The California Saga (33 page)

 

 

Looking down at my watch, the clock read a little after midnight. Going down 95 South was easy and smooth for me, but coming back up 95 North was a muthafucker. At least five damn times, I almost fell asleep at the wheel. The last time I dozed off, I veered to the left and woke up in time to barely miss the deep ridges on the side of the road, which scared the hell out of me. One thing for sure, those things definitely worked. Otherwise, my ass would have come off the highway and ended up in the ditch.

I turned on some country music and rolled down every window in the car as I continued my drive. I knew once I got on Route 58 East, it would be smooth sailing from there.

My plan was to go chill at Lisa's house for a while and lay low. I needed to get my mind right and sort some things out. I called her up to run things by her.

“Hey, boo,” she greeted me on the phone.

“You home?”

“Well, I was just about to go out with my girls downtown and barhop. What's up?”

“I want to come through for a while.”

“That's cool. I should be back home in a couple of hours.”

“Tell you what . . . if you stay home and wait for me in that red piece you wore last time, I'll stop by and grab a to-go order for you at IHOP. Don't worry, I know you like your bacon extra crispy.”

“You know that's one of my favorite spots. Let me call my girlfriends and tell them I won't be coming out tonight. Don't keep me waiting too long,” she cooed.

“Give or take, I'll be about an hour,” I assured her and hung up the phone.

Out of my left rearview mirror, I noticed this black Tahoe had been following me ever since I'd passed Emporia. At the time I was almost to Suffolk. It wasn't unusual for a person to be behind you for a while, because Route 58 was such a long stretch, but I didn't want to take any chances.

I pressed on the gas pedal and moved up to eighty miles per hour. The Tahoe did the same. I moved up to ninety and hauled ass. When I saw they were still keeping up, I was sure I was being followed.

Not knowing if these were some of Diablo's niggas or someone from Calico's crew, I pulled out my gun and cocked it.

I slowed down a little, prepared to bust shots all up in that fucking truck, but to my surprise, as soon as I slowed down, sirens began to go off. I looked in the rearview to see blue and red flashing lights on the dashboard of the truck. It was the fucking police in an unmarked car!

My forehead was sweating, and my heart felt as though it was beating out of my chest, but I couldn't lose focus. I continued to keep my eye on the Tahoe and on the road.

I moved up to ninety-five miles per hour. I wasn't going to let those fucking pigs take me in without a fight, and throw me in a urine-infested cell. I drove like a crazed man, swerving around cars.

In no time I was in Portsmouth. I knew a few spots I could definitely dodge the fucking police in that area, especially since it was only one truck after me.

I didn't know if this nigga thought he was “Supercop” or what, but he never called for backup. Shit like that made me think they wanted to do a nigga in. With no backup, he could kill me and then say it was in self-defense. You never could tell when it came to cops these days.

I noticed an exit ramp a short distance ahead. I hopped on the ramp, doing ninety, not letting up on speed the least little bit.

Just as I was going around the curve on the ramp, I looked up to see a fucking Honda Accord coming the wrong way. It was coming right at me. With no time to stop, I swerved to avoid hitting it.

Unfortunately, the black Tahoe behind me wasn't so lucky. All I heard was a loud crash then I saw the Tahoe go up into the air and flip over at least four times. Then the Tahoe rolled and landed with the tires up.

Damn! That nigga gotta be good as dead.
I breathed a sigh of relief.

My next stop was IHOP and then to Lisa's house.

 

 

My stomach was in knots as I entered the courtroom and sat at the defendant's table with my lawyer. I didn't know if it was anxiety, or my baby doing flips in my stomach, but I surely felt sick. Minutes later, the prosecutor came and sat across from me at his table. Then came the judge.

I took a deep breath as the prosecution began.

“Your Honor, we would like to request a continuance. There's been a tragic accident. Our key witness has been killed in the line of duty. Melissa Johnson, the lead detective on this case, had gathered an enormous amount of evidence and tapes that led to the indictments for California Jewel Diaz, AKA Jewel, Trayvon Davis, AKA Touch, and several members of the True Mafia Family, AKA TMF. Without her here to testify, the prosecution needs a little more time to develop a stronger case.”

