Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose

by Floyd, Justin Amen

  “What’s up, Fat Mack?” yelled out one of the young dope boys who had gathered around Dot who was now fuming, as she had been telling her story.

  “Well for the Album—‘cause the record is too muthafuckin’ short— pimps is up, these hoes is down, and money makes the muthafuckin’ world go round!” Fat Mack quipped.

  “Yeah, well we getting’ this money out here too nigga,” responded another young hustler, flashing a stack of folded bills.

  Fat Mack smirked. “Well it ain’t trickin’ if you got it, right?” Fat Mack laughed to himself at this saying, made popular by a bunch of lames who were clueless to the game. If you paid to play, you were a trick; point blank, period. But if it made them sucker ass niggas more comfortable with spending that cash for ass, Fat Mack would use it to his advantage. “And I see you got it playa, so let me know when you ready to spend it. ‘Cause for the right price I got bitches on my team that can do the shit you only seen in a wet dream.” The rear driver’s side window rolled down and sitting directly behind Fat Mack was Sassy. Sassy was a caramel bombshell with an innocent face and an abnormally long tongue. She slowly extended her tongue out of her mouth until it was touching the tip of her chin. Then she curled it up until it touched the tip of her nose. Once she was finished with her little freak show, Sassy just smiled mischievously and rolled her window back up. Fat Mack just chuckled at the lewd comments and looks of lust he saw on the faces of the many people (men and women) gathered outside of the Lil Cricket.

  “You seen that shit homey? That hoe is a muthafuckin magician wit’ her mouth nigga! She’ll make your dick disappear down her throat and lick your balls wit’ her tongue all at the same time! So let me know when you ready to see some magic tricks,” stated Fat Mack. He enjoyed the attention he got from the people, but sitting around entertaining these niggas wasn’t putting any funds in his pocket. The night was still young and there was a lot of money to be made. He had a whole night’s worth of dates set up for his girls. Besides, any pimp worth his salt knew the game was to be sold, not told. He turned the music back up, pressed a button and the window closed as he slowly pulled off into the night.

  As soon as Fat Mack had pulled off, Dot did her little ‘crack head shuffle’ and started back up with her account of the events that had taken place earlier that day. “So then Meka ran outta bullets and pulled two clips from out of her socks…”

  CHAPTER 8

  After the shootout, Ant D and Meka had quickly made the decision to put their mother up in a hotel in downtown Greenville until they had enough time to figure out their next move. It wasn’t like she couldn’t be touched downtown, but the chances of it happening were a lot less likely in an expensive hotel that was so close to the sheriff’s office. Besides, Zulu or whoever was gunning for them didn’t really want Glo anyway. They wanted Ant D and Meka. But if they couldn’t touch the twins, it was safe to say that they’d be willing to take their mother’s life instead. Ant was a killer and he knew how niggas like him thought. And God forbid, but if anything happened to Glo because of some shit they had done, neither Meka nor Ant would be able to live with themselves. She hadn’t been the best mother in the world, but she was the only one they had. Despite her neglect and all the bullshit they’d been through because of it, they still loved her.

  So they had hurriedly packed a couple of suitcases full of clothes, toiletries and whatever else Gloria felt like she would need to maintain for a few weeks. Ant placed the suitcases into the trunk of Meka’s Chrysler 300. The Chrysler was far less conspicuous than her custom painted pink Range Rover Sport or his own flip flop Corvette. They were attempting to be as low key as possible. The last thing they were trying to do was attract attention right now.

  Meka had assumed that Ant was coming with them to the hotel, but she wasn’t completely surprised when he told her that he was staying at the house instead. She knew her brother. She and Glo both had tried to talk him out of it, but Ant wasn’t trying to hear it. To him, going to the hotel with his mama and sister after somebody had just shot up their house felt too much like a bitch move; like he was running. In his mind it would be like saying that he was scared. Fuck that. Ant wasn’t running from nothing, or nobody.

