Cameron 5

by Jade Jones

  Cameron’s eyes slowly wandered to the car parked directly across the street from their home. She could see the silhouette of a person sitting in the driver’s seat. However, she was unable to tell if it was a man or a woman from where she stood. An unsettling feeling rested in the pit of Cameron’s stomach.

  All of a sudden the car peeled off, burning rubber in the process.

  Immediately, Cameron was spooked. She knew without a doubt that the driver had been watching them. Tiny Goosebumps formed on her forearm. Running back inside her home, she slammed and bolted the front door. She then raced upstairs and retrieved her cellphone. With shaky fingers, Cameron dialed Jude’s number and held the phone firmly against her ear. To her dismay, Jude did not answer. Instead Cam was greeted with his simple and straightforward voicemail.

  After hanging up she called Rumor as a last resort. Surprisingly, she didn’t answer either. Cam figured Rumor was feeling some type of way since she’d been neglecting her. In a last ditch attempt Cameron sent Rumor a text message.

  Since she’d exhausted all of her options, Cam figured there was only one other thing to do. Swallowing her pride, she fetched the Glock 26 from the bedroom’s closet. The small gun was tucked away inside a safety deposit box on the top shelf. Jude had taken Cameron to Adventure Outdoors in Smyrna, Georgia many times. Not only to purchase weapons, but also to practice at the shooting range.

  “You can’t be scared of the gun, Cam,” Jude had told her. “Hell, it’s a tool. You wouldn’t be scared of a hammer would you? This is your life line.”

  Cameron hastily loaded the magazine until the pistol was fully loaded. After cocking the Glock she quickly made her way to her son Justin’s bedroom. As quietly as she could, Cam made herself comfortable on the baby blue armchair in the corner of the room.

  7

  Jude, Mike, Jag, Joaquin, and a few of King’s most loyal workers sat around a long oak table. It was the same table King had beaten Vado on top of with his Hermes belt.

  “Look, I know it’s been a long mufuckin’ day,” Mike began. “And the last thing we tryin’ to do is sit holed up in this room after the shit that went down earlier…but the show must go on. And we all still have jobs to do.” He looked over at Jude in particular as he spoke. “I’ve already made a few calls, and got folks lookin’ into the hit. Before it’s said and done we gon’ cut the hands off the mufuckas that pulled the trigger,” Mike promised.

  Michael Butler was a 32-year old short, stocky dark brown-skinned guy blessed with both book smarts and street smarts. He was to King what a Jewish accountant was to a wealthy businessman. There was no doubt that the organization would crumble without his expertise.

  Suddenly, a worker by the name of Flint raised his hand. “Aye, I gotta question, Mike. Why in the fuck is this nigga sittin’ at da head of table and shit? This ain’t no mothafuckin’ Justice League. We all put in work, and did our fair share. How the hell this faggot get promoted to head nigga in charge?” he asked.

  Twenty-eight year old Mavon “Flint” Thomas had been working for King faithfully for years after moving from Michigan. He was rather slender in frame, and his moistureless skin was black matte. The tips of his mid-length dreads were colored gold, and he always wore them tied back. He wasn’t a very attractive guy, and his bad attitude didn’t help much either.

  As expected, Flint was bitter as hell that the responsibility wasn’t passed down to him. He truly felt he deserved the position, when in all actuality he was as sneaky as they came.

  Jude bit down on his tongue so hard that he could taste blood. However, he knew now wasn’t the time or place to go back and forth. Arguing with Flint’s miserable ass wouldn’t change the current situation, and it definitely wouldn’t bring back King.

  The tension was so thick in the spacious room that someone could slice through it with a knife. Unfortunately, the animosity was targeted towards Jude. Every fella in the room felt as if they should’ve been the newly appointed boss.

  The man who signed their checks and placed food in their refrigerators was now gone. Surely, it would be difficult to entrust such responsibility in a man who’d just joined the team. Half the people in the room didn’t even know Jude’s name.

  “You done soundin’ like a lil’ bitch?” Mike asked Flint. His tone was laced with sarcasm. “Put ya pussy away so we can get down to business.”

