A Hustler's Son 2 (The Cartel Publications Presents)

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A Hustler's Son 2 (The Cartel Publications Presents) Page 12

by Styles, T.


  “I’ll get it togetha.”

  “Are you fuckin’ around?” Kyope asked inquisitively. He must’ve been thinkin’ the same thing I was. He ain’t have the look of someone in they right mind.

  “What? Huh? Naw, man!” Jarvis said wavin’ him off. “I ain’t on nothin’ but a lil’ smoke every now and again.”

  “Cool, cuz my man Aven here is gonna be workin’ wit’ you,” Kyope told him pattin’ my back.

  Niggas in New York did an excessive amount of hittin’ niggas on the back and I was gettin’ irritated. But I had to admit, I did like the new arrangement. I could have easy access to him now.

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “You sure? Cuz I coulda sworn you just told me niggas is huntin’ you down. Sounds to me like you need somebody watchin’ afta you. Don’t worry, he’s cool.” Jarvis looked at me with hate in his eyes and I matched his stare.

  “Whateva!” Jarvis responded. “I mean, you da boss right?”

  “I am.” Kyope paused. “Now I gotta package comin’ tomorrow. We changed routes. And since our shops been hit, we pickin’ it up directly from Maryland. Nobody will know when it comes to New York but us. I’ma have Prangsta and them get it and bring it back. Aven here is goin’ wit’ ‘em too. All I need you to do is oversee shit.”

  “But he new.” he asked turnin’ up his nose.

  “Yeah…but already he doin’ a betta job then the niggas that been ’round me for years. He goin’. It’s final.” Kyope commanded.

  Jarvis shook his head.

  “You can leave now,” Kyope added.

  Jarvis was on his way out the door when Kyope said, “And J, if you ever pull some shit like you did when you came up in my crib, it won’t be shit left to talk about. I’ll just be sendin’ my condolences to your mother and whoever your new bitch is.”

  Jarvis slid out the door and suddenly I had another idea. The package wasn’t makin’ it to its destination. But I needed help to pull it off and I knew just who to call.

  Friday, 11:33 pm

  ****

  The hardest thing to admit is that you wrong. That’s why I never am.

  -Kelsi

  I punched the concrete wall so many times I was sure my right hand was broken. I couldn’t believe I came so close to killin’ Jarvis and missed my chance. I know I had a plan. I know it wasn’t the right time. But what if I don’t get the perfect chance again? I parked my black Honda in front of my buildin’ and walked up the stairway leadin’ to my apartment. When I grabbed for the door, I screamed out in pain. My voice echoed through the hallway.

  “Aven, is that you?” O asked through the other side of the door.

  “Yeah…open up the door,” I told her careful not to let my hand come in contact wit’ any object.

  Keysha Cole’s song, Love, could be heard a little louder when she opened the door. She looked beautiful wearin’ a red long shirt wit’ the words Victoria’s Secret ’cross her chest. And for a second I was glad she was there.

  “Oh my God, Aven,” she said lookin’ at my hand all bloody from hittin’ at the walls. “What happened?” She reached for it and I snatched it away.

  “What I tell you ‘bout askin’ me questions?”

  “I’m sorry,” she responded softly. Her expression went from concern to anger. “I’m just worried. You come in here all fucked up and I’m not supposed to care?”

  “No. You’s sposed to mind your fuckin’ business.” I could tell she was hurt but I ain’t give a fuck. I had too much on my mind to be playin’ house wit’ her. She walked away and I took notice that she wasn’t wearin’ panties. The girl was beyond sexy.

  When I walked into the livin’ room, the smell of candles, and cooked food hit my nose. I felt like I was home. O did things my moms used to do. She took care of me. There was always a home cooked meal on the table and if she had to work late, there was one in the fridge. It’s amazin’ the shit you take for granted.

  “What you cookin’?” I asked as I took the clip out of my gun and sat it on the table.

  “You sure you wanna know? Considerin’ I can’t ask you questions.” She responded as most women do when they gotta attitude.

  “I don’t know why you gettin’ mad. I laid down the rules before we started livin’ together. I gotta go through this shit wit’ you every night?” I paused. “You said you understood and now you trippin’.”

