by Ca$H
CJ stared with an open mouth, at the seventeen empty kilo wrappers.
“Bitch, is you crazy!” he shouted.
Tamika stood up, looking insane as hell in her stilettos, mink jacket, and Vicky Secrets get-up. She had the butcher knife in her hand.
“Fuck with me and you’ll find out, cheatin’ mutherfucka! Ya mama’s a bitch!” she screamed back at him, and crouched down, ready to attack.
CJ pulled out his burner.
“I oughtta blow your stupid ass brains out. Put that knife down before I shoot you in the face.”
“Go ahead, you don’t give a fuck about me anymore, no way! C’mon, nigga. I’m not afraid of you! I’ma show you I’m not no weak bitch!”
Star saw that Tamika was out of her mind and did not fear the gun in CJ’s hand.
“No, Tamika!” she screamed just as her girl lunged at CJ, knife arcing through the air.
A single shot rang out in the bathroom like a loud clap of thunder. Tamika laid face-down on the floor as CJ looked down at her in regret, blood dripping from a slash across his forearm.
“Oh my God!” cried Star, falling to her knees and cradling Tamika’s limp body in her arms.
EIGHTEEN
CJ had reflexively squeezed the trigger when the knife slashed through the sleeve of his cashmere Coogi sweater that he had on, laying his forearm wide open. The bullet missed Tamika and shattered one of the overhead fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.
Tamika had lunged for his heart, but her foot had slipped in a puddle of vomit, causing her aim to come up short. She banged her head hard on the floor when she fell, knocking herself out cold. Star thought that Tamika had been shot until she cradled her in her arms and saw no blood, and realized that Tamika was still breathing.
“I can’t believe this shit!” gritted CJ, holding a towel up under his forearm to catch the blood. He looked at the empty kilo wrappers and shook his head in disbelief.
Star wet a face cloth and gently wiped Tamika’s forehead until she regained consciousness. Once her head cleared, Tamika wanted some more of CJ’s ass, but Star restrained her.
“Do you realize how much gaup you’ve fucked up?” sneered CJ. “All because you’re so gotdamn jealous. I wasn’t out creepin’ on your insecure ass. I ignored your calls all day because I was setting up a surprise birthday party for you. Star knew about it all along. I didn’t tell ya Mom Dukes until tonight.”
Star was nodding her head, cosigning CJ’s claims.
“There’s a club full of people waiting to surprise you. But fuck it, you done fucked up everything! This too! He pulled out a small velvet jewelry box, opening it to reveal a clear blue diamond set in platinum band. It was an engagement ring.
Tamika wanted to curl up and die when he flushed it down the toilet.
“I ain’t marrying yo’ crazy ass! And I’m selling the whip I bought you, all of your jewels and the designer shit, too.”
“I’m sorry, CJ. I thought—
“Naw, you didn’t think, you just reacted!” he cut her off then stormed out of the bathroom.”
When CJ went to the closet to change shirts and saw that all of his gear had been cut to shreds, he stalked back into the bathroom with a murderous unit on his mug. If Tamika had been any other chick he would’ve twisted her fuckin’ neck.
“It’s silly bitches like you that bring a nigga down. Maybe I would be better off with Tricia, someone who knows how to play her position, yo. Or maybe I should’ve chose Star, or just let ya psycho ass stayed with Rah,” hurled CJ at Tamika.
Then he stormed out of the crib, headed to the hospital to get his forearm stitched up.
Tamika cried on Star’s shoulder after CJ left. Finally, Star helped her to her feet and stood her in the glass mirror on the bathroom wall.
“Crazy bitch. I just want you to see how busted you look right now. Ass hanging out, titties too. Vomit and blood all over your mink, and a bump the size of a plum on your big ass forehead.”
“And I done flushed a half million dollars worth of CJ’s coke down the toilet and he didn’t even kick my ass. I guess he does love me,” said Tamika.
She studied herself in the mirror and couldn’t help but to laugh at how ridiculous she looked.
“Bitch, you’re retarded,” laughed Star.
CJ wasn’t laughing at all. He had called Nee Nee and told her to meet him at the emergency room. Now they were laid up at the motel; he had just blew her back out and they were sharing a blunt.
