As far as he was concerned, Sonya was merely repeating what her cousin Stew had told her. What did she know about the drug game except for what he told her? Or what she saw on television?
She don’t know nuttin’ about nuttin’ except for how to look cute and school books, Tone reasoned.
There wasn’t an ounce of street in her. Sonya was a private house chick who lived in the hood. She wasn’t in tune with the ways of the streets. She was a good girl who hadn't seen any part of the streets. The closest she had come to illegal activities was watching Tone bag up crack in his bedroom.
Still, one thing Tone knew was, he’d soon find out exactly what was going on in the streets of Baltimore.
The bus ride was long and boring. There was only so long Tone could stare out the window. Before the bus had made it half way down the New Jersey turnpike, he had dozed off with his head leaned against the window. Tone was exhausted. He had an adventurous few days and he had barely slept. Sitting still for this long, it was easy for sleep to overcome him.
In his subconscious as he slept, Tone’s mind replayed the violent events that led to his exodus. Words exchanged; guns were drawn; bullets flew. An innocent bystander, an old lady, was shot. A community was outraged. One person was in custody. The other person, him, was on the run.
All for what? A petty dispute over a ten-dollar crack sale.
The shooting had made headlines all across the city. Tone’s face had been flashed on the local news channels for a couple of days. An old mug shot of his had even made the New York Daily News under the caption, “Bullets fly Granny hit.”
Since he’d been on the news and in the paper, Tone had gone into hiding and tried to alter his appearance by cutting his high top fade haircut style in favor of a low Caesar.
His recollection of the incident had been so real, even in his sleep Tone regretted his actions. He wished it hadn’t come to that, but when you’re young, wild, reckless, and living in the hood, it goes down like that. A moment of indiscretion could lead to a lifetime of regret, or a life sentence. There were plenty of men and women in prison today with lengthy sentences who wished that they could have that one day, that one moment, or that one action, back.
On that note Tone counted himself lucky not to be facing a first-degree murder charge.
Although he wasn’t the aggressor in the situation, he knew the law would never see it as such. He would be lumped together with the other assailant and found guilty in the court of public opinion, long before he ever went to court.
Tone didn’t regret defending himself, he regretted that an innocent person got shot in the process. In other words, he wasn’t mad that someone got shot. It was merely the fact that the wrong person got shot. That lady didn’t have anything to do with that situation. She was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The timing of the situation couldn’t have been worst. Just as Tone felt like he was about to make a come-up, things were going good with his drug business, then disaster struck. He was beginning to feel like the hood was some sort of elaborate set-up, existing only to supply him, and others like himself, with street dreams, but ultimately resulting in an unending supply of jail, death and disappointment.
The only people Tone ever saw make it out the hood were those who moved away in search of a better life. The same held true for him. He hoped his move to Baltimore would bring about greener pastures. Hopefully the move would turn his fortunes around and revive his street dreams.
Whatever street ambition Tone held for himself, he had to be mindful of his legal situation. The prevailing thought of prison weighed heavily on his mind. The criminal warrant issued for his arrest made him restless. Tone stressed over the possibility of the Baltimore Police department lying in wait to arrest and extradite him back to New York City to face the music. Despite the possibility of being arrested in another state, Tone was already committed to taking his chances in Maryland.
Tone wasn’t ready for prison, at least not financially, right now. Part of his plan was to hustle up enough money to hire a good attorney. That way he’d having a better chance at getting a lesser sentence in court, whenever he was picked up on the warrant.
At the moment he was a fugitive from justice; one step ahead of New York City’s finest. Armed with a fake ID in his pocket, he planned to stay that way. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t even Anthony Thompson anymore. He was now Jason Jones. At least that’s what his identification said. The police would either have to fingerprint or positively identify him to prove otherwise.
The concealment of his true identity gave Tone hope. Once he hit Baltimore he could be whoever he wanted to be and no one would be the wiser.