  “But he’s right,” another worker spoke up. “We been fuckin’ with this shit for years. New guy comes and now all of a sudden we gotta take orders from him. What he doin’ that makes him so different from us? It ain’t right, dawg.”

  Flint scoffed. “Maybe he was sucking his dick.”

  “YO!”

  Everyone was surprised when Jag spoke up. It was his first time saying anything since he’d step foot in the room.

  “Don’t disrespect a dead man. Especially the one that gave ya ass employment,” he said. “Now whether you like it or not, this man is in charge now.” Jag pointed to Jude. “Say somethin’ else slick out ya mouth towards him, and I’m breakin’ ya fuckin’ jaw. Simple as that. Understood?”

  Joaquin cracked his knuckles, ready for some action to pop off.

  Everyone held their breath as they waited for Flint to agree. Jude nodded his head at Jag for coming to his defense. When things finally got squared away, he had plans to use him as muscle. Although Jag wasn’t a big, intimidating guy he possessed an authoritative quality that people had no choice but to respect.

  Flint shook his head vehemently. “Man, this is straight bullshit!” he yelled, jumping out his seat. The chair behind him toppled over, and banged against the hardwood floor. “This shit ain’t fair at all.”

  “Fair?!” Jude repeated. “You wanna talk about fair?” He gradually stood to his feet, and looked Flint dead in the eyes. “Nigga, life ain’t fair. You think I asked for this shit? Mothafucka, I came down here with nothin’ but $1500 and a pocketful of hope. I wasn’t expectin’ any of this shit. None of this was what I bargained for. Real shit, I even wanted out at one point,” Jude admitted. “But that choice almost cost me my wife’s life! So here I am—even after all da bullshit—here I am, ready to do whatever the fuck I gotta do. I didn’t choose this shit. He chose me.”

  Mike looked over at Flint. “There you have it.”

  Flint continued to shake his head. “Man, this shout foul and you know it,” he muttered.

  “Aren’t you still gonna be paid for your services at the end of the day?” Jude asked Flint.

  Flint didn’t respond.

  “Answer me,” Jude said. “Aren’t you still gonna be paid for your services no matter the person in charge?”

  “It ain’t about that!” Flint spat, walking over towards the door.

  “Then what is it?” Jude asked calmly. His nerves were beginning to grow thin with Flint and his antics.

  “Man, you just a kid,” Flint said. “Look at you. You don’t know shit about runnin’ a multi-million dollar operation.” After wounding Jude’s pride he exited the room, slamming the door behind himself.

  ***

  Jude made it back home just seconds before the sun rose. His dirty bloodstained clothes and weary facial expression was a reminder of the rough day he’d endured. Jude was surprised when he found Cameron sleeping in Justin’s bedroom. She sat in the comfy armchair with her polished Glock resting on her lap.

  For a few seconds, Jude watched Cameron’s chest rise and lower with each deep breath she took. I had no idea she was this afraid, he thought to himself. Seeing her like this pained his heart.

  Jude had moved them down South for a fresh start and better life, but things had only gone downhill since they’d relocated. Now to make matters worse, he was stuck with the duty of running a million dollar business that he really wanted nothing to do with.

  At that moment Jude weighed his options. He could both pack up and leave with his tail tucked between his legs, or he could stay and make the best of his situation.

  Sudd
enly, King’s voice came to mind. “You made a mistake—it ain’t a big deal…But you had to learn from it. Now you wanna sit here, huff and puff, and be mad at the world? Or do you wanna get this money with me? It’s up to you, patna.”

  Jude had made the tough decision to stay. And that’s just what he planned on doing. He couldn’t let everything he’d endured be in vain.

  Snapping himself back to reality, Jude quietly walked over to Cameron and grabbed the gun out of her lap. Feeling his presence, she immediately jerked awake.

  “Everything gon’ be straight,” Jude said in a low tone. “We gon’ be aight. I promise.”

  8

  Roxie found herself elated the following morning. Yesterday she’d gone into the clinic with her head held low only to walk out with her head held high. A rapid HIV-test, along with a few others—revealed Roxie was squeaky clean as she’d expected.

