by Ca$H
In typical Porcelin fashion, she dismissed Kayundra’s feelings. “Stop overreacting. If being in a crackhouse makes you wanna get high, that ass wanted to do it all along.”
“No, that’s contrary to what the counselors have been telling us about addictive behavior and things that can trigger a relapse,” argued Kayundra.
“What the fuck do they know?” shot back Porcelin, sucking her teeth.
Kayundra just shook her head.
“Well, did you get high?” she could not resist asking.
“Nope. You think I’m a fiend? I told y’all bitches, I only get high when I want to. I got me some young dick and some money, though.”
“From who?” asked Kayundra, laughing.
“Kareem,” answered Porcelin pulling out a small roll of bills and waving them in Kayundra’s face. “And I got me some rocks.” She flashed eight rocks in individual small baggies.
“Have you peed in the cup?”
“Not yet. I figured that tree monkey would test us when we returned so we’ll smoke this after I go give her a little pee,” Porcelin said, smiling deviously.
The smile hadn’t had time to leave her face when the matron came to get her to pee in the cup. Porcelin smoothly slid the crack up under the blanket folded at the foot of Kayundra’s bed. When the matron turned her back, Porcelin tossed a straight shooter to Kayundra then followed the matron out of the room.
Kayundra made sure that the coast was clear, then she peaked up under the blanket. The rocks stared up at her like the whites of death’s eyes. The longer she stared at the crack, the larger the rocks appeared to be, until their presence became the size of boulders; large enough to crush all the months of drug-free living Kayundra had built up.
Her eyes were locked on the eight rocks; her hands involuntarily caressed the glass straight shooter, the type that her lips were so familiar with. It was like a battle of wills between her conscious thoughts and her subconscious desires.
It’s the best high on earth…but what about all the shameful shit it made me do?...Be like Porcelin only get high when you want to. Control the drug, don’t let it control you…But I can’t control it, that’s how I ended up here! Raheem would be so disappointed in me…but he’s not even my man. How will he know if I just get high this once?
Kayundra made sure that no one was coming into the room before reaching under the blanket and cuffing the rocks, all eight of them. With crack and paraphernalia in hand, she tip-toed to the bathroom down the hall.
THIRTEEN
CJ was hotter than a steam iron. They had buried Guru two weeks ago and he wanted to avenge the grizzly death of his comrade. Kendall had bodied Guru, threatened CJ, and was riding around Newark like that ass was bullet proof.
“I’m sending the goons at his people tonight! We hittin’ three of his spots simultaneously, wettin’ everything breathing,” he said to Kareem, though Cujo had warned him not to turn the streets red with blood.
“That will bring heat,” the detective had explained.
“Yeah? Well, guess what? It’s yo’ job to cool shit off. Ain’t that what you told me? I make a mess, you’ll clean it up.Those were your words, so get ready to do a lot of cleaning up,” snapped CJ.
Now CJ was ignoring Cujo’s calls.
“Fam, you’re the boss and I’ma ride if you say ride, but we don’t have a beef with that nigga’z whole squad. If you wanna control those spots, we’re gonna need those niggaz to pump work for us. Let’s just chop off the head and replace it with yours, nah mean?” suggested Kareem. “My dude Flip is down with that squad and son ain’t too happy with his position; he feels like he has put in a lot of work for Kendall and deserves to be his top lieutenant. But Kendall played him, gave the position to a kid named Bo, ’cause Bo fucks with Kendall’s niece, a shorty from Bergen Street.”
CJ read the play correctly.
“So, you saying we can step to your dude Flip and get him to set Kendall up for us to bang him?” CJ asked.
“Yep, and we gotta bang, Bo, too.”
“Is Flip official?”
“Yo, how official can a nigga be if he sets up his people?” asked Kareem.
“That’s what I mean. So let’s play it like this: holla at the nigga and we’ll get him to bang Bo himself, then deliver Kendall to us. I want that ass personally. What your dude want for doing this? Let me guess, he wanna be HNIC of Avon Ave.”
Kareem smiled. “That’s the golden nugget.”
