Payback Ain't Enough

by Clark, Wahida

  “What’s up?” I asked her.

  “Can I come in?”

  Little Miss Prissy was more street than I thought she was. I didn’t think she even knew where I lived, and now she wanted to bring her ass inside my house. The curiosity was killing me. I opened the door, and she stepped inside.

  “Can you take off your shoes, please?” I offered ever so sweetly.

  She paused and looked at me as if to say, “Are you fuckin’ serious?” Damn right I was. I had cocaine white suede carpeting. Even Briggen knew to take off his shoes. She finally did.

  I led her into the den. “You can have a seat,” I said, still staring at the baby. “You just missed Briggen. He left a couple of hours ago,” I stated, trying to throw salt in the game while tightening the belt on my robe.

  “Bitch, please. You wish,” she said, laughing. “Actually, Briggen, my husband, you know, the one that you can’t seem to let go? Well, he was home all night eating pussy and getting his dick wet. Then the Feds came and got him at five o’clock this morning. But nice try.” She had the nerve to pause and smirk.

  “Look, no hard feelings. I’m just here to pick up any monies that you are holding for him,” she said, bursting my bubble.

  “Money?” I said, indignant. My blood was boiling over and I wanted to stab this bitch.

  “Yes, money. He left me with a list of things I need to take care of immediately, and collecting his money, that’s one of them.”

  “Well, I have no clue what you are talking about,” I told her. Shit, Briggen hadn’t called me and neither had the attorney, so I wasn’t giving this bitch shit. I didn’t even know who sent her. It could have been the Feds for all I knew. And I damn sure wasn’t taking any chances.

  “So what do you want me to tell Briggen? That I came way over here to get his money and you said you don’t have it?”

  “You can tell him whatever the fuck you want because like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said as I stood up, letting this ’bama bitch know that she had just worn out her welcome. It was time for her to go, but the bitch had the nerve to keep sitting there. I was praying she would do something to make me kick her ass out.

  She must have seen the look on my face. “Okay. It’s your call,” she said, standing up and picking up her son. I led her ass to her shoes and the front door.

  SHAN

  He left a few hours ago. Mmmhumm. I thought to myself. That bitch don’t know who the hell she’s fucking with. The one thing I was sure about was that the bitch was holding his money. The look on her face told it all. I should have known that Briggen had this bitch trained well. Just like I’m now seeing that he had me well-trained, too. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s confirmed. This nigga was still in the streets.

  On my way back to my house, the sounds of tires screeching caused me to swerve over. I looked in my rearview mirror and two unmarked cars whizzed past me chasing a silver pickup and a black Nissan. Damn! A real-live police chase. I was amused. They had to be doing eighty to a hundred miles per hour. I wondered where they were going because it was barely ten in the morning. And why did the police have their sirens off? I knew it wasn’t because they were trying to be courteous.

  I sat there; it took me a few minutes to get my bearings straight. I finally pulled off and got a couple of blocks away only to hear the tires screeching again. I couldn’t tell from what direction they were coming and I didn’t know whether to hurry and turn left or turn right or just park the damn car.

  I figured the best thing for me to do would be to turn right onto the side street and get the hell out of their way because it was sounding as if it was about to be on, so I did.

  Why did I do that? I heard the tires screech loud and clear. Out of nowhere that same silver truck jumped the curb and crashed right into me, spinning my car halfway around so I was now facing the opposite direction. Li’l Peanut started crying. I almost swallowed my tongue, and my hands were shaking like a leaf. I looked in the back at my son and thanked God that he was still secure in his car seat and unharmed. I got out to get my baby out of the backseat so I could calm him down and check my car.

