by J-Blunt
“Yeah, it might be time for you to go, brah. I need anotha shooter since I’m goin’ to a new town.”
Deso laughed. “The offer is tempting, Pop, but I can’t leave my li’l niggas. Drama and Snot would starve wit’out me. Or get killed.”
“They big boys. Sink or swim.”
“Them my li’l brothas, Pop. I can’t do ‘em like that. I’ma figure somethin’ out.”
“Is them niggas still gunnin’ for me? Princess said they want my head.”
Deso let out a long breath. “Yeah. They young and don’t believe in foldin’ they hands. You bagged they brotha in front of they face. I can’t get ‘em to let that go. They don’t see he was in the wrong.”
“You know you gon’ have to bury them niggas if they come at me, right? Queenie and Princess ain’t the same bitches they was when they was wit’ y’all. They killas now. I think Queenie a homicidal maniac. Killin’ make her pussy wet.”
Deso burst out laughing. “You bullshittin’! Queenie ‘bout that action? She talk shit, but won’t bust a trap. A nigga got the ups on us and she hit him in the stomach, but couldn’t do him in.”
“That shit over, brah. She hit niggas. Princess, too.”
Deso laughed again. “Damn. That sound crazy. Fuck you do to my bitches?”
“My bitches,” Pop corrected.
“Yeah, yo’ bitches,” Deso laughed, checking the text he had just received on his phone. “Drama and Snot on they way over. I’ma tell them niggas to fall back so you can get a head start on them niggas.”
Pop stood up and looked out the window at Princess and Queenie. They smiled and laughed as they talked to La’Qua. “Nah, let them niggas come through. I’ma offer ‘em passes.”
“Y’all niggas ain’t finna shoot up my aunty house.”
“I left the Mac in the car. The clip too long and I know Ruby woulda got at me for bringin’ pistols in here. Let them niggas come over. Just make sure they leave they heat in the car.”
Deso gave Pop a long look. “A’ight, nigga. Y’all betta not be on no bullshit.”
When Deso began typing the text, Pop’s phone rang. It was 2-Tone. “What up, brah?”
“I got at Born Ready and told him ‘bout you. He already know who you is and wanna meet. I’m headin’ that way later. Want me to pick you up by yo’ people’s house?”
“I’m tyin’ up somethin’ right now. Gimme a li’l time. I’ma hit you when I get by my aunty house.”
“Who was that?” Deso asked after Pop hung up.
“2-Tone. Remember him?”
“Yeah. His soft ass. He still robbin’ old bitches for they purses?”
“I don’t know. He want me to meet this nigga, Born Ready. Say he got a move. If possible, I wanna get y’all wit’ me. That’s why I wanna holla at cho li’l niggas.”
“I neva heard of that nigga, but I do need a good lie. These niggas should be pullin’ up in a minute. Hopefully these li’l niggas can let that shit go.”
Movement from Princess and Queenie caught Pop’s eye. They went from laughing and talking to wearing mean mugs. When Drama and Snot walked in the backyard, the sisters went to confront them.
“Yo’ boys here!” Pop called.
Deso went outside and stepped between his boys and the twins, defusing the hostility. Pop leaned against the sink as the men walked in the house.
“Them hos bogus for leavin’ the team to fuck wit’ dat nigga,” Drama spat.
“I should go grab my shit from the car and put it on them hos. They betrayed us,” Snot added.
“Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side,” Pop spoke up.
The young goons looked at Pop Somethin’, then Deso, and back at Pop Somethin’. Surprise showed on their faces before changing to anger. Drama spoke first. “Nigga, you lucky I left my shit in the car or I’d push yo’ shit in!”
“They didn’t stop makin’ guns after they made y’all shit. I’m trynna give you niggas a chance to do somethin’ betta than y’all been doin’. I’m offerin’ a pass. Keep talkin’ shit and I’ma take it back.”
Snot made a move like he was about to attack Pop. Deso grabbed his arm. “Chill, brah. Not in my aunty house. Listen to what he gotta say.”
“Dat nigga killed Yea! Fuck what dat nigga talkin’ ‘bout!” Snot yelled, his eyes red with anger.