“A’ight, but you know I’ma bang his ass eventually. Can’t trust a nigga like that,” said CJ.
“I ain’t got no problem with it. My loyalty is to you, my nigga,” vowed Kareem.
Two nights later, Bo stepped out of his shorty’s house on Bergen Street and caught a chest full of lead.
Kendall made immediate plans to get back at CJ, who he believed had bodied his lieutenant. In the meantime, he had no choice but to elevate another one of his people to street lieutenant, the position that Bo had held down. He chose Flip; Kendall’s choice was like he had just signed his own death certificate. Kendall only had one week to live but, of course, he had no way of knowing that.
While he waited for Flip to deliver on his end, CJ was dropping work all over Newark. Little Bricks was pumpin’ like the projects on Prince Street used to pump back in the day, before they were demolished. CJ was also looking for that nigga, Darius, Tamika’s antagonizer.
Tonight though, CJ was taking a break from the drama. The only thing pressing him was that Tamika was blowing up his phone, leaving crazy voicemails and texts. He turned the cell off and refocused his attention on Tricia, who was sprawled out naked across the bed.
“I don’t know why I’m still fuckin’ with yo ass after you made me play myself, just so you wouldn’t lose that bitch,” she pouted, mad at herself because she could not leave CJ alone. She was hooked on his swag as well as his dick game.
“You fucks wit’ me ’cause I’m a boss nigga, and because you my bitch,” he said arrogantly, nibbling on her neck and finger fucking her pussy.
“Eat me out, CJ,” she moaned, but he ignored her.
“You did it once before, back when we first used to mess around.”
“Shorty, that was then; this is now. I be hearing shit about you fuckin’ with other niggaz. I’m not eatin’ behind the next niggaz dick, yo.”
“Man, I’m not fuckin’ nobody but you,” Tricia swore, which was the truth, but CJ wasn’t buying it.
“Whateva. I’m not licking the kitty cat, sorry, ma.”
“Get up then, ’cause if I’m not good enough for you to eat, I’m not good enough for you to fuck. I bet you be eating that bitch you got at home.”
“Don’t worry about her, just play your position.”
“And what is that?” she asked in a half moan, because CJ was now rubbing her clit.
“My freak bitch. Now open your legs wider and tell me you want me to fuck you.”
“Okay…I want you to fuck me, CJ.”
“And what else?”
“Treat me like your ho.”
CJ was ready to run up in Tricia when something told him to turn his cell back on. He followed his instincts and did so. Five minutes later, the cell rang, interrupting him in mid-stroke.
“Don’t answer it. Please,” begged Tricia. She was just about to have an orgasm.
“Got to shorty,” he said, looking at the screen and seeing that it was Eric calling. “Yo, wassup?”
“That nigga, Darius, who was following Tamika in that Jeep she describe,” Eric began. “Yo, me and Premo just snatched that bitch nigga up.”
“From where?”
“Bumped into him on Grafton, coming out of that record joint owned by those Jamaican niggaz. One of the homeys that was at the club the night that shit popped off pointed the pussy out to us, yo.”
“Where the nigga at now?”
“In the trunk of Premo’s car.”
“Is his eyes shut?”
“Not yet.”
>
“Handle y’all business and don’t be joyriding around with the body. One,” instructed CJ.
“One.”
When CJ finished boning Tricia, he took a quick shower and headed home. On the way out to West Orange, he called Eric to make sure that him and Premo were okay.
“Yeah, we handled it,” said Eric.
“A’ight, where you at?”
“Chillin’ at the crib with a shorty.”
“Where Mama and Brianna?”
“Man, you know where Mom Dukes at. Bri next door, spending the night with her lil friend.”
“Aight, lil bruh, I’ma fuck witchu later. You make sure you strap up ’fore you run up in shorty, fuck around and one of these lil hot ass hos give you that grown man,” warned CJ, speaking of AIDS.
When CJ walked into his crib he found that Tamika was not there. It’s damn near midnight, where the fuck can she be? he wondered, dialing her cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Where the fuck you at?” he snapped, though he was the one who had been out creepin’.
