"What up Flash?"
He bent his knees a lil’ bit to get a better view, "Washatnin' Tyce!"
He jogged over and leaned in the window.
"I didn't know it was you nigga, where the
Range at?" He asked.
I was rolling in a new “Jeep Cherokee” with straight factory equipment.
"It's at tha house; sometimes you gotta know when to dim the lights...you feel me?" I schooled.
"Yeah, fa sho." He replied.
"You on the job?" I asked.
"You already know my nigga!" He answered raising his hands.
"How much you finna’ make in the next two hours?" I questioned.
"Shit, ‘bout three hundred...why?"
"‘Cuz I need you to run this package over to the “Mosque” for me, and time is money. I'll give you four hundred if you handle that for me."
He playfully punched me in the chest, "Hell yeah I'll drop that shit off for you!"
I gave instructions, "Look, it needs to be there this morning by ten...ask for Cory, and give it to him. Wait inside for Cory to bring you another package and bring that shit back to me. When you get the package from him, you get paid, but don't forget to bring me my shit."
Flash pulled his jeans up from around his ass and adjusted his wife beater. He snatched his hat down low on his head, college boy style and looked from side to side. Flash was 15, the same age I was when I bounced from the group home. He had a dark baby face with a long scar on the right side of his forehead. The white T-shirt he wore contrasted with his black skin and hugged his broad chest.
"That aint shit man, I got you." He said confidently.
I reached under my seat and handed him a box wrapped in brown paper, “Hit me when you get that, and I'll meet up with you." I looked in his speckled brown eyes, "Don't tell anybody I sent you!"
"Bet!" He said and dashed off.
Flash made the ten block walk and rounded the corner walking briskly up to the front door of the Mosque. He stepped inside and was immediately met by a tall man in a blue suit. Flash sized the dude up and gripped the package.
"Ay ‘cuz, I'm here to see Cory." He announced.
"Alright young man, just hold here a minute."
The clean cut man stood back and began to search Flash's body for weapons. His body tensed up when the man's hands got close to the gun that was tucked in his back. The man's hands landed on the weapon, and Flash jumped back.
"You can't come in here with that young brother," the security guard told him.
"I'm going to have to take it for now, but I'll
give it back to you when you leave."
Flash wasn't comfortable with that idea at all, but he trusted Tyce not to send him into some bullshit. He reached behind his back and handed the man the gun. The brother nodded in appreciation and allowed Flash to enter into the next room. He followed closely behind him and motioned to another man sitting in a corner. The man stood up and started to approach the two of them.
“I'm Brother Cory, what can I do for you?" He asked Flash politely.
"Yo, I got this package for you and you only."
Flash handed the beige skinned man the package and waited for his response.
"I see, well feel free to have a seat, and I'll get back with you shortly."
"Naw, I'm good, I'll jus’ stand in the back."
Flash moved to the rear of the room and leaned his back against the wall. Although he wouldn't admit it, he felt safe in the room, even without his gun. He began to relax and his ears tuned in as a young bold man preached to the full audience seated in front of him. Inside the privacy of his office, Cory opened the package. He pulled back the flaps and seen a stack of hundred dollar bills in a rubber band. The box also contained an envelope. Cory
opened the envelope and read the note inside.
Thought you might be able to put this 10,000 to
good use. Keep doin what ya doin'. Watch the dude that brought this to you, if he stays for the entire service...give him 400 dollars. And yo, please put a bean pie in a box, tape it up and give it to him.
-peace
Cory smiled at the anonymous package. He removed four hundred dollars from the stack and placed the rest of money in an office safe. He buzzed the secretary and informed her they had a donation. Cory let his curiosity take lead as he watched Flash lean against the wall listening intently to the student minister speak.
I was on my way to Omar's spot two hours later when my cell phone rang. I turned down “Young Geezy's” vocals and grabbed the phone.
"What up Flash...you got my shit."
"Nigga you know me, when have I ever slipped up?" He challenged.
"Yeah, you right my nigga that's why I sent you,” I agreed.
“You get ya money?"
"Yeah, good lookin’ out Tyce."
"Yo meet me at Omar's crib so I can get that from you." I told him.
"Bet." He shot back.
I mashed on the gas and sped toward Omar's
house. Man, I hope he hurry up ‘cuz a nigga was
straight starvin'!
Time To Go To Work
I pulled in front of Omar's crib and hopped out my jeep. His two huge Dobermans Bonnie and Clyde immediately greeted me. I tussled with them for a minute and walked up to the oversized door. Before I could knock, Omar swung the door open. I lowered my hand and looked at him like he was crazy.
"You alright?" I asked looking him up and down.
"Yeah, I'm straight." He sighed scratching his head. "Come on in, I jus’ heard the dogs barking that's all."
