Shooting Blindly in the Dark

by Nicole Jackson

  I heard that Kaydoa had new niggas working for him, and it was my hope that those niggas didn’t know who I was. Or at least didn’t recognize me. I was a little nervous as I stood at the front door, preparing to knock. I was praying that none of main niggas from the clique were there.

  Finally, I knocked on the door. “Who is it?” a voice said from the other side.

  “Keisha,” I answered.

  I waited for few a seconds, before the door eased open. “What’s up?” some young dude I’d never seen before asked.

  “Umm, yeah. I’m trying to get some slaughter.”

  The dude blatantly examined me from head to toe. “Slaughter? Lil’ mama, what yo fine ass know about that?”

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Plenty. Yall got some?”

  He squinted, looking like he was thinking about it. “Nah…we don’t get down like that.”

  “So, you mean to tell me that you gon turn down this money?”

  “But I aint got what you looking for,” he maintained.

  “Yeah, okay,” I stomped off, and slid back into my car. I sat for a while, watching somebody peep through the blinds at me. Not knowing if I’d been recognized, I pulled off the block.

  I was a damn nervous wreck, as I kept checking my rearview mirror. I could swear that I kept seeing the same car, but it wasn’t directly behind me. I focused on the road, before my eyes veered back to the mirror. The car was gone. I shook my suspicious thoughts off, and headed to the south side.

  By the time I pulled up to Thirty-Eight’s apartment, I’d received from both Keyon and Kaydoa. I powered my phone off, not wanting anything to change my mind. I was determined to get lifted. So, I slithered out of my car, glanced around nervously, before stepping to the door, and knocking.

  “You came,” Thirty-Eight’s ugly ass grinned.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “You still got the Ooh-We?”

  He nodded. “You already know.”

  I stepped into his apartment. “Alright, well, let me see what that do.”

  ******

  “Get the fuck up!”

  My eyes fluttered open.

  “Get ya got damn ass up!” Keyon stood over me with a scowl on his face.

  I sat up, and glanced around the room. I had been laying in Thirty-Eight’s backroom. I was still fully clothed, and was even still wearing my shoes. I was slowly remembering what happened the night before. Me and Thirty-Eight had smoked three sherms together, back to back. After the third one he’d gotten stuck. He was like a sitting statue, and didn’t move for hours. Eventually, I got tired of looking at his ass just sit there, and went and crashed in his backroom.

  “What’s the problem, boy?” I asked, as I rubbed my eyes.

  “The fuck you mean?” he growled. “The problem is you laying around in a fucking trap.”

  I dropped my head into my palms, and sighed. Honestly, I didn’t know what to say. I felt like a damn crack head. I’d abandoned sheer luxury to hang in the bottom of the barrel. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Don’t drop your head now,” he griped, as he knocked my hands down. I glanced up at him. “The fuck was you and this nigga doing here by yall selves?”

  I exhaled. “Getting high.”

  With fury, he spun around, and knocked everything off the dresser. He was tossing Thirty-Eight’s shit all over the room. “What the fuck is your problem?! Wasn’t I good to you?”

  My shoulders slumped, as I cried. “Yeah, you are good to me. And…and I swear this wasn’t always me, Keyon. I used to let shit roll off my back. He…he…he changed all that. It’s like he got mind control over me.”

  He snarled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “My…my baby daddy. I…I…I saw him and our daughter on Facebook. He is still with that bitch…and he…he proposed to herrrrrr,” I boohooed, completely breaking down.

  It killed me to even realize that I still cared this much, pissed that his relationship choices still had that effect on me. No matter how much good was coming my way that shit still crumbled me to into a million little pieces. And Keyon was a good nigga. The chemistry between us was off the Richter scale. I swear that we could’ve been the greatest love story ever untold…if there was never a Kaydoa and Jasmine.

  “Stop that crying, man.” He sat down next to me, as he pulled me into his arms. “You gotta get your shit together. Fuck that nigga. You aint got no control over the shit he do. The only person that you can control is Jasmine. Jasmine needs to really start loving Jasmine. Don’t let no man be the reason you fall apart, lil’ mama.”