“I’m at the club where Star works,” she said over the music.
“Fuck you doing there?”
“Having some drinks. Fuck you doing over that bitch Tricia’s house?”
“Ain’t nobody been over Tricia’s house.” CJ lied.
“Well, why was your car parked in front of her building?”
“’Cause I parked it there. I was riding with Eric, since you spying on a nigga, you oughta know.”
“Nigga, you are such a liar!” She dial toned his ass. She didn’t know for sure that he was lying, but she didn’t trust his ass. Her Mom Dukes had told her about CJ’s whip being parked outside of Tricia’s building.
CJ called her right back.
“What, CJ?”
“Bitch, you must got another mouth stashed somewhere, ’cause you gon’ make me bust the one you talkin’ so mufuckin’ slick out of!”
“I’m not your bitch! Ya bitch is the bald-headed ho whose house you been over!” Tamika screamed into the phone as hot tears ran down her face. She could not believe that CJ would disrespect her like that, calling her a bitch.
“Yo, I’m sorry, ma. You know a nigga don’t mean that shit,” he checked himself. “Fa real, Mika, you know you’re wrong for being in a strip club. How did you get there, anyway?”
“I caught a cab.”
“I oughta make yo ass walk home,” he threatened.
“Hmmpf! You’ll grow old waiting.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Come pick me up.”
CJ fell up in the strip club ready to blast on the first nigga or dyke bitch that he saw in his girl’s grill.
Tamika was chillin’ alone at the bar, having shooed niggaz off, when CJ found her. Star walked up at the same time as CJ, all she had on was a g-string, a lace bra, and stiletto’s.
CJ grilled her like it was her fault that he had to come collect wifey from a strip club.
When they got home CJ didn’t say a word, he went into the kitchen with some blocks and started whipping them up in the microwave.
Tamika came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Baby, I’m sorry,” she cried. “I get lonely out here by myself, and when you won’t answer your phone it drives me crazy.”
“What, you don’t trust a nigga? I’m out hustlin’ for us. I’ma cop you another whip. I just didn’t want you pushin’ the Infiniti anymore ’cause that nigga know it. That’s why I sold it. But you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that bitch nigga no more; we got at that ass tonight,” said CJ.
Tamika knew what he meant.
“CJ, please don’t let the money change you,” she said, crying.
“Neva dat, baby girl.” He promised something that he was not equipped to stop from happening. “I’ma always love you; you can trust in that.” At least that part would prove to be true.
“Sup, fam?”
“I’m good,” replied Premo, touching fists with Flip.
“This my peoples CJ.”
“What’s good? The whole city on your jock, yo,” Flip told CJ, who just nodded. Fuck the dick riding; CJ wanted to know what the business was. “So, how’s it going down, Black? You done rocked the nigga to sleep for us?” he questioned
Flip, staring at him with a piercing stare.
“Yeah, he’s meeting me at this building he’s leasing on Evergreen Place in East Orange. He’s supposed to be turning it into a music studio but ain’t shit in there yet. I’m supposed to hit him with some gaup and pick up some work from him.”
“How much work?” asked CJ, still staring at Flip, who looked like Flava Flav.
“A bird of heroin and two bricks of coke.”
“How much gaup you suppose to have for him?”
“Just seventy-five stacks, money from the last two nights. Shit been slow.”
“Aight, when this go down, you get to keep the cake, and I’ma give you a third of the work, but you can’t pump it from our spots once I take over, understood?” instructed CJ.
“Yep,” agreed Flip.
The sun had just retreated when Kendall pulled into the lot in front of the building where he was meeting Flip. He didn’t see Flip’s car in the lot, which was empty, so he parked and walked toward the building. A figure stepped out of the shadows.
“This is for Guru, nigga!”
Kendall’s hand went to his waist after hearing the threat,but his draw wasn’t fast enough.He was up against three shooters, two of which had just appeared.
CJ, Premo, and Flip let loose.
Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!
Kendall’s body jerked before he hit the ground, twisted and bloody. CJ walked up and stood over him.