“You gon’ have to get over that, baby boy. That’s how it is out here. Niggas play for keeps. But I’m trynna put y’all in a position to win. Fuck wit’ me.”
“Nah, nigga, fuck you!” Snot mugged. “We play for keeps, too, nigga.”
“Yo’ mug cute, nigga. Last chance. Let that shit go. Fall back,” Pop warned.
“Fuck you, nigga. You dead,” Drama mugged.
Snot was done talking. He ran at Pop, his arm cocked back to swing a wild haymaker. When Drama seen his day-one move, so did he. Since Pop’s knee was swollen and stiff from the leg kicks, he wasn’t as agile as normal. When Snot swung the wild punch, Pop knew he couldn’t dodge it, so he took a step forward, taking the punch on his neck and ear. He retaliated with a punch to Snot’s solar plexus, taking his breath. He went down instantly, clutching his stomach. Instead of taking advantage of Pop being distracted and throwing punches, Drama grabbed Pop, trying to slam him. Six inches and a hundred pounds difference made it look like Drama was trying to wrestle a bear. Pop easily lifted him in the air and threw him out the window.
“Damn, nigga! What the fuck? I told you niggas to chill!” Deso snapped
“Yo’ boys started that shit. You seen I tried to give them niggas passes,” Pop defended.
The back door being snatched open got Pop and Deso’s attention. Ruby ran into the kitchen, her eyes wide like a mad woman. “Y’all niggas done lost y’all fuckin’ minds? Get the fuck outta my house! And somebody betta gimme some money for my muthafuckin’ window!”
Chapter 4
“You look like you got a limp,” 2-Tone commented as he and Pop walked toward a rundown apartment building in the Third Ward.
“It ain’t shit. Knee a li’l sore,” Pop said, rubbing his stiff joint.
“Good, because you gon’ need them legs. I hear you got a lotta enemies.”
Pop gave him a side-eye. “Oh yeah? What you hear?”
“That’s the word out here. They say you added a nigga named Yea to yo’ body bag count. His cousins be roamin’ the Third. It was some shit about a price on yo’ head a while back.”
“Who is his cousin?”
“Block and Raw. Niggas savages, too.”
Pop acknowledged the information with a nod. “Good lookin’ on the heads-up. I’ma keep my eyes open. Hopefully they got a nice price on me. I’ma be pissed if it’s pennies.”
“Last I heard, it was twenty-five bands. Cash money.”
Pop laughed. “That ain’t shit. My head gotta be worth more than that. I survived a cartel hit.”
2-Tone frowned. “Niggas got a price on yo’ head and you laughin’, brah? Somethin’ wrong wit’ chu, brah.”
When they walked in the building, 2-Tone led the way up to the second floor and knocked on apartment eight.
“Who dat?” a deep voice called.
“2-Tone.”
Locks clicked and the door swung open. Before them stood a short, dark-skinned nigga with a bald head and neatly-trimmed goatee. His physique made him look like he could’ve been a running-back. His eyes were hard and piercing, like he had seen and done a lot. He acknowledged 2-Tone before looking up to Pop. Neither man blinked during the short staring contest. In the millisecond it took them to assess one another, Pop knew Born Ready was cut from a rare cloth. The man’s eyes told of wars and battles. Wins and losses. Wisdom gained from the lessons life had tossed at him.
“What up, Born Ready?” 2-Tone smiled.
“What’s good, brah?” he said before turning back to Pop. “So, you the nigga that got his name in er’body mouf.”
“Only reason my name in they mouth ‘cause they ain’t got
shit to talk about.”
Born Ready acknowledged the wise response with a smirk. “Y’all come in. Have a seat. Want somethin’ to drink or smoke?”
“I don’t drink, but I smoke,” Pop said, eyeing the expensive-looking glass chessboard that sat on the table.
“Pour me up and roll me up!” 2-Tone laughed.
“Sasha! We got company. Get us somethin’ to drink!” Born Ready called as he sat in the plush, black leather chair.
A few moments later a big-boned woman with jet black skin walked into the living room. She wore a way too small purple silk robe that did a terrible job of hiding her body parts. Her silver hair was cut low with brushed waves, and every time she took a step, all of her jiggly parts jiggled. “Whatcha all want?” she asked, showing a mouth filled with gold teeth.