I walked in the living room and sat on the leather sectional. I leaned my head back against the cool leather and closed my eyes. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high heels clapping on hardwood floors. Omar's most recent girlfriend, Tasha was coming up the hallway. Tasha was a beauty queen; she was all legs and ass. She didn't mind showing off what her momma gave her. She had on jean boy shorts that let the bottom of her ass escape and a tight yellow wife beater with no bra. Her long jet-black hair swooped behind both ears and cascaded down her back, my mouth watered because of the way she was chewing her damn gum.
"O, baby have you seen my yellow earrings?" She sang, "I thought I left them on the coffee table last night."
Omar was in the kitchen grabbing two beers, and didn't see what I saw. Tasha stepped right in my view, turned around and proceeded to bend over to look for her earrings. She did this while keeping her long legs completely straight…..stripper style, less than three feet from my face. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back continuing my train of thought. She strutted off before Omar could witness the flirtation. He walked in and handed me a “Heineken,” and a pink box.
"Lil’ Flash left that shit for you earlier."
Just then, the doorbell rang, "Yo that must be Bruce”. He said.
Omar disappeared and returned with Biz's right hand man, Bruce. We exchanged mutual glares as he sat in a chair across from me. He must of thought I was a muthafuckin’ sunset ‘cuz he just stared at me.
"You niggas ready to punch in?" He finally asked.
"We stay ready so we aint gotta get ready." I came back at him.
"Yo, let's go to the pool house, ‘cuz I don't
want Tasha all in my business." Omar ordered.
Once the three of us were behind closed doors, Bruce gave me and Omar the details of the next hit; it was a drop house in Riverside. Some mid level nigga was getting too big down there. His business was beginning to sip profits from Biz's cup, and that shit couldn't happen. Biz stayed on top of the dope game because of us. Me and Omar were the two most efficient jack boys in the dope game. We controlled the competition. We robbed and bodied niggas all over the west coast. Only those niggas that Biz saw as a threat got the pleasure of meeting us. Biz already sent the messenger boys to help this new nigga see the light, but that shit aint work. Bruce informed us that those niggas was three weeks missing, so we were up next. Niggas feared us in the
streets, but the trip thing was they didn't even know who we were. Omar and I weren't known in the dope business ‘cuz we never sold the shit. All niggas knew was that Biz had a jackin’ crew that you aint wanna fuck with. It was just me and Omar, ‘cuz we aint trust nobody else. We ran up on niggas while they was fucking bitches, getting high,
playing “Madden”, or eating Christmas dinner; we aint give a fuck. This shit wasn't some smash and grab random shit…naw; we studied these niggas. We knew they habits, what they drove, what spots they partied at, what ho's they fucked with, every fucking thing. The split was 70/30 on the cash and Biz kept all the dope we found. We'd offer the niggas a deal but if they wasn't with it...then we’d fill em with some hot shit! Simple.
I insisted on just getting the loot and leaving the dope to the rest of the niggas. Yeah, some might say I was leaving money in the streets, but fuck what they say. I hate losing and too many niggas was losing in the drug game. Getting locked up, set up, flipping and spitting out names for fake ass detectives. Shit, I made sure my name wasn’t part of a bitch ass plea bargain................I didn’t fuck with them niggas…period.
Look But Don't Touch
Booom! Booom! Bap Bap Bap Bap! Me and Omar hit the shooting range at least twice a week. I wasn't with that sideways shooting-hit a nigga four times before you kill him shit. Hell naw two shots, center mass or in the dome! Simple.
"Tyce, how much Biz say them niggas is holdin'!" Omar yelled over the gunfire.
"300,000 at least." I shouted.
Omar stopped shooting and faced me, "You know we could turn 210,000 into a half a mil if we flipped that dope."
"All money aint good money my nigga." I schooled.
"Whatever you say Tyce."
He turned away and kept shooting at the distant target. I made a mental note to talk to him later about his attitude. I was focused in on my target, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around slowly and grinned when I saw Angelique.
"You know you can't shoot Tyce." She teased. “If you want I can show you how it's really done!" I stepped aside and said, "I don't mind a
woman teaching me a thing or two."
She smiled unclipped her “Gucci” purse, and pulled her pink pearl handle 9mm out. She opened her stance, squared her shoulders, and squeezed off five perfect headshots.
"Damn, remind me never to piss you off."
"You could never do that." She replied making eye contact. "Maybe next time we'll work on the...or two." She said with a wink.
Angelique was off the pillow fine. She could easily have been a model but she was to gangsta. She had brains and beauty. She had a degree in communications from “USC” but her high street IQ is what got her paid. She had the kind of body that made niggas write...pay to the order of Angelique, on their paychecks.
