by Ace Gucciano
Dre’s guilty conscience about the whole thing made him shake his head with a shameful look, the minute Maniac asked what happen to Trouble and Smoke responded.
“Mannnn, da shit happened so fast, but all I remember was when da’ car stopped. I know he had to hit his head hard on dat windshield cause I seen a big crack in dat muhfucka befo’ I jumped out and got da’ fuck on.”
“Damn I hope he a’ight.” Dre continued stressing, “Cause ain’t no tellin’ how his mom gone react when she finds out.”
Moments later maniac got up, walked towards his living room window, took a peek through the blinds, looked around for a moment and started getting an ill feeling as he looked towards the Hispanics they robbed.
“Check dis shit out y’all.” He told Dre and smoke. They took a look for themselves, and could tell by the way the Hispanics they hit up was eyeing every black person they seen with a good number of friends trying to find the ones who had the audacity to try them the way they did as they loaded their furniture on a U-Haul truck to move. After looking they took a seat on the sofa.
“So what are we gone dawg?” Smoke asked nervously.
“Fuck dem muhfuckas cuzzo! Dis our hood, dey know dat shit. Dat's why dey doin' da’ best thang dey can, packin dey shit and getting da fuck on!” Maniac said with anger.
“I feel ya my nigga fuck em’…I’m just worried ‘bout my nigga Trouble.” Dre said still concerned about Trouble as he turned on the TV; “I gotta catch da’ news at six to see if dey say anything ‘bout dat shit.”
At six o’clock Maniac turned the TV to Channel Two Action News and they paid close attention as the reporter said
“A high-speed chase took place today in Clayton County which involved four black males. Authorites say they received an anonymous call alerting them of several shots being fired and a possible robbery taking place inside Lexington Square Townhouses…The person who made the anonymous phone call told authorities the guys involved fled the scene in this stolen Honda Civic.” Maniac, Smoke and Dre were in awe, when they showed the condition of the car they fled the scene from. “Authorities say they were en route to Lexington Square, when they saw a Honda Civic with four black males inside, that fit the same description run a red light…So they made a U-turn and ran the license plates. When the car came back stolen, this man, Mr. Daunté Jones took authorities on a high-speed chase for more than twenty minutes. The chase came to a conclusion when Mr. Jones lost control of the vehicle, it spun out of control, and hit a light pole when he tried to dodge a road spike…The other three suspects that were involved fled the scene, and remain on the loose tonight…Now authorities are putting together a list of charges for Daunté Jones, who remains in a coma in ICU at Grady Memorial Hospital. If you have any leads or know anything regarding this case please contact crime stoppers or the Clayton County Police Department.”
Dre put the TV on mute feeling miserable and depressed about all the shit that had taken place, and said, “Man, we gotta come up wit an alibi befo’ we end up dead or in jail!”
“I feel ya cuzzo! But fo’ right now we gotta stay under da’ radar as much as possible,” said Maniac, “and stay together as much as possible, cause ain’t no tellin’ who saw Trouble on da’ news,” Dre mentioned, “Hell yeah, my nigga erry’body and dey momma know Trouble our potna, but if push comes to shove and da’ folks try to lock me up I’m having court in da’ street wit dem muhfuckas. Shit I ain’t going back to jail, and dat’s on erry’thang I love!” Maniac made it known as he unmuted the TV, turned it to BET and started watching Set It Off.
Chapter 7
The next day Trouble’s mom was in her room folding clothes that she had just taken out of the dryer when her phone began to ring. As soon as she answered she heard a voice say,
“I’m Detective Sims. I’m calling to inform you that your son, Daunté Jones, has been in a bad car accident, and right now he’s in a coma at Grady’s ICU.”
“What!!” she screamed, “I’m on my way!” she hollered before hanging up and grabbing her keys and purse and running out to her car.
Twenty minutes late she arrived at the hospital, parked and hurried inside where she approached the receptionist hysterically saying,
“I’m here to see my son, Daunté Jones. I just got a call from Detective Sims saying he been in a bad car wreck, and he’s in ICU, please tell me what room he in!”
