“Bitch, you crazy,” she waved her head, giggling.
“Aye, it is what it is,” I shrugged.
“Say, Black Reign, let me holla at you!” I heard someone shout in the distance.
I glanced to my left, and saw Tuka running towards me. That nigga had been off the grid since Kaydoa had pistol whipped him. We didn’t fuck with him around these parts, so I didn’t know how he thought he could holler at me about anything.
“Oh shit, he got a gun!” Sheeka, Ryah’s friend screamed.
I glanced, and he indeed was running with a gun in hand. My heart raced, as I sprinted in the opposite direction along with everybody else.
“Come here, bitch,” he growled, as he yanked me back by my hair. “Where that punk ass nigga at? Huh?”
“Let me go!” I shouted, as my sister, and Monay bravely ran back over, jumping on his back. Still, he had a tight grip on me. We all fell to the ground, as he reached back and smashed the pistol across my face.
“Awww!” I howled in pain.
“Call Kaydoa!” I heard somebody cry.
“Bitch, talk that shit now!” he gritted hitting me repeatedly. It felt like he was splitting my head open.
“Stoooop!” I cried.
“Get yo bitch ass up!” Jermaine, Paris’s cousin dragged him off me.
Pointing his gun at Jermaine, Tuka pulled away from him. “Bitch nigga, back the fuck up. I’ll shoot all you muthafuckas!”
A few girls flinched as he waved the gun their way. “Black Reign, you make sure that you tell that bitch nigga to come see me!”
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Monay cried. “Black Reign, your face. Let’s go the hospital.”
I was about to tell her that I just wanted to go home, when everything faded to black.
Kaydoa
I don’t think anybody understood how mad I was. I was pacing the floor back and forth in Jasmine’s hospital room. That bitch ass nigga Tuka had given her a concussion, black eye, busted lips, four knots, and a gash in her hairline. That nigga had signed his death certificate for sure.
“Kaydoa, sit down,” she urged as she lied in the hospital bed.
“Yeah, main, chill out,” Hurt added.
“Nigga, fuck what yall talkin’ ‘bout. Let’s ride out!” I clapped my hands. “Let’s go!”
Hurt glanced at Monay, “Baby, hold your girl down. We gotta go.”
Monay nodded, as Jasmine waved her head. “Kaydoa,” she called out me, as I stormed out the room. I had shit to handle.
Not even twenty minutes later, I was sitting outside of Tuka’s house. I really didn’t give a fuck who was home. We was going in, straight Gorilla tactics. I had my bullet proof vest on, ready for whatever.
“Let’s do this shit,” I grumbled, before hopping out of my car, and Hurt did the same. It was a little after midnight, so everybody was in the house. After glancing around, and not seeing anybody outside, we ran around to the back of his raggedy ass house. Without thinking twice about it, I kicked the fuckin’ door in. The door gave in with little effort, because the shit was so worn.
We bomb rushed the house, searching each room. I stepped into the hall, and came face to face with the barrel of a gun. Reacting quickly, I pulled the trigger first.
BLOW! BLOW! I shot him twice, but he still managed to somehow knock my pistol out of my hand, as he fell back, busting his gun, shooting the ceiling. Before Hurt could even react, I snatched a second gun from the small of my back.
Standing over him, I lifted my gun. Before I could squeeze, he aimed and let loose. I dived onto the floor, and crawled back. He continued to shoot, as he sat completely up. We busted back, as I made my way to the back door. Hurt was right behind me, holding his shoulder.
“Shit, I’m hit!” he vented, as we hit the door, scrambled to our feet, and raced back to the car. We hopped into the car, and skirted off the block.
“Fuck!” I spewed. “That nigga is still breathing!”
“I know,” he breathed.
“Where…where was you hit?”
“On the side of my arm. A bullet must’ve grazed me.”
I shook my head. I guess the nigga knew what he was talking about. Shit, he’d been shot three times in the past.
“Aye, I wanna go back and finish him.”
With a grin he said, “Well, shit let’s go back.”
I shook my head, as I did a U-turn in the middle of the street. I headed back towards Tuka’s house. Before we were completely on his block we noticed the swarm of ambulances and police cars. I had never seen them bitches respond that fast.