  “So the fuck what, Aven. That ain’t the point!”

  “Then what is the point, O? Enlighten me since you know so fuckin’ much!”

  “The point is I’ve given up everything for you. Yet you still don’t trust me.”

  “Hold up, you act like I stole you from a convent and took your virginity. You was a fuckin’ stripper! Stop feelin’ yourself!”

  “Whatever, Aven! The only time you want to be bothered is if you want me up under you in the bed. And even then you don’t touch me. You treat me like I’m a kid! I got feelings too.”

  “A nigga can’t win for losin’. I’m takin’ care of you. I ain’t been pressin’ you ‘bout gettin’ your own spot even though I know you ain’t been lookin’. Yet you in my face ’bout some bullshit! This is why nigga’s don’t move wit’ bitches!”

  “You treat me like shit, Aven!”

  “Look,” I started takin’ off my timbs. “If I was treatin’ you like shit, you’d know. Matta fact you wouldn’t even be here.”

  “Oh, am I sposed to be happy?” she asked as she slammed ice cubes into a bowl. “Should I be smilin’ cuz the man I care about don’t give a fuck about me?”

  This female is pissin’ me off. And she don’t even know me. Cuz if she did, she wouldn’t be runnin’ her fuckin’ mouth! I had to call Bricks and I was in no mood for a fight. I don’t know why I didn’t just throw her out.

  After a few minutes, O came out the kitchen and slammed the bowl of ice on the table. Afterwards she disappeared into the room returnin’ wit’ one of her brand new tiny white t-shirts and some peroxide. She placed the items on the table and aggressively pushed my legs apart. On her knees, she wiggled her small frame between them. For a second I thought I was about to get my dick sucked.

  “Gimme your hand, Aven, before I hurt you.” She said as her strawberry scented lotion filled my nose. I love a women who takes care of her body.

  I gave her my hand. If she could fix this shit I’d be grateful, ‘cuz I wasn’t feelin’ goin’ to the hospital. There was too much work to be done. She took the cap off of the peroxide and poured it onto a paper towel. She dabbled the towel on my open wounds. It stung a little but she was gentle.

  “I don’t even know why I’m askin’ cuz I already know what the answer gonna be,” she said as she ripped the t-shirt apart “But are you goin’ to the hospital? This could be broken.”

  “Naw… I’m good,” I told her as she wrapped my hand in the homemade t-shirt bandage.

  “I really wish you would, Aven.” Instead of answerin’ right away, I moved my fingers.

  “Naw…I’m good. I don’t need no hospital.” I know she cared but right now, I trust no one. If I go to the hospital they may ask too many questions.

  As I looked around I couldn’t help but notice that she made this small joint a home. It was cozy and every time I walked through the doors, I’d relax a little.

  I reached in my pocket and grabbed my cell phone. Takin’ one last look behind me, I made sure O wasn’t comin’ back before I dialed the number. The phone rang twice before he answered.

  “What up, Kels?” Bricks asked.

  “Ain’t shit. I got anotha move for us.”

  “For real? You mean them New York niggas not on to you yet?”

  I laughed. “Naw. I’m still livin’ ain’t I?”

  “You right ‘bout that.”

  “Look…this lick won’t be as good as the last one, but it’ll be nice. It’s definitely worth the trip.”

  “You know I’m in,” Bricks said. “We got all D.C. on our shit now behind
that last job. What the fuck was in that dope?”

  “I don’t know. They call that shit the “Crown” and niggas go broke fuckin’ wit it. It’s a killa, dude.”

  “Well if we can get our hands on some more of that, I’m wit’ it. I still got your piece of the pie waitin’ when you come back too.”

  “You broke me off?”

  “Fuck you think?” he laughed. “Hold on, Kels. Yvonna, sit your ass down and chill out! We gonna take care of that shit! Calm down! Damn!”

  “Who the fuck is that?”

  “This new bitch, I met on my way back from New York. She fine as shit but she crazy as a mothafucka! I think this bitch got two personalities.”

  I laughed and said, “I heard that… But look, I’ma give you the details later. I just wanted to make sure you was wit’ it.”

  “That ain’t even in the talk. You know I’m down and so is my squad. Hit me when you ready.”

