“I know what you mean my nigga, she is fine as fuck! I’ma make that bitch suck my dick before we hand her over.” TJ planned.
After contemplating the groundwork, they grabbed the bag of money and shook the spot. They drove towards Santa Monica, Lincoln picked a low-key hotel off the strip and checked in, they decided the best course of action was to hit the hotspots cause where there are half naked bitches there was always flossy niggas. TJ studied the photos of the Range and Tyce while Lincoln showered. He ran his finger over Angelique’s photos and thought to himself…
“Damn she a bad bitch, I mean from head to toe flawless…but pretty bitches get it too!”
Sure that they were dressed to fit in they grabbed the Intel on their marks and headed back towards LA. The first stop was a spot called Fury, a fine little fish at the gas station told them that was the hottest spot in town. They cased the parking lot looking for the “Range Rover.”
“This nigga aint here.” Lincoln said. “Let’s check inside, case he rode with his homeboy or somthin', back in the parking spot close to the back door.”
They paid the hundred each it took to bypass the endless line. Once inside the packed club they posted up at a table in the corner. They took turns going to the bar and the bathroom so they could case the joint from two angles. It only took a few minutes for them to realize their mark was not in attendance that night.
The Draft
I pulled up to the small arena and valet parked my Cherokee. I stepped out and handed the young brother a 20. He thanked me with big eyes and jumped in my front seat. Once inside the arena I found my place ringside and relaxed. I was sitting next to a loud-mouthed Italian dude. He was leaning over talking to a girl half his age.
“Watch this baby; you see that nigger in the red trunks? He’s gonna put that other nigger on his fuckin’ back!” He shouted in her ear over the crowd noise.
As he talked he gestured wildly with his hand. I peeped the big diamond and gold rings that squeezed each of his sausage fingers. The flossy Italian was dressed in a five hundred dollar silk shirt and two thousand dollar slacks. He must of weighed at least two hundred and eighty pounds. The black slacks wrapped around his upper thigh, revealed a knot in his left pocket.
I grinned to myself and nudged him in his mushy
shoulder.
“Yo, seem like you know your shit!” I yelled over the crowd noise.
“Yeah, I knocked a few motherfuckers out in
my day…still will if I have to.” he responded looking me up and down.
“I bet you will!” I said appearing to be impressed. “I didn’t mean to ear hustle, I’m jus’ trying to get some info on these boxers. I wanted to place a bet but I got here too late.” I baited.
“Oh yeah…who’d you wanna bet on?” He leaned in.
“I was thinkin’ the dude in tha black trunks. He seems like he can bang a lil’ bit. I was about to put ten G's on him but the fuckin’ window closed on me, damn LA traffic!” I complained.
Out comes a sweaty wad from Italian Jonnies pocket and his barely legal date begins dancing in her chair anticipating him winning some money.
“How ‘bout we make a little wager boy?”
I paused for a second then turned to the couple seated next me. I explained the situation and asked the man if I can borrow the services of his girlfriend to hold the cash. Obliged and intrigued the couple both agreed. I whipped out my money and handed it to the cute girl; Italian Jonnie did the same. Our new accountant placed it under her ass,
“I’ll keep it warm right her boys!”
With the money secured, I relaxed and enjoyed the fight. As the fight began, the two warriors eyed and circled around each other in a smooth bouncing rhythm. They measured each other with straight jabs and faints. My newfound friend jumped to his feet when his guy landed a solid body punch.
"Yeahhh!" He screamed.
My man danced back and smiled at his opponent, thanking him for giving him more of a reason to knock is ass out. He began to break down the defense of his opponent by timing his punches and countering with right hooks. By the end of the first round, my less enthusiastic friend was sitting down. He saw what I already knew...my ten thousand was bet on a superior boxer. The opening of the second round brought both fighters to the middle of the ring. My dude began to use heavy body blows to make his opponent drop his hands and set him up for a brutal head shot. His plan worked perfectly as he connected with a left hook that staggered the man. He pushed off his opponent as he attempted to hug him in an effort to regain his focus. Now with some distance to work with he hit him with a stiff jab and rocked him with a right hand lead. The ropes dug into his skin as he stumbled backward. The ropes pushed him forward just in time to meet an uppercut that almost decapitated him. His legs melted and he literally went to sleep standing up! The crowd erupted as the fighter hit the canvass and the ref began to count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten thousand dollars, YOU’RE OUT!!
This time I jumped up and yelled, "YEAHHHH!!"
I turned to my Italian buddy, "Hey, you win some you lose some."
"Yeah that guy's a fucking bum!" He complained. "I could of done better than that!"
"Hey, I'd put money on ya." I encouraged.
I was politely interrupted by a soft tap on my arm. I turned my attention to the pretty lady holding 20 grand and giving me a congratulating smile.
"Here you go." She said handing me the stack.
"Thanks baby."
"No problem, it was a pleasure just to hold it!" She admitted. "Keep the hundred on the top...it has some extra numbers on it." She said with a wink.
"I'll do that." I responded. I peeled off five hundred dollars and put it in her palm. "Take your boyfriend out to dinner and buy yourself somethin’ nice."
