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Authors: Boston George

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BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game
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“I'll have a Long Island iced tea,” she answered.
“Yo, let me get two Long Islands,” Pop yelled to the bartender over the loud music as he placed a big face on the bar top.
“Thank you,” Melissa said, accepting the drink.
Before Pop could start spitting his game the DJ started mixing an old Jim Jones cut. “We fly high,” came blaring through the speakers and even though it was old it still got the club jumping. The entire club went crazy.
“This is my song,” Melissa said as she grabbed Pop's hand and led him to the dance floor. Once on the dance floor Melissa dropped to the floor and came back up, placing her fat ass on Pop's crotch, never missing a beat. When Pop looked down he couldn't believe his eyes, he couldn't believe whose ass was rubbing up against him. But it was true: Pop was an up-and-coming street star, and from now on he would only have the finer things in life.
“Who's that nigga Melissa is all up on like that?” Amanda asked, pointing in her sister's direction.
“Oh, that's my nigga, Pop,” Fresh answered.
“He ain't a rapist or no shit like that right?” she asked, being overprotective of her sister.
“Nah, he cool peoples,” Fresh assured his woman.
“Yo, what you doing after the club?” Pop asked, hoping the woman didn't have no plans.
“Nothing, why what's up?” Melissa asked, happy 'cause she really wasn't ready to go home.
“I'm going to grab something to eat; I was wondering if you would join me,” Pop asked.
“Of course I will,” Melissa said, smiling from ear to ear. “I'm starving.”
“A'ight, let's go chill over in the VIP section until you ready to be out,” Pop said as he put his hand on her lower back and guided her through the crowd.
When Pop and Melissa stepped in the VIP section all eyes were on them.
Even Rusty couldn't believe that Pop had pulled it off, 'cause back in the day he even tried to holla at Melissa, but had failed miserably.
Pop and Melissa sat sipping on some champagne as they got to know each other better. While everybody was enjoying themselves, Rusty stood up watching over the crowd, making sure no haters were feeling froggy.
“Yo, y'all ready to be out?” Fresh asked his crew once the party started to die down.
“I'm waiting on y'all,” Pop answered, feeling a little tipsy.
Everybody left the club in packs and met up in the parking lot.
“Yo, we are all going to meet up at the small diner a couple of blocks away, a'ight?” Fresh ordered.
“My sister is going to ride with me, I'll meet you at the diner,” Melissa said as she kissed Pop on the cheek.
“A'ight, say no more,” Pop replied as he slid in the passenger seat of Pooh's whip.
“Yo, I'm going to check you when you get to the diner,” Fresh said as he playfully slapped Amanda on her butt.
“Don't start nothing you can't finish out here,
papi
,” Amanda shot back as she slid in the passenger seat of her sister's ride. Everyone filed into a vehicle and they departed.
“Yo, it was mad jump-offs up in there,” Rusty said, stopping at the red light.
“Yeah, it was poppin' in that joint,” Fresh responded, checking the text message he just received from Vanessa.
“I'm hungrier than a mu'fucka,” Rusty said as a minivan cut right in front of him. Rusty saw the doors of the minivan open up and his eyes bucked in surprise.
“Watch out, Fresh, it's a hit!” Rusty yelled as he threw the Navigator in reverse.
Before Rusty could step on the gas, another minivan stopped right behind the Navigator, boxing them in.
Fresh pulled out his .40-caliber, but he was a bit too slow. He quickly ducked down as the bullets started raining in the SUV.
“Oh, shit, that's Fresh and Rusty,” Pop yelled, retrieving his 9 mm from under his seat.
Pooh quickly pulled up a couple of feet behind the minivan.
Immediately, Pop sprang from the passenger seat, letting off four thunderous shots. Two of the four shots took out two of the gunmen. Once the other gunman saw Pop letting off shots, they immediately turned their attention to Pooh's truck.
Pooh and Pop quickly took cover behind the truck as the gunmen's bullets made loud pinging noises as they connected with the truck. When Rusty noticed the bullets stop raining, he immediately pulled out his Dessert Eagle and pulled the trigger at the first gunman he saw.
As Rusty went to hop out the truck he noticed that Fresh was bleeding.