“Bring us some yak,” Born Ready said, firing up a blunt. “I see you lookin’ at my board. You play?”
“I’m familiar with the game.”
Born Ready laughed. “Helluva response. But did you know that besides being a game of war, chess is also a social game?”
“It’s white versus black. I think it shows up in our everyday life all the time, not just on a chessboard.”
Born Ready looked impressed. “Novotny interference. This happens when two black pieces obstruct each other’s ability to protect vital squares.”
Pop knew what Born Ready was trying to do. He was feeling out to see the depth of his knowledge, so Pop showed that he read the same book. “Turton doubling. A theme where one black piece falls back, allowing a second black piece to move in front so the two of them can attack the white king together on the same line.”
“The Emperor of Ocean Park. You read that book, too?”
“I’m familiar with a lot of things.”
“What the fuck just happened?” 2-Tone asked.
“Good warriors practice the art of emptiness and fullness. When you make people come to you, their force is always empty. As long as you don’t go to them, your force is always full. The Ninth Law of Power.”
“That was too deep for him,” Pop chuckled. “The first round of a fight ain’t about trynna win. It’s about gettin’ to know who you about to fight.”
2-Tone nodded like he understood.
“Okay, Pop. I’ma be real. I ain’t met a nigga out here like you. When I was down, you see niggas gettin’ sharp, heads in them books. But out here, niggas is on pills and quotin’ rap lyrics like they life principles. I see what you is and I wanna fuck wit’ chu. I got a three-part plan that I wanna put in motion. None of it easy. And I can’t pay up front, but if you fuck wit’ me and do me this favor, I’ma do you one in return. Favor for a favor.”
Pop laughed.
“What’s funny?” Born Ready asked.
“The last nigga that told me that turned out to be a snake.”
The men eyed each other, Born Ready judging the depths of Pop’s words. “And what happened to the snake?” he asked, passing Pop the blunt.
“Only way to kill a snake is to cut off the head.”
Born Ready nodded. “Well, let me rephrase that. I need a nigga wit’ cho skills to execute part one of the plan. Part two and three is a group effort. A hostile takeover. After we put our foot down, I’ll give you 100 Gs and the option to go yo’ way or stay and get rich.”
Pop blew out a cloud of smoke, thinking about the offer. “Tell me about part one. Why am I so qualified.”
Born Ready smiled. “Because you the only nigga in Texas that I think would succeed breakin’ somebody out the joint.”
Pop choked on the weed smoke. “Fuck you just say, nigga?”
“My li’l brotha got two hundred years. I want you to break him out.”
Pop Somethin’ burst out laughing, laughed so hard his stomach began hurting. When he finished, Born Ready spoke up. “I ain’t playin’, Pop. That’s part one.”
“How the fuck I’m s’posed to do that? Break in and then break out again? 2-Tone, this what you brought me over here for?”
“Two hundred Gs. Final offer,” Born Ready said.
That got Pop’s attention. “What you askin’ me is impossible.”
“Nah, it ain’t. He ‘bout to have surgery any day. Find out when. Get ‘im during transport.”
“How the fuck I’m s’pose…” Pop stopped talking when an idea popped into his head. “Tell me his name. Where he locked up at?”
Born Ready smiled again. “They say life is a bitch, right? I think fate the bitch sister. My li’l brotha is Reese Cummings. You know him as Buck Wild.”
Born Ready and Pop had another stare down. It was then Pop realized the smaller man was a thinker and force to be reckoned with. And he always appeared to be one step ahead of Pop Somethin’.
“What Buck say about me?”
“Nothin’ that ain’t true. But Reese lost his appeal. They not gon’ eve let my li’l nigga out. I told him when I got out I was comin’ to get him. When you stopped talking a second ago, you realized somethin’. What?”
Born Ready was smart and intuitive. Pop knew he would be studied every second he was in the apartment. This was a chess match without using the board. Pop needed to switch angles. “It wasn’t shit. How long you been out?”
“A month. But I perfected this plan a long time ago.”
“What’s part two?”
