Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  I removed the tape from over her mouth and demanded she tell me where Byron kept his stash.

  “There’s a small safe with about eighty thousand dollars in it in the room across from the laundry. The combination is 38-35-01. It works like a typical lock,” she stammered.

  “What about cocaine?”

  “Four kilos. They are in the dryer under a load of clothes.”

  I put the Glock to her temple. “You want me to believe that’s all Byron had? Bitch, don’t insult my intelligence.”

  “No!” she shrieked, thinking I was about to turn her lights out. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. It’s the truth. That’s all that Byron has here. His real stash is at his mother’s house in Virginia.”

  My ears perked up. “Where in Virginia does his mother live?”

  “In Portsmouth, but I don’t know her exact address,” she claimed.

  I looked on the dresser and saw what I was looking for. I pointed to the cell phone on the charger and asked Sharena if it was hers or Byron’s.

  “That was—his.” She sniffled.

  I retrieved the phone from the charger and asked Sharena for the code to unlock it.

  “I don’t know the code,” she said.

  I gave her the benefit of the doubt because Byron was probably the type of nigga who had a bunch of sideline hoes. He would not have given his woman the code to unlock his phone.

  “For your sake, you better know his mother’s phone number,” I warned.

  She told me that Delina’s number was programmed in her phone under Byron’s Mom.

  “My phone is in my purse in the bathroom,” Sharena said.

  Kamora dashed off to get it. When she came back with the cell phone and handed it to me, I went to Sharena’s contacts and found what I was looking for.

  I text: this is Sharena. Text me your address. Byron wants me 2 mail u a gift.

  A few minutes later, a return text came through with: 1803 High St, Portsmouth, Va 23704.

  It was all I needed from her, so I text back: Thanx.

  And soon after Delina replied: Welcome. Smooches. I cut the phone off and put it in my pocket and then I went to Byron’s stash.

  Two gunshots echoed through the house as I bent down to unlock the safe. I didn’t have to go investigate. No witnesses was the policy.

  Yeah, I had promised not to kill Sharena, but Kamora hadn’t.

  I emptied the safe, went into the laundry room and got the kilos out of the dryer. Then together, we wiped all of our prints from every spot we touched.

  “Strip the bed, we’re taking the sheets and pillow cases with us,” I said, mindful of leaving behind forensic evidence.

  I hadn’t had any intentions on using Kamora to help me get Byron. The plan had been for Criminal and me to handle it. But when Kamora hit me up and told me she had it all set up, I could not let the opportunity pass. Avenging my pop meant everything to me.

  Driving back to Kamora’s place, I gave it to her raw. “I appreciate what you did, but it changes nothing between us. You broke your word to me and I cannot forgive that.”

  “Bae, I don’t understand. It’s not like I’m having the next nigga’s baby. This is your seed inside of me,” she protested.

  “It don’t matter, shawdy,” I said.

  “You think Ava is a better bitch than me? How many niggas has she bodied for you? None probably. And you’re parading her around like she’s earned something. That’s the thing that hurts, but I’m going to handle this like a lady. Time will tell who the real bitch is.”

  “It always does.”

  I dropped Kamora off at home. Before she got out of the car, I offered her the eighty bands we had taken from Byron. I would keep the blocks.

  “No, I’m good. I didn’t do it for that, I did it for your father.”

  She had to know that would touch a nigga’s heart.

  “I feel you, shawdy. But accept the money for the baby.”

  Kamora reconsidered and accepted the money.

  “Take care, bae,” she said and ran into the house.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I handled that,” I said to Inez, passing her a copy of Atlanta Journal Constitution. The newspaper was folded open to the relevant article.

  Three days had passed since Kamora and I slumped Byron and Sharena, but their bodies had just been discovered in the house the night before. Inez read the story thoroughly.

  “Now Delina will know how it feels,” she remarked unsympathetically.

  I believed that my pop’s execution had turned Inez’ heart just as cold as mine. I tossed twenty bands on the table. “That’s just a little something for you and Tamia.”

  “Thank you. Where is Ava?”