“Stay down, my nigga,” Rusty yelled as he slid out the truck and continued to let his Desert Eagle bark.
Once the gunmen saw that the shoot out was no longer one-sided, they desperately hopped back in their vans and fled the scene.
“Yo, Pop, I need some help over here—Fresh got hit,” Rusty yelled, waving Pop over.
When Pop made it over to the truck he noticed that it was blood everywhere.
“He isn't hit bad is he?” Pop asked, scared to look.
“Nah, I'm good, B,” Fresh slurred, clutching his shoulder.
“Where you hit at?” Rusty asked.
“I took one in the shoulder, hand, and my thigh,” Fresh responded as he saw Melissa's car pull up to the scene.
“Oh my God!” Amanda screamed as she rushed over to the truck.
“
Papi,
are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm good baby, it
s only a flesh wound,” Fresh lied as he heard sirens getting louder and louder.
“Yo, Rusty, get rid of these hammers before the police get here,” Fresh instructed, still trying to lead his squad while he was down.
Rusty quickly snatched Fresh's .40-caliber from his waistband and handed both guns to Melissa.
“Get these out of here,” Rusty ordered sharply.
“I got you,” she responded as she tossed the guns in her trunk.
“Pop, give me your gun too,” Melissa said, not wanting Pop to get in any trouble.
Once she had all the guns, she quickly hopped in her car and rode right past the police as if nothing ever happened. Pop smirked, thinking how cool she acted under pressure. There were no tears or questions.
I just might have found my Bonnie,
he thought.
Thirty seconds later the streets were flooded with police cars and flashing lights. They made sure they questioned every innocent bystander in sight only to hear everyone give the same answer: “I didn't see or know nothing.”
As each minute passed more people arrived to see what was going on.
The paramedics placed Fresh on the stretcher and began to roll him to the ambulance.
As Fresh laid on the stretcher, he stared out at the sea of black faces watching him. In his mind he knew who had done this to him, now it was time to retaliate; Bamboo had to pay for this one. Fresh couldn't help but be embarrassed as he was getting rolled to the ambulance.
“It's all part of the game,” Fresh said to himself as the ambulance doors closed.
Chapter Seven
Pop woke up the next day still thinking about what had happened to Fresh.
It's crazy how fast shit can get fucked-up,
Pop thought to himself as he saw a head peek through the door.
“Hey, baby, I made you some breakfast,” Nika whispered as she entered the room.
“Thank you, baby,” Pop said, finally sitting up.
“You still thinking about what happened last night?” Nika asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah,” he began quietly. “It's just crazy how fast that shit popped off.”
“You just lucky that it wasn't you in the back of that ambulance, you got a lot to be grateful about,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“Cheer up, baby, it always could be worst. Fresh is still alive, right?” Nika stated cheerfully as she got undressed.
“I guess you right,” Pop said as he watched Nika's fat ass jiggle as she walked to the bathroom to take a shower.
“Yo, hurry up because we still have to meet this car dealer nigga in an hour,” Pop yelled loud enough for her to hear him.
Pop was so excited he couldn't sit still. Rusty had set him up with the car dealer that him and Fresh always dealt with, so Pop didn't have to show pay stubs and go through all that other bullshit ... just pay, sign, and be out.
When Pop and Nika stepped foot on the car lot they felt like little kids in a candy store.
“Damn, look at that Lex,” Nika said, pointing to a beautiful dark red vehicle.
“You must be Pop,” the Italian car dealer stated.
“Yeah, that's me,” Pop answered, shaking the Italian man's hand.
“Take your time, when you're ready I'll be in my office,” the Italian salesman said before he disappeared inside the small office.
“Which one should I pick, the Magnum or the Charger?” Pop asked.
“They both hot if you ask me,” Nika stated, not being much help at all.
“Fuck that, I'm going to roll with that all-black Dodge Magnum with the chrome rims and tinted windows,” Pop said as he made his way to the office.
“Yo, how much for that Magnum out there with the rims and tinted windows?” he asked.
“Since you roll with Fresh just give me twenty-five stacks,” the Italian said nonchalantly.
Pop had a huge decision to make being that he only had $ 26,000 dollars to his name. It was either get the car and be broke, or don't get the car and have money.
