The Game of Deception

by Victor L. Martin

  “Fuck!” Ghetti muttered from behind the black ski mask as he picked up the sawed-off. He looked down at the Arab, and then took a step back from the pooling blood. Ghetti snatched off the ski mask then spat in the Arabs face. “Welcome to Durham, muthafucker!” He let off four rapid shots from his Glock .45 into the Arab’s face.

  Rushing back to the SUV, he yanked the passenger side door open and found his dope in the seat covered with blood and brain matter. If the lighting was better, he would have noticed a few bits of teeth. Snatching the coke, he took off running into the cold murderous night. He hauled ass until he reached his Chevy parked along Club Boulevard. He would have to deal with Poo-Man’s snake ass later. He knew shit was shady when the Navigator headed toward Glenbrook Drive. And Poo-Man was supposed to be his fam’! When he reached his car, panting for breath, he saw five or six Durham police speeding toward Glenbrook Drive with sirens blasting and lights flashing. Ghetti eased into his Chevy and drove off slowly with a bad case of jitters. Every breath he took, he had a fear of blue lights dancing behind him. He drove in silence with a lot on his mind. His quick actions had him in a state of numbness. With a trembling index finger, he hit a button to bring some sounds into his Chevy. With the mode set on random, ironically, the four fifteen-inch subwoofers came alive with DMX’s “Slipping,” Ghetti’s chosen theme song.

  CHAPTER 2:

  Maria and Ghetti

  Durham, North Carolina

  Saturday 11:14 a.m.

  Ghetti was ready for his confrontation with Poo-Man as he knocked on his girl’s front door. He had stayed up late into the night waiting to see if Poo-Man would call him. Ghetti was still filled with anger, sporting a green and white Polo bubble jacket that hid a Tec-22 strapped over his shoulder. On the sixth knock and second ring of the doorbell, Maria answered the door. She was a twenty-one-year-old Mexican with a luscious body. Her raven black hair was bone straight and hung four-inches past her shoulders. In Ghetti’s eyes, she favored Vida Guerra, the world famous ass model.

  “Poo-Man in?” Ghetti asked, stealing a quick look over her shoulder.

  “No, he just left with my brother. They went to Greensboro.” She yawned.

  “Damn!” Ghetti played his role. “Can I use your phone for a sec? My minutes are mad low on my phone.” If she showed a hint of hesitation, he would force his way in. He knew she was telling the truth about her brother not being in because Carlos’s purple Ford Explorer wasn’t in the driveway.

  “Yeah, c’mon in,” Maria said, rubbing her stiff shoulder that she had slept on. She let him in, closing the door behind him. Ghetti remained standing as she held out the cordless phone.

  “It ain’t long distance, is it?” She smiled, pulling the phone back.

  “Nah girl. And I can’t believe you’re still trippin’ about long distance calls. People don’t do that anymore. But anyway, I’m just calling my cousin in Raleigh,” he lied.

  “Oh.” She handed him the phone then turned to walk into the kitchen. He feigned a call then hung up when she came back moments later with a bottle of water. She sat down on the flower printed sofa.

  “Want me to call Poo?” she asked, folding her thick legs up under her.

  “Nah,” Ghetti replied, placing the cordless on the sofa. “I need to holler at him in person.” He sat down at the far end of the sofa.

  Maria shrugged. “Hey, you hear about that shooting last night?”

  “Nah,” Ghetti lied, maintaining a straight face. “Whut happened?”

  “Two dudes got killed right up the street.” She pointed. “And nosey ass Wanda had her bucktooth ass all up on the news. You should have seen her. But anyway, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Ghetti’s eyes focused just beneath her face. Her ample breast were straining against the T-shirt.

  “Just chillin’,” Ghetti replied. He stayed on point just in case Maria had any part of what had gone down last night. For all he knew, Poo-Man could be in a back room waiting for him to slip. Now that he had time to think without anger, he realized it was stupid to come to Maria’s crib. He should have stayed on the low and saw how Poo-Man would act. His train of thought was broken when her phone rang. Maria answered it on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Whut you doin’?” Poo-Man asked.

  Maria rolled her eyes. “About to cook. Why what’s up?” she glanced at Ghetti then silently mouthed, Poo-Man.

  Ghetti did everything within his will to maintain his composure.