My attorney stood up to speak. “Your Honor, the defense would like to request a bond until the next trial date.”

“Continuance granted. Bond set at one hundred thousand dollars,” the judge said then dismissed court.

Luckily I'd grabbed the money Touch and I had in the stash. Plus, I had gotten refunds on some of the deposits I'd paid for the wedding. That money, added to my little nest egg I had saved up for emergencies, was just enough for me to make bond. Hours later, I was on my way home.

 

 

I took a deep breath as I placed my key in the door and walked in my house. A part of me screamed,
Home, sweet home
, while another part of me wanted nothing to do with that house or any of the memories that came along with it. I made my way through the mess the cops left behind while searching the house, and found a comfortable spot on the couch in the living room.

I flipped on the television and heard the reporter say,
“Lead detective in big conspiracy case killed in the line of duty.”

Knowing this was my case they were referring to, I turned up the volume on the television. I watched as they showed the pictures from the scene of the crime. It was a bad accident on the exit ramp of the interstate. They showed pictures of a black Tahoe that was flat as a pancake. It looked like it had flipped over like six times. Evidently the officer was on a high-speed chase when a drunk driver came up the exit ramp and hit her head-on.

When they flashed a picture of the detective on the screen, my mouth dropped to the floor. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

“Melissa Johnson was in pursuit of a wanted felon by the name of Trayvon Davis, AKA Touch when . . .”

The rest of the words the reporter spoke were a blur. My brain wandered elsewhere.
Misty, nurse Misty, wedding planner Misty, my so-called best friend Misty was an undercover police!
Everything in me just wanted to burst into tears.
How could I have been so stupid? I knew better. I'd already gone through this with Sasha, and Touch had warned me from day one. But I didn't listen.

I began to feel like all of this was my fault. I broke the rules of the game. I let that bitch come into our lives, and day by day she tore it up, leaving me facing conspiracy charges, broke, and pregnant, with my baby father on the run.

My heart suddenly ached for Touch, so I called him up.

“Hello?” he answered on the first ring.

I burst into tears. Just the sound of his voice was so comforting. “Touch.”

“What's up, Jewel? What's wrong, baby girl?”

“Touch, I miss you. I need you.
We
need you.”

“Jewel, I can't even lie to you. I miss you too. I even tried calling you, but you didn't answer my calls.”

“Touch, I was in jail. I've been through so much. You have put me through so much. You don't understand how this shit has torn me apart. I went days without eating, and nights without sleeping.”

“I'm sorry, Jewel. I swear, I'm sorry. What happened? What the fuck were you doing in jail?”

“The police came here with an indictment on conspiracy charges. They had one for you too.”

“Yeah, I heard. My neighbor told me they came to my crib. What the fuck is going on? This shit is crazy.”

“Touch, you're all over the news.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yes, you are. You were in a high-speed chase last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, do you know who was following you?”

“No.”

“It was Misty.”

“Misty?” Touch said in a confused tone.

“Yes, Touch. She was an undercover police officer the entire time. She set us up. I feel so responsible. I should have never let her in. You warned me time and time again. This is all my fault.” I began to cry even more.

“Nah, baby. It's not just you. I'm just as much to blame. Now I just gotta make shit right.”

“Yes, you do. Please make things right.” I then said again, “We need you here with us.”

Touch finally caught on. “Why do you keep on saying that? Who is
we
?”

“
We
is me and your unborn child.”

“My unborn child?”

“Yes, Touch. I'm pregnant.”

Touch didn't say anything, and for a moment, we sat on the phone in silence.

I finally spoke up. “So what do we do now?”

“We be a family. I'm on my way home.” Touch hung up the phone.

For the first time in days, I had a smile on my face.

 

 

“Baby, how much longer before you get here?” I asked Touch in my sweetest voice.