  Seeing that they weren’t going to change Ant’s mind, Meka and Glo both gave him a long hug and a kiss. Gloria stepped back with tears streaming down her cheeks. Neither knew for sure if this would be the last time they’d see each other. The mood was somber. He could see the trepidation in his mother’s eyes. “Look. Y’all trippin’. I got this here. Don’t even worry ‘bout me. I’m good. Im’a be up to the hotel in a couple of days to check on you. Ok mama?” He smiled, something Gloria realized that she hadn’t seen him do in a long time, then wiped away her tears with the tips of his thumbs. Gloria just nodded, not wanting her voice to betray her. His words did little to allay her fears as she and Meka headed to the car.

  As Meka was backing out of the driveway, a navy blue Greenville County police cruiser with yellow stripes along the side pulled up. There were two Deputies in it inhibiting her from backing up any further. Her first thought had been to slam her foot down on the accelerator and peel off on them muthafuckas. She did have both a loaded weapon and her “medicine” in her handbag. But upon second thought, she quickly changed her mind. Ant wasn’t in the car. He had numerous warrants out for his arrest, and the last thing she wanted to do was get into a high speed chase with her mama in the car. Besides, there were only two of them and they didn’t even have their lights flashing. Meka knew that when the Greenville County Sheriff’s office came for you, they came deep. Nothing had been done to give the pigs probable cause to search her or the car, so she decided to see what the fuck these clowns wanted. But she kept the ignition running… just in case.

  “What’s going on?” asked Glo, glancing at her daughter, then into the rearview mirror at the officers as they sat in the idling vehicle.

  “I’m not sure mama, but we don’t know nothin’,” said Meka pointedly. She watched from the side mirror as one of the officers got out of the car and approached cautiously. His partner stayed in the car, running the tags, Meka guessed. She silently thanked God that they were clean. As he walked up, she paid attention to his every movement. Meka had no idea that Ant was at the living room window. He had the officer in the crosshairs of a M16, one of the many guns he and Mike had procured a few months ago after some niggas had left Meka for dead. He wasn’t sure why they were there, but if they were looking for him, then they could hold court right there in the streets. Going to jail wasn’t on Ant D’s list of things to do anytime soon.

  Once the officer finally got to the car, he looked in and said “Good afternoon ladies. How y’all doing? I’m Deputy Cox and we’re responding to calls about shots reportedly heard coming from this house,” he said looking around. He noticed the shattered kitchen windows and the scattered shell casings that still littered the yard. “Do you ladies live here?” he asked.

  “Nope,” replied Meka, shortly.

  “Well, do you know who does?” he asked pulling out a notepad and a pen.

  Is this muthafucka serious? thought Meka. It was so typical of the Greenville County Police Department to just now be responding to some shit that had happened hours earlier. Unless somebody got killed, these muthafuckas took their sweet time; especially if it was in a black neighborhood. Then for this cocksucker to have the audacity to think that she was going to help them do their job!? Meka screwed her face up like she smelled shit and said “Look, officer, I just told you that we don’t live here. And no, we don’t know who does. And we definitely don’t know anything ‘bout a shooting. I’m really sorry but we can’t help you. So, if there’s nothing else… can we go?”

  “Ma’am… can I see some identification please?” the deputy asked. Meka sucked her teeth loudly. Annoyed, she reached into her hand bag. Her hand brushed up against her Glocc as she pulled out one of her many fake licenses and handed it over to the officer. The name wasn’t hers
and the address belonged to her uncle who stayed in the Oakview projects. Deputy Cox looked at the license. If he decided to run it through the system it would be obvious that she wasn’t that person. Meka began to sweat a little bit. When Deputy Cox finally handed her back the license it had felt like hours had passed but it had actually only been a few seconds.