“Damn, damn,” I shook my head, as I backed up and got the fuck outta dodge. “Oh, shit!” I spewed.
“What’s up?” Lil’ Hurt asked.
“My fuckin’ gun!”
He waved his head. “And the shit just keeps getting better. This shit aint looking too good. We fucked up.”
Black Reign
“An unidentified man was shot at on Hirsch Street after one a.m. Authorities say that the victim called for help himself. Unfortunately, by the time paramedics arrived on the scene the victim had already passed. No suspects have been identified. The possible motive for the murder may possibly be drug related. Police are urging anyone with leads to call 713-222-TIPS.”
I sat on my couch watching the news with Kaydoa. He had this sick look on his face, as we watched the crime scene he’d left behind. We didn’t keep anything from each other. Being that we got money together, it wasn’t wise to keep one another in the dark. So, he’d told me how he’d left his gun on the scene at Tuka’s house. Thankfully, Tuka didn’t make it to run his mouth, but that gun being left was a problem. The only bright spot was that Kaydoa had never been to jail before, so his fingerprints weren’t on file, anywhere.
“It’ll be alright, baby,” I tried to reassure him, as I rested my head on his shoulder.
He remained quiet, as he gently caressed my body.
“No matter what happens, we in this shit together.” I promised.
Kaydoa lowered his eyes, as he nodded. “I know, baby. I know.”
Chapter 14
Kaydoa
I was sitting back on the couch watching my clique wave bottles in the air. We were in the club in our own exclusive section as usual. It was a celebration. My nigga Jay Rock was stepping out the game, and had linked us up directly to his connect. I would forever be grateful, because niggas could be so petty that they’d let the plug disconnect just to make sure that nobody ate more than them. Jay Rock was a rare breed of nigga…and it had a lot to do with the woman he chose. Unlike, so many niggas I knew, he actually listened to his woman. He wasn’t shame to admit that most of his power moves were joint decisions of him and Paris. Obviously, the shit was beneficial because he was retiring young, with no criminal record, and no bullet wounds. He was my fuckin’ hero.
Me…I wasn’t addicted to hustling. I loved the lifestyle hustling provided, and once I could solidify a future where I could ball out legally, it was a wrap. I didn’t know of any big niggas in the game, hustling with grey hair without war wounds for days. I didn’t wanna have all these wild ass stories about my stint in the penitentiary, or the time I was shot or stabbed. By no means was I a pussy. I’d buried more niggas than I cared to admit. I could be quite loose with the trigger finger, but there was nothing glorious about that shit. For my troubles I had a lot of sleepless nights, wondering when my misdeeds would catch up with my ass. Especially, that shit wit Tuka’s ass. I had fucked up, and the smallest infraction with the laws from this point on could put my ass away for life.
“Why you aint turnt up with the rest of these niggas?” Jay Rock asked as he flopped down next to me.
“I’m just digesting it all,” I admitted.
He coolly nodded, as his eyes landed on Paris and Jasmine. They’d been dancing all night, and Jasmine was balling harder than the niggas, ordering bottle after bottle. She was in love with the hustle and the life. Street shit fascinated her, and tha
t was a scary trait coming from a bitch.
I licked my lips, “But let me ask you this. What made you finally decide that you was done hustling?”
Jay Rock stroked his waves. “Hustling in my life never ends. Shit, I’m married to a hustler. Anything we trying to obtain, we grind it out and hustle for it. I just decided to the leave the street element out of it.”
“Why, though?”
He sighed, as he nodded at Paris. “Me and my gal done seen a lot, but we got kids and shit. It aint been about survival for years now. I had just gotten used to shit, but this aint a life to ever get comfortable in. Shit becomes more hectic when you making more money. You gotta watch out for these niggas in the streets, and even your own fuckin’ family sometimes. And then I got to looking at the shit that really matter to me the most…and I realized that I wasn’t shit without my woman and our kids. Then those thoughts about some crumbing ass niggas ever deciding to come and kick my door in and duct tape my world, until they tell ‘em where the safe at would keep me up a night. Shit, money aint a thang no more. Why play Russian roulette? I mean, that shit don’t enter yo mind with you and Black Reign?”
