The Game Don't Change

by Mazaradi Fox

“So what’s good? What’s the word?”

  “Listen, my nigga, can you meet me at your cousin’s house?”

  “What cousin?” asked DeMarco.

  “Colg. That’s my boy right there, my nigga.”

  “A’ight, I’m on my way.”

  DeMarco then called Colg. “Yo, wassup, it’s DeMarco.”

  “Ain’t shit. Wassup with y’all?”

  “I was callin to ask you wassup wit the nigga Gee.”

  “That’s good people right there. He’s been tryin to get up with you for a minute. You know that nigga Black that you shot? Word is that him and his crew took ten birds from them.”

  “Word?” DeMarco was shocked.

  “Yeah, so he wanted you and him to lock the whole town down together.”

  “Well, I’m on my way out to your house to see wassup.”

  “A’ight, cuz, I’m waitin on you.”

  Colg knew that DeMarco didn’t play, so he wanted to make sure everything went smoothly; plus, he could make a lot of money if things turned out right.

  “C, get up!” DeMarco yelled.

  “Wassup, DeMarco? Damn, what time is it?”

  “Man, it’s that time, 2:30.”

  C hopped up and lit his blunt as DeMarco put the plan together in his mind. DeMarco started putting him onto what this kid Gee was saying.

  “A’ight, DeMarco, let’s strap up and go over there.”

  * * *

  DeMarco stopped on the side of the road and told Killer C to walk down to Colg’s house through the woods in the back.

  “DeMarco, if this nigga ain’t by himself, we gon’ let him have it. If I take my hat off, you know what it’s hittin for.”

  “A’ight, let’s dance.”

  DeMarco pulled up to Colg’s house with all of his windows down—he wanted to make sure he could get a clean shot if needed. Colg and Gee came out of the crib smoother than the Fonz.

  “Yo, wassup, my nigga?”

  “Same ol’ shit, tryna make a dollar outta fifteen cents.”

  “I hear you, my nigga, but I heard this nigga Black took some shit from you.”

  “Yeah, some light shit.”

  “I’m gonna keep it solid wit you, my nigga. Them niggas was so thirsty I had another ten joints in the crib.”

  DeMarco’s mouth dropped thinkin to himself, This stupid bitch! That’s when his mind clicked. If these niggas got caught for ten, and still had ten, but weren’t too worried about the loss, imagine what they really had.

  “So I’m saying, Gee, what you tryna do?”

  “Man, I’m tryna wipe them niggas out.”

  DeMarco started laying down the game plan. Gee couldn’t believe how swift he was for a young guy; he loved every word of it.

  “So, DeMarco, check this out. I’m gonna give you ten birds. Just bring me back $18,000 and $5,000 for your cuz, which is a total of $23,000. I want to make sure my nigga Colg get his cut.”

  “Okay, $18,000, and $5,000 for Colg. Be back here tonight. We will have that for you, Gee. Just sit back and watch how your money grow,” DeMarco said with a smile.

  That’s all Gee wanted to hear. DeMarco’s team was strong throughout that area. “A’ight, I gotta make a run,” he said, then hopped on his motorcycle and sped off.

  Killer C came out of the woods. “I hope that shit was worth it, because them bugs tore my ass up,” he said.

  Colg stood there wondering what DeMarco was up to. “I told you, DeMarco, that boy Gee is the man. He just don’t have no family down here. His brother is in the military, so that’s how he heard of this town getting all this money.”

  “So, Colg, where you meet him at?”

  “I met him at the bike show.”

  “Oh, okay,” DeMarco said. It was starting to make sense. The more Colg talked, the more DeMarco started putting things together.

  DeMarco and Killer C jumped back in the car and DeMarco called out the window to Colg, “Holla at me later.” After a few minutes on the road, he smiled and said, “Yo, C, I could never forget one thing my pops used to say to me before he went to jail. He used to be like, Listen, boy, you need to do more and say less or you’ll be shopping at Payless.”

  “What he meant by that?”

  “He was basically sayin that actions speak louder than words.”

  “Oh, I get you!”