The receptionist looked his name up on the computer, then gave her his room number. The moment she stepped off the elevator and began walking in the direction of his room she saw two police officers standing outside of a room, side by side, but as she came closer she realized that two officers were in front of her son’s room. She noticed the patch on their shoulder had Clayton County Police on it. Once she reached to open the door and go inside, the officer that stood to the right stuck his hand out to stop her saying
“Umm-Ma’am May I help you?”
She replied with anger, “Yes you can! I believe one of y’all just called me saying my son been in a bad car wreck, and I told you I’m on my way here. Now excuse me I really do need to see my son, he needs me.”
“Uhh-Ma’am Detective Sims contacted you; I believe he needs to have a word with you.” The officer replied as he took out his phone and began calling the detective. She stood there clueless waiting for him to arrive wondering what was it that he could possibly need to speak with her about. The moment he arrived he came up to here and said
“Hello ma’am, I’m Detective Sims, I spoke with you earlier. What’s your name?”
She snapped, “Look get to the point, what do you need to talk to me about?”
“Well Ma’am, it’s your son.”
“What about him?” She question as she started getting an eerie feeling he was about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.
“He’s in a coma ma’am, due to him and his three friends taking my officers on a high-speed chase, which took place early yesterday morning it t—”
“Are you talking about the chase that started off in Lexington Square?” She immediately cut him off to ask about.
“Yes ma’am…and I contacted you hoping I can get any information that you may have about the three guys he had with him and their whereabouts. We have—”
Before Detective Sims had a chance to finish he could tell something was up with her, and it was, she went into deep thought saying to herself, Damn I can’t believe dis shit! That was my son in that car I called the police on…Naw dis shit can’t be happening to me again.
At first she thought it was a dream but the second he tapped her she came back to reality as he asked her, “Ma’am do you know the three individuals he had with him, so I can put warrants out for their arrest.” That minute she begin to hold her chest as if she was losing her breath and couldn’t breathe. He then hollered, “Help!!” and the doctors rushed over to where they stood, sat her down in a wheelchair, and ran her into a room to find out what’s wrong with her.
$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $
Two weeks later Maniac, Smoke, and Dre sat in Maniacs living room smoking mid and drinking Four Loko’s, getting ready to watch the San Antonio Spurs play the Miami Heat in game seven of the NBA finals. Maniac was hyped, so hyped he yelled,
“I’ll bet whateva y’all muhfuckas wanna bet, dat King James be da’ MVP when dey win dis shit!”
Dre had a smirk on his face thinking, Who da’ fuck gone bet dis clown knowing he ain’t got shit.
Smoke blurted, “Shit what yo wanna bet dawg? I like my boy Tony Parker and Dat Nigga Tim Duncan. Dey too much fo’ Miami Dawg!”
Before Maniac could reply he heard a knock on the door, instantly he grabbed his F&N, Smoke pulled his glock .40 out of his waist, and Dre snatched his desert eagle off the living room table, and began creeping to the front door. Maniac looked through the peephole, then told Smoke and Dre telling them, “Oh! Dis da’ delivery man.” Once he saw the red Papa Johns’ hat he had on. As soon as he opened the door a flyer fell on the
floor. He picked it up and handed it to Dre while he paid for their order.
Once he paid the delivery man and closed the door, he could tell Smoke and Dre’s attention was on the flyer they were reading that someone had left on his door. On his way to the kitchen with the Pizza’s Dre hollered excitedly.
“Yo it’s goin' down dis weekend, da’ rental office throwin a party to end da’ summer. What y’all boys wanna do?”
“Shit!! Da’ last da pool gone be open till next summer, boy it’s going down! I betcha all da bad bitches dat stay out here gone be out there too.” Smoke mentioned.
“Calm y’all ass down!! And let me see dat shit!” Maniac hollered with anger in his voice as he snatched the flyer out of Smoke’s hand before looking through the blinds to see if any other residence had flyers on their door as well.
“Damn! Fuck you gotta attitude fo’ nigga!?” Smoke asked, feeling tension in Maniac’s voice as he looked out the window.