  Rumor just wanted to fuck with my head, Roxie convinced herself. Sadly, she had no idea how lucky she truly was. The moment Roxie received the test results she called her sister to share the news. She wasn’t surprised when she was sent straight to voicemail. Roxie completely tossed out the possibility that Rumor’s cellphone was dead. She figured she was purposely being avoided.

  After cleaning her quaint and cozy apartment, Roxie washed and styled her hair to perfection. She then slipped into a black silk embellished jumpsuit and golden peep toe Giuseppe heels. The deep V split in the front ran all the way down to her torso, revealing an ample amount of cleavage.

  O’ Zone had dropped eight stacks on her breast augmentation surgery. Before the procedure Roxie had the chest of a twelve-year old boy. Thankfully, she was blessed with a naturally round, plump ass. The one trait both sisters possessed.

  Confident that O’ Zone had some free time to spare for her, Roxie called his cell number. There was no response the first attempt, but after the third he finally answered.

  “What’s good, babe? I’m in the lab,” O’ Zone answered in a slightly annoyed tone. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was being interrupted during a recording session.

  “I need to see you,” Roxie purred.

  “I ain’t got the time right now,” O’ Zone explained.

  Roxie sucked her teeth. That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. “I don’t get you O,” she said disappointedly. “You never have time for me yet you expect me to be cool with you dropping in my life whenever you feel like it.”

  “Aye, shit. You knew what it was when you got with a nigga,” O’ Zone said coldheartedly. “That’s the life you accept when you dealin’ with an artist.”

  Roxie was glad he couldn’t see her rolling her eyes. In her opinion, his non-lyrical ass was the furthest thing from being an ‘artist’.

  “But look, I’ma get up with you later—”

  “No, you won’t,” Roxie cut him off.

  “Rox, don’t start with the bullshit.”

  CLICK!

  Roxie hung up the phone. She’d decided to take matters into her own hands. I’m tired of this nigga penciling me into his schedule whenever the hell he feels like it. He has another thing coming if he thinks I’m gonna keep being with this shit. O’ Zone should’ve known by then that she wasn’t one to easily back down.

  ***

  “Now what you expect me to do with this?”

  Herbert Freeman, the owner of Herb’s Finest Barbershop, had a look of utter irritation sketched on his wrinkled face. It was barely noon. Herb had already cut several heads, and was just preparing to take a lunch break when the Jude plopped in his plush red rotating chair.

  “Cut it all off,” Jude answered nonchalantly.

  Herb raised his thick eyebrows in surprise. “You sure, kid?” he asked.

  Jude looked straight ahead at his reflection in the mirror. His dreadlocks reached the middle of his back. He’d been growing them faithfully for the last seven years. “Yeah,” Jude answered. “It’s time for a change…” He believed that to be a boss he also had to look the part of one.

  ***

  Dressed to impress while wearing her confidence on her sleeve, Roxie stepped inside Zeus’ massive basement studio. The CEO and owner of Greek Gang Entertainmentowned a beautiful half-million dollar home in prestigious Alpharetta, Georgia.

  The moment Roxie walked inside the studio she noticed that Zeus had updated all his equipment since the last time she was there. The second thing that caught her attention was the coffee-colored chick sitting on the leather sofa—obviously one of O’ Zone’s many groupies.

  Roxie rolled her eyes and sashayed towards the recording booth. From the look of disdain on O’ Zone’s face, it was obvious that he was none too pleased with her presence.

  She knows better than to just be barging up in here and shit, he thought.

  Roxie propped a hand on her curvy hip and mouthed the words: I need to talk to you.

  O’ Zone pretended he didn’t see or hear her as he continued to flow with the music. Like the brat she was, Roxie immediately began pouting. In a childish attempt to distract him, she stormed over towards his groupie and grabbed her roughly by the face. At first O’ Zone expected Roxie to hit her. He was surprised as hell when he watched his girlfriend stick her pink tongue inside the other chick’s mouth.

  O’ Zone’s groupie was stunned by Roxie’s reaction. However, she decided to go along with it. She’d do anything to make the upcoming star remember her. They all would. That was mainly why O’ Zone relished the fame. He could’ve been the grimiest nigga in the world, but as long as he had money and fame the bitches loved his dirty drawers.