  “One”

  Saturday, 1:00 am

  ****

  I got a sixth sense. And every time I ignore it, I have a brush wit’ death. I’m listenin’ this time.

  -Jarvis

  Jarvis sat in his living room going over the details of the pick-up with Prangsta, Spikes and Crane. This was a smaller package then they were used to receiving, but they wanted to test the route to be sure things were okay since they’d been stuck up so many times. Usually they’d have designated people handling this duty. But most of the people they trusted had been murdered. Security had been beefed up on the blocks but to Jarvis, it wasn’t enough. Every detail had to be discussed to make sure nothing would interfere with the pick up. When they were done, Jarvis wanted to go over other matters.

  “Yo…who the fuck is that kid and where did he come from?” Jarvis asked Prangsta. Everybody looked at each other as the topic of Kelsi was brought up.

  “He came up to Kyope at Waves one night sayin’ he wanted to be put on,” Prangsta started rolling a blunt preparing to get blazed.

  “It was that easy?” he asked looking at them.

  “Well…not really,” Prangsta said.

  “Nigga, spit it out! How the fuck a new nigga get so close to Kyope?”

  “He had this stripper broad lift our guns up off us,” Prangsta said. “And-,”

  “Not us,” Spikes clarified cutting him off. “Ya’ll niggas let that bitch get ya guns up off you. I smelled her fish ass the moment she wiggled it near me.”

  Jarvis looked down at them at shook his head.

  “Well what happened to the bitch?” Jarvis continued.

  “Kyope ordered him to kill her. And we ain’t seen her since so we guess it’s done” Spikes said.

  “Yeah…it ain’t like shorty ain’t bust his gun before. He legit.” Prangsta added.

  “How come I’m just findin’ out ‘bout this nigga?” he asked sitting back in his soft leather recliner.

  “Cuz we couldn’t find you half the time,” Spikes added. “But youngin’ seem to be aight.”

  “Well I don’t trust him. I’m tellin’ you somethin’s up wit’ that kid. Just make sure when ya’ll pick up the work from Maryland that you keep an eye on him.”

  “You not comin’ wit’ us?” Prangsta asked.

  “Naw…I got some other shit to take care of,” Jarvis said ignoring Kyope’s order for him to oversee the trip. “Just watch him.”

  “What don’t you like ‘bout him?” Prangsta persisted.

  “I don’t know…Somethin’s not right though. Just watch him, like I said.”

  “Got it man,” Prangsta said pulling on his weed.

  “I’m serious!”

  “I got you, B” he repeated. “He won’t leave my sight.”

  Saturday, 11:00 am

  ****

  In life either you’re proactive or reactive. Nothin’ in between.

  -Kelsi

  The drive back from Maryland had me homesick. It was weird goin’ to Maryland only to turn around and head back to New York. I was anxious. It was just a matter of time before the details of my plan went down. I sat in the back seat with Crane, while Spikes drove and Prangsta sat in the front passenger seat runnin’ his mouth. That dude was the best at bein’ the loudest nigga in any area at any given time.

  So Crane’s mind-fuckin’ ass couldn’t hear my nervous thoughts, I pretended to be sleep. Seconds later, I heard Crane snorin’. Openin’ my eyes slightly, I almost gagged on my own air when I heard Prangsta and Spikes conversation. I opened my eyes to be sure I was seeing what I was hearing.

  “I know you not still mad ’bout that shit,” Prangsta whispered lookin’ at Spikes. They looked back at us once to be sure we was still sleep. I quickly closed my eyes and my shades hid my stare. “She ain’t mean nothin’ to me. You know we gotta keep shit up. You act like you want everybody to know ‘bout us.”

  “Either it is or it ain’t wit’ us. That’s all I’m sayin’.” Spikes added.

  These niggas was smashin’ each other off? I can’t believe this shit!

  “Let’s talk ‘bout this later,” Prangsta said.

  “I love you, Craig. I love you,” Spikes persisted. “I’m tired of standin’ by and watchin’ you disrespect me to throw everybody else off. And just so you know, niggas know you puttin’ on a show. You not foolin’ no one.”