"Thank you...and he's NOT my boyfriend." She corrected.
I smiled and nodded at her date, thanking him for
his services.
"You gotta good girlfriend here, you're a lucky man!" I yelled over the cheers.
"You got that right! She’s an angel! Congrats on the win!" He shouted back.
I shook the loser’s chubby hand and made my way through the crowd toward the back of the arena. I coulda’ socked him when I heard him call the man a "nigger" but what good would that do. I'd rather hit him in the pockets where he'll feel it...I never miss an opportunity to make some quick cash; that shit was too easy. I walked into the back dressing rooms and stood against the wall. The double doors swung open as the next fighters made their way to the ring. I slid in behind them as they left and went into the locker rooms.
"Wasup Sway!" I said lifting my arms in the air.
"Tyce Adkins, what up my nigga!" He said giving me a pound.
"Yo, you gave that boy the bizness tonight! Good to see you still knockin' niggas out!"
"Shit...that's what I do man!" He said confidently.
"Yeah I know that's why I bet on yo ass tonight. Right on for the knock out my nigga." I said handing him a grand. "I know these bitch
ass promoters aint payin' you shit. That's jus’ a
lil’ somthin' I made about ten minutes ago,
thanks to you."
"Good lookin' out man. Yeah these white folks only paid a nigga three g's for this fight."
"Damn, that aint shit for risking ya life." I said shaking my head.
"Yeah tell me about it, that lil’ ass money barely pays my house note. With Renae and the kids at the house...I need to fight everyday jus’ to be comfortable...u know?" Sway said seriously.
I took a seat on the bench, “I feel you, that's kinda why I'm here." I informed. "I got this thing I'm workin’ on and I need a man like you on the squad. I guarantee the pay will be more than this shit."
"I'm listening." Sway said tossing his gloves inside his gym bag. "You always up to somethin’. But, if it involves that nigga Biz, I aint with it." He warned.
I could appreciate the fact that Sway disliked Biz
. Biz had a rep on the streets for being greedy and shady. I knew Sway from the boys home we grew up in, his mom was killed and he never knew his dad...so the state took him in. The military was the option he took as soon as he turned 18. He was a
decorated marine and picked up boxing while he was Enlisted. Sway was a married man with two kids, his life was different from mine, but we shared a get money mentality. I never hustled with Sway before but we kept in touch and respected each other’s individual lives and choices. He didn't look down at me for killing muthafuckas and I didn't hate on him for being a faithful husband and father. He told me one time, that he probably killed more people than I did but I got paid more for it.
"Naw, Biz is yesterday, I'm talkin’ ‘bout today." I reassured.
"Alrite." Sway said calmly. "How much we talkin’ ‘bout?"
"Shit...I’m talkin’ ‘bout Yusef and Ameenah's college education paid for. I'm talkin’ ‘bout you and Renae walkin' on the lot and buying his and her “Mercedes Benz's.” I'm talkin’ ‘bout finding somethin’ else to argue with Renae about besides money, ‘cuz that won't be an issue no more." I preached.
"Ha ha ha awwww!!" Sway chuckled. "You know her ass be on a nigga! But, yo, that shit sound good to me tho. So what's the plan Tyce?" He asked.
"What you doin’ tomorrow?" I questioned.
"Shit...sleepin’."
"You think you can wake up and meet me at my warehouse around this time?" I joked.
"Yeah, I can do that." He agreed.
"Aight, I'll get into it tomorrow with u. You still got the same number?"
"Yep."
"Cool, I'ma hit you. Ay, you lucky I wasn't in the ring with you tonight...I woulda whooped yo ass like I did back in tha day!" I teased throwing punches in the air.
"Shit, what you waitin’ on nigga a crowd and a bell? We can go right here!" He said standing up bobbing and weaving.
"Naw, I wanna get you when you fresh, you jus’ had a fight and I don't want no excuses." I laughed.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." He laughed back.
"Aight, tomorrow my nigga, get some rest!" I said as I snuck a punch in his chest and jogged out the locker room.
Contemplation
The “Cadillac” slid through the city as Omar sat behind the wheel thinking. He'd been driving for over an hour with no particular destination in mind. He just needed to get away from Tasha's ass and be solo with his thoughts for a while. There were a few things that were fucking with him lately. Like why did Angelique need to see Tyce so fucking bad? Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, ‘cuz she seemed like she was pressed about somethin’. He called Tyce to see what was up with her but Tyce just told him not to trip and that he had it handled. So just like always...Tyce had it under control. There was also no doubt in his mind that Tasha got into some crazy shit as soon as the door closed but he was used to that shit. He knew what type of bitch she was but her tight sex game is what had him hooked. As long as he didn't wake up with his dick leaking, he didn't give a fuck what she did. The shit that did bother him was how she tripped over Angelique so hard. Bitches will be bitches and always hate on each other but it was something else in the background of her reaction. Tasha's gaming ass had a problem with Angelique ‘cuz she was getting close to his homeboy.
"Bitches aint shit," He proclaimed stopping at a light.
