Life (30 page)

about their caper with the credit cards and all that stolen shit back

at their room and God only knows what else them two broads had

been up to, driving around the country stealing. Evette must have

had at least twenty grand in her purse. I grab her by the arm tight-

ly. “Listen Shouty, whatever you do, don’t let these niggas see that

money. They’ll slit your throat and take it!” I was taking about

Blazack. She looked up at me, swallowed in her throat and looked

around like this was a hostage situation. I wondered if she would

take off r unning.

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As we approached the stolen van, loud music was playing. The

van rocked from side to side. Blazack was at the driver’s seat smok-

ing a blunt. Something in the back of the van had his attention.

He was laughing hysterically. I peeked inside of the van. They

were all piled up in there like the forty thieves. Mad Ball had a cig-

arette lighter out burning the white man on the ass with it. His

pants were down around his ankles, booty tooted up in the air

because of the way that they had him hog-tied. As soon as every-

one saw Evette, the games stopped and catcalls ensued. “Look at

the fat monkey on that bitch, looks like she got a boxing glove in

her drawers,” someone said.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I lost my composure.

“
What the fuck ya’ll doin’? Stop the dumb shit! These crackas

in this town ain’t playin’. This is the capital of Florida. These red-

necks gonna give a nigga a life sentence if they catch us with this

cracka.” Blazack casually turned, looked at me and blew smoke

into my face. Someone in the back of the van snickered at me.

Then I heard giggles, the white man yelled again in pain. It was as

if I was talking to the five stooges. So I tried my hand at diplo-

macy. My voice lowered a notch.

“
Listen, ya’ll follow me. We’re going to see if we can we rent

ya’ll a place to stay,” I said, nodding at Evette. She looked like she

was about to make a dash for it after hearing the horrible sounds

coming from inside the van.

*****

Five hours later, thanks to Evette and her hot pants, we were

finally about to rent a house right off FAMU Campus on Stocky

Street. Evette was able to talk an elderly white man into renting an

older model four bedroom, two-bathroom home with a nice spa-

cious yard. She flirted and laughed showing him a lot of teeth.

With a $1,800 dollar deposit she had the keys and with them was

a piece of paper with a phone number on it. The old man really

liked her.

Now the problem was, what to do with the stolen van, its

owner and Dre’ the snitch. When I confronted Blazack about it,

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all he said was, “Dre’ was a wrap,” and signaled with his hand slic-

ing across his throat. I walked away leaving it up to him. My con-

science was getting the better of me. Call me soft, but I did not

want to see Blazack kill Dre’. He was my dawg at one time, he just

went bad. I know that if I tried to stop it, it would be like signing

my own death warrant, like I was admitting I conspired with Dre’

to set up Lil Cal. One thing was definitely for sure, Blazack had

no problem making people disappear.

“
Yo!” I turned as I was about to get in the car. I handed

Blazack the packet of cocaine I had taken earlier from my room.

A few of the crew liked to smoke Bunk–that’s weed mixed with

cocaine.

*****

Blazack drove along in the van with the human cargo. I did

not ask him what he was going to do with it, that would have been

asking too much.

I pulled out into traffic with a feeling of utter relief. I noticed

Evette watching intently. For the first time I thought I detected a

pleasant smirk on her face.

“
Daaamn Shouty, why you looking at a nigga like that?” I

asked. Evette made a face. “You’re something else,” she beamed.

“
You tricked us.” Her voice chimed sweetly as she crossed her long

legs, one over the other, hands snuggly clasped between curva-

ceous thighs, the way a woman does when she’s getting comfort-

able and looking sexy and unconscious of it.

“
Are you a pimp or something?” she asked. For the first time

I gave her my undivided attention. The expression on her face said

that she was dead-ass serious.

“
Why you say that?”

“
Cause, first you tricked us by actin’ like you was a college stu-

dent. Then you beat up that security guard back there at the mall

and took our bracelet.” Her eyes leered at me when she said our

bracelet. “You jumped on that poor girl in the hotel parking lot,

and you just took my money too,” she said in one long breath.

“
I told you I was going to give you back your money,” I said.

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She rolled her eyes twisting her lips to the side of her face, typical

Black woman antics. Shyly she smiled, and then burst out in

hearty laughter, the kind of laughter that has a soulful melody of

a Black woman. It spilled on to me, and I can’t help but smile back

at her. “What’s so damn funny?” I asked.

“
You.”

“
Me?”