  “She’s at the nail shop getting pampered. Can you believe she tried to get me to go along and get my shit done, too?”

  “What!”

  “Close your eyes and try to imagine that! I’m too G’d up.”

  “That’s too funny.” Inez laughed.

  Just then, Tamia and Bianca came busting into the house. When Tamia noticed me, she came and sat on my lap.

  “What’s good with my little sister? You getting your cute on today, I see,” I said.

  She was rocking pretty pink Coogi leggings with some fresh white lady Air Max’s that matched her pink and white long Coogi sweater.

  “Yep, and the haters can’t stand my pretty girl swag,” she bragged.

  “Oh, my God! I think I’m going to throw up.” Bianca gagged in jest. Then she looked at me, rolled her eyes and walked off.

  Inez mouthed, “Never mind her.” I hunched my shoulders. Oh well, I couldn’t be mad at Bianca for catching a ‘tude with me over what I did to her father.

  “She’ll get over it,” Inez said aloud.

  “What are y’all talking about?” asked Tamia.

  “Grown folks shit,” I responded in a playful tone.

  Inez sent Tamia to her room to do her homework and to allow us some privacy. Once Tamia was out of earshot, Inez asked if I had wiped Byron’s place down real good before leaving.

  “I told you my hair fibers are what tied me to that thing I did with your father in Kentucky,” she said.

  “Relax, I took care of all of that.”

  “Are you sure?” Worry was etched on her face.

  “Chill. You know I stay on point,” I reminded her, but I knew she was just double-checking because she didn’t wanna see me cased up.

  Leaving Inez’ crib, I turned on the radio in my car and listened to the latest on the growing murder rate in the city. There was a mention of Byron and Sharena’s murders, but no mention of any suspect. I soaked up everything being reported, making sure I was not a suspect in the case. Satisfied that I was not, I pushed in a Jeezy CD and headed out to Swag’s studio in Roswell.

  I was buzzed in after ringing the bell twice. The strong scent of exotic weed filled my nose as soon as I stepped inside.

  A dozen niggas along with just as many dimed up chicks was up in there partying. Swag was seated on a couch getting dome from a bitch in front of everybody. Lil Mama had no shame! I smirked and accepted a blunt from a shawdy with a platinum colored weave that hung down to her ass.

  “What’s your name, Lil Daddy?” she asked, eating me up with her eyes.

  I peeped shawdy’s physique. She was built like Ciara, the singer, but I still didn’t give her the satisfaction that I’d trick off with her.

  “They call me Trouble.”

  “Do you rap?” she inquired, eyeing the icy chain and urn piece around my neck.

  “Nawl, I wrap niggas up, though.”

  “Okay, nice meeting you,” she said and jetted off in search of a rap dude.

  When I saw that Swag was done getting his dick sucked, I went over to him with a smirk on my face. “Sup, unc? Nigga, you act like you’re still in your twenties.” I laughed.

  “Shit don’t change,” he said, rolling up a blunt.

  “I see. Y’all doing it up in this muthafu
cka. Naked bitches everywhere. You living the life, fam. For real, you need a reality show because this shit right here is made for TV.”

  “Oh, I’m working on that. That’s why I was out in L.A,” he said. “Yo, you still fuck with Criminal?”

  “Yeah, me and bruh eat noodles off the same fork.”

  “You’re not GF, are you?”

  “Nawl, but I contribute to their campaign. Why?”

  “Nothin’. I just can’t see you being down with that because like your father, you’re your own man.”

  “Fa’ sho but those are my niggas. I mean, it don’t matter to me what set a nigga represents. It he’s real, he’s real. I fuck with GF like that because of Criminal.”

  “I feel you. Call bruh up and tell him to come out here. I wanna get that nigga on this track with T.I. He’ll fall through in a minute.”

  I hit Criminal up and told him the business. He was in the middle of a transaction but promised to come to the studio when he was done.

  Two hours later, he came through with a couple homies. They all knew Swag, so it was like a reunion.