Pop pulled out of the dealer's lot on top of the world; he had a new car and a bad bitch sitting in the passenger seat.
Pop turned up the volume on his new stereo, blasting, “Hey, Papi,” by Jay-Z. He loved the attention he was getting in his new ride.
He was getting addicted to the fast life and was loving every second of it.
“Yo, I'm going to be back a little later, I have to go take care of some business real quick, a'ight?” he told Nika, as he dropped her off infront of her building.
“A'ight, be careful baby,” Nika said as she kissed Pop on the cheek and headed upstairs.
Once Nika was gone, Pop couldn't wait to get his floss on and show Pooh his new ride.
Pop pulled up on the avenue and double-parked, blasting his music.
When Pooh saw Pop hop out of the Magnum he couldn't believe it.
“Oh, shit, that's what I'm talking about, B,” Pooh said, giving Pop a pound. “That's a good look for you right there my dude.”
“Come on, Pooh, you already know how I do. Nothing but the finer things in life for me from now on. Smell me?” Pop boasted.
“I can definitely dig it,” Pooh said as he admired his friend's new car before he quickly changed the subject.
“Yo, you know we have to go take care of that witness in a few hours right?” Pooh reminded.
“Fuck it we can do it now if you want,” Pop said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Bet we out,” Pooh said as they made their way toward the vehicle.
The whole time Pooh and Pop had their little conversation, they never realized that they were being watched.
Two detectives stood in an apartment above the bodega on the corner taking pictures of the two suspects.
“It's only a matter of time before we have all the evidence we need to put these idiots away for a long time,” the Chinese detective stated to his partner.
“Yeah, these guys been doing the same routine for the past six months,” his partner added.
“Like I said it's only going to be a matter of time, I guarantee you.”
 
 
“Yeah, that's the building right there,” Pooh said as he pulled over and doubled-parked his Ford Explorer.
“I got shit to do tonight, Pooh, so let's make this as quick as possible,” Pop stated as he loaded his .40-caliber.
“I got you, partner,” Pooh responded as the two men exited the vehicle.
Once they reached the apartment, both men quickly drew their weapons. On the count of three, Pooh turned and attempted to kick in the door. He failed on the first try but was successful on the second.
“Nobody fuckin' move,” Pop yelled as he entered the apartment first, followed by Pooh.
When the two men bum-rushed the apartment they were both caught off guard. Pooh and Pop stood shocked as they saw the black police officer who was suppose to be protecting the witness having wild sex with the white woman.
“Hey, hold on brothers, y'all don't have to do this,” the black officer begged.
Without a trace of emotion Pooh raised his pistol and shot the officer in his head, sending pieces of his face splattering all over the white woman.
“Please don't kill me I won't testify, I promise,” she begged. “Wait, I got money if that's what y'all want,” the white woman begged, her voice changing to a nagging, whining tone.
“How much money you got?” Pop asked curiously.
“I got fifteen thousand in my pocketbook,” the white woman answered, pointing to her pocketbook lying on the kitchen table.
Pop went and checked the woman's pocketbook, while Pooh kept his pistol trained at the white woman's head.
Pop tossed everything out of the woman's pocketbook until he found a envelope full of one-hundred dollar bills. He quickly stuffed the envelope in his back pocket, walked up to the witness, and shot her in the head.
“Come on, we out,” Pop stated as they made their exit.
When Pop stepped out of the building he glanced down the block to see if the gunshots had drawn any attention. Once the coast was clear the two gunmen hopped in the Ford Explorer and burned rubber.
“Yo, here's your cut,” Pop said, handing Pooh $7,500 dollars.
“Good looking,” Pooh countered as he stuffed the money in the inside pocket of his jacket. “We need jobs like this more often.”
“I know that's right,” Pop responded quickly.
“This the best job in the world,” Pooh stated as he pulled up in front of Fresh's warehouse.
“What's going on, gentlemen?” Rusty asked, counting a large stack of money.
“Did y'all take care of that witness yet?” Rusty asked.
“Of course we did,” Pop answered confidently.
“That's what I'm talking about,” Rusty said, tossing Pop the stack of money he was counting. “Make sure y'all split that.”
“A'ight, I got you but what's up with Fresh?” Pop asked.