  I allowed Keyon’s words to penetrate my soul. Despite his player ways, he was a good dude. He’d handled me so delicately, but his embraces were simply not enough. Kaydoa was the cause and cure of my heartache and pain. My drug. And there was nothing Keyon could do to remedy me of my craving.

  Kaydoa

  “Yeah, she in the Dead End in apartment 202,” Ced, a lil’ nigga who hustled in my trap, claimed.

  “You sure?” I furrowed my brows.

  “I’m positive. That was your BM. She was in that Benz. I followed her all the way to the apartment.”

  I nodded. There was a ten thousand dollar reward in the streets for whoever could lead me to Jasmine. So, I knew them little niggas was gonna do whatever to collect that money.

  I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Jasmine tried to cop some slaughter from my fuckin’ trap. Her ass had taken a dive on the deep end wit that one. Like nobody knew who her ass was.

  I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was about to find out. Come hell or high water her ass was coming home that day.

  “Alright, man. If she’s there you’ll get a payout tonight. No bullshit.”

  Ced smiled, as we clasped hands. “I know you got me, big homie.”

  “Okay, I’ma fuck wit ya,” I promised, as he strolled back into the trap house.

  “Alright,” Hurt spoke into his cell, as he sat on the passenger’s side of my Porsche Panamera. “He’s right here with me. We’re on our way right now.” He ended the call.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “That was Jorge. We need to meet with him to discuss some business.”

  I frowned. “Nigga, who told you to tell that man that we was on our way right now?”

  “What you saying? That’s our bread and butter. Why would we have that man waiting?”

  I breathed. “Look, I got shit to handle first.”

  He scrounged. “My nigga, is you serious, right now?”

  “Hell, yeah,” I nodded.

  “This nigga,” he vented, as he glared out of the window. “You kill me with this shit, main.”

  “Kill you wit what?” I quizzed.

  “Acting like you do all this shit by yourself. You don’t be giving a fuck about what nobody else gotta do. Like other niggas aint got fuckin’ families to feed. You running down Black Reign is cool on your time. But if you fuck around and lose this connect, then that affects us all. And that’s straight fuckin’ bullshit!” he went off.

  “My nigga, everything aint about this dope shit. When you old and gray none of this shit will matter. If you let this life rule you then that’s on you, but don’t fucking tell me how I should prioritize my life!” I slapped my chest. “This is me! I’ma do what the fuck I gotta do. The same shit I’d hope you’d do if it was my lil’ cousin out here. Fuck everything else. And fuck what you or anybody else got to say about it,” I fumed. “And you can raise ya muthafuckin’ ass up out of my car, nigga. Swiftly.”

  “Man,” he drawled, as he eased out of my whip. Before his feet hit the pavement good I skirted off the block, headed to the south side.

  Chapter 30

  Kaydoa

  As I pulled up to the apartment building Jasmine was supposedly seen going into, I spotted her car parked outside. That told me that she was still there. Butterflies entered my stomach, as I hopped out of my car. It had been a minute since I’d seen he
r face to face, and I really didn’t know what to expect.

  As I approached the building, I noticed several niggas standing around apartment 202. I really didn’t give a fuck how many of them it was. I checked my back to make sure that my pistol was secured at the back of my jeans.

  “Who is this nigga,” some young nigga spoke loudly, as all eyes were on me.

  “Say, is Black Reign in there?” I asked, as I stepped up to them.

  “Who?” another young nigga asked.

  “A girl name Black Reign…or Jasmine,” I elaborated, catching on to the recognition when I said ‘Jasmine’.

  “Who is you?” a baby faced nigga spoke up. For some reason he seemed like the leader of the pack.

  “That’s irrelevant, home boy. I’d appreciate it if one of you niggas would go and tell her to come holla at me.”

  “Don, go get Key,” the baby faced dude ordered.

  Don or whoever he was entered the apartment, and closed the door behind him.

  “My nig, I aint catch your name,” the baby faced dude sputtered.

  I snarled. “I aint throw it.”

