Me and My Hittas (15 page)

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Authors: Tranay Adams

BOOK: Me and My Hittas
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“Like father like son. Lil’
Cuz is all about a dollar. I
should have named him Lil’ Nightmare.” Nightmare said,
thinking of how hard his little homeboy hustled.“Y’all get
them snaps to Reboc?” he asked, his flicking the dirt from
under his fingernails.

“Yeah, I had my lil’ broad drop off that paper and
some clothes to him.” Nike told him. “You know I’m not
stepping foot in The Junglez, too many Oh lahs for me.”

“True that, but where them snaps at?”With that
question posed, Nike sat two Duffle bags on the table and
slid them before his big cousin.

“I know my goon tired of being up in there.” Supacrip
shook his head. He and that nigga Reboc were like brothers
and shit. They’d been running the streets together since
middle school. “What’s it been? Two or three months now?
He’s living in a homemade prison.”

“If that nigga suffering, it’s his own mothafucking
fault,” Nightmare replied. He frowned when he only saw
two bags on the table.He hadn’t notice that was all his
cousin had brought into the house when he first let him in.
His eyes looked from the duffles to his relative. Nike
shrugged like he didn’t know what was up, but that was a
lie
.
He just didn’t want to be the barer of bad news, but he
was going to be in that position anyway.
This shit looking
way light, I normally see more duffle bags than this.
Thinking nothing of it, the gangsta crip opened up the duffle
bags, continuing the badgering of Reboc. “He shot all them
people on that live ass block. It ain’t no telling who all seen
his dumb ass. Supa, hand me that money-counter from
under the sink.” He told the young rider and torturer.
Supacrip reached under the sink and withdrew the machine.
He sat it out in front of Nightmare and leaned his husky
frame against the kitchen counter, folding his arms across
his broad chest.

“He told me and Nike that he’s positive that nobody
I.D’d him.” Supacrip put him in the know.

“Still can’t be too sure, so I’ma have
Cuz lay low for
like, another month before I see about getting him.”
Nightmare claimed, removing stacks of money from the
duffle bags. Seeing this, Supacrip and Nike exchanged
glances knowing that the inevitable was coming. They took
deep breaths and shook their heads.

“That’s smart.”

Nightmare dumped the few stacks that were inside of
the bag out on the table and disappointment crossed his
face. Scrunching up his nose, he massaged his chin and
shifted his eyes up at Nike who just shrugged. Next, he took
a deep breath and opened up the second duffle bag, peering
inside. There was even less loot in the last bag. He dumped
out the contents of this bag and sat back in his chair, looking
from between his niggaz. Right after, he started running the
bands through the money-counter. Once he figured out the
math, he scribbled the digits on a small notepad and
outlined it. He then tossed the ink pen and the note pad on
the table.

“Yo, soooooo, uh,” he scratched his temple wearing a
dumbfounded expression, thinking on it for a moment
before continuing, “This is all we pulled in? The homies got
they issue?”

He and the other two leaders of the crips were part of
a narcotics
trafficking
ring called The Three
Headed
Monster. If you hustled in their neighborhood you were
either working for them, or they were the ones supplying
you. Because if they weren’t you’d find yourself with a
bullet in your skull, lying in a six foot plot. The three headed
monster was the governing body of the Eastside Crips,
nothing went down without their say so. There was no one
man above the collective,and one member’s word couldn’t
override the others.

Nike slid his hands down his face and blew hard,
cheeks puffing out. “Yeah, they got theirs. They weren’t too
thrilled about theirs either.”

“Ok,” Nightmare took a deep breath, eyebrows
arching. “Help me understand what the fuck is going on
here. ‘Cause we use to pulling in ten times this much, one
of y’all niggaz pull my coattail, hip me to some shit. ‘Cause
this shit right here,” he held his hand out at the stacks of
money scattered on the table top, “this is unacceptable.”

Nike polished off the chocolate pudding cup and shot
it over into the trashcan in the far corner. “For one, this
work this new plug is hitting y’all with is trash, and for two,
we got competition, competition that’s sitting on some shit
that’s way better than what we’ve got.”

“Who?” Nightmare’s forehead wrinkled, not quite
hearing the name Nike had gave him.