“He doing okay, word on the streets is Bamboo paid for that hit, so I'm going to round up a few soldiers and pay that clown a little visit tomorrow, you dig?”
“That's what I'm talking about,” Pop said, ready to retaliate.
“Y'all niggas go get some rest, 'cause it's on and poppin' tomorrow” Rusty said, walking the two men to the door.
“That nigga Bamboo going to get his cap peeled, Pooh said as he hopped on the FDR highway.
Pooh sat running his mouth while Pop had his mind on something else.
“You heard me, nigga?”
“Huh?” Pop asked, snapping out of his deep thoughts.
“Oh, yeah, Bamboo is a goner,” Pop stated as he pulled out his Nextel and started dialing numbers.
 
 
Ever since the other night Melissa couldn't help but think about anything or anybody but Pop. She just loved how he walked and carried himself, not to mention his swag. Usually, Melissa didn't deal with guys that were in the street game, which was a turnoff for her, but with Pop it was different. It seemed like instead of turning her off, his gansta style was turning her on.
As Melissa lay down to go to sleep she heard her cell phone ringing. When she looked at the caller ID, she didn't recognize the number.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Can I speak to Melissa please?”
“Speaking,” she answered, wondering who was calling.
“What' s good, this Pop.”
“Hey, Pop, I was just thinking about you,” she said as she sat up and cradled the phone with her shoulder and ear.
“Word? That's funny because I was just thinking about you too, what you getting into tonight?” Pop asked, his voice low and mysterious.
“I was about to go to sleep,” she responded.
“Sleep? Chill out with all that. Get dressed, I'm about to come scoop you up,” he told her.
“You bugging, I have to go to school in the morning,” Melissa answered quickly as she glanced at the clock, noticing that it was close to midnight.
“I'm already right around the corner, plus I ain't going to keep you out all night you dig? Hurry up I'm going to be waiting for you in front of your building,” he stated, leaving her no room to say no.
“A'ight, I'll be right down,” Melissa said, closing her cell phone.
Melissa quickly got undressed and hopped in the shower. Twenty minutes later, she stepped out her building looking brand new.
 
 
As she headed to the corner she didn't see Pop, but when she saw the Magnum sitting on chrome she knew it had to be him.
“Hey, what's up?” Melissa asked, sliding in the passenger seat.
“Chilling, ma, I just wanted to see your pretty face before the night was over,” Pop replied honestly.
“Thank you; that is so sweet,” she said, blushing. “So what did you have in mind?”
“Oh, nothing special because I know you got school in the morning,” Pop said, making the engine come to life. “Yo, you hungry?” he asked, taking a long drag off the piff he was smoking.
“A little bit,” Melissa answered.
“A'ight, I'm going to take you to my favorite spot,” he told her.
Ten minutes later, Pop double-parked in front of Popeyes fried chicken.
“Come on, we out,” Pop said, exiting the vehicle.
“You just going to leave your car doubled-parked like that?”
Pop shrugged his shoulders, then answered, “Yeah, why not? Nigga know who this car belongs to, plus they know better than to touch my wheels,” he bragged, trying extra-hard to impress her.
Pop and Melissa sat in Popeyes eating and getting to know each other better. Melissa was really enjoying herself, not only was Pop a cutie but he was also funny and cool to be around. She couldn't remember the last time she had liked a guy so much.
As the two sat talking, he wondered if he wasn't getting money, would he be able to pull a girl like Melissa. A few months ago she didn't even know he existed.
“What are you thinking about?” Melissa asked when she saw Pop staring off into space looking like he had something heavy on his mind.
“How beautiful you are,” Pop answered, snapping out of his daydream.
“That was a nice comeback,” she said, letting out a light chuckle.
After the two finished eating, Pop and Melissa just sat in the car and talked for a few hours.
“Yo, I want to thank you for what you did for me the other day,” he said, placing his hand on her thigh.
“You don't have to thank me for that, you know I don't want to see nothing bad happen to you, plus jail is no place for a black man,” she reminded him.
“You definitely right about that,” Pop agreed as he leaned over and kissed Melissa. The kiss caught her off guard, but she remained cool until he started feeling on her breast.
BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game
13.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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