  “Nigga, who the fuck,” some light skinned seedy headed nigga started, reaching for his strap, before Baby Face grabbed him.

  “Nah, chill out. Let’s see what Key gotta say.” Baby Face commanded.

  Just then the front door of the apartment was snatched open, and some dark skinned pretty nigga steps out. “What the fuck going on?” he frowned.

  I licked my lips. “I’m looking for my baby mama. If she in there tell her to step outside.”

  “Ya baby mama? Who the fuck is ya baby mama?”

  Deepening my scowl, I gritted, “Black Reign.”

  “Black Reign?” he looked confused. “Ooh, you talking about Jasmine,” he smiled, running me muthafuckin’ hot. The fuck was he doing calling her by her government? “The fuck you want with Jas?”

  “Like I said, she’s my BM, and I aint gotta explain shit to you. Tell her to come outside. I don’t need a middle man.”

  He waved his head, “My nigga, anything you gotta say to her you can say to me.”

  I scrounged. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be?”

  He gave me a devious grin. “Shit, according to her, I’m Daddy.”

  Before I could think I’d lost my cool, and popped that bitch ass nigga in his mouth. He swung back, catching me in the jaw.

  “Whoa, nigga!” Baby Face growled, as he aimed a pistol at me.

  “Nigga, it’s nothing!” I fumed, as I whipped out my nine.

  “Bitch nigga, you in the wrong neck of the woods!” Pretty Boy shouted, as he pulled out a .357.

  Before I knew it, I had four guns aimed at my head. My trigger finger was itching, as I heard tires screeching on the pavement behind me, followed by several doors slamming shut. There were several heavy feet pounding the pavement, headed in our direction. Refusing to take my eyes off those punk ass niggas, I never bothered to look back.

  “We got a problem?!” I heard Lil’ Hurt’s voice, as he stood next to me, with two pistols cocked loaded and ready.

  That’s when I briefly glanced behind me, and realized that he’d brought most of the Green Team wit him. Six of my main niggas had shown up, including Foo, Toke, and Trace with their guns aiming.

  “What these bitch niggas trying to do, Kaydoa?” Toke snarled.

  I smiled. “I guess they talking about dying today.”

  Black Reign

  Me and Keyon was still in Thirty-Eight’s backroom when Don barged in. “Say, it’s a nigga out there looking for ya gal, Key.”

  I frowned. “Who?”

  Don locked eyes with me. “He looking for you. He look like he a street nigga. Ion like how he lookin. Seems like he came through on some other shit. He mean mugging, and talking real disrespectful like.”

  Keyon glared at me. “What nigga you got coming to my muthafuckin’ spot?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t told nobody I was over here.”

  Snatching his gun off the dresser, Keyon stomped out of the room. I followed closely behind him, and realized that three niggas stood over Thirty-Eight as he sat with a bloody mouth and nose. I could visibly see the fear in her eyes, and I realized that shit had gotten real. I was feeling bad for dragging him into the drama.

  Keyon quickly stepped outside, and closed the door behind him. I stood in the middle of the room, truly confused. Some stranger was at the door looking for me, and it looked like Keyon had plans to kill his boy, sitting inside the apartment. I think that I was still shaking off the effects of the sherms I’d smoked a few hours prior, as I stood doing nothing.

  “What nigga?!” I heard a awfully familiar voice shout.

  I scurried over to the window, and spotted Kaydoa. He was looking like he was ready to kill something with his gun pointed at Keyon.

  “Shoot that nigga, Keyon!” somebody spewed, and I bolted for the door.

  “Nah, you need to stay in here,” one of Keyon’s boys insisted, as he tried to push me away from the door.

  “Get the fuck out of my way!” I belted, as I wildly swung on him.

  “Nigga, let that crazy bitch out there. If one of them niggas shoot her ass, then that’s her.” Another nigga spoke up.

  Ole boy standing in front of the door stepped aside, and I snatched the door open.

  “Yall chill out!” I barked.

  Keyon glanced back at me. “Jas, go back in the house, mama. Let us handle these niggas. You aint gotta go nowhere.”