  “You not thinkin’ straight!” Prangsta told him. “Look how loud you are.”

  “I don’t care anymore,” Spikes responded.

  I heard enough. I stirred a little and made enough noise to stop they conversation. I ain’t trynna hear that shit.

  “Hey…can ya’ll pull on the side of the road. I gotta piss.”

  My announcement caused Crane to wake up and adjust in his sleep. He looked at me and pointed to himself. I think it meant he had to go too.

  “Ya’ll can’t wait ‘till we get to a rest stop?” Spikes asked lookin’ at me differently. I knew he was prolly wonderin’ how much I heard of they little conversation. I felt like sayin’, ‘yeah I know ya’ll packin’ each other’s shit holes’. Nasty mothafuckas!

  “Naw I gotta go now. I been holdin’ it for a minute,” I told him. It couldn’t wait. Everything was timed.

  “Aight pull up over there,” Prangsta said to his undercover lover.

  Punk mothafuckas! I couldn’t stand naire one of them niggas now! The moment Spikes merged right, I heard a loud pop and I was sure the tire was flat.

  “Please stop playin’. How the fuck the tire blow?” Prangsta asked no one in particular. I stooped down as far as possible in the back seat of the car.

  Barely makin’ it to the side of the road, we finally parked. And when we did, three bullets rang from the back of the car window shatterin’ the glass. I ducked further before feelin’ Crane’s weight upon me. Had he been hit too?

  “What the fuck?!!” Spikes cried out. I heard the sounds of they weapons loadin’ in the front seat. “Somebody tryin’ to get us!”

  “No shit!” Prangsta said.

  The shots stopped momentarily and allowed us to recoup. But when we did, three men in a black Caprice appeared on our left. They faces was painted white and black like the niggas in the movie Dead Presidents.

  Traffic seemed to move along normally while the robbery was in play. When Spikes attempted to shoot, he received a bullet in his throat. Prangsta’s eyes grew extra large as he witnessed his lover take his last breath.

  “Fuck that shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” he screamed leapin’ from the car. The goons began to fire some more. Prangsta fired but hit no one. I got a lil worried. I didn’t want him to shoot one of my accomplices. ‘Specially my man Bricks if he was wit’ them.

  “Nigga, you betta get in this car for them niggas kill you!” I yelled from the inside.

  “Don’t move, nigga,” one of them said to Prangsta. “Unless you wanna be wet.” Prangtsa remained still. “Get the shit!” he continued openin’ the driver’s side door then poppin’ the trunk. “And watch that nigga!”

  What
seemed like hours was actually seconds. I felt the car shake a little as they opened the trunk. I smiled lightly. It was workin’. Now for part two.

  I pushed Crane off of me in the back seat. He looked at me. Something about his mannerisms caused me to believe that he didn’t want me hurt. Was he protectin’ me? And if so, why? I didn’t have time to wonder. While leavin’ the car, he held on to my wrist. He was preventin’ me from leavin’.

  “Let me go!” I yelled in his face. “Whoever that is ain’t ‘bout to get away!” I finally escaped his hold.

  Prangsta saw what I was doin’ and ran behind me. I carjacked a woman who sat startled in a navy blue Pontiac Grand Prix. She had stopped to watch the shoot-out and now would become a part of the show. That’s what she get for rubber-neckin’. Other cars whizzed up and down the road stealin’ brief stares.

  “Move over!” I told her pointin’ to the passenger seat. She complied while cryin’.

  “Please don’t kill me. Please!”

  I slid in and ignored her. When I saw Prangsta runnin’ for the car, I pulled off speedily in the direction of the Caprice. Lookin’ in the rearview mirror, I saw Prangsta raise his hands in the air before droppin’ them by his sides. I jumped out a few miles up the road and met Bricks at our designated spot. Another hot plan completed.

  Sunday, 12:00 am

  ****

  Believe no one and trust no one.

  -Jarvis

  Prangsta, Crane and Jarvis sat on Kyope’s couch. The package was gone and already their soldiers were complaining. Customers were going elsewhere to cop.

  “I’m tellin’ you, Kyope, that lil nigga set this shit up!” Jarvis yelled, as he got up from the couch to pace the living room floor.

 

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