  “You got a visitor over here to see you,” she said purposely using Ghetti to get off the phone.

  “Who?” Poo-Man asked.

  Maria didn’t answer, instead, she gave Ghetti the phone then went back into the kitchen. Ghetti waited until she was in the kitchen before he spoke.

  “This Ghetti.” Ghetti kept the anger from his voice. “You aiight, yo? Whut the fuck went wrong last night? You had me worried, Poo.” Ghetti played his role to see how Poo-Man would react.

  “Yo, um . . . Dem fools tried to merk me, yo! Word up, muthafucka got us, yo.”

  “Look, let’s not say much over the line. Whut time you gonna be back?” Ghetti asked.

  “Later . . . ‘bout fo’ or five,” Poo-Man said. “Me and Carlos on some business and shit. You know what it is.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get up wit’cha then.” Ghetti held his temper as he saw Maria coming back. He handed her the phone. The fitted shirt and a pair of tight Dollhouse jeans did wonders for her shape. She spoke briefly with Poo-Man then hung up.

  “Ain’t you hot in that coat?” she asked, sitting in the same spot. “I got the heat on.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” He stood as her eyes followed him.

  “What time Poo coming back?” she asked.

  “Round four or five.”

  “Figures,” she said, twisting her pouty lips. “I bet he’s fucking with some bitch! Did you know some trick called here for his ass last week?”

  “Don’t stick me in the middle of y’all Jerry Springer relationship,” he said, wondering why she was putting Poo-Man on Front Street. She rolled her doe like brownish-green eyes.

  He turned toward the door. “Tell Poo to call me as soon as he gets in. You know how dude be forgettin’ mad shit.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she agreed, standing to her feet. “Like forgetting to pay me any attention.” She sounded upset as she opened the door for him. Ghetti gave her a curt nod then bounced to his ’75 Caprice.

  Ghetti wheeled his Donk Chevy to Elm Street. It took him just a few minutes to spot Fly standing on the curb. Ghetti slowed to a stop, motioning Fly to get in. He wouldn’t mention anything about the Arabs.

  “What up?” Fly asked, leaning in the passenger side window.

  “Let’s take a ride, old man,” Ghetti joked. “I need to holler at cha’.”

  “Player, thirty-four ain’t old!” Fly slid into the jacked up Chevy. “Pull off slow ‘cause I think the pops up the block,” Fly warned.

  Ghetti did just that. They rode in silence for a few blocks before Ghetti said, “Yo, I heard the pops ran up in your spot the other day.”

  Fly was slumped in the ostrich seat looking at a cut on his thumb. “Yeah, pops fucked me up. Lost four keys plus eighty thou cash, and my Hummer. Nobody was caught when they raided my spot. My lookout man gave us a heads up warnin’, so we all just dropped er’ thang and hauled ass. Shit, I just got that Hummer from the chop shop!”

  “Damn, yo!” Ghetti replied, frowning. He didn’t know Fly was strung that hard.

  “Word, I know some cats gotta be snitchin’ ‘cause the po-po went straight fo’ the stash. I swear I wish I knew the nigga that’s snitchin’!” Fly vented through clenched teeth.

  “Or shorty,” Ghetti added. “Snitchin’ ain’t gender biased.”

  “Yeah, you right. Damn, I let a nigga get too close to me!”

  “Yo, I got a deal for you,” Ghetti said as he slowed for a stop sign.

  “Ghetti, real
talk, I took a big loss wit’ this bust. My whole team is suspect right now. Ain’t got but nine g’s to my fuckin’ name.”

  “Just hear me out right quick.” Ghetti waited for a taxi to cross the intersection before pulling off. “Here’s the deal. I got a bird and a half for eight stacks. No bullshit.”

  Fly sat up, looking at Ghetti. “Eight fo’ a bird and a half?”

  “Ain’t that whut I said?” Ghetti waited for Fly to holler back. It didn’t take Fly too long to jump on the rare deal.

  “Yo, swing by my girl’s crib over on Cheek Road,” Fly replied, rubbing his eager hands together.

  Ghetti nodded and then reached out to bump the system.

  “Yo, yo, yo, bump that shit up!” Fly nodded as Ghetti filled the Chevy with his theme song.

  “Hey yo, I’m slippin’, I’m fallin’, I can’t get up . . .”