  Kaydoa curled his lips. “Bitch nigga, you got me fucked up. I aint leaving here without her!”

  I frantically looked around, and noticed all the people outside running for cover, as those niggas played out a old western scene. It was kids outside and everything. They were all tripping.

  “Man, pop these bitch ass niggas!” Baby fumed. “They think they can just roll through the hood, and disrespect!”

  Keyon gripped his gun tighter. “I aint gon say it again. Yall niggas need to move around. Jasmine aint going nowhere.”

  “Nigga, on my daughter, you gon have to kill me. I aint going nowhere without her!” Kaydoa spewed.

  Looking at him, and listening to the intensity in his words, I knew that he meant it. “Okay!” I blurted. “I’ma go with them. Yall just put the guns down. I’ma go.”

  Keyon vehemently waved his head. “You aint gotta go nowhere.”

  I gazed up into his eyes. “I know. But I got to.” I whispered, before running over to Kaydoa. “Okay, let’s go!” I pulled him away.

  With their guns still trained on one another Kaydoa and the crew made their way back to their cars.

  “Come on,” Kaydoa gripped my arm. “You riding with me. Foo gon drive your car for you.”

  One last time I glanced back at Keyon, before Kaydoa pushed me into his Porsche. I could see the disappointment written all over his face. And I just prayed that he didn’t stay mad at me forever.

  Kaydoa

  “Is this what we have been reduced to? I have to hunt you down?” I pressed, as I sped down the freeway.

  She gazed out of the window, refusing to face me.

  “You don’t hear me talking to you?”

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I aint got nothing to say.”

  “You aint got nothing to say? After all this time you disappeared, forgetting about your daughter, not reporting to ya P.O. and you aint got shit to say?”

  She waved her head. “Make it sound like that. I know. I’m trifling. I’m fucked up. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Who the fuck said all that? Don’t be putting no words in my muthafuckin’ mouth,” I snapped.

  “But that’s what you was thinking, right?” she finally looked at me wit tears brimming the bottom of her eyes.

  “Where that come from?”

  “Your actions. You left with my child, and took her to that bitch. Y
ou kept me away from Kaylah, leaving me with nothing, Kaydoa. Who…who was gonna love me? Every time you take that love away from me. Then what am I supposed to do? Huh?” she sobbed. “You think that big ass house is supposed to make me happy? When did you think that would substitute my fuckin’ family?” she questioned. “You left me by myself. I was so so lonely,” she squeezed her eyes tightly.

  At that point I really didn’t know what to say, other than the truth. “I’m sorry.”

  She sniffled, as her head fell back into the headrest. For long minutes we rode in complete silence, until I decided to turn on the radio. Sometimes I swear the radio had to be psychic, playing music completely fitting to the occasion, “Looking out on the rest of our lives. If we're gonna be together or apart. About the only way that I know how to come. Is right straight from my heart…” Brian McKnight’s melodic voice belted through the speakers. “I want you now, I'll show you how. I can be the man you need me to be. I've been around, but now I've found. That you're the only one for me…”

  Glancing over at Jasmine, she’d buried her face in her palms, as she wept. It fucked me up to see her broken like that. The strong confident girl was no more. She was a lost woman that had been through more than her fair share of hurt. I had to make it right. That was the only resolution.

  Black Reign

  “What is this?” I asked Kaydoa, as he pulled up to a office building.

  He sighed, as he killed the ignition of the car. “This is where you gotta go for the next 30 days.”

  “For what?” I scrounged.

  “To get you some help,” he revealed.

  “Huh? I’m not following you,” I waved my head.

  He swallowed. “I sat down wit the lawyer, and got him to talk to your P.O. And they agreed that if you turn yourself into rehab for 30 days that you won’t go to jail.” He explained. “I texted the lawyer, and he’s in there waiting for us.”

  Taking both hands I raked my fingers through my hair. “Shit,” I hissed. The last thing on my mind was sitting still in fuckin’ rehab. “But…but I wanted to see Kaylah.”

  He nodded. “And you will. We’ll be waiting on you when you get out.”