“I still can’t believe Tamika done that,” said Nee Nee, trying to fully capitalize on the situation. “I would never do anything like that. A real bitch knows how to play her position; don’t let my cousin bring you down, baby. She doesn’t know how to rep for a boss nigga like you.”
“I’m seeing that now,” CJ agreed, more out of anger than actuality.
For the next four days he laid up with Nee Nee.
Not because he wanted her, it was just his way of getting back at Tamika for what she had done. The seventeen blocks that she’d flushed didn’t hurt him, he was sitting pretty. Cujo had just hit him with a hundred and fifteen of them thangs and five of heroin.
Tamika’s Mom Dukes had called CJ to plead forgiveness on behalf of Tamika. CJ played hard for a minute but he still loved his girl, and Nee Nee, with her hatin’ ass damn sho couldn’t replace Tamika. In just four days, CJ was burnt out on Nee Nee’s pussy, and she had nothing else to offer.
Nee Nee had caught feelings, though. So she had the screw face when he told her that their rendevous had reached its end.
“I’m going back to wifey.”
“Whateva!” replied Nee Nee feeling played.
Tamika was at home, missing her man like crazy. She knew that she had fucked up and she wanted to fix things between herself and CJ, but she didn’t know how.
“He’s still heated. Just give him time to cool off,” Danyelle had suggested to her a few days ago.
The days seemed too long and the nights were lonely as hell. Finally, after four miserable days and nights, CJ walked through the door. He didn’t speak to her but at least he had come back home.
For two days, Tamika walked on egg shells, afraid to say anything but wanting to say so much. At night, when they went to bed, CJ slept with his back to her and pushed her hand away when she tried to touch him. All Tamika could do was wait for his anger to subside.
Eventually, CJ said, “I oughta make you work two jobs until you pay me back all the money I would’ve made off the work you flushed.”
“Whatever you want me to do, baby, just let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t ask me to buy you shit, for three years,” he said, grabbing a number out of the air.
It wasn’t what Tamika wanted to hear him say, she would’ve preferred to hear him say that he still loved her, but at least it was something. His statement told her that he was back to stay.
“CJ, three years is a long time. By then, my hair will be so nappy. Can’t I at least ask for salon money?” she asked, putting a finger in her mouth and batting her eyes.
CJ smiled. “Girl, bring your crazy ass here,” he pulled her onto his lap.
3 years later…
NINETEEN
CJ
For the past three years, my chokehold on Newark has been mad strong, and I’ve spreaded out to Elizabeth, Jersey City, and even Irvington where I drop weight to some Bloods, they got Irvington on smash.
Still, Little Bricks is home base, though I got most of Newark sewed up. Now there’s these niggaz who call themselves The Goon Squad, from Hawthorne, who wanna test my team’s G. The Goon Squad is under the command of a nigga called U-God, a beast. I give the nigga his props, his squad’s murder and hustle games are official. I’ve been keeping an eye on The Goon Squad the last coupla years, any spot that I didn’t have locked, they scooped up. Anybody that opposed them got smashed.
As long as The Goon Squad didn’t step on my toes I wasn’t sweatin’ ’em. But I guess U-God is n
o longer happy gettin’ a small slice of the pie. The other day, him and his squad fell up in the after-hours club I have on Springfield Ave.
“Yo, CJ let me holla at you,” said U-God.
I lead him to my private office so that we could chop it up alone. But some of my crew was posted just outside the closed door.
I sat behind my mahogany desk. U-God, who is brown-skinned, about five-nine, and medium built, was rockin’ a Sean Jean denim hook up and black Timbs. He wore an iced crown medallion on a platinum chain that hung down to his waist. He had the eyes of a killa, much like my own.
Real recognize real, so I had always shown U-God the same respect, in passing, that he showed me.
He sat down in the chair across the desk from me.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“Yo, I’ma cut to the chase. You been raping shit for the past few years; I salute you on that. Real talk, I admire how you put it down. Niggaz can’t fuck witchu so they don’t even try. Well I’m cut from a different cloth, nah mean? I’m sure you know about me, my rep speaks for itself.”
“And you said all that to say?” I asked when U-God paused.