  The deal between Ghetti and Fly went down smooth like a glass of Navan Cognac. After the exchange of money and dope, the two rode around Durham just kickin’ it and flirting with a few chicks in the hood.

  “Yo,” Fly said before parting ways. “I’ma owe you one fo’ dis my nigga. If you ever need anything, just get at me.”

  Ghetti said it was all good. Pulling away from the block, he blew the horn twice as Fly went back on the grind. Ghetti glanced at the block in his rearview mirror, hoping he could leave it all behind.

  He started smiling when he came across a stack of cash by the gas pedal. It was the stack that had fallen out of his hand last night. At a stoplight, he reached down to retrieve it. Two thousand to blow was the first idea that formed in this mind. Before the day was over, he knew he needed to buy some new heat since he had thrown away his pump and Glock .45.

  His Chevy ended up in Hope Valley at an illegal arms dealer spot. This was the white part of town and Ghetti’s jacked up Chevy stuck out like a black man at a Klan meeting. The arms dealer was a Gulf War vet who looked to be in his late fifties. He showed Ghetti everything from an AR-15 to a M-4. In the end, Ghetti copped a .38 and two new Glock .45’s. He paid in cash then headed straight to East Main Street to stash the .38 and one of the Glocks. He still had the Tec-22, which belonged to his road dawg, San who resided on Club Boulevard. Leaving his stash spot, he looked at the time, 4:18 p.m. Still no word from Poo-Man. Since Ghetti knew he was headed back over to Maria’s crib, he called San to let him know that he still had his Tec-22. Poo-Man should be calling any minute now, Ghetti thought. Fuck it. Ghetti picked up his Boost Mobile then dialed Maria’s number.

  “Hello?” Maria answered on the first ring sobbing hard.

  “Maria whut’s up? Whut you cryin’ fo’?” he asked turning the system down.

  “It’s, Carlos!” she cried.

  “Yo, calm down and tell me whut’s up,” he waited a few seconds as she tried to get herself together.

  “Okay, um, my brother and Poo-Man got knocked off. Carlos said he is charged with trafficking weed and Poo-Man has a gun charge I think.”

  “Damn!” Ghetti said on the issue of Carlos. “Yo, ain’t Poo-Man still on probation?”

  “I think so,” she replied.

  “Look, just chill and stop cryin’ okay. Can you do that fo’ me?”

  “I’ll try,” she said sniffing.

  “I’m on my way over to see you. Don’t wanna say too much on these phones.”

  Ending the call, he kept his word by heading straight to her crib.

  When he pulled up to her crib, she met him in the doorway. He led her to the sofa after closing and locking the front door. They sat down together, hip to hip. She continued to sob on his shoulder as he held her.

  “You gonna be okay?” he whispered.

  “Nooo,” she said with her voice croaking. “I don’t have no family here but my brother, Ghetti. What am I going to do about the bills and stuff?”

  “Don’t you got some weed stashed?”

  “A little bit,” she nodded. “Just a pound, I think. But I don’t know how to sell it. Carlos did all that.”

  “I’ma help you out, okay?” he said, rubbing her shoulder.

  “For real?” she asked, leaning all up on him and pressing her breast against him.

  “Yeah, you know I’m cool wit’ your brother. He be lookin’ out for me when I buy big on some weed.”

  She wiped her eyes and finally managed a beautiful smile. “Okay, um . . . Carlos said he would call me around eight. What do you want me to tell him?” she asked, wiping her eyes again.

  “I’ll chill wit’cha; that’s if you want some company?”

  Maria couldn’t believe her ears. She knew he was not running any game for the weed because a pound wasn’t shit to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, which had him in an awkward spot. “Yes Ghetti,” she said. “I would like for you to stay. But please . . .” She smiled. “Will you take this big ass coat off?” Ghetti removed his coat. She then asked him if he wanted anything to drink. He said he was straight.

  From what he knew, Poo-Man had been fucking with Maria for about seven or eight months. They relaxed and waited for Carlos to call while watching a movie on HBO on the Sony 42-inch Sony plasma TV. She was pleased to have him sitting a few feet from her and in truth she was having some strong vibes toward him. Around ten minutes past eight, Carlos called, interrupting the casual conversation that Ghetti and Maria were deep into. Since the call was limited to ten minutes, Maria made sure she saved a few for Ghetti. Ghetti assured Carlos that he would hold his little sister down.