“About fifteen minutes,” he replied then hung up.

There was a lump in my throat as big as a rock hanging up the phone. I swallowed in an attempt to get it down. With my head hung low, I gently rubbed my stomach and thought about my unborn child.

“Take your positions, guys. He'll be here shortly!” the head detective instructed his guys to man their posts to prepare for Touch's arrival.

“Please forgive Mommy, baby,” I whispered toward my protruding stomach. “I just want the best for you.”

My palms started to sweat, my heart was racing, and tears rolled down my eyes. Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours, as I waited for Touch to come home. I knew as soon as he walked through the door they would sweep him away and I would never see him again. My child would be without a father, and I would lose the love of my life. But I also knew with life comes sacrifices, and this was just a sacrifice I had to make. It was either him or me, and there was no way I was gonna give birth to my child in jail.

“You sure you got this?” the police officer asked me as he escorted me from my bedroom to the living room.

“Yes, officer!” I rolled my eyes, sick of the officers constantly checking to make sure I was down for this.

“You just stay hidden in the bedroom–”

“Oh my God!” I yelled, interrupting the officer mid-sentence. “We've been over this too many times.” He'd gone over the instructions time and time again. I had it already!

“Just want to make sure you're not having any second thoughts or planning to try anything tricky. If this goes wrong, it's your head, little lady.”

Save your threats, asshole; they don't scare me,
I thought. I definitely wasn't having second thoughts. At this point it was all about my baby. The only thing I had to worry about was getting the fuck out of dodge when this was all over with because I knew, once Touch realized I was the bitch who got this show in motion, all hell would break loose.

“He's here,” I heard another police officer announce from the hallway. I looked out the window to see Touch cautiously walking up to the house. Now I was having second thoughts. The fifteen minutes came sooner than I expected.

The officer quickly whisked me into the bedroom. My nerves were building, and it took all I had to refrain from bursting into tears.

“Honey, I'm home,” Touched yelled as he opened the front door, a huge smile across his face.

Within seconds cops came out from every closet, corner, and room in my house, commands coming from every direction as they rushed Touch with weapons pulled.

“Don't move!

“Freeze!”

“Hands in the air!”

Touch was surrounded. Taken by surprise, and with no chance to run and nowhere to escape, he stood frozen. Despite all the warning the cops gave me, I couldn't resist looking out into the living room. All eyes were on him, but his eyes were only fixated on me. There was a cold look in his eyes. A look I'd never seen before. I could imagine it was a look of disgust, hurt, anger, and betrayal. Maybe that's why I'd never seen this look before because I'd never done such a thing to him to warrant such emotions.

Touch yelled out, “How the fuck could you do this to me? After all we've been through, Jewel! You bitch!”

I felt ashamed that I had set him up. I had to keep telling myself it was for my own good, the good of my unborn baby.

With my cover blown, the officers didn't try and stop me when I walked out of the bedroom. They moved him to the kitchen, and I watched as Touch placed his hands on the counter and the officers patted him down.

For a second, I thought I saw a tear in his eyes. Unable to bear the pain, I turned away. “Answer me!” Touch demanded. “Answer me!”

I refused to give him any explanation. Besides, I knew it would only anger him even more.

“It's over, Touch. Say good-bye,” one of the officers said. Suddenly, in one cat-like movement, Touch reached in the kitchen drawer, pulled out a small handgun, and
Pow!

An enormous force slammed into me, and I fell to my feet as a stinging pain ripped through my stomach.

I looked down to see my white shirt soaked with bright red blood.

“Oh my God!” I screamed out in a panic. “He shot me! He shot me!”

My body jolted, and I shot straight up. I was panting and sweating. I was confused as I looked around the quiet room.
Where is the police? Where is Touch?

I rubbed my eyes and gathered myself. It was then I realized I was still in bed. I'd been dreaming. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I gathered myself.
Whew!
Why was I having this dream? The vividness of it scared the shit out of me. What did it mean?