“I told you. A hostile takeover.”
“I gotta leave Texas. Where is this hostile takeover goin’ down at?”
“In Atlanta. When I got locked up, my partner took off wit’ the loot from our move. I did ten years. Nigga never sent me a penny. Now he up. I’m goin’ to collect. Like I said, I perfected my plan. Once you get my brotha, we gone. Me, Buck, 2-Tone, and you.”
“Lemme make a few calls and talk to a few people. I’ma get back to you real soon.”
“Don’t keep me waitin’ too long.”
“I won’t. Time is the currency of life, and I’m still spendin’ it.”
“Speakin of time, how ‘bout we play a game? I ain’t had a good challenge since I got out.”
Pop Somethin’ knew a match with Born Ready would be more than a chess game. It would be a testing of wills. A flexing of their mental prowess and ability to think, strategize, and win. And Pop Somethin’ had never met a man he couldn’t outwit, outsmart, and outplay. “I got black. Yo’ move.”
The game of war took longer than anyone expected. Fifteen minutes turned into thirty. Thirty minutes turned into an hour. At some point during the match, both men had almost won and lost. And then, at one hour and seventeen minutes into the game, it was finally decided. Born Ready’s face reflected his feelings. His brow furrowed, eyes squinted, lips twisted in a snarl. Pop Somethin’s features displayed a similar look.
“Stale mate,” Born Ready admitted.
“You can play,” Pop Somethin’ said. “Next time I won’t be so cautious.”
“You gotta lose to win!” Born Ready laughed.
***
“Break a nigga outta jail? Nigga, is you crazy? You trynna get us all in the gas chamber?” Princess shrieked.
“We not breakin’ him outta jail. It’s during transport,” Pop explained calmly.
“Oh. Yeah. Well, that makes it a lot better, Pop. Why didn’t you say the first time?” Princess said sarcastically. “Talk to yo’ man, Queenie. He trippin’.”
“I’m wit’ my sister, baby. You know you my nigga and I would go to hell and back for you, but this sound crazy. Plus we don’t get paid ‘til we do the hostile takeover in Atlanta. I don’t want a $200,000 I-owe-you. What if somethin’ go wrong and we don’t get paid? Too many what-ifs.”
“I know,” Pop agreed, “but what else do we got? Born Ready is a rare kinda nigga. I think this worth takin’ a chance on. This might be our chance to get back on our feet.”
“You think, Pop. You think. But you not sure. We gotta put too much trust in anotha nigga, and I don’t like it,” Princess said.
“You know y’all
my bitches and I won’t tell y’all nothin’ wrong. Just like y’all will do whatever necessary to protect me, I will do the same for y’all. My ass is on the line, too. And I got a good feelin’ ‘bout this. I think this our shot.”
“How you gon’ find out when the transport is?” Queenie asked.
Pop smiled. “I made a few connections while I was locked up.”
“I still don’t like it,” Princess said.
“But what other choice do we got?” Queenie asked, starting to be swayed. “We got 48 hours to leave Texas.”
“Listen to what y’all sayin’. This is crazy,” Princess continued standing her ground.
“Just gimme some time to see if I can find out the date of transport. If I can do that, then we go from there. Deal? We gon’ take it one step at a time.”
Princess was about to respond when her phone buzzed. After looking down at the screen, she frowned.
“Who is it?” Queenie asked.
“Uncle Carl. What the fuck he want?” Princess asked before answering. “Hello?” After pausing to listen, she spoke, “Yeah Queenie right next to me.” Then a change washed over her face. She went from curious to devastated in the blink of an eye. “What? When? Where is she ?”
“What happened?” Queenie asked, feeling her twin’s emotions.
Princess didn’t respond. A spaced-out look was in her eyes, and then the tears came.
“What happened?” Queenie yelled, on the verge of crying.
Princess gave her sister the phone. “Momma dead.”
Chapter 5
Pop Somethin’ wasn’t the type to get excited over a female. As far as he was concerned, he was that nigga. A boss. It was a pleasure to be in his presence. But when the hotel door swung open, the boss nigga took a step back and Pop allowed his true desire to take over.
“Damn. You look fresh outta nigga dream.”
