by De'Kari
“Whose house is it at this week?” Voorheeze had missed the last five or six games. In fact, he hasn’t made it to a poker game since T’Ridas birthday.
“It may be at that nigga Anthony’s house this week. Holla at Linell, he’ll know.”
“Aaight, now how you wanna handle dis money thang? You wanna take it now or you want to let Lily filter it?”
Steve thought about it for a minute, Lily was Voorheeze's accountant. She was damn good and trustworthy. Years of living with her older brother Juan, changed her life. She graduated from college and had a degree in accounting.
If Steve accepted the responsibility, then he would have a few hundred grand at his disposal to make some moves with. Steve was street-smart as well.
“Shit leave it wit me, I’ll take care of it.”
“Aight, come on, it’s in the trunk.” Reaching into his pocket for his keys, Voorheeze headed to the front door to leave.
Steve locked up the house, then made his way to Voorheeze. He grabbed a small duffle bag out of the trunk and is now standing by Steve’s Tesla with one hand under his jacket. No doubt his hand is resting on the handle of his cannon. Although his head was facing Steve, his eyes were on constant swivel.
“Here you go, Rogue.” He holds the bag out for Steve.
Steve looks at the bag. “How much is in there?” He might not be in the game, but he’s been in the hood all his life. He knows that if that bag is full, it’s too much in there.
“Nigga, it’s a brick in that thang. I just picked it up and I ain’t about to start counting stacks of dough out in this bitch.” He lifts his arm signaling for Steve to take the bag.
“I know what the house cost nigga. Just take care of that and you can do what you do with the rest of it until I need it.” They only wanted five hundred for the house, but Voorheeze knew that Steve would get this legal hustle on with the rest. That was better than it just sitting in one of the stash spots.
“Nigga stop thinking about it. Take the shit and throw it in yo trunk. I don’t give a fuck where we at, a nigga ain’t trynna stand in da street with over a half mill in his hand just waiting for someone to try and take it.” Hearing this snapped Steve out of his momentary hesitation.
“Aight, just give me a heads up about that game.” Considering he’s the one with the heat, Voorheeze waits for Steve to toss the bag in and gets in himself.
“No doubt.”
“Aaight! One.” He calls out making his way back to his whip.
“One!” Steve yells out as he’s pulling off.
**** N. D. ****
(Across the Bay)
Clark was sitting up with O.G. Peppi Hanks getting some game from him.
“I’m telling you young L.R. put you pride in your pocket. You dealing with some young stupid mothafuckas. You can’t reason with stupidity young L.R. Naw Naw just hear me out now.” Peppi doesn’t let Clark who was about to say something speak.
“Listen, you’sa stand up little nigga but that’s only because you cut from a different cloth than the rest of these mothafuckas. They aint got no rules dawg! No rules, no morals and no fucking sense. The only way to war with them is a full-on frontal attack. All Gas, No Brakes! Young L.R. you gotta go H.A.M.”
Clark could see the Beast in Peppi start to rise and show its ugly head.
From time to time, Clark would bounce ideas off of the O.G.’s head. Peppi Hanks done seen and been through enough shit to make him timeless. He was a beast in the street, but he always had a solid head on his shoulders. So, Clark asked his opinion on carrying out the war.
“Plus, I’m telling you Dawg I did my research on them. Lil Pepp got at me and so did June Bug, they say it’s enough of them mothafuckas to start two gangs! Nigga you can’t beat that picking mothafuckas off two or three at a time.” The O.G. finally paused to light a blunt.
“But Big Brah, how da fuck I’m gone look calling for help for a bunch of kids?” That’s what’d been eating Clark.
Pep blew the smoke out and hit the blunt one more time. He looked at Clark as if he had a butt naked midget with two heads feeding him ice cream on his lap.
“A lot of good niggaz died behind not understanding a mothafucka or down playing a situation. Let me ask you something Dawg, how old were you when you jumped off the porch? Now what about when you first put in work?” He saw that he finally had his young homeboy thinking about shit. He went in for the kill. “Now truthfully, how old were you by the time you was a G to this shit?” Peppi nodded his head up an down and hit the blunt again.