  “Do you know what just happened?” DeMarco said. “That’s the same nigga that we just caught for ten joints. He thinks it was that nigga Black and his crew that did it.”

  “Word?”

  “Well, he’s givin us ten more tonight. So now that’s doin more and sayin less.”

  DeMarco showed Killer C that day that he was one of the best to ever do it. They got to the crib and DeMarco went into his room. He closed his door and pulled his Bible out before dropping to his knees and praying. See, one thing about DeMarco is that he always believed in God and was very spiritually oriented. He knew at this point that all of his blessings were coming through. He could remember a time when he was driving on the highway with a few birds in the car and a state trooper started following him and his cousin Swimmy. The two of them started making calls to his older sister who was heavy into church. They asked her to start praying for them, then, out of nowhere, the state trooper made a U-turn on the highway and went the opposite way. There were so many reasons why he always loved God.

  Knock knock.

  “Yo! DeMarco, what’s good?” Killer C had something to tell his right-hand man.

  “I’m coming out now,” DeMarco said, then put his Bible in the top drawer and opened the door. “Wassup, son?”

  “You know what, DeMarco? You my nigga for real. I mean, I was gettin money in New York, but look what we had to do to get it. You bring me down here and this shit fall right in your lap.” Killer C had always thought he needed to be violent when it came to getting money, but DeMarco saw it a whole different way.

  “C, you already know how we do. My Uncle Bruh damn near raised both of us, so it’s only right for us to get this money together.”

  They just chilled out and smoked until 8 o’clock came. DeMarco looked at his phone and saw that Colg had been trying to reach him since 7, so he called him back.

  “What’s good, Colg?”

  “Man, you need to come pick your clothes up.”

  That was all DeMarco needed to hear. DeMarco and C got there in record time. They started loading bricks up in the back of Colg’s truck.

  “Yo, Colg, I’m gonna need your truck for a minute.”

  “Go ahead, be my guest.”

  All Colg had was money on his mind. He knew once DeMarco got the bricks in his hands, it was going to be no looking back. DeMarco and C ran into the woods and stashed the bricks one by one, and then pulled back up to Colg’s house. DeMarco backed up his own car, then hit his brakes a few times before opening his stash box.

  “Yo, Colg, here’s the first down payment.” DeMarco threw his cousin $25,000. Colg’s eyes got as big as a truck tire. “Come on, Colg, if it wasn’t for you this would’ve never happened. Just remember, family comes first.”

  “A’ight, bo, I’m witcha.”

  They pulled out of Colg’s driveway and headed into town to check on Skip and Bizzy.

  * * *

  Bizzy and Skip had shit jumping.

  “Yo, Skip, there go DeMarco and C.”

  “Yo, wassup, nigga?”

  “Damn, Skip, this shit looking crazy. I mean, it’s niggas and bitches everywhere.”

  “The funny thing is, DeMarco, we hustle two blocks down. This is just where everybody hangs at. Anyway, I been wantin to talk to you.”

  “What’s good?”

  “Nah, I got some people in the next town over that be buyin joints.”

  “Where you meet them at?”

  “Me and Bizzy be takin the team to the mall there, so I bagged a nice redbone chick with a fat ass. I been seein her for a minute. Matter of fact, she’s pregnant.”

  “Oh,
here we go,” DeMarco said with a sigh.

  “Nah, for real, DeMarco, she good peoples. But her brothers and cousins do their thing.”

  “A’ight, so what you told them?”

  “You can get it for $46,000 a joint.”

  “Shit, Skip, you might as well tell them you can get that fire for $47,500, so you can make you a lil’ profit,” DeMarco said. “So this is what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna let you and C handle that. When you want it, call him. He got you. Just make sure you always by yourself.”

  “Come on, nigga, we from up top and Rakim said it the best: No mistakes allowed.”

  “Okay, I gotta go bust a move real quick. Yo, C, you good?”

  “I’m great.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, why, wassup? You can leave me out here with Skip and Bizzy till later.”

  “Y’all niggas better not start no shit,” DeMarco said.

  “Nah, we good.”