  As it stood now, Carlos was being held without bond. Since he had entered the country illegally three years ago with Maria at his side, his fear was that he would be deported back to Guadalajara, Mexico. He couldn’t care less about deportation because he could re-enter the States with ease. His fear was leaving his sister. Ghetti again told Carlos to relax because he would hold Maria down. When Ghetti heard the recorded message that two minutes were left, he told Carlos to keep his head up, then handed Maria the phone. She tried her best to hold back her tears as her brother told her that he was sorry and that he loved her. Ghetti really felt sorry for her and again, he was doing this on the strength of her brother. After she hung up, he made an effort to cheer her up. Ghetti offered to take her out to eat if she was in the mood for it. She happily agreed, changing into something more appropriate, a cute, tight-fitting sleeveless sweater.

  “Where you wanna eat at?” he asked.

  “Don’t matter,” she said with a touch of sadness.

  “Ever been to Cattleman’s over on Hillsborough Road?”

  She twisted her glossy lips as she reached for her coat.

  “No. I’ve been lucky to be treated with a happy meal from Poo-Man. Is that where we’re going?”

  He nodded yes.

  Her face lit up. “Good! I’m ready. Let me grab a bag of weed right quick.

  Ghetti was feeling better to be the reason for her smile. He thought about how he grew up as the only child in a single parent home. Thought about how his childhood was bland and troubled from the start, never having someone to talk to because of his mother being hooked to the streets. Before she could turn her life around, she lost a battle with breast cancer when Ghetti was only ten. Deep down, he had a fear of those same streets leading him to his downfall, just as they had done his mother. This was his reason to toss in his rep and get out the game.

  When Maria came out of her bedroom, he led her out the door and to his car.”

  He surprised her with his gentleman qualities by helping her inside his Chevy.

  “This is a nice ride,” she said, pulling the seatbelt across her body.

  “It’s my pride and joy,” he replied, pulling from the curb.

  “Do I need to sit low?”

  “For whut?”

  “Just in case one of your bitches see you and—”

  “First off, I don’t have no bitches and I don’t put myself in the position for no dumb ass drama like that.” He glanced briefly at her. The girl was absolutel
y gorgeous. She had that natural beauty and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was a jean and tennis shoes type female. Poo-Man often talked about how she had dreamed of going to college, calling it stupid. Ghetti had heard about that fiery sexual quality that flowed with Spanish women, but never like this. On the low, she had his dick stone solid. She stood 4’ 11” and looked thick to death with her buck-forty frame. Twenty of it had to be in those swollen double D’s. With her small waist and super round ass, she could put a hurting on a skimpy two-piece swimsuit.

  At the restaurant over steaks and drinks, they picked up where they left off. Maria laughed and joked the entire time, feeling relaxed with him. He couldn’t help staring at her ample bosoms that fought to breathe under the tight sweater. Her body was just too amazing for him to ignore. Ghetti was a fool for some big ol’ titties.

  “I don’t see why you are so tight with Poo-Man,” she said, changing the subject for no reason.

  Ghetti took a sip of his drink. “Why you say that?”

  She shrugged. “Um . . . he be talkin’ mad shit behind your back. Saying how it’s fucked up that you never give him any . . you know what to sell for you. You and I both know that he has a drug habit, so I don’t blame you for not putting anything in his hands.”

  Ghetti wasn’t surprised. He had given Poo-Man a chance to get on by fronting him two ounces that netted Ghetti no profit. Ghetti operated on a one-chance trial, no second chances. He only fucked with Poo-Man because of his cousin he used to fuck back in the day. Yeah, he knew how Poo-Man felt, but he expected Poo-Man to understand the nature of the game after he fucked up $1,600 worth of dope. It seemed as if Poo-Man had taken it personal. Ghetti’s anger began to build with Poo-Man on his mind. Now he knew why Poo-Man had set him up last night.

  “Why you tellin’ me all this? Ain’t Poo your nigga?”

  “Fuck him,” she blurted. “I know he’s been fucking around behind my back with some bummy hoes in West Durham. Just last week a bitch from North Carolina Central University tried to start a fight with me outside the Hilltop store!”