He wasn't blind, he knew Tasha had an eye on Tyce but so the fuck what, so did every other bitch. What made him so easy about it was the fact that he knew his man would never fuck with her anyway. Tyce would never let pussy come between the two of them, plus Tasha wasn't his type of chick anyway. The spoiled, thick, pussy throwing bitches was more HIS speed and Tasha was sniffing up the wrong tree when it came to Tyce. Since they was little niggas running the streets he'd come to quietly admire the way Tyce dealt with women. Truth be told if he were more like his friend, his own life wouldn't be as dramatic. The green light glowed as he continued his personal therapy session. The “Escalade” floated down the street like a cruise ship in a calm sea. The dark tint mingled with the black body making it impossible to peek in from outside. His was one of the thousands of “Escalades” that jammed the streets of L.A. The only thing that separated his from the pack was the twenty thousand dollar rims and the plates that read 'I GET IT' those words had gotten him a lot of attention. He couldn't count the number of times bitches would ask
"You get what?"
"Whatever IT is" was his usual reply.
That always led to a little more conversation and plenty of fucking. Omar knew the type of chick that responded to his plates was exactly the type of chick he was looking for. Shit, pussy was easy to get...just look like you getting money and pussy will be thrown at you like a pass from “Mike Vick.” Shit all these bitches was on the hunt for a meal ticket. Don't let em find out you really is getting paper, ‘cuz that's when they really start trippin’! He could paint brush all women in that category as far as he was concerned...everyone except Angelique. She didn't need a nigga or his money but she wasn't stupid either. If a nigga was dumb enough to trick out then she was smart enough to treat herself. You couldn't be mad at her for that but in her case she was more than capable of taking care of herself and a nigga if she chose to do so. Shit Angelique was educated and fine. Rumor had it she was a silent partner in a few low-key sex clubs and she owned four semi trucks that she rented out to drivers who didn't have their own rigs. She definitely was a progressive bitch; Omar had to admit.
As he pulled into the “In n Out” drive thru and waited in line he stared out the dark window and continued thinking. He and Tyce had been hustling together since they were 16 and running with him had definitely paid off. But following the rules of his no dope policy left a lot of money in the streets for other niggas to get. Biz was all too happy to get all the work they passed up ‘cuz he was basically getting free product to flip himself...that shit aint make no fucking sense to him! But Tyce wasn't trying to hear that shit, that nigga was so scared of being locked up it was ridiculous!
"Welcome to “In n Out” may I take your order please?" The speaker asked.
At the same time, the phone in his lap started vibrating. Omar lowered the window and picked up the cell looking at the bright screen.
"Hold on a minute baby." He told the speaker.
"No problem sir, order when you're ready."
Omar raised the window and hit the talk button.
"What up my nigga?"
"Aint nuthin’ what you into?" Tyce asked.
"Shit, starvin’. I had to get out tha house for a minute, you know Tasha's ass?"
"Yeah I could imagine."
"So what's good with ya? Any word from Biz?"
Omar questioned.
A loud horn blared from behind his truck and Omar squinted at the rear view mirror. A balding over weight white man was raising both hands in the air silently asking what was taking so long as he laid on the horn again.
"Hold up T." Omar said grabbing his door handle.
He got out the car and opened the back door of his truck. The man froze behind the wheel when he saw Omar get out. He almost pissed in his pants when he saw a horse like Doberman jump out the back seat unleashed! The fat man began to panic as he realized he was trapped in the drive thru line with no escape. Omar and Bonnie walked briskly up to the tiny “Nissan Sentra” that Mr. Fat was crammed into. With shaky hands, the frightened man fumbled with the handle trying to roll the window up but it was too late, Omar was already at the driver side door. Bonnie’s massive head was level with the window and her eyes narrowed in on his face. The man's head instinctively backed away from the dog but he didn't dare make any sudden movements. Omar’s face appeared next to his dog like they were taking a picture together.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOU HONKING FOR?!!" Omar shouted. Yo big ass don't even need to be her nigga! You need to hurry up and wait...now, honk that FUCKIN’ horn one more muthafuckin’ time and I'ma let my dog munch on yo greasy ass! You extra hungry ass mu
thafucka! SPEAK BONNIE!" Omar boomed tapping her on the side.”
"RRROUUGGGHHH!!! RRROUUGGGHHHHRRRR!!! Bonnie threatened.
The man's eyes were as big as pool balls and his face turned two shades whiter than it was before. He’d raised his hand up to protect his face in case the dog attacked him. Bonnie’s breath shot at his face and made his eyes water and blink rapidly. His ribs were pressing against the armrest as he leaned back almost in the passenger seat. His obese body shook like a spin cycle as a dark circle began to form and spread over his pudgy crotch. Omar chuckled at his accident and pulled Bonnie back by the collar. He stood up and walked casually back to his truck letting Bonnie jump back in her seat as he returned to his.
"My fault Tyce." Omar apologized picking up the phone still laughing.
"What tha fuck was that?" Tyce asked.
"Naw, this fat bastard was honkin' and shit in tha drive thru. I had to get out and tell him to shut tha fuck up. Shit, Bonnie made that nigga piss on himself! That shit was funny as fuck tho!"
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