“Naw, I ain’t got no attitude cuzzo! But I try to stay on point bruh…shit fo’ all we know dis shit coulda been a set-up by dem cartel muhfuckas.” Maniac expressed as he started reading the flyer that said,
‘Come one, come all to the biggest and baddest pool party of the summer. And celebrate with us as we end the summer in style with Music, Food, Drinks and sign-up to play in our Spade Tournament where the winning team wins $500 in cash. Hope to see you there…’
~Lexington Square Property Management
After reading Maniac looked up at Smoke and Dre saying, “Hell yeah, cuzzo! We definitely got –” and out the blue ‘Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems’ Maniac ringtone started playing, stopping him from finishing what he was about to say. He then said
“Dis some money, turn da TV down!” by it being a number he couldn’t identify, then answered saying “Aye, what’s good?” on the other end he heard a voice recording “You have a collect call from ‘Sean Bradley’ an inmate at Clayton County Jail, to accept this call press one, to reject this call press—”
He immediately pressed one, telling Dre and Smoke “Dis dat boy, Slick” as they were connected.
“Yo! Wat da’ hell y’all boys got going on out there!? Y’all niggaz can’t do shit right! And I was countin’ on y’all boys to come through fo’ me, yelled, and why da’ fuck y’all leave Trou—”
“Aye, Aye, Aye!! You talkin' reckless Cuzzo!! Maniac butted in and said.
“OH! My bad, playboy! My bad!...I’m just in a rush to get da’ fuck outta jail so I can get back to da’ money, and get me a lawyer dat can beat dis shit.” Slick hysterically voiced.
“Lemme holla at em’ fo’ a minute home.” Said Dre taking a sip of his Four Loko before grabbing the phone from Maniac.
“What’s up wit ya’ in there big homie?” he inquired.
“Shit you know ain’t nuthin going on in dis muhfucka, but we been on Lockdown fo’ a week cause two niggaz got to fightin’ on da’ rec yard…only reason dey let us off, was to catch da’ last game of da’ finals. Dat’s why I ain’t been callin' y’all, playboy.”
“Damn I ain’t know dat…Hold it down it dat muhfucka tho homie, we tryna put out heads together and see wat we can come up wit fo’ ya’ what dey talkin' bout on ya’ case tho?”
“Come on you know I’mma hold it down playboy, and I know y’all gone pull through fo’ me, what’s understood ain’t gotta be explained…But I just got indicted on dis shit da’ other day, so it ain’t lookin’ too good.”
“Damn dat shit was quick homie.:
“Hell yeah…dat’s why I gotta hurry up and make bond. Y’all boys come on and come through fo’ me ASAP.” Slick emphasized right before the automated recording cut in and said “You have two minutes remaining on this call.”
And then Dre quickly uttered “Big homie I told you we got you, stop stressin’ befo’ you run ya’ blood pressure up!! Told you we got some in da’ making just chill.”
“A’ight that’s what’s—”
“Sorry this call was terminated, because it reached its length.” Said the automated recording. Once the call was terminated Slick through to himself;
“Somethin’ gotta give I can’t go from bein’ on top living like a king, to bein’ in a cell…hell naw! I gotta come up wit a plan.”
On the other end as soon as Dre ended the call Smoke asked
“Yo, what Slick talking bout dawg, he still stressin’ like a muhfucka?”
“You know he is bruh…But I didn’t feel right tellin’ em’ we can’t do nuthin’ fo’ em’ cause we too hot, so I just told em’ we got some in da’ making. Shit dat’s da’ only thang I could say, cause if I tell em’ da’ truth he ain’t gone feel dat shit. He ain’t feeling nuthin but hearing his name called once we made bail fo’ em’, dat’s on da’ real…I know em’ like a book.”