  DeMarco knew what C was up to. See, Killer C wanted to get out there, see how shit was moving, and try to bag him one of those country girls so he could start spreading his wings. Look how his man Skip met a girl in the mall and her brother and cousins were now buying bricks. That’s all he needed if niggas were trustworthy. C stood out there and saw his men from NY have shit moving like New Jack City. He couldn’t wait to get his chance.

  Skip looked at C and said, “Wait until we go to the pool hall tonight. All the bad chicks be up in that spot.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was the first night Killer C went out without DeMarco. He wanted to see what the town was made of. At the pool hall, he went to the bar and ordered three Long Island Iced Teas. The spot started getting packed as the night went on. He just sat at the bar scoping out the place. Skip and Bizzy had chicks all over them. Around 10 p.m., Skip walked up to C with a fine brown-skinned chick with a little mole on the top of her lip and a fat ass.

  “Yo, Killer C, this homegirl Dana.”

  “Oh, how are you doin?” she asked Killer C with a strong country accent. “You want a few drinks with me?”

  “I don’t mind, but first thing before we chill . . . do you have a baby father or a man in here?”

  “No, I don’t. The guy I used to mess with is locked up; he got ten years for shooting somebody.”

  “When does he come home? If you don’t mind me askin.”

  “Nah, I don’t, but I can tell you one thing: no time soon.”

  The lady behind the bar asked them if they needed anything. She smiled, knowing C wasn’t from around there.

  “Yes ma’am, can I have a straw, please?” Dana said.

  “What about you, young man?”

  “I’ll take another Long Island Iced Tea with no ice.”

  Killer C was feeling good. Before long, he and shorty were drunk. Dana was feeling his style, and he was feeling her.

  “So, what else you do?”

  “Oh, I go to school and I work. What about you?”

  He paused, then said the first thing that came to his mind: “I’m a pharmacist. So, what are you doin later tonight?”

  “Not much. I’ll probably go home to bed.” Dana pulled her chair closer to C.

  At that moment, Skip walked back up with two more girls. “See, I told you that you’d like my man, Dana.”

  “I ain’t gonna lie, Skip, he is the sweetest. The girls in the South already know them boys from New York get that real money. Especially DeMarco’s crew.”

  “Damn, shorty, this little pool hall is like a club,” Killer C observed.

  “Hell yeah, this is where everybody at on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

  “So, Dana, you live by yourself?”

  “I sure do. I’m an independent woman. I work for my shit.”

  “I hear that. So where is the place at, independent woman?”

  “Not too far from here. I live right behind the police station,” Dana replied.

  Killer C knew a nigga wasn’t crazy enough to run up in there.

  “I’m getting tired, Killer.”

  “It’s Killer C, but you can call me C.”

  “Okay, C, here’s my number if you want to get up later or somethin.”

  After Dana split, Killer C ordered one more drink and headed over to Skip at the pool table. The nigga Bizzy was in the corner getting head from some tall-ass chick. I thought country niggas be on some shit with niggas from New York, C said to himself.

  “What you think, my nigga?”

  “Shit, Skip, y’all got this shit on lock.”

  “Your boy DeMarco paved the way for us down here. Yo, C, I’m saying, what y’all niggas doin tonight?”

  “Man, all you gotta do is get me a pistol and drop me off at shorty’s house.”

  Skip knew Dana was good money, so he didn’t mind his man going over there. Shit, even he had tried to get with Dana, but she wouldn’t give him none.

  While everybody was partying and dancing, Skip and Killer C slid out. When they pulled up to Dana’s driveway, Skip passed C a seventeen-shot Glock.

  “Yo, what the fuck is this, Skip?”

  “Nigga, you in the South, they got all types of shit down here.”

  “You ain’t never lied, my nigga. I ain’t never seen no shit like this in New York.”

  Killer C pulled his phone out and called Dana. She answered on the first ring like she was waiting for him to call or something.

  “Hello,” she said in her sexiest voice.

  “Hey, I’m outside.”

  “Okay, I’m coming to the door now.”

  “I’ll see you in the a.m.,” C said to Skip.

  “No doubt. You got the number—if anything comes up, hit my phone.”

  “Copy.”