Tone woke up on the bus in a cold sweat. He had a bad dream about getting arrested. The dream felt so real, he was happy as hell to open his eyes and find out that it wasn’t. He was still free.
Tone’s anxiety was building. He wouldn’t feel completely safe until he reached his girlfriend’s apartment. At the moment all he wanted to do was hurry up and get to his destination. In his mind the bus ride was taking forever and a day. He continually grew restless. His only reprieve was to fall back into his seat and try to forget about everything, where he was going and how long it took to get there. He came to the realization that traveling by bus took time and his arrival couldn’t be hurried.
Dwelling on the trip wasn’t going to make it any shorter. He reverted back to staring out the window, at the never-ending highway and endless amount of cars that had now turned into just a stream of bright headlight and red taillights.
That trick seemed to work. The three plus hour trip didn't take as long as he thought, once he took his mind off it. The sudden change of scenery and reduction in speed as the bus exited the highway alerted Tone to his arrival in downtown Baltimore. As the bus made its way toward the bus station, Tone felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Unsure of what to expect, he took a deep breath and exhaled.
As the bus turned off on the exit ramp, Tone began to get his first glimpse of downtown Baltimore. He was unimpressed at the modest skyline that outlined the downtown area. The tallest building in downtown Baltimore didn’t even compare with the skyscrapers in New York City. With his face pressed to the window, Tone took it all in.
Then he calmly walked down the aisle to the bathroom to retrieve his drugs and handgun out the garbage. He grabbed his knapsack from the overhead compartment and placed the items back in there.
Shortly, the bus came to a halt. It became evident to Tone that he had reached his destination, finally.
“We’ve arrived in Baltimore, Maryland,” the bus driver spoke into the intercom as the interior lights of the bus came on. “All passengers headed to Washington, DC, Richmond, Virginia, and all points south, please do not exit the bus. For all those passengers who’ve reached their destination, thank you for choosing Peter Pan.”
The driver exited the bus, opened the luggage compartment, and began removing suitcases and baggage. A steady stream of passengers departed the bus to retrieve their belongings. Tone was amongst the handful of other passengers that stood up and grabbed their own possessions that they had brought onboard the bus.
After grabbing his things, Tone navigated his way down the narrow bus aisle to the exit. As he did so, he intently studied the bus station, scanning the terminal for his girlfriend or anyone who may have looked like a policeman. The moment he stepped off the bus, his girlfriend instantly spotted Tone. She stood near the bus station entrance and where the passengers departed their respective buses.
“Hey boo,” she excitingly said as she ran over and gave him a big hug and a kiss. “Yo, I’m so glad ya here. I missed you.”
Tone had that boyish charm that made Sonya weak every time she saw him.
“I missed you too,” Tone responded as he broke the embrace to get a better look at her body.
Inwardly, Tone shook his head. He conceded to himself that Sonya was looking better than ever. Maybe it was because h
e hadn’t seen her in a few months. Whatever the reasons was, Tone definitely liked what he saw.
“God damn. Ya ass is gettin’ fatter,” he said while taking a long lustful look at his girlfriend. “Who you fuckin’ wit’ down here? I don’t remember ya shit bein’ this fat.”
Flirting with his girlfriend required little effort on Tone’s part because he was genuinely attracted to her. But it wasn’t just her sex appeal that made her so enticing. These two had great chemistry. Sonya was looking even better than Tone had remembered. She stood 5'6 and thick in all the right places. Her smooth brown skin and large bubbly light brown eyes seemed to attract him more than anything.
“Tone, if you don’t stop fuckin’ playin’ wit’ me,” she laughed.
Tone loved the fact that Sonya could take a joke. It was one of the reasons that their relationship was different from all the others he had before. He also loved her affectionate exuberance that she always displayed whenever they were together. These things endeared her to him.