  The Deputy looked at Gloria expectantly. She just stared back at him, with her arms crossed, refusing to say anything. Deputy Cox had been on the force long enough to know that the occupants of the gray Chrysler knew a lot more than they were saying. He could’ve been an asshole and had them both detained for questioning, but for what? He’d done his job by responding to the call. In fact the two bitches in the car had done him a favor by being uncooperative; less paperwork. He looked to his partner, who had indeed been running the license plate, to see if anything outstanding had come up. When the other officer shook his head no, Deputy Cox reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a card. “Well you ladies enjoy the rest of your day, and if you do happen to hear anything about this incident then please feel free to give me a call.” He extended the card to Meka and smiled one of those plastic smiles that cops smiled when they wanted to appear friendly. She stared at the card like it might be contaminated. Deputy Cox turned beet red. He placed the card back into his pocket and walked briskly back to his car. “Goddamn monkeys,” he mumbled under his breath as he got into the police car, backed up and sped off.

  Meka slowly backed her car out of the driveway and turned in the opposite direction, heading towards downtown Greenville. Before she got halfway down the road, her cell phone started ringing. “What dem boys had wanted?” asked Ant D.

  Meka sucked her teeth. “Them muthafuckas just wanted to know ‘bout that shit that happened earlier. I told you one of them nosey muhfuckas was gon’ call the police. Ain’t shit though, you know I played dumb on they ass.”

  “Well I know that wasn’t too hard for yo ass to do,” he said, teasing his sister.

  “Fuck you,” she responded, playfully.

  “They ain’t ask you shit ‘bout me though?”

  “Naw. If they had, you know I woulda called you and told you to get the fuck out the house nigga! Look let me get off this phone. Once I get mama to the hotel and settled in, I’ma come back through to the house a lil’ later.” Meka turned on the radio and glanced over at her mother who was staring out the window, still in shock from the day’s events. 107.3 Jamz was playing a Stevie Wonder’s song: “These Three Words.” “When was the last time that they heard you say… mother or father I love you/ and when was the last time that they heard you say, daughter or son, I love you… The beautiful, timeless sound of Stevie’s voice and the message of the song brought a pang to Gloria’s heart and tears to her eyes as she thought about Mike. She reflected back on the night her kids had brought a friend of theirs home and asked if he could stay. It had been years ago but she could remember it like it was only yesterday…

  “Mama! Mama!” yelled Ant as he ran through the front door of the house, the screen door slamming loudly behind him.

  “Anthony!” yelled Gloria, after making sure there was nothing wrong with him. “What I tell you ‘bout runnin’ in and out this house like you crazy, boy? And lettin’ that door slam behind you like that?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I know. I know Mama but—”

  “And where’s Meka?” she asked, cutting him off. “Y’all need to be gettin’ in here and gettin’ ready for dinner,” said Gloria. Ant and Meka were thirteen at the time, and Glo had only recently gotten back into the lives of her children after many years of drug abuse and abandonment. Being a parent was so foreign to her that at times, she felt as if she was playing the role of a mother more than actually being one. She was doing the best she could.

  “Meka’s on the porch with Mike.”

  “Mike? Mike, who?” she inquired.

  “Our friend Mike, mama. Can he stay for dinner?”

  Never one to turn a hungry stomach away from a hot plate of her cooking, Gloria agreed to let her childrens’ friend stay for dinner. As he ate, Mike told Gloria about what his life had been like for the fourteen years he had been on this earth. He talked about his mother dying while giving birth to him and how he’d immediately been given up for adoption by his grandparents (whenever Mike acted out he’d maliciously learn about his beginnings from the different families and social workers who had access to his file). He told her how different families would adopt him and treat him like shit. Then after they got their extra money from the government they’d discard him back to the Department of Social Services. He talked about all of this in a matter of fact tone as if he was simply saying “it’s hot outside”.