 

“Booby Loco, the slob nigga from twinks; Gangsta’s
nephew.”

“Yeah, I know who the nigga is, I use to go to 28
th
street school with him,” Nightmare told him. He was sitting
up at the table now and homeboy had his undivided
attention. “Fuck he gotta do with this?”


Cuz is the man over there now since Gangsta got
locked up. Smoker fool told me they’re pushing a product
that’s better than ours.”

“So that’s why our sugar has turned into shit, huh?”
Nightmare tugged on his chin hairs as he stared aimlessly
across the room. “I bet that’s where all of our custies
migrated to.”

“No doubt,” Nike nodded. “That work them niggaz
got pulling in fiends like the Black Hole.”

“You’ve been knowing this shit, and you just now
pulling my coat?” Nightmare clenched his jaws and balled
his fists tightly. He looked like he wanted to punch Nike
dead in his mothafucking mouth.

“Fuck I care? Their business wasn’t effecting our
operation…until now.”

 

“Did you know about this shit, Cuz?” Nightmare
looked to Supacrip.

“I’ve heard talks, but like Nike said, Loc, I wasn’t
worried about it ‘cause it wasn’t effecting our thang, feel
me?” Nightmare thought on it for a minute and nodded his
head.Rising from the table, he drew a butchers’ knife from
the block on the counter and rounded the table, twisting the
tip of the blade into his nail. Nike’s eyes shot to their
corners and he kept a close watch on him. Although they
shared the same bloodline, the little buff nigga knew that
his cousin wouldn’t think twice about jamming the knife
into his eye socket and popping his eyeball out of his
fucking skull. The nigga was
known for
being an
unpredictable psychopath. Friend or foe could fall victim to
his wrath.

“This nigga fucking up our paper, taking food outta
our families’ mouths and shit,” Nightmare began picking
the scum out of his nails with the knife, “You thinking what
I’m thinking, Supa?”

“Yeah, we dead our competition,” Supacrip spoke
with a dead serious expression. He had his eyes locked on
the knife in his big homie’s hand, seeing a gleam sweep up
the length of it. See, he had an idea what he planned to do
with it and he was glad he wasn’t in Nike’s shoes. All he
could do was shake his head.
Poor bastard,
he thought to
himself, feeling sorry for his homeboy.

“Right, and find ourselves a new connect. I’ve been
chopping it up with this nigga Nate and he said he may be
able to plug me in with his peoples. Now,I don’t know how
good his peoples shitis, but it’s gotta be better than what
we’ve got.” Nightmare circled the table for the second time
with Nike’s eyes glued to him. The boy was nervous and it
was showing. Beads of sweat had started to form upon his
forehead, running down his face. He swallowed the golf
ball size lump in his throat and wiped the sweat from his
brow with the back of his hand.

“What about this nigga Omid?” Supacrip asked.
“He’s not going to take too kindly to being cut off. You
know how these Arab mothafuckaz are, especially these
eastern Muslims. Those boys are itching to die for a cause.
I heard they’re promised something like seventy-two
virgins and their own paradise in the next life. So they ain’t
gotta problem with blowing themselves up just to take out
an enemy. And this towel-head has an army of these
mothafuckaz in pocket, us cutting him loose is sure to start
up a war.”

Nightmare nodded his head in agreement, Supacrip
was right. “You let me worry about that fat greasy bastard.
I’ll take care of him.” Nike’s hands had a slight tremor, but
Nightmare hadn’t noticed. He was too focused on picking
the scum from out of his fingernails and chopping it up with
Supacrip.

“What about the powers that be, do we hip them to
this?” Supacrip inquired.

“Nah, not yet,
Cuz,” Nightmare answered, placing a
firm grip on his little cousin’s shoulder. He looked like he
was about to wet his 501s. “This shit stays between us three
right, Cuzzo?” he said to Nike.

“Unh huh,” Nike nodded his head, shutting his eyelids
for a moment and swallowing his spit.

“Good. As for that nigga Booby…he’s a dead man!”
With a grunt, he slammed the knife into the kitchen table,
startling Nike and lodging it in place.