“I wanna eat like a king, too. In fact, I’m gonna eat like one or die trying. Now, the way I see it in order for me to eat better you gotta eat a little less, which means a war or an understanding. It’s your call.”
Because I had learned to hear a man out before rejecting him, I asked, “What kinda understanding you tryna get with me?”
“We divide Newark 60-40. Right now it’s 80-20, your way, and those numbers gotta change. No disrespect intended,” said U-God who had come home from a ten year bid down South, five years ago, determined to come up or lay niggaz down.
He had done both.
U-God was pushin’ thirty-five years old and probably figured he had no more time to waste or nothing to lose. A bid can make a nigga go all out when he’s released.
“What do I get in return for giving up a bigger share of the city?” I posed to him.
“You get to live, and ya people do too. If you make me go to war with you anybody connected to you can get it. That’s not a threat, lil homey, that’s just how I get down.”
I smiled. But a smile can mean many things, just as a kiss can mean “the kiss of death”. I didn’t feel disrespected and I damn sho’ didn’t feel intimidated. It amused me that U-God had the balls to come up in my spot and kick it like that. I respected both his rep and his ambition, but he had me fucked up. I wasn’t breaking him off a piece of my empire.
U-God must’ve saw the answer to his proposal in my eyes. “Youngin’, greed befalls a man. Share the plate or get a lot of people marked because you wanna feast alone.”
“May the strongest squad prevail.” I said, firing up a blunt and kicking my feet up on the desk.
A week passed. I warned the team to stay on point, but The Goon squad hasn’t come at us yet. My team is more than a hunnid strong, while U-God and nem ’bout twenty deep. So I guess dude is hesitant to pop shit off because I got numbers. Still, I’m not waiting for son to bring the drama to me. I’ma send my killaz at that ass soon.
Meanwhile, these two jack boys named KD and Ghetto, both from Big Bricks, have been snatchin’ up niggaz after they cop weight from my people and robbing ’em, causing the streets to whisper that we ain’t playing fair.
“Niggaz saying we selling mufuckaz work then have ’em jacked” Eric tells me at a meeting of my top people—Eric, Kareem, Premo, Snoop, and Flip, the cat that we got to cross out Kendall for us. I was gonna body Flip not long after that move, ’cause I figured that if Kendall couldn’t trust the nigga, I couldn’t either. But Flip proved to be inexpendable with the way he handles my spots on Avon Avenue.
I say to Eric, “We’re getting soft. It’s been so long since niggaz tested our gangsta, we startin’ to relax. The streets sense that, that’s why these incidents are starting to happen. Two, three years ago a nigga would rather take some dick up the ass than violate us! Y’all niggaz so busy ballin’, stuntin’, and fuckin’ different shorties, y’all ain’t on point anymore. Got all our foot soldiers putting in all the work while y’all muhfuckaz just lay back and get fat off the hog!”
My response was to Eric but the rest of my niggaz know that my venom is directed at them, too. Don’t nobody say shit ’cause they know not to interrupt me when I’m going the fuck off.
“No more clubbin’, stuntin’, nuthin! Until I say so. Y’all niggaz understand?”
Five heads nodded.
“I want every one of y’all back out on the block, showing niggaz that shit is still gully.”
After the meeting Kareem pulls me aside.
“Fam, I didn’t wanna say nothin’ but every one of our customers who got jacked by KD and Ghetto bought their weight from Flip. Five niggaz got jacked, and all five of ’em copped from him. That’s too much coincidence, yo.”
“I noticed that,” I acknowledge. I know this lil ugly Flava Flav-lookin’ nigga ain’t stupid enough to violate.
“You want me to get at him?” asks Kareem.
I give it some thought.
“Not yet, lemme check it out first.” I decide, ’cause shit ain’t always the way it first appears. Betrayal warrants death, which is irreversible, so I wanna be sure before I fit Flip for a coffin. Based just on past behavior, though, it’s not looking good for ol’ Flip.
“What about KD and Ghetto?”
“I’ma handle that ASAP.”
“You don’t have to get ya hands dirty, me and Snoop’ll get at them fools,” suggests Kareem, anxious to murk something.
“Nah, I’ma put in work myself, remind the team that I still pop these things.” I pat the Desert Eagle on my waist.