Clark had neva looked at it that way. He and his cousins were doing shit by age nine. By age thirteen you couldn’t tell him shit. He already had a couple of bodies under his belt. Hell, his second stint in Juvenile Detention stemmed from a robbery they’d knocked off. When S.W.A.T. kicked in the door they found four guns, money, brass knuckles and a bunch of stuff linking them to the robbery.
They were going to take Voorheeze in for the robbery because he was holding the shit until Clark stepped up and rode his beef. Hell, by fifteen he was a well-respected figure on the block. Niggaz respected his mind, but feared his G.
“Damn nigga you gone pass the Backwood?” He asked Peppi.
“I guess you starting to see clarity…” Peppi joked.
“All of a sudden you wanna hit the blunt. There’s the tree you betta roll yo own. You know I aint passing it Dawg.” They both started laughing as Clark reached for a Backwood.
**** N. D. ****
(East Palo Alto)
They pulled up to the abandoned house at the back of the G (the nickname for the Gardens also called G-Town). It wasn’t a secret in the hood what this house was used for. On any given day, at all times of night, the neighbors could hear the cries and screams of torture that came from within.
Tut carried the nigga that Clark shot into the house and down to the basement. They had brought countless niggaz down to the confines of this basement.
“Lay the lil nigga on the table.” Clark said as he dug inside an old moldy chest for a tool.
As Tut dropped the nigga down on the table with a loud thud, a cloud of dust rose up causing him to choke. He fanned his hand in front of his face attempting to clear the air. The smell of mildew that lingered in the basement was so strong it made their throats itch.
Clark walked over to the table with an old rusted carpenters screw driver in his hand. He looked down at the nigga who was holding his stomach as he was groaning from the pain of the two gunshots. He looked to be fourteen or fifteen.
“It’s simple lil homie. Tell me what I want to know and save yourself a great deal of pain. Or you can act like you’re hard and I betcha I make you religious.” He was looking dead in the niggaz eyes.
“W-what you wanna know man? I need a hospital”. He cried out, then groaned some more.
“I wanna know why you niggaz on me and who the fuck are you?” Clark asked thru gritted teeth.
“Okay we… we declared war on all of yall…” He had a coughing fit. “B-because…
Clark was leaning down close eager to hear the answer.
“… because yall some straight bitch ass niggaz!” He erupted in a violent fit of laughter.
He laughed so hard that he let out a big ass fart! He knew he was dead the moment they tossed him in the car.
“Aarrrgh! Aaarrrrgh! Shit!” He screamed out. The sound of his tune changed faster than a mothafucka the moment Clark shoved the screwdriver deep into the hole of one of the bullet wounds.
When the pain was unbearable. He inadvertently lifted off the table, Tut grabbed him and held him down.
“Okay lil tough ass nigga.” He was wrenching and shaking the screwdriver while he talked. “I respect tough niggaz but you gone respect my gangsta!”
He moved so fast that Tut didn’t even notice until the screwdriver was piercing a new hole inside of the boys’ stomach.
The howl that escaped his mouth was cut off by one of Tut’s massive paws as he covered th
e lil niggaz mouth.
“Whoaa! Whooa! Hold up nigga! Tough mothatfuckas don’t scream like a lil bitch, nigga. You gone answer my questions, tough nigga?” Clark asked him.
He weakly nodded his head up and down, yes.
Clark was all smiles now. He looked at Tut and nodded telling him to move his hand.
“Why you niggaz doing this?” He knew the nigga would break.
“C-Cause yo mama was too much of a bitch to do it?” Tut’s smile was bigger than the smile that was on Clark’s face moments ago.
Clark looked at Tut, “what you think?” He gave the nigga credit, he had heart.
