the hospital,” Pop answered.

“Him and my sister is crazy, they always fighting and shit,” Melissa laughed before she continued. “That nigga Fresh bought her a new car and he know she can't drive.”

“Word? What kind of car did he get her?” Pop asked.

“He got her an '06 Intrepid,” Melissa answered quickly.

“Damn, he must have really fucked-up bad this time,” Pop chuckled.

When Melissa got up to pour herself another drink, she started feeling the effects of the Grey Goose. Instantly, her mind went back to the other day when she was in Pop's whip and how he had made her body feel.

“Fuck that I'm about to make a move,” Melissa said under her breath as she quickly downed her drink, and made her way back over to the couch where Pop sat.

“I need to ask you a question,” Melissa slurred as she hopped up on top of Pop, straddling her legs on each side of him.

“Ask me whatever you want,” he said as his dick got harder than Chinese arithmetic.

BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game

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