As I leave the apartment in Little Bricks where the meeting was held, my phone vibrates on my hip.
“Sup?”
It’s Flip. I cut the conversation short because I’m not sure how the nigga is gettin’ down these days. The last thing I need is an enemy on my team.
Later, I share with Eric what Kareem suspects of Flip.
“Bruh, I don’t believe Flip would get down like that. You know Kareem salty with him ’cause Flip bagged a shorty that Kareem had been tryna get at,” says Eric.
“What? So you sayin’ Kareem would get Flip murked over a bitch? Nah, Kareem ain’t shady like that. But Flip…I don’t know.”
I ponder the situation for a few. A’ight, I know how to handle this shit. But first I’ma get at KD and his man; make an example outta them niggaz so muhfuckaz will be reminded that I handles mine.
Me, Premo, and Snoop been casing out these niggaz, KD and Ghetto for the past two days. Tonight we parked a coupla houses down from this gambling joint in East Orange where they’re known to hang out. The way KD and Ghetto been lickin’ my mans, their grip should be on swole, so even if they’re losing their shirts up in the gambling joint this wait could be hours.
With murder on my brain like inoperable cancer, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait these two niggaz out until nuns start giving muhfuckaz STDs and Fiddy fuck Vivica again.
My wrist piece reads 12:15, a quarter past midnight.
’Bout 2:50 a.m. Snoop whispers, “There they go,” from the backseat of the whip we were rollin’ in. Premo behind the wheel. I’m ridin’ shotgun, strapped.
“Turn on the headlights and drive normal,” I instruct Premo.
He does exactly as I instructed but Snoop’s trigger finger is so happy, he lets loose a little too quickly. KD catches a coupla slugs to the shoulder from Snoops fo-five and staggers back. Then my piece barks angry and loud, leaving KD on the pavement leaking vital organs. But that nigga Ghetto done jetted. We bust at that ass in vain. Muhfucka quicker than street justice.
We peel off, me and Snoop both spittin’ lead at Ghetto who’s dodging and ducking. Nigga dips between two houses and he’s ghost.
“Fuck!” cusses Snoop.
“It’s all good, my dude. We’ll get up with
that ass sooner or later. Nigga can run but he can’t hide, not in Jersey, we own this bitch!” I exclaim.
When I get to the crib, an eight hundred thousand dollar joint in New Haven that I copped last year, Tamika is already sleep. I look down at my ghetto queen and get all nostalgic and shit. Me and shorty been through in the last three years: she done caught me with other bitches, found out about me fucking her cousin Nee Nee, all types of shit, but she still holding a nigga down. And she has learned not to do no stupid shit outta jealousy like she did three years ago when she flushed seventeen bricks of coke of mine.
Remember that shit?
Yo, I can laugh at it now, but back then wasn’t a damn thing funny. I told her not to ever do that shit again or I would put my foot up that ass so far, my toes would come outta her mouth. Baby understands that I need her to show mad trust and loyalty, ’cause the game is hard enough without a nigga having to battle with his girl.
All Tamika has to do is look around at all the splendor that I have her living in, and she can see that she a niggaz heart and soul. Ain’t nothin’ changed since she first became my girl. Fuck the other hos I be cuttin’; where a nigga sticks his dick ain’t got nothing to do with his heart. Ma laid up with me in a six bedroom, eight and a half baths joint, got a brand new BM drop, jewels and clothes galore. So she gotta know that I love me some her.
I bend down and kiss Tamika softly on the lips and her eyes flutter like the wings of a butterfly.
“Mmm, what time is it?” she asks.
“Go back to sleep, shorty. I’ma take a quick shower then I’m coming to bed. You know I got a flight to catch later today.”
I gotta fly down to ATL and fuck with my nigga Rah. Fam has only been outta the joint six months but he’s doing good. I be kidding him, like, “You a Muslim now…no more dope game.” But that’s not really the case.
Yeah, my nigga came home from that bid focused on some legit shit, but he ain’t trying to front like he won’t get back on his grind. In fact, I hit his dude DaQuan off with some work through Rah, who mostly concentrates on promoting celebrity parties and running the two night clubs I loaned him the guap to open up.