At the moment Tone could care less about his girlfriend’s special qualities. He was putting on an act for any prying eyes that might be watching. He was dying to leave the bus station, but not before this warm welcoming scene played itself out.
“Let’s get up outta here, Ma. Where you parked at?” Tone asked.
“Out front. My girlfriend is sittin' in the car waiting for us,” Sonya explained.
“Let's go. We out,” he blurted.
Trying to play it cool, Tone grabbed Sonya's hand walked her through the bus terminal. Playing the role of loving boyfriend, he occasionally made small talk as they walked.
“So, when you gone tell me what happened in New York,” Sonya wondered.
“Homegirl, slow down. Now ain’t the time or the place to talk about that shit,” he informed her. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Sonya had so many questions she wanted to ask him pertaining to the shooting incident. Who was the other dude Tone was shooting at? Did he think it was his bullet that hit the old lady? But she didn’t want to press the issue, at least not now. In her mind Tone would be here for the foreseeable future, so they’d have plenty of time to talk.
The short walk from the bus station to the car went smoothly. Tone finally breathed a sigh of relief when the car pulled away from the curb. He glanced back once or twice to make sure that they weren’t being followed. Then a broad smile spread across his face. Now he could relax. The hard part, or so he thought, was over.
Although Tone had arrived safely in Baltimore, his journey was just beginning.
Now it was Baltimore or bust for him. He had to make this move work. Returning home, broke and a wanted man wasn't an option he wanted to exercise.
3
Tone glanced out the back window of his girlfriend’s blue Honda Accord. It finally dawned on him that he had really made it to Baltimore. In the backseat his girlfriend was pressed up against him, her head resting on his chest, her eyes glancing up at him almost in disbelief.
“What you staring at,” he gently asked.
“You,” Sonya admitted. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Believe it or not, here I am,” Tone joked.
Sonya continued to stare starry eyed at her boyfriend. Her thoughts were solely on Tone as she romanticized their reunion. Now that they were together, Sonya couldn’t imagine it playing out any other way. Something bad happened in New York with the shooting, but something good came out of that, they were together. Sonya prayed Tone wouldn’t get homesick and return back to New York. She feared if that happened she’d lose Tone to the system for a few years or worst. In her mind, that was the only thing that could break them up. So she planned on doing everything in her power to convince him to stay.
The car slowly came to a stop at a red light. This gave Tone the opportunity to do something that should have been done from the moment that they entered the car. Unfortunately, both their minds had been elsewhere. However, now he had the chance to make things right. Tone had been so preoccupied by the thought of being arrested and Sonya had been so infatuated with his physical presence that they both neglected to make a formal introduction.
“Tone,” he said, extending his hand toward the driver as they exchanged a formal greeting.
Her first words to him were, “So you’re Tone, huh?”
She said it with a hint of seduction in her voice, as if she had heard so much about him. Maybe Tone’s reputation may have preceded him. The thought made him smile and wonder what had been said between them. Tone was well aware how spicy females could talk about their boyfriends.
“I didn’t wanna say nuttin’…. I was waitin’ to see if Sonya would introduce us. But the bitch is so sprung she can’t even think straight,” she remarked in a northern accent. “Brianna, but people call me Bri.”
From the soft grip of her handshake, Tone became aware of femininity. He was staring at a very attractive light skin female with light brown eyes and juicy bubble lips. He held the grip a little bit longer than necessary, as he locked eyes with Bri. It was a covert flirtatious move, done right in front of his girlfriend.
“Aiight bitch, that’s enough,” Sonya playfully stated. “Let go of my man’s hand.”
“Bitch please,” Bri responded. “Ain’t anybody thinkin’ bout him except you.”
“Yeah, right,” Sonya joked. “I gotta keep my eyes on you Morgan State hoes. I know how y’all get down.”
As soon as the stoplight turned green, Brianna continued to cruise the streets of downtown Baltimore. As she drove she talked, carrying on a conversation almost exclusively with Tone. She badgered him with silly questions as she drove, as if she’d known him well.