  A guy with a hood over his head jumped out of the driver’s side of the truck and started limping away as fast as he possibly could. He didn’t even look back. I put my son back in his seat, strapped him in and shut the door. I eased over to the truck to get a better look, and the passenger door popped open. A head dipped out the door as its body slumped across the seat. I moved in closer to see if the victim was still breathing. He looked up at me and struggled to speak. He was holding onto a duffel bag while lying on top of another one. I knew what kind of bags those were. Blood was all over his face, and he started mumbling, but I didn’t understand him. I wasn’t trying to hear what he was saying.

  I heard tires screeching again in the distance, and this time, they were blazing. I grabbed the bags and when I did, dude grabbed my wrist. Our eyes met, and again, he tried to speak, blood bubbles forming on his lips and I quickly pulled away. I grabbed one bag and then the other. One was much heavier than the other. Struggling, I rushed back to my car. I threw the bags in my front seat, jumped in the car and sped off. My poor baby was screaming at the top of his lungs.

  The sirens were getting closer, and I was doing damn near fifty in a residential area. Then out of the blue the black Nissan was behind me and two Detroit police cars and a state trooper vehicle were behind him. I pulled over to the side, and once again my heart was pounding a mile a minute. I struggled to catch my breath as I gripped the steering wheel tighter and they flew right by me. What were the odds of this happening? Only on T.V. do you see the old white lady who finds a bag of money and turns it over to the police. That wasn’t going to be me. I exhaled slowly and pulled off while praying all the way.

  Finally I pulled up into my garage and didn’t get out of the car until the door was closed. I jumped out and unbuckled Li’l Peanut from out of the car seat to calm him down. While I was holding him and bouncing him I looked at my wrist and saw blood. I went into the house to wash my shaking hands. I sat Anthony in his high chair with some juice and crackers and headed back to the garage to go see what exactly was in those bags.

  I grabbed them and carried them into the kitchen. After placing them onto the counter I unzipped them both and looked inside. Just as I hoped, money in one and dope in the other. But at that same moment, what I had just done hit me like a ton of bricks. I quickly zipped the bags up and stepped back with my hands over my chest. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. Oh… my… God! Whose fuckin’ package did I just jack? I unzipped both bags and again looked at my new stash, wondering what I had just gotten myself into.

  I went back to the garage to check out my car. I walked around it to see the damage, and yes, the rear driver’s side was banged up. “Damn,” I said, following the long dent and scratch. When I got to the back, my knees buckled when I saw that the license plate was gone.

  “Shit! Fuck!” I said, starting to panic. I paced back and forth wondering what to do. Snatching up Li’l Peanut, we went looking in front of the house. Nothing. I started walking down the block. Still nothing. I couldn’t get back to the house quick enough to dash upstairs and get Briggen’s keys to his Benz. We jumped in the car and drove around in an attempt to backtrack. I had to go find that plate.

  SHARIA

  “You mean to tell me, you left my shit and my money in the truck?” I overheard him say to the poor soul on the other end of the line.

  My head was underneath the sheet, but I peeked out, trying to see Cisco’s facial expression. He looked as if he wanted to cry. I could hardly contain myself. For this nigga to be ballin’ the way he was, turning out to be too easy of a mark. I was able, in just two nights, to bed this nigga, make him fall hard and was positive I was about to get him to start giving up valuable info. It had to be all that soaking wet, slip and slide I was giving the nigga. They kill me. They get a few connections, stack some dough, get a little
bit of muscle and immediately begin to believe that they are invincible. Puhleeze, Negro. Every man’s downfall is pussy. I put that nigga to the back of my throat, and his punk ass damn near gave up his momma. Now look at him, over there about to cry. After talking a few more minutes, he hurled the phone at the wall.

  I snatched the covers off my head and acted as if I just woke up. “Is everything okay?” I asked him as I stretched.

  “Yeah. Get dressed. You gotta go,” he snapped. I tried to look disappointed, but this nigga didn’t know that he did me a favor because I definitely didn’t feel like fucking him again. Because from what I could gather, and from those few minutes of ear hustlin’, I figured that he just lost some workers, dope, and some cash, which would definitely be in our favor. This nigga was gonna need some muscle, and that is where Dark would come in. That’s when the whole plan would begin to unfold. I couldn’t wait to spill this shit to Dark.