"When you’re finished here, meet me outside ok?" She said leaving.
Omar didn't pay Angelique no mind. He wasn't trying to end up like Scoop. So when she left he put his brain on display.
"I keep tryna tell you, that bitch is trouble Tyce. You know what happened to Scoop and I don't know how many other niggas behind her ass!"
"Dog, I don't mix business with pleasure, you
know that shit." I reminded him.
As we walked out the building and into the bright sun, we saw her leaned up against her Jag. She was parked next to Omar's “Escalade.” I took a mental picture of her tight white leggings and gold fitted shirt that gripped her hips. My eyes followed every dip and curve of her body like a roller coaster.
I walked up on her and asked, "What did you want to see me about?"
"I got you two some gifts." She answered.
"What kind of gifts?" I asked curious.
"Nothin' much, jus’ a little somethin’ I thought you could use."
"Thanks. If you woulda told me I would have came by and picked em up.” I offered.
"No problem, gives me a chance to get a little me time." She said rolling her eyes in her head. "Plus I like to know you guys are safe."
I just laughed a little after she said that. She popped her trunk and pulled out a large box. I took the box from her and tossed it to Omar.
"Ay how you know where I was anyway?" I wondered aloud.
She grinned, "You always get a little practice in before a job."
And with that, she walked back to her car jumped in and sped off.
Jack Boys
We'd been in Riverside for about two weeks checking up on this nigga Ash; we knew every move this fool made. He had a small but loyal crew. His main man was a hotheaded essay nigga named Chico. Ash had two main spots he hustled out of. He had an apartment where he cooked and bagged the product up and a little house on the east side of town that served as the drop. This niggas shit was sloppy though, he spent too much time chasing pussy and blowing money. It was easy to get up on him, whenever the drop was made only him and Chico were there to meet the bagman. We planned to hit the house fast and hard when the delivery was made.
We were sitting at a booth in the back of a spot Ash and his crew hung at. We stayed low key and just blended in with everybody else. Ash and his boys were acting a fool in the club as usual. They were at a round table throwing money at a female while she danced in the middle of their table. Ash opened a bottle of Champaign and sprayed the girl’s chest hoping to get a better view of her titties. The amateur stripper screamed with delight, putting her hands up to shield her eyes from the spray.
"What you drinkin' tonight fellas?" A cute
waitress asked me.
"Two double shots of “Bacardi”...light." I responded handing her a 50-dollar bill.
She weaved her way through the crowd and moments later returned with the drinks. She set the drinks down and started to hand me the change. I raised my hand in protest and told her to keep it. A huge smile spread across her face as she leaned closer to me. I felt a faint tap in my lap and looked down as she dropped a folded napkin on my crotch.
“That’s my number feel more than free to use it.” She whispered in my ear.
“Damn you aint shy at all huh?” I asked.
“Not really my style, I like what I like and I let you know.” She said smartly.
“Well Ms. Bold, I aint shy either.” I came back.
“Well call me and prove it, the names Angel.”
“Well, you are definitely blessed.” I complimented.
A sly smile spread across her dimpled cheeks as she turned around a let her ass wave goodbye.
“MAN… How coulda’ nigga be gay with
bitches like that around?” Omar asked
pounding the table with his fist.
“Shit I can’t call it my nigga….pussy feel too
good to throw it away.” I cosigned putting the napkin in my back pocket.
“Hell yeah!” He agreed.
“Shhiiitttt!” We said at the same time laughing at each other’s expressions.
It was 12 midnight. The bagman arrived at the house between two and three in the morning. We watched as two of the four niggas from the crew left with the wet dancer, leaving only him and Chico. As usual, on drop nights, Ash and Chico sent everybody else on their way. We downed the shots and left out the back exit. We hopped in the rental car and headed toward the house. Before we got there, we pulled over in a dark alley to grab a case we'd hidden earlier. Omar opened the case full of equipment and we both suited up. Exactly 15 minutes later, we were posted under the wooden porch of the drop house waiting on the bagman.
Devil nThe Flesh
Biz pulled his cell phone out and dialed slowly. He was sitting across the table from some bosses he'd flown in from D.C. He held his hand up to excuse himself before he spoke into the phone.
"Tyce; I was jus’ checkin’ to see if you gonna make it to that party tonight?" He paused while he listened, "Good, good, well I hope you two have a blast, hit me later, and let me know how it went. Give my regards to the host." He said coldly.
He returned his at
tention to the guest in his office. Orlando and Marcus were two major hustlers from the east coast. They were looking to expand to California and Biz was the nigga to see. In exchange for a piece of his pie, Biz wanted a slice of theirs. The deal was already set; all that was needed was a few details and handshakes. One detail the D.C. niggas were concerned about was how Biz handled resistance in his organization.
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