“
You should have seen the expression on your face when

Tomica handcuffed you to the love seat, and you pulled out that

big ole dick and started wackin’ off.” She laughed hysterically. I

think it must have been all that built up frustration stressing her

over the past twenty-four hours. She wiped her eyes and her laugh-

ter subsided. On a more serious note she said, “I would have been

game for the threesome … twosome even.” For emphasis she

uncrossed her legs opening them like showing me the packaged

goods. As I drove I had a lot on my mind. A fat pussy was not one

of them. Evette sensed my mood and turned away sitting straight

for ward in her seat.

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and looked for any sign of

anything unusual. This was not the time to get caught slipping.

“
Go to your room. If Tomica asks you about the money just tell

her I took it, and I’m gonna pay it back,” I said.

“
Just give me the bracelet,” Evette suggested, and made a face

at me, the kind that says,

you ain’t shit

.

“
Go!” I yelled. She slammed the door and stalked off.

*****

I inserted my key into the door. Just as I asked, Trina barri-

caded herself inside using a chair and the burglar chain. She

opened the door and greeted me with a hug and kiss like I had

been gone for years. Inside, to my dismay, Tomica was sitting at

the table cutting up dope. Her eyes flashed signals that said,

let’s

keep what happened in my room a secret

.

“
What the fuck? What you doin’ in here?” Trina tugged at my

arm like a three-year-old trying to get my attention. Soft-spoken,

she said, “Tomica’s my homegirl. She’s from Brooklyn.”

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“
Ya’ll know each other?” I interrupted, in total disbelief.

“
Naw, well, sorta.” Trina stuttered under the weight of my eyes

boring holes through her. She was nervous. “She came here look-

ing for you. I recognized the Brooklyn accent. This bitch is my

homegirl. I went to school with her brother Rakim.” Together the

two of them giggled like school girls that shared a secret. Women.

I suddenly had the uncanny feeling that the two of them were

talking about me in my absence. I just openly stared at Tomica,

wondering just how much I could trust her.

One thing about this business, there is no room for mistakes,

most importantly in the judgment of people’s character. Maybe

Tomica was on to the scent of Trina’s pussy. It’s always important

to know a person’s motives when they are trying to get close to

you. I walked up and inspected the dope. It looked nearly perfect,

except for a few air pockets. Trina said that it would take longer to

dry. I vaguely heard her as my mind churned numbers, ounces and

prices. It was then I realized that Trina made her second biggest

blunder of the day. The first was letting the dyke Tomica in the

door, the second was the dope was shor t by my figures. This is

impor tant, very important, and not just the financial aspects of it.

New acclaimed power is like an iron fist, it is meant to be chal-

lenged like all authority. People will seek out its weaknesses, espe-

cially women. It’s in their ver y nature to find the core of a man’s

soft spot. I wasn’t having none of that! “This muthafuckin dope

short a few ounces!”

“
You took some when you left, remember? Plus, I got all that

left over in the plate over there at the sink.” She pointed. There

was a pile of cocaine there that I didn’t notice. I shrugged an

expression that said,

my bad

, and turned and walked over to the

window peeking out of the curtains. Hustler’s habit. I plopped

down on the chair by the window. I was tired and wary. Over the

past few days it seemed like things were moving fast, unpre-

dictable, and now I was moving into a realm of the game that I

really had no experience in. To top it off, I was in a spot that ain’t

never been friendly to niggas from out of town. Now, in a matter

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of seconds, I turned from flat foot hustlin’, to dope man entrepre-

neur, pushing weight. The contrast of the two professions is about

as different as night and day. For me to be successful it would take

the cunning wit of a fox, along with the organizing skills of a

crooked preacher soliciting money from his parishioners. There

was zero room for mistakes. In the dope game you got leaders and

followers, there is no in between. The streets keep the score: who

leads, who follows. Caskets and prison cells bore witness to a hus-

tler’s timely demise. All this was in my thoughts as I plucked my

last cigarette from the pack, lit it and inhaled deeply. As the smoke

filled my lungs, I gazed up at the ceiling reflecting on all the shit

that had happened. I exhaled, trying to erase everything from my

mind. There was a spider web in the corner of the ceiling.

Something about it held my attention. For some strange reason,

Hope’s face flashed in my mind, voice echoing,

you’ll end up dead

or in prison.

Suddenly I had an urge for a strong drink.

“
Can Tomica have the last of the coke in the plate?” Trina

asked casually as if it were a request for a slice of pie. She indeed

confirmed my thoughts, the two of them were talking about more

than the old days. There can be a lot of wisdom in playing dumb,

my stepmother used to say. So I did my part and let her question