  “Are you sure, Daddy? Is there anything I can do before I leave?” I asked, already up putting on my panties and bra.

  “Nah, I gotta make a run,” he said, sounding all depressed.

  “Okay,” I said as I hurried and got dressed. I was ready to follow his ass to wherever it was he was going.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHAN

  Here I was at the house, on the phone, not wanting to believe or hear what Briggen was telling me. This nigga was a professional liar. What he didn’t know was that I had already talked to the lawyer and knew the jam he was in. He had been locked up now, going on a week. I thought he would have been home by now, but he had some old warrants, and therefore, the judge thought he was a flight risk and denied him bail.

  “So when can I see you?” I asked.

  “Just hold up. The old warrants should be taken care of in a few days, and I’ll be out of here.”

  “Why don’t you want me to come see you?” I wanted to know. After all, we did miss him.

  “Shan, there’s no need for you to come down here. Stay home with my son.”

  I couldn’t believe I had to beg this nigga to come and see him. God forbid he had to go away and do a bid, he’d then be on the phone crying like a bitch, begging and pleading with me to come visit him.

  “Stay home? That’s all you ever say is I should stay home. Stay home? I’m sure you ain’t tell that bitch Mia to stay home. You want me to stay home so I won’t know all the shit you into. You—”

  “Shan!” he shouted, interrupting my rant.

  “Briggen, it’s not fair. I don’t even know why you’re in there. Plus, I need to talk to you.” I needed him to sense the urgency in my words, and I needed to tell him about the dope and cash I found. Something I couldn’t do over the phone. I needed a face to face. But more important, I needed to tell him about my missing license plate. If the niggas whose stash I took had my tag, I was in deep shit.

  “I’ll get back to you later,” he told me.

  “When, Briggen?”

  “Later,” was the last word he said to me.

  He hung up. I couldn’t believe it. I looked at the phone, thinking, “I know he didn’t just hang up on me.” Who was this nigga? He had done a full 180 on me. I didn’t even know who he was anymore.

  JANAY

  I cried like a baby the other night. I cried for my daddy because he was getting ready to spend the rest of his life in prison. I cried tears of joy because me and my sister were free. I cried tears of anger and confusion toward God because I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have both. Why couldn’t we be free and all be together? Even though I knew deep down inside that you can’t do dirt and expect it not to come back on you in some form or fashion, karma doesn’t take as long as it used to. The life my family chose to live was dirty.

  We were standing on the steps of the Memphis courthouse as a wide grin spread across my face when I saw Boomer get out of his ride. Crystal and I ran and jumped in his arms, just like we did when we were kids, and he picked us up and swung us around just like he used to do.

  “Yo’ daddy just hung up. Y’all just missed him. He said he ain’t gonna be able to relax until he’s sure that y’all are out. He said he was gonna call back in fifteen minutes. Y’all hungry? Yeah, y’all hungry.”

  “I sure am,” Crystal said.

  “I can’t wait to see Marquis,” I gushed. I needed to see my son who was now seven years old.

  “He’s with Ida. They won’t be home until later on. He ain’t going nowhere,” Boomer assured me. We loaded into Boomer’s extended Escalade SUV, just like old times, and drove off. I looked out the window as we drove around the city. It was amazing to me how shit can change but yet remain the same in just two short years. I saw a few familiar faces that were sitting in the exact same spot the last time I saw them.

  “Take me by the house,” I instructed, wanting to see something comforting and familiar.

  “You ain’t got that house no more, Nay. Y’all gotta start over.” I could hear the regret in my uncle’s voice.

  “I know, Boom. But I still want to ride past it. Is someone living in it?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Well, we can get it back then, Boomer. That’s our house.” I was feeling hopeful. Shit, I was out of prison, so I knew that anything was possible.