A devilish smile crossed Tut’s face! Before Clark could say anything…
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
Blood sprayed everywhere as Tut stabbed him repeatedly. The shocked look on Clark’s face was priceless. It caused Tut to start laughing while he was stabbing the corpse. Clark was shocked because he neva seen Tut grab the knife he was using.
It’s a good thing extra clothes were stored in the house for shit like this. They were covered in blood.
“We aint gone find out shit now.” Clark said out loud.
“We wasn’t gone find out shit anyway Dad.” Tut responded.
Chapter X
(Union City, CA, a few months later)
Levell walked into the Texas Roadhouse Restaurant at Union Landing Square. He was super tired, hungry and he needed a drink. Levell was a good dude with good morals. Originally, he was from Mississippi, but he had moved out to California years ago. That street life, he’d ’ been there and done that. His past resume would actually scare mothafuckas. For many niggaz in the game, it’s a good thing that he left the streets. He chose to walk away and turn his life around.
Now Levell was a hard-working construction worker. Every day he went to work he would bust his ass and break his back and at the end of the day, he would be okay with that because no matter what he was doing, he put his all into it, that was the type of man he was. Days like today, tested both his strength and resolve.
Dudes in construction had a habit of talking to people like shit because they knew you couldn’t touch them if you wanted to continue to work. Fighting would get you kicked out of the union. That was a rule Levell could neva get used to. Which is why he needed a drink. So, when his brother called saying he needed to holla at him, Levell didn’t even think twice about it, he was there!
“Hello Sir, may I help you?” The hostess was fucking beautiful! She had a deep chocolate complexion with a hint of cinnamon and the juiciest set of lips a man could imagine. Her Rhianna cut just made her “come fuck me” eyes look even more sexy. Her 38 DD breast sat so perky on her frame that her poor little uniform looked like it was on its last stitch trynna hold them in. Her ass was so phat you could see it from the front. All of this was on a 5-foot, 6-inch, one hundred sixty-pound frame. She was used to receiving attention from everyone, both men and women drooled over her without shame.
Levell neva even noticed her. He walked right past her looking for Voorheeze. She was wondering why he wasn’t ogling her like everyone else or even paying attention.
She made sure to stomp a little extra so her humungous ass really bounced up and down in them little ass spandex shorts she had on. She peeped over her shoulder just knowing that she was gonna catch him staring at all that ass she was shaking. To her surprise, he wasn’t looking at her ass at all.
“Yeah, he gotta be gay, but the first nigga didn’t seem like he was gay. Shit, he might be one of the D.L. ass niggaz. One of them gay thugs.” She tells herself this because the scenario that she just created in her mind is far easier to believe than to believe that Levell just isn’t interested in her.
She doesn’t consider that there are other possibilities. Levell is happily married to the woman of his dreams, Rochelle. Levell doesn’t just love her, he idolizes her and worships the ground she walks on.
“Batman! Voorheeze noticed them before they got to the table.
“What’s up, Robin!” Levell shouts just as loud. Both showing a complete disregard for etiquette or consideration. Their response to each other is genuine, like two brothers who haven’t seen each other in years.
They embraced using that one arm gangsta hug after slapping their hands together hard enough to make them sting.
“I see a nigga gotta send a distress call out in order fo yo wife to let cha out, huh? Voorheeze joked as they broke the embrace.
“Naaw you know after a nigga break his fucking back at work and putting up with all the bullshit. I just want to get home to my queen”. His wife is the only thing that makes him feel sane at the end of the day.
The hostess is standing there with the dumbest look on her face after hearing that comment. She just knew they were gay.
“What’s wrong with you lil thickems?” Voorheeze sees the dumb ass look on her face. He’s wondering if they offended her somehow.
“Huh? Oh nothing, excuse me, I’m sorry. Here is your menu and your server will be with you shortly.” She stumbles to get the words out. She was so embarrassed that she can’t even look at them.
“What’s your name lil thickems?” Voorheeze asked her.
“Excuse me?” She hadn’t yet recovered from her embarrassment. The question throws her further off guard.