  Not long after Criminal arrived, T.I. and his mans showed up. To paraphrase something Jay-Z said about another rapper, T.I. came through like hurricanes do. And the bitches damn near fainted. Swag introduced him to me. I dapped him, but I ain’t no groupie nigga.

  “This Youngblood’s son?” T.I. asked Swag.

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Swag said.

  T.I. didn’t say another word, he just raised his arm and saluted me. I returned the salute. The rest was understood. T.I. was straight business. He ignored the groupie bitches and stepped into the recording booth. When he spat his verse, it was clear to all of us why he was known as the King of the South. I wondered if Criminal would be able to hold his own following the sixteen bars T.I. had just dropped.

  Criminal was no slouch. Plus, he had real street stories to draw from, and his delivery was unique and flawless. My nigga spat pure venom. “Mob shit!” chanted his fam.

  He made us all proud. This was bruh holding his own with T.I. Swag did the last verse and he kept it turned up. The song was sure to be a hit. I didn’t leave the studio until three in the morning. Then I had to get up at seven to catch a 9:30 a.m. flight. Inez and I were taking my sister to New York to Christmas shop.

  Ducats weren’t an issue. My bank was in order. I had been doing licks for years and stacking my money. Tommy Gun had paid me off for the forty-six blocks I had hit him off with months ago. Plus, I was still collecting taxes from Ladell, and a dozen other niggas.

  In New York, my sisters purchased so much shit we had to get it shipped to Georgia. The last thing I bought them was the platinum chains and urn they wanted.

  Juanita had promised to send some of our pop’s ashes, but the bitch was procrastinating.

  “If they’re not here soon, we’re flying out to Las Vegas and taking them from her ass,” I promised Inez.

  She was with it. She was chomping at the bit to get her hands on Juanita. And I was biting at the bit to get back to the A because shopping with four women will exhaust a nigga.

  When we got back home, we all drove to South Carolina to visit Grandma Ann in the new facility Inez had gotten her moved to.

  Grandma looked better, but her mind was still gone. That spoiled my holidays and visiting Big Ma and Laquanda’s graves further darkened my mood.

  My only relief was to go out and look for a few of Zeke’s people.

  On successive nights, I murked a couple niggas Zeke fronted work to.

  A day later, gunners caught me riding down Ralph McGill and tried to ambush me. They murdered my whip but failed to assassinate me. Although this time I did not walk away unscathed. I had caught a slug in the shoulder and another in my left hip. I was on the shelf for a minute but not long. And even wounded, my gangster remained official.

  CHAPTER 25

  Things quieted down a lot in the city over the next few months as I recuperated. But with winter fading away, I knew things were about to get turned up again. Things remained the same with me. I was still pressing niggas and plotting on my enemies. So far Zeke had managed to outrun his fate, but hunting him down and spilling his every thought on the pavement remained a priority. It was no longer about the street taxes he refused to pay— now it was personal.

  I rode in the passenger seat checking out the hood as Ava drove. It suddenly struck me that some sort of tragedy had occurred on damn near every block we passed. More than a few of those tragedies had my hand prints all over them. I could picture the bodies sprawled out on the pavement leaking blood in the gutter. I had no remorse for those who had been in the game.

  No apologies because my murder game had been wittier than theirs. My regret was for taking the lives of a few people who posed no threat to me. I looked to the sky and hoped that if there truly were a power greater than me, He would understand. I guess Big Ma’s years of uttering gospel had seeped through, if only just a little bit.

  Then the skies opened up and the angels began to cry. I wondered which of the raindrops that pelted down on the windshield were Big Ma’s tears.

  Then something on my old block caught my attention. Two teenagers were beating a woman.

  “Stop the car, shawdy!” I shouted. Ava hit the brakes and I was out the car in an instant with my banger already out and down by my side.

  “Back the fuck up off of her!” I barked. I didn’t recognize either boy.

  “Nigga, mind ya own goddamn business and stay the fuck up out of mines before you get a beat down, too,” threatened the biggest of the pair.

  I raised my arm so that the Glock was pointed at his dome. All of the bass drained from his voice. “Man, this junkie ho stole—”

  Bap!

  I slapped him in the mouth with the banger.