I swallowed. Honestly, there was a lot of shit I had never thought about. Before Jasmine came along we was wilding with no real structure. We’d sell a little crack, rob a few niggas, burglary, you name it we’d done it. So, this was all new to me. I was experiencing some grown-up kinda love for the first time, as well as reaching new financial statuses I’d never seen before. Therefore, I found myself thinking more, and examining shit and the people around me. And I guess that’s why Jasmine’s wild spirit made me nervous at times. She was her own woman, but I always felt the need to protect her, even if she didn’t feel that she needed it. Then I thought back to what Tuka had done to her…and how would I feel if shit like that was constantly a part of our lives.
“I think about it sometimes,” I confessed.
“And I’ma say this,” he looked square in my eyes. “It’s been my experience that the deeper you fall in love with a broad the more you gonna feel like you gotta be superman for her, and being that your gal is out there in the trenches that shit can drive you crazy. I’d rather have mine tucked away from harm…and now I’m just at the point that I wanna enjoy life with them. At the end of day…fuck my boys…fuck everything else. Them streets…they don’t love nobody, and I feel like niggas need to use the shit as a means to an end. Because aint shit for sure in the game.”
I nodded, receiving everything he was spitting. I couldn’t do anything but respect what he was saying, because he’d been where I was.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Why you just sitting here?” Jasmine switched over to us wearing a baby doll Alexander McQueen dress. Her sweet perfume wafted into the air, hypnotizing a nigga. The scars on her face were completely healed, and she was gorgeous.
I pulled her onto my lap. “I’m good.”
Jay Rock stood up, and made his way over to Paris, giving us some space.
“You sure?” she placed her forehead on mines.
I nodded.
“If you want to, we can call it a night. Cause it seems like daddy is in need of a good dick suck.”
I cracked a gigantic smile. “Now, you talking my language.”
Black Reign
I swear Kaydoa was fucking me so good that I almost decided to stay cooped up in the house all day. He had my knees weak from sucking and fucking me for hours. For some strange reason, his ass had been sleeping a lot more often, and wanted to get it in a excessive amount. The nigga literally slept more often with his dick in me than he did with it in his damn boxers. His ass was greedy, and had my shit on swole.
He’d decided that he was going to chill at home, unless some money called, while I was going to check all four traps we had. Personally, I was never one to lounge around the house all day. I think it stemmed from me always having to share a cramped space with my family, but I was always the first to wake up and hit the streets.
I left my baby sleeping in the bed, while I eased out of the crib. I smiled, as I strutted to my car. It was hot as hell out, but the sky was clear, and the birds were chirping. I was in a great place, and the world was my oyster. I was simply loving my life at the moment. Shit had been going so good for me that I wasn’t even sweating that shit Tuka had done to me, especially since My Kaydoa had handled that. The only nagging thing in the back of my head was that gun with his finger prints all over it. I would lose my fucking mind if Kaydoa went down for murder, so I tried to handle a lot of the miscellaneous running around to the traps to keep him away from the pits. In the hood a nigga could end up in jail from just walking to the store, and daddy couldn’t even go down for so much as a traffic ticket. So, as his rider I felt obligated to hold him down, even he didn’t ask me to.
Just three hours later, I had completed my rounds, and was looking for something to get into. So, I swung by my sister’s. I had called Monay, but she was feeling sick and shit. Her ass had just found out that she was pregnant, fucking up our whole program. Me and her were supposed to be out here, giving these bitches the blues when we stepped on the scene, not pushing baby strollers and shit. So, kicking it with Ryah would have to suffice.
People often thought that I was wild. Yeah, in the past I was always fighting, stealing out the stores, going to jail back to back, but that was behind me. Now, my sister was a completely different story. When we were younger she seemed so mature. She took care of my niece and chilled out, but now that bitch had her own place, and didn’t know how to act. Her baby daddy had recently gone to jail, and she was like a loose cannon, fucking with any nigga that came her way. Her apartment was the spot, and you always had to good time. It was party, party every fucking day, and that’s why I’d visit very seldom. Having a open house like that meant that she would sometimes end up around a bunch of unsavory characters who aint even welcome at their own people’s houses.