“Your real name? I like lil thickems, cause god damn, it fits! But we may be somewhere, and it may not be inappropriate to call you that.” He licked his lips while looking her up and down the entire time.
She caught his little slick remark about sometimes they may be somewhere.
“Oh, so you just know that we will be seeing more of each other?” Although she’s talking slick, she really is feeling everything about the big dark chocolate nigga in front of her. She does her best to hide her smile.
When Voorheeze first strolled into the building with his Cavalli jeans and Maui alligators on she was hooked. “Are you really that confident?”
“I’mma be honest with you sexy. This aint got nothing to do with confidence. I’m just sure about what’s going on and what’s gonna be going on.” He picked up his drink and took a sip.
“And what’s that?” She asked. Damn she just loved a man with confidence.
“When my brother and I are finished, and I leave this joint, you’re leaving with me.” There was no doubt in his words.
“Oh, I am, am I?” the dumbfounded look was back on her face.
“Yeah you’re leaving with me.”
“Just like that, huh? You not even gone ask me what time I get off or nothing?” The pretty hostess just wanted to see how far he was willing to take his shenanigans.
She was hoping that he was for real, because her mind was already made up. A sista needed a nigga like him. She could leave early if necessary and she could tell that he would be worth it.
“I don’t ask questions that are irrelevant. When I leave lil thickems, we leave.” He stated matter of factly.
“If your shift is over that’s wonderful, you won’t have anything to worry about. If it ain’t then you’ll quit, but you still won’t have anything to worry about. Now let me talk with my brother and eat our meal. Just make sure you’re ready in about an hour.” His tone left no room for questions.
The only reason people couldn’t tell she was blushing was because of her complexion.
God damn! She couldn’t believe the audacity of that sexy, black, mothafucka! The puddles forming in her panties were a testament of how he turned her the fuck on. He had her so fucking horny, she didn’t trust speaking.
“Okay.” Was all she could manage to get out. She said it so low it was barely audible.
As she turned to leave Voorheeze called out, “say uh thickems…”
“Yes?” She turned around all smiles. Her pussy hoping, he would say ‘come fuck me now!’
“What’s your name, ma?” She had clearly forgotten all about that. That’s how mind blown he had her. She blushed again and smiled before
she said, “Danika.”
“Danika, I’m Voorheeze, Ma.” He had a puzzled look on his face, a thought came to mind, but he let it go.
Levell had been sitting back watching his bro at work the entire time. Admiring and respecting his get down. Voorheeze was a natural when it came to the ladies.
“Okay Voorheeze, I’ll be ready.” The look on her face when she said that reminded Levell of a child that just came home with straight A’s on their report card and handed it to their parents.
Voorheeze watched that big ass booty as his mind was trynna reach back into his past.
“Okay mouthpiece! Big mothafuck’n Voorheeze, aka Casanova.” It’s a given that Levell gave Voorheeze his props. What else could he do, that bitch was bad!
“You know me big brah.” He grabs his shot glass, Levell does the same thing.
“on the real though big bro, thank you for coming. I need you bro.”
They both gave a salute and then downed their double shots of Patron Anejo. It’s a tradition of theirs. Whenever they are out for drinks, they start with a double shot of Patron Anejo and a Tokyo Tea. These are Voorheeze's favorite drinks.
Their ritual started out one day when Levell was curious as to what the drinks tasted like since Voorheeze ordered them all the time. Levell ended up liking them and their ritual began that day.
“First tell me something, big brah, why did you look like that when she told you her name?” Levell wasn’t a poker player but he was able read Voorheeze’s face.
“Rogue, I went to elementary school with this chick named Danika. She was my (A-1), ace boon coon.” Voorheeze thought about way back when and smiled at the memories. “She was a little Tom Boy, but secretly I used to have the biggest crush on her. She neva knew it though. Only person that knew was my nigga Dontae Johnson. I was wondering if it could be her.”
“What makes you think that could be her, if you haven’t seen her since elementary school? How do you know she stayed in the area? Levell asked, then took a sip of his Tokyo Tea.