“It’s ova ol’ school!” Boc! Boc!
Two to the hat rack.
FOURTEEN
“So, you flushed the rocks down the toilet?” asked Rah. He was talking on the cell phone to Kayundra. She was using the phone that the woman at the rehab house had smuggled in. Kayundra had just told Rah everything that had happened when she went out on pass.
“Yep, and I smashed that damn straight shooter into a million little pieces. Porcelin is still mad at me.”
“I’m proud of you, baby girl. That Porcelin chick sounds like a hot mess.”
“Oh, she’s definitely that,” said Kayundra.
“Well in two more weeks you’ll be done with the program. I know you’re looking forward to that. You got any plans?”
“I’m going to get a job, and I’m going to continue to write songs. Maybe I’ll try to get into the music industry, but not right away. I don’t think I’m ready for that, it’s too much pressure. What I would really like to do is come visit you in ATL,” Kayundra held her breath as she nervously awaited Rah’s response.
She screamed with joy when she heard him say, “I can make that happen. Just tell me when you wanna come, and how long you plan to stay, and I’ll get you some plane tickets. I’ll send you some money to go shopping for new clothes to bring with you, too, ’cause I know that butt done got swole up.”
“Yes, it has,” she laughed. “I’m looking real fine, baby, and my skin is so clear. But you don’t have to send me money for new clothes. My mother promised to handle that.”
“I got you anyway, shorty,” he said.
“Can you afford all of that?”
“Ma, I might be a college dude, but I still know how to get mines,” Rah reminded her.
When Kayundra hung up from talking to Rah, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. Two weeks could not pass fast enough.
As for Rah, he was anxious to see Kayundra, too.
In the meantime though, he still had to stay on point with his classes and continue to make it do what it do in the streets. His man Don and nem had caught heat behind a shootout with some niggaz on the Westside and had to bounce back to New York for a minute. So now Rah was fuckin’ with N.O. Shit was still sweet.
Rah went and scooped up DaQu
an to go to the strip club. They hit The Blue Flame this night.
Inside, they ran into a thirsty nigga named Paco, who was from Zone Three like DaQuan. Paco was a short shabby dude who was too slick for his own good. He pushed up on Rah and DaQuan.
“What it do, shawdy?” he smiled a mouth full of platinum at DaQuan.
“You know me, keepin’ it pimpin’,” DaQuan replied, dapping him.
“I hear ya, shawdy, I see you rollin’ wit’ rich folks. What’s da business, Rah? Fuck wit’ me, I’m leaking.”
“Paco, why would I fuck with you, when you done shitted on every nigga that has tried to give you a helping hand? C’mon, dawg. I keep up with the streets,” said Rah, not mincing his words.
“Ahh, man, it ain’t even like dat, playa. I ain’t never shitted on a real nigga. Those dudes you referring to tried to pimp a nigga. You feel me?”
“Every one of ’em, huh?”
“Shawdy, tell him how these niggaz be tryna handle a muhfucka.” He tried to enlist DaQuan’s help.
“You talking to him; tell him yaself,” said DaQuan.
Paco’s reply got twisted in his lying tongue and never came out. Finally, he said, “Rah, just front me a halfa brick at a fair price, and I got you.”
“I don’t fuck with coke, yo.”
“Oh, well, you got some purp or some cush?”
“I got both, but I’m not tryna fuck witchu, son.”
“Why not? Damn, you scared to give a nigga a play?”
“Nah, I’m scared of what I’ll do to you if you play with my gaup. That’s real talk.”
“I’m not gonna play with ya gaup, shawdy. Fa real, fuck wit’ me one time.”
Rah wasn’t tryna hear it. A big booty stripper was on stage making her ass clap and Paco was all up in his ear fuckin’ up his groove.
“A’ight, yo, I’ma fuck witchu. Gimma ya number and I’ll get at you tomorrow,” said Rah agitated.
He programmed the pesty niggaz number into his cell phone then he returned his attention to the bodacious chocolate honey on stage with the stupid booty. Paco went off to agitate someone else.