  It wasn’t until after they had finished eating and Gloria was clearing the table, that her kids revealed their true intentions. Mike had just run away from the Greenville Group Home and he obviously had no family and nowhere to stay. “Can he stay here for a few days, mama?” asked Meka and Ant D. Gloria pretended to be thinking it over, but she knew all too well what it was like to feel alone in a cold, calloused world. So after hearing Mike’s story, there was no way she could say no. Of course, those “few days” eventually turned into weeks and those weeks into months. Years later, Gloria had come to love Mike as if she had given birth to him herself. He had affectionately called her Ms. D. and they would often laugh, joke and just talk about life.

  As she rode in the car, headed toward the hotel, Gloria could hear the sound of Mike’s voice and see him laughing in her head. She stared out the window of the car and smiled at the memory. The tears streamed down her face and ran into her mouth. The salty bitterness brought her back to reality and reminded her of the fact that she was crying.

  $$$

  Later that night, Ant D paced back and forth in the living room of his mother’s house with the lights off. The house was pitch black except for the dim glimmer of light coming from the streetlights. Ant’s eyes had already adjusted themselves to the darkness, so he had no problem seeing as he continued to walk a hole into the light beige carpet. He had an AK-47 strapped over his shoulder, and an assortment of other high powered guns and artillery laid out all over the leather couch. He was ready for whatever. There was about a half an ounce of that girl lined up on the glass coffee table. Occasionally, Ant would stop pacing long enough to take a couple of hits up his nose. He was already on edge and the coke only heightened his senses, making him even more paranoid. Every noise he heard sounded like an enemy. Every car that passed was filled with assassins coming to kill him. His finger tightened around the trigger. He sniffed.

  His cell phone went off. The unexpected sound of the ringtone caused him to involuntarily squeeze the trigger of the assault rifle, discharging bullets into the wall. Damn! I’m trippin’ like a muhfucka, he thought to himself as the phone rang again. “Many men, many, many, many, many, men wish death upon me/ Lord I don’t cry no more, don’t look to the sky no more/ have mercy on me, have mercy on my soul, so when my heart turns cold…” 50 Cent’s song Many Men from his classic debut album Get Rich or Die Trying was a somber but fitting ringtone given earlier events, Ant’s mood and the way he was feeling right now.

  Ant didn’t bother to answer it, as he noticed the headlights of a car pull into the driveway. He couldn’t tell what type of vehicle it was, but it really didn’t matter. He cocked the rifle, pulled back the curtains and peeped through the blinds in the living room. He quickly moved to the kitchen windows which were still blown out. Ant D aimed the assault rifle at the car and waited for his would be murderers to get out so he could start blasting. He wanted to see their blood spill. He needed to see their bodies sprawled out on the fucking pavement, dead. His index finger rested firmly on the trigger and he braced himself as he got ready to squeeze. Whoever was in the car killed the ignition and then the lights. That’s when Ant noticed the gray Chrysler 300. It looked like Meka’s but he wasn’t sure. It could’ve been a fucking set up. It could’ve been under
covers (they were known for riding around the city in cars they had confiscated from dope boys). And it would be nothing for Zulu to send some goons at him in a car he was familiar with to draw him out. He kept his finger on the trigger.

  The driver’s door began to open. Just as Ant was applying pressure to the trigger, he recognized the figure that was getting out of the car. It was his sister. Ant shivered, broke out into a cold sweat and quickly lowered the gun. What the fuck was he doing!? He’d almost killed his own fucking sister. Meka would never know how close she’d come to being gunned down by her own brother.

  “Nigga, why the fuck is all the lights off in here?” asked Meka as she entered the house and turned the kitchen light on. Ant’s red eyes blinked at the sudden illumination. “You done turned into a vampire or some shit?” she asked Ant jokingly.

  “Naw. Maybe you done forgot, but muhfuckas just tried to kill our ass earlier! And I don’t know ‘bout you, but I damn sure ain’t tryna make they job no easier!” he retorted, angrily flipping the light switch back off. The house descended back into darkness.