Swinging by the liquor store, I grabbed a big bottle of Grey Goose, and then pulled into the Stock; the hugest projects in the city. I was turning several heads in the Lexus, as I rolled with the windows down, jamming my music. “I just had a epiphany, I need to go to Tiffany's. Fendi on my slippers. And my cookies always slippery. I don't need help. I pay da bills on time.
So I be yellin’ "fuck em". With a dildo sign.”
When I pulled up to Ryah’s building they were all posted up outside.
“Ayeeee! Get it bitch!” Ryah danced with a sleeping cap on her head on the sidewalk. “My lil’ sister smashing these bitches! Pulling up in foreign on you hoes! Turn that shit up,” she urged.
Getting amped up myself, I increased the volume to the max, and sprung out of the whip. “Now, that’s a five star bitch!” I wagged my tongue as I twerked. I was feeling it in my little booty shorts and cut off shirt, stopping right under my breasts. My weave extended beyond my ass, and had dramatic curls throughout it. Instead of my signature Jordans as I was rocking some four inch Jimmy Choo scandals.
“Got damn, Ryah, who is that big fine muthafucka?” some random dude’s jaw dropped as he held his crotch with one hand.
“Nigga, that’s my sister, and you aint got enough money to fuck with her. So, move around.” She shooed him away.
“Black Reign, what is that on yo thigh?” Lani asked as she stepped to my car with a scarf wrapped around her hair.
I glanced down. “A tattoo, bitch.”
“So, you got that nigga’s name?” she folded her arms. “And that muthafucka is big as fuck too.” She pointed out.
I waved her off, as I continued to dance. Yeah, I had Kaydoa’s name on my thigh. So what? He had gotten my name at the same fuckin’ time right across his fuckin’ hand. Me…I had King Kaydoa tatted in huge letters on my thigh with a big ass crown sprawled across the top.
Ryah just smiled, as she waved her head. “Girl, I wanna know what that nigga put in yo food. You already had that nigga’s name on your ankle.”
Lani gazed down at my ankle, r
eading aloud. “Yep, it says Kaydoa.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d gotten that shit while that nigga was still with Farrah on some crash dummy shit. I would get embarrassed every time somebody would notice it after the fact. But now that shit didn’t matter. He was my man, and I could get his name tatted however many times I wanted to.
Ryah squinted her eyes. “Sis, have anybody ever told you that you look like Gabrielle Union?”
I shrugged, “A few people. I think it’s the skin complexion. That hoe wish she was this fine.”
“Well, look at you,” Ryah’s eyes wandered up and down my body. “If I had a body like that…shit I’d take all these bitches’ niggas. I’d be the best paid hoe in the rap game. On my mama.”
“You silly,” I waved my head, as I leaned into my car, rolled up the windows, and killed the ignition. Grabbing the Grey Goose, I eased out of my ride. “Yall ready to get fucked up?”
Ryah’s silly ass did the tootsie roll, with a blunt resting behind her ear, “Uh oh, uh oh. It’s muthafuckin’ on now!”
Kaydoa
My eyes fluttered open on the couch. I don’t know when, but I’d fallen asleep. I glanced at the cable box, and realized that it was damn near ten o’clock. “Fuck,” I vented, as I rubbed my eyes. I’d meant to leave the crib at seven, and meet up with that nigga Carmelo. He was a local rapper, who was copping two bricks, before he headed out of town for his mini tour, promoting his mixtape.
Picking up my cell, I had fifteen missed calls. I was about to see who was the last caller, when something on the TV screen caught my attention. It was my Uncle Ben’s house. Hurriedly, I increased the volume.
“This is channel 26 News reporting live from northeast Houston. An unidentified woman has been shot. The victim was rushed to the hospital, but was pronounced dead on arrival. Now, the police a questioning the other residents in the home to try and sort out exactly what took place here…”
I didn’t hear shit else the white reporter said, as my hands trembled. Nervously, I scrolled through my call log. Everybody and their mama’s had been calling me, except Jasmine. Frantically, I called her phone. Her fuckin’ voicemail picked up.
Shooting Blindly in the Dark Page 15