Maniac put the TV on mute and looked at Dre and Smoke with a facial expression that said it’s clutch time, do or die, put up or shut-up, so what I’m bout to say to y’all I’m dead serious about. And then he asked “How y’all boys feel bout hittin’ another lick!?” before they could turn him down he told em, “Desperate times call fo’ desperate measures, and right now all our backs are against da’ wall worse than they were before we made dat move wit Trouble…we ain’t gaining shit sittin' in da’ crib twenty-four seven like we on house arrest or hiding from a nigga, but we can gain a lot if we get up, get out, and try to get sumthin. Y’all might not feel me, but I’m tired of sitting in da’ crib we da’ real takers! Just like da’ movie if a muhfucka got it and we want it, we coming to get it straight like dat, y’all know da’ motto!!”
The minute he was done getting his point across Smoke chuckled with a smirk on his face uttering “Aye dis on da’ real, I feel where you coming from dawg…but I think it's too soon to get back out there, what you thank Dre?”
“Bruh I feel da’ same way Maniac feel. It’s now or neva my nigga, do or die cause tomorrow ain’t promised. We hot as a firecracker right now! So what do you have on ya’ mind dis time Maniac?” Dre eagerly questioned.
“Ill let you know when time presents itself, too many ears in here fo’ me to say anything now!”
That second Smoke glanced over at Maniac and chuckled, from peeping the bullshit reverse-psychology he tried to use on him but didn’t let it get to him. He knew for a fact that he was real and knew Maniac did too so he let the statement he made go in one ear, and out the other.
Chapter 8
The night that Ms. Jones body began to shake, and she kept pounding her chest the doctors decided to keep her in the hospital until they found out what exactly was going on with her. Once they ran a few test they came to the conclusion that she suffered from a panic attack. Days later, she stood in her hospital room window on the fourteenth floor looking down at the city when Dr. Jacob came in and told her;
“Okay Ms. Jones we ran several test, your blood is good, your insulin level is straight, your heart is in good health, your liver, kidneys and pancreas are okay. You were suffering from a panic attack, anxiety, in other words…You are aware of what this is, and how it’s caused aren’t you?”
“Yeah, different reasons.” She replied taking a deep breath. “The one that I came from stressing about my son who’s in a coma in ICU he’s all that I have Doc,” she said sadly.
“Oh! Okay, I’m sorry to hear that Ms. Jones…Other than that you’re free to go ma’am.”
“Okay, thanks!”
She then got herself together, grabbed all of her belongings and hurried to the elevator to make her way down to her son's room. But the second she stepped off the elevator she spotted two totally different officers guarding his door. When she made it to them she said
“Excuse me officer, but I’m the guy in the room Daunté Jones’ mom. I need to see if he’s okay?”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible at the moment ma’am, the officer guarding the door standing the closest to her stated.
“Why not!” She furiously asked then told him “Let
me speak to one of the doctors!” With a attitude trying to keep her cool.
“Okay ma’am, no problem” he politely responded before doing so. Five minutes later when the doctor approached her she sadly looked him in the eyes and stated.
“Is it okay for me to see my son in the room sir, he’s in a coma and he needs me!” with sympathy hoping he’ll allow her the opportunity.
“Uhh-ma’am ‘m sorry but the condition he’s in at the moment is extremely critical…He hit his head extremely hard!”
“I just need to see him for a brief moment, I’ll make it fast…pleaseee?” she begged.
“I’m sorry ma’am but I’m gonna have to say no.” he replied before walking away.
Thirty minutes later when she made it home, she ran some bath water, went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of pink Moscato out the refrigerator, and poured a glass before going back upstairs to get in the tub. On her way up she glanced at a picture that her and her son took together before he went to prison, and bought it up with her.
Minutes later, she was in the tub sipping her Moscato reminiscing on all the good times her and her son shared while soaking. Suddenly the house phone rung, she hurried and stepped out, wrapped a towel around her and ran to the phone praying itwas her son that’s calling.
As soon as she made it to her room and picked up she heard a male voice with a Jamaican voice.
“Hello! I’m Mr. Johnson callin’ from Kroger, can I speak tu Mr. Daunté Jones?”
Ms. Jones had a good feeling he was calling to tell him to come in for a interview or he got the job but didn't know how to respond since she didn’t have a clue as to when he’d wake up from the coma so she told him.
“Uh-he’s not in at the moment. May I have him call you when he make it home?”