  Roxie pulled away from the attractive woman, and turned towards O’ Zone. Her RiRi Woo lipstick was now smeared over her lips and chin after the kissing frenzy.

  O’ Zone slowly pulled the stereo headphones off his head. He tried his best to pretend he didn’t feel his erection straining against his jeans.

  “Now do I have your attention?” Roxie asked sarcastically.

  O’ Zone exited the recording booth. In the beginning, he had plans to check Roxie about showing up unannounced while he worked, but now all he wanted to do was slide inside her until he exploded.

  “Aye ya’ll, gimme a few minutes,” O’ Zone said. He waited until he and Roxie were alone in the studio before he spoke again. “Why you comin’ up here fuckin’ with me while I’m workin’?” he asked.

  Roxie grabbed onto O’ Zone’s Hermes belt and proceeded to unbuckle it. “’Cuz you know I love the attention.”

  O’Zone chuckled and shook his head. Roxie was too much for TV, but it was mostly his fault she was so spoiled and bratty. She did outlandish shit for attention, and threw fits whenever she didn’t get her way.

  Roxie dropped down onto her knees and unzipped his jeans. O’ Zone grabbed the tightly rolled joint from behind his ear, lit it, and enjoyed the show.

  After pulling his stiff dick through the opening of his boxers, the strong scent of rubber filled Roxie’s nostrils. She automatically knew that he’d slept with the chick she just slobbered down.

  Roxie hated that he hadn’t showered afterward, but figured she was already down there so what the hell. She was well aware of the fact that he messed around on the side, but she figured it was to be expected with his occupation. It comes with the territory, O’ Zone used to tell her when they first started dating. As long as no one threatened her position as #1 she didn’t trip too hard.

  Well, at least he used protection, the 20-year old foolishly thought. Without hesitation she took his unwashed dick in her mouth.

  “Shit,” O’ Zone groaned. A cloud of smoke blew from his nostrils as he reclined his head and closed his eyes. Roxie kept him head over heels for her by rewarding him with the sloppiest, wettest head he’d ever had. “A nigga can’t even remember why I was mad.”

  Using her left hand, Roxie lightly massaged his scrotum while sucking on his mushroom-shaped head.

  O’ Zone grabbed a handful of Roxie’s shoulder length hair a
s her head bobbed up and down his pole. He’d just bust a nut two hours ago in Zeus’ guest bathroom, but Roxie was the only one who could suck a second nut out of him. Her epic head game was what made him fall in love in the first place.

  “Damn, I’m finna cum,” O’ Zone whispered.

  The only sounds in the studio were his heavy grunts, and the ongoing lyric-less music playing in the background. Roxie continuously sucked until he had nothing else to give. After swallowing his seeds, she stood to her feet, and tongue kissed him. Whereas that might’ve grossed a lot of guys out, O’ Zone actually liked the shit.

  Refastening his jeans, he gave Roxie a suspicious look. “I know you ain’t drive all the way over here just to blow a nigga.”

  Roxie offered a mischievous grin. “No. I came to tell you I saw the chick from ya Instagram video at the clinic…”

  9

  O’ Zone didn’t respond immediately. He had plenty videos with women on his Instagram page. However, something about the way Roxie said it made him automatically assume she meant Cameron—after all, she was the one he was most into.

  “What’chu say?” O’ Zone finally asked. He knew Roxie was ignorant, but he still hadn’t discovered to what extent.

  “Should I have said something?” Roxie asked, giving him a suspicious eye.

  O’ Zone hesitated. Cameron was a touchy subject. He’d taken a major L because of her, and had nothing to show for it. Then again he couldn’t deny that he was once digging her. But that was then, and this was now.

  O’ Zone sucked his teeth and waved Roxie off. “That bitch old news. It ain’t even shit to say,” he said dismissively.

  Roxie didn’t believe him. However, instead of telling him that, she said, “You better hope for her sake it’s not. You know how I am, Zone,” she warned him. If this bitch ends up being a threat, I promise I will go over and beyond to make her life a living hell. Roxie didn’t mind O’ Zone doing his thing every now and then as long as he remembered she came first.