  “Nay, once the Feds took the house and had it all boarded up, you know how the feens do. They broke in, started using it as a crackhouse and then ended up burning it down to the ground,” Boomer told me.

  “What?” Crystal and I shrieked.

  “They burned down yours and the Middeltons, right next door to it,” he said. “The Middletons lost their house to foreclosure.”

  “So where are we going to live?” Crystal always asked the dumbest questions.

  “Now what kind of question is that? Y’all comin’ to Detroit.”

  “Detroit!” we said at the same time.

  “That’s where the family is now. You know yo’ daddy already made arrangements for y’all. What? You thought me and yo’ daddy was gonna just let you roam around homeless?” he joked.

  Detroit? “So, Ida don’t mind you living in Detroit?” I asked him.

  “I goes back and forth. Hell, all these Memphis niggas done set up shop out there. It’s a hell of a lot of money out there. Niggas have been gettin’ filthy rich for years. But since they are so divided out there we were able to step right on in and set up shop and now we basically run shit. You’ll see.”

  Just then we were coming up on a Burger King and Crystal lost it. “Oh my God! I’ve been dying to have a Whopper with everything on it! Please, can we pull over? I wanna go to this Burger King.” Crystal begged Boomer, sounding just as she did when we were kids.

  “Are you sure? After two years of eating prison food, that’s all you can think about is a Whopper?” he joked halfheartedly.

  “That’s the first thing, Boomer. Every time I think about a Whopper with cheese, my mouth starts to water.” Crystal grinned from ear to ear.

  Boomer pulled over and parked in the Burger King parking lot. He went into the glove compartment and pulled out two envelopes. He handed Crystal one and me the other. I sat mine in my lap. Crystal ripped hers open, took out a fifty and jumped out of the car.

  “I’ll be right back,” she called out, jogging toward Burger King.

  “You want something outta here?” he asked me.

  “Nah. I need a home cooked meal. Especially your chicken and dumplings or Ida’s meatloaf and gravy. Hint, hint,” I responded, knowing he never could deny my meal requests. I lay my head back onto the headrest and folded my hands.

  Boomer laughed that big, hearty laugh of his and it was so good to hear it. And then it got silent.

  “Boom, tell me something. Is my dad okay? Is the cancer spreading faster? Does he have a certain amount of time to live? Why has he lost so much weight?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

  Boomer looked at me through the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to ask him that when you talk t
o him again.”

  I thought about what he said and understood that to mean that my pop’s health was taking a turn for the worse.

  “What he did want you to know is, he don’t want you out of the game. And, Nay, you know I ain’t gonna bullshit you. You know your father needs you back out here. He won’t let nobody else take his throne but you. Crystal… well, she’s sweet, bless her heart, but she has shown us that she ain’t that bright. You have what it takes. Besides, he said he made this city and he wants you to carry on his legacy, not Crystal. She weak. Always has been. He said that’s why he made the sacrifice. He made the sacrifice for his name and the game.” Boom unloaded that on me.

  I sat there, staring at the back of Boomer’s bald head. What Boomer just said was a hard pill to swallow. What uncle would tell their niece that her father said to be the best drug dealer she can be? Odd to some but this didn’t come as a surprise. My family was full of murderers, drug dealers, pimps—you name it, and we have one.

  But, sitting in that cell for the last twenty-two months had me looking at the game with a different eye. Especially knowing and realizing that there’s only two ways out: a cell or a coffin. I composed myself enough to ask him, “Boomer, what do you have to say about all this?”

  “Your daddy wants you back in, and the streets need some new blood out here. You have to carry out your father’s wishes. Everybody is depending on you. Plus, he told you he sacrificed so we all could be out here. I’m here for you, at your disposal. Just like I was there for yo’ daddy. The real question is, how do you feel about all this? If your heart and mind ain’t in the right place, I have my own instructions to follow.”

  “What are those? To kill me?” I squeaked out. I said it as a joke, but one could never know with my father.