  “That’s my mama, bitch ass nigga! I don’t care what she did. Don’t you ever put your hands on her again. Understand me?”

  Bap!

  I split his eye. He fell down on the ground next to Shan. His mans tried to jet, but I shot his legs out from under him. He fell on his face screaming like a punk ass nigga.

  I turned my attention back to the one I had cracked across his head. “You think it’s gangsta to beat up a fiend? Nigga, show me where your heart at?” I spat dead in his face.

  “Put that gun down and I’ll whoop yo ass, too!” He snorted.

  My knuckle game was nice, but niggas in the Dirty didn’t fist fight. “You got some balls, huh?” I sneered.

  Boc!

  I shot him between the legs.

  “Now you got a pussy!”

  “Owwwww!” He clutched himself and yowled in pain. I snatched Shan up off of the ground and pushed her into the backseat when we made it to my car.

  By the time I hopped in the front, Ava was back behind the wheel, ready to zoom off. Inside of the car was silence. I was mad at myself for coming to Shan’s rescue, but I told myself I had done it for Big Ma.

  “You need to get ya life right,” I grumbled.

  “Who the fuck are you talking to?” Shan said.

  “I should’ve let them niggas beat you to death!”

  “Next time, do that! Nigga, if you see me in a fight with a bear, help the bear!”

  “Oh, now you wanna talk shit? Ava, pull over. I’m putting this bitch out in the rain.”

  “No, Trouble.” Ava drove on.

  “Stop the fucking car!” I yelled.

  “Wait. Let us at least get out of the neighborhood in case someone called the po-po.” She was thinking for me.

  When we reached a safe area, she pulled over to the curb. “Get out!” I gritted without turning around in the seat to look at Shan. She was straight pitiful. I could not believe I had come out of her womb. What my pop had ever seen in her was a mystery to me.

  I heard the back door open and then I felt my chain being snatched off of my neck. It dangled in Shan’s hand as she ran through the rain.

  Though I now had a permanent lim
p, I ran her down in less than ten strides, but when I tried to take my chain back, she held on to it for dear life. It was as if the chain represented her only way to get some crack. Still, it did not mean as much to her as it meant to me.

  “Let it go!” I tussled with her.

  Her grip was strong and desperate. I yanked it away and the urn slipped off of the chain and clunked onto the ground. The small lid popped open and my pop’s ashes spilled out and washed away in the rain. I fell to my knees and tried to save whatever hadn’t spilled out. When I reached for the urn, Shan kicked it away.

  My mind snapped.

  I pummeled her with both fists. She was curled up on the ground whimpering under the assault. I felt nothing but rage. I snatched my banger out and pointed it down at her.

  You ugly little bastard. You’re gonna end up on death row just like your daddy. I should’ve flushed your ugly ass down the toilet. I’m glad they executed his ass.

  All of the insults she had hurled at me drummed in my head. What she said about me didn’t matter. It was the way she spoke and felt about my pop that festered my hate. Now she had committed the ultimate disrespect to his memory. I looked down at her with no pity.

  “You ain’t shit!” I said. “You hated my pop because he was a nigga wit’ principles too strong for a rat like you to live up to. He didn’t do shit to you and you violated him! He should’ve murked your ass when he had the chance and saved me a bullet!” I spazzed.

  I was about to pull the trigger when Ava’s cry made me hesitate. “Nooo, Trouble! Don’t do it.” She held on to my arm.

  “Let me go, shawdy. This bitch don’t deserve to live.”

  “She’s your mother.”

  I wasn’t tryna hear that fuck shit. Ava clung to my arm so that I wouldn’t do it, but my mind was set. I slung her back and forth, trying to shake her loose. She would not let go, though. Finally, I threw her to the ground. My moment had come. I was about to put Shan out of her misery, once and for all.

  Suddenly, Ava did the only thing that could’ve stopped me from slumping Shan. She crawled on top of her and covered her body with her own. I took my finger off of the trigger and tucked the banger back in my waist. Rain poured down on us all. I picked the urn up off the ground and saw that it was empty of my pop’s remains.