“It feels good to be out of New York right? You like it down here? You happy to see Sonya?”
A couple times Tone had to catch himself. He was on the verge of saying something smart, like shut the fuck up. He knew that wasn’t the nice thing to say, so he didn’t. He knew it would kill the vibe. But he was growing increasingly annoyed by her questions. For the sake of peace, Tone remained polite and continued to enjoy the ride. Soon he realized it was just talk and Brianna didn’t mean anything by it. She was just running her mouth.
“Where you from,” Tone wondered, picking up on her accent. “Brooklyn? Queens? You can’t be from the Bronx.”
“I ain’t from the city,” she stated strongly as she drove. “Why do people always say that?”
“Then where you from?” Tone reiterated
“The Bricks!” Bri responded.
“Fuck is that?” Tone commented.
“Newark,” Sonya interrupted.
“Oh, Jersey. Got you,” Tone acknowledged.
“What you know about the Bricks, huh? New York niggas don’t come over there for some strange reason. We party in the city, but y’all don’t come to Jerz,” she stated.
“Pppllleeeeeaaaassssseeee,” Sonya cried. “Don’t get this bitch started wit’ that geographical nonsense. Okay, okay you from Newark, we get it. You rep ya city hard, we get that too. Let’s not turn this into a New York vs. Newark conversation. End of story.”
“Ooooohhhh, you so salty,” Bri told her. “You hate when I rep my hood.”
Sonya replied, “No, I don’t. I heard this shit from you so many times… Don’t forget we lived together our freshman year of college. This conversation is gettin’ old.”
“You just mad cause Newark better than New York, that’s all,” Brianna fired back.
“Just drive bitch!” Sonya joked.
Tone found Sonya and her friend amusing. Underneath the playfulness he could tell that the two were close. In his book Bri was very hittable. So he immediately scratched Bri off his short list of chicks he wanted to fuck in Baltimore. He knew it would kill Sonya if he had sex with her friend.
Eventually the group conversation died down and Tone and Sonya were back in their own little world, communicating without saying a word. There was a touch here and a kiss there. It w
as the language of love that they were communicating to each other. Sonya was so head over heels in love with Tone. She was lost in his arms. She snuggled close to her man, inhaling his masculine scent.
Meanwhile, Brianna drove around downtown Baltimore aimlessly. She was content with playing the role of chauffeur, despite the fact that the lovey-dovey vibe inside the car was making her feel more than a little uncomfortable.
“Can’t y’all wait til y’all get home?” she remarked.
“Just shut up and drive Bri,” her friend told her.
Tone ignored the exchange as he busied himself with examining his girlfriend’s physical features. It was obvious that he liked what he saw. It was even more obvious that he was into her. Even Bri could see that as she looked at the lovers from time to time through the rearview mirror.
Lots of discreet touching of the private parts was exchanged between the couple in the backseat. They alternated between rubbing, squeezing and caressing each other’s private parts. Quickly Tone turned his attention to her breasts while stroking her inner thighs. The more Tone did it, the more sexually aroused Sonya became. In turn she gently rubbed his penis until it was rock hard and bulging out of his jeans. Sonya’s touch aroused him, but what really turned him on was that dreamy look in her eyes. The one that seemed to say that she was his for the taking. All of this seemed like foreplay to him, the calm before the storm. He couldn’t help but think how bomb the sex would be tonight.
Soon the aroma of food infiltrated the car. The scent reminded Tone just how hungry he was.
“Yo, Bri,” he began. “Pull over, I gotta get somethin’ to eat. I’m starvin’ like Marvin back here.”
Bri did as she was told and pulled the car smoothly to the curb. Sonya rose up from the backseat to check on their whereabouts. The neon lights and bright flashing signs advertised illicit businesses, peep shows, bars and strip clubs.
B-Careful Page 3