Chapter Eleven

Pavielle and Vayda enjoyed a fun filled night at the
Santa Monica pier. They made their rounds visiting the
Ferris wheel, the bumper cars, The Wave Jumper, The Air
Lift, The Pirate Ship, The Sea Dragon, The West Coaster,
The Pacific Plunge, etc. They even played a few ticket
games. Pavielle had won Vayda a huge stuffed Teddy Bear
with a big red bowtie. He had beat out four other people
playing that game where you shoot a clown’s mouth full of
H20 with a black water pistol until the balloon above its
head inflates and explodes.

The lovebirds made silly faces as they took photos
inside of a picture booth. They purchased cartoon drawings
of themselves and some of those fake tattoos. Pavielle ate a
caramel apple, while Vayda pigged out on cotton candy.
They ate corndogs and shared an XL 7up and Hawaiian
punch mixed fountain drink. After a few games on the
arcades, Pavielle thought they should take a walk out on the
beach. He was a helpless romantic underneath his macho
exterior, so he knew how women ate that kind of corny stuff
up.

Pavielle and Vayda walked the shores barefoot, hand
and hand, carrying their own shoes. “Wow!” Vayda said,
looking up into the sky at the twinkling stars sprinkled
throughout the entire galaxy. The sight was definitely one
to be admired.

“Yeah, wow,” Pavielle repeated, marveling the stars
above alongside his boo as they traveled along the sandy
beach. “Being so caught up in the streets I never took the
time to appreciate things in life.”

“Things like what?”

 

“Sunsets, walks on the beach…love,” he grinned,
locking eyes with the love of his life.

 

“Love?”

He nodded, yes. “Love can make you feel special.
Love can make you feel lucky. Love can make a broke
nigga feel like he’s the richest man in the world. Shit, when
you think about it, love is like a drug. And you can spend
the rest of your life high.” Dropping his shoes, he stopped
and turned to Vayda, taking her hand into his own. He
stared into her eyes romantically. “Love is right here, babe.
It’s between you and I. You are my drug, Vayda.” Her eyes
instantly welled up with tears and before she knew it they
were jetting down her face. She bit down on her bottom lip
and sniffled. At that moment in time she felt blessed to have
met the man of her dreams and she hoped that they stayed
together forever.

It was just the two of them,
us against the world.

“As you are mine,” She replied with the utmost
sincerity. He pulled his red bandana from his right back
pocket and dabbed away her tears with it, as she continued
to cry and sniffle. After stashing his bandana into his back
pocket, he took her hands into his and kissed them. The two
kindred souls stared deep into one another’s eyes. There
was a moment of silence as their hearts shared a magnetic
attraction. The electrical charges the two love muscles
generated drew them in closer to one another. The separate
entities yearned to be together as one.

Holding on to one of his lover’s hands, Pavielle got
down on one knee and reached into his P-coat, producing a
flawless, 18k platinum engagement ring. A square cut pink
diamond sat at the center of the ring, while the rest of the
band was littered with smaller white diamonds. Vayda
gasped at the sight of the ring, throwing a manicured hand
over her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks, causing her
eyeliner to run. She squeezed her eyelids shut for a time
and peeled them back open, praying to God Almighty that
she wasn’t having a dream. She wasn’t having one so it had
to be true that a fairtale had been spun right before her very
eyes. Vayda made an ugly face and broke down sobbing,
tears flooding her cheeks. Taking her time, she swiped
away her tears; she felt her heart rate speed up watching her
man down on his knee, about to propose.

“Vayda Denise Perry,” Pavielle’s eyes became glassy
and serious. “Will you marry me?” he popped the question.

“Oh, yes, Pavy. I’ll marry you.” She shouted, jumping
up and down and fanning her tearing eyes. Pavielle slid the
engagement ring onto his future wife’s finger and they
embraced, sharing a passionate kiss.

“There’s something I’ve gotta tell you.” Vayda told
him after pulling away from their lip lock.

“What’s up?” wonderment came across his face.
Without saying so much as a word, she took both of his
hands and placed them on her stomach, smiling from ear to
ear. “You mean?” His eyes lit up with life and his mouth
hung open.

“Unh huh,” She nodded rapidly, giving him that
breath taking smile of hers.

Excited, he grabbed her up under her arms and lifted
her up off of her feet. He spun her around in circles really
fast. They stared into one anothers eyes laughing and
smiling happily.

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