  C walked up the stairs but couldn’t see very well because the porch lights were off. When he opened the door, he found Dana butt-ass naked. C just stood there with his eyes wide open.

  “What you gonna do, stay there or close the door? What, you ain’t never seen nobody naked before?”

  “I ain’t hardly sayin that.”

  “So what are you sayin then?”

  C looked at her and smiled, then followed her inside the house. “Shorty, can I light a blunt in here?”

  “I mean, C, what you think, I’m a nun? Light that thing up and pass me some.”

  C was feeling everything about Dana. They fucked all night and by the morning C felt like he’d been with her for years. She gave him the keys to her house, car, and had him drop her off at work.

  C couldn’t wait to see DeMarco to show him how fast he made moves.

  * * *

  “Yo, who the fuck is that?” DeMarco jumped out of bed and grabbed India’s gun. “Stay here, I be right back.”

  DeMarco opened the house door. “Yo, C who the fuck car is that?”

  “You know me, DeMarco, I make moves.”

  “Okay, make moves. But whose shit is that?”

  “Oh, this chick named Dana I bagged at the pool hall last night.”

  “You talkin about shorty that live downtown?”

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “Oh, she’s a keeper. She wouldn’t even give me that pussy!”

  “That’s crazy. Skip told me the same shit. I thought he was frontin.”

  “Nah, she good, we need her on this team.”

  “Daddy, are you a’ight?” India appeared in the hall.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the room?”

  “Boy, you not my father. I’m old enough to be your mother, and bring my gun back in here before you do somethin stupid!”

  “Yo, DeMarco, who the fuck is that, my nigga? She is super bad. She looks like an Indian.”

  “That’s my bail bondsman joint.”

  “Man, you fucking the bail bondsman chick too? Oh, high five, you the man. Yo, DeMarco, I gotta take a nap here. I was up all night with shorty and I don’t have to pick her up until 5 anyway.”

  “Okay, cool, but make sure you park that car in th
e back of the house.”

  “Got you.”

  DeMarco headed back to the bedroom to get some of that ol’ donkey.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  DeMarco left Killer C in the house sound asleep while he and India went over to his grandmother’s place to check on his sisters and brothers.

  “Long time no see, Big Man.” That was a nickname his grandmother had called him ever since he was a baby. She said she always knew DeMarco was going to be the man.

  “Hi, Grandma, how you been?”

  “I’m fine, boy, are you hungry?” She always tried to feed him whenever he came over. “How are you, India?”

  “I’m okay, Mrs. Jones.”

  DeMarco walked into each of his sisters’ and brothers’ rooms and gave them $2,000 apiece. They were so happy. He had three sisters and two brothers, along with a few half-brothers on his father’s side. They just followed him all over the house like he was the president or something.

  When DeMarco felt himself moving too fast, he’d go over to his grandmother’s house and sit by the fireplace where she kept a picture of his mother next to her ashes.

  He sat there talking with his grandfather and sipped on the old man’s favorite drink, Gordon’s Gin. His grandpa loved that light liquor. DeMarco used to get twisted quick when he drank it because it was too strong for him.

  His grandmother and India sat on the porch for at least an hour. The two women were very close. Grandma had a special love for India because she knew she would always be there for her grandson.

  DeMarco was soon ready to get up out of there, but before he and India left he told her to get the black bag from the car. When she brought it to him, he motioned his head to tell her to give it to his grandmother. When his grandma opened it, she started to cry. She had never seen so many hundred-dollar bills in her life.

  “DeMarco,” she said, “what am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Do what you want with it, Grandma. I love you. I’ll see you later. I got a few more runs to make and I’ll be back soon.”

  * * *

  When DeMarco got back to the crib, Killer C was gone.

  “Where’d he go?” India asked.

  “He must’ve left to pick shorty up from work.”

  India gave him that look and pushed him into the bedroom and down onto the bed. She pulled his dick out of his pants and went to work. She was an older chick, but she loved having sex and DeMarco never stopped her. India was his ace in the hole; he gave her whatever she wanted. He even gave her $100,000 up front just in case one of his homeboys ever got into trouble. She liked that about him—out of all the young dudes she’d dealt with, he was always about his business.