“C’mon, G-money . . . why is you bugging me about the next bitch for? Yo ass is here with me . . . walking around the crib we live in together. Just finished riding this dick into the night. You the one that be riding through the streets in the front seat of my whips like the queen bitch for all those hoes to see. So what’s the damn problem?” Warren asked smoothly. He was the only person who called me G-money and I liked it. I kind of smiled inside every time he said it even when I was mad at him. Warren said he gave me that nickname because when I was with him I always looked like a bag of money.
“Just be a queen and don’t worry about shit else. Now lean yo ass over here and give ya daddy a fucking kiss.” He made me all mushy inside. Even when I tried to be mad, I couldn’t stay mad at his smooth ass.
“I’m just saying, Warren, you need to call off these bitches, because it gets tiring. I just want a day where I don’t have nobody calling me and stuff,” I said softly in my best baby voice. I didn’t give his ass no kiss. I wanted him to know I wasn’t feeling him. But that didn’t last long. Warren grabbed me and pulled me down onto the couch. He kissed me so deep and passionately all of my troubles seemed to melt away. I was so in love with Warren that no matter what he did, I could never imagine my life without him. After he held me tightly for a few minutes, I felt safe and secure. I wasn’t going to say shit else about it.
“Let’s go to dinner, G-money. Let’s go riding through the streets and shit on these starving ass bitches who keep calling you,” Warren said. I jumped up excitedly. I loved to go out on the town with my man. I was thinking I could probably convince him to take me to buy a new piece of jewelry or a bag . . . one of the many guilt gifts I’d received from Warren over the years.
We hit the streets hard that night. We both wore all black with our matching Rolex watches the only shine gleaming from our wrists. I wore little to no makeup; my skin was so flawless I hardly needed any. I was definitely a less is more type chick. My hourglass shape, caramel skin, perky D-cups, and long legs didn’t need much to make a statement. I never wore weave, my hair was thick, long, and naturally beautiful. Many of the jealous bitches whispered that I had weave, but I knew the truth. Warren paid me many compliments. I think he knew he had a trophy chick on his arm just as much as I knew I had a sponsor on mine.
As we drove through the streets of DC on our way to dinner, I felt real good. I had forgotten all about the chick who kept blowing up my phone. I watched the streets from my perch as Warren’s number one and it felt good as hell too. Warren was right about what he had told me when I confronted him. Through the darkly tinted windows of his Mercedes G-Wagon, I could see the envious eyes of all the starving bitches who wanted him so badly. I was thinking they’d probably sell their kids and kill their mama to be me right then. I rolled my window down slightly and smirked at them. I wanted them to see me as Warren’s bitch for life. I was definitely shitting on them. I felt warm and fuzzy inside just knowing they wanted to sit where I was sitting.
Warren and I rode in silence for a few minutes. I know he saw me teasing those hoes. I was lost in thought daydreaming about the day I wouldn’t have to worry about no other bitch trying to steal my spot on the throne. Warren was bopping to his rap music and all seemed well. The next thing I knew, my body and my neck were being violently jerked around and I heard the tires of the truck screeching like we were on a racetrack. I formed my mouth into an O, but I couldn’t even get my words out. My eyes shot wide open as I noticed that the G-Wagon was moving like a fucking rollercoaster ride. I even broke a nail tip trying to hold on to the door for support.
“Oh! That nigga had the nerve to show up back on these streets! Niggas is bold these days, huh? I got something for that ass!” Warren growled. The car whipped around again so hard I bumped my head on the window. Warren was still mumbling about niggas not knowing who they were fucking with and he ain’t the one to be fucked with.
“Who? What? What the fuck, Warren?!” I screeched, confused as hell. Before Warren could even answer he was throwing that shit in Park and the next thing I knew, he was out of the truck in a flash. Finally getting my bearings, I followed Warren with my eyes. I knew the way he was moving that it couldn’t be something good. I watched in horror as Warren ran up on an unsuspecting dude who stood amid a bunch of guys with his back turned. Warren was on him within a few seconds. The crowd he was in scattered like roaches when the lights come on. I could see the dude put his hands up in defense, terrified. It didn’t take him long to realize he had nowhere to run or hide. The guy’s efforts to ward off Warren were futile to say the least. There was no defending himself now as Warren went in on the dude like a madman. Warren’s rage was apparent to everybody on the streets who had a front-row seat to the show about to go down.
“Where you been, nigga?! Huh?! You thought you could run!” I heard Warren barking from where I sat inside the car. I couldn’t even hear what plea the dude was trying to cop, but I could tell he was scared as shit. Warren took a gun from his waistband. My jaw dropped open because I thought Warren was going to shoot that dude right there on the street. Warren was smarter than that, but he drove the butt of that gun up against the guy’s head with the force of a fucking tornado. Even I winced just watching it. I could only imagine the pain associated with that first hit.
“What, nigga! What?!” Warren barked. “You thought it was all good! You wanted to show your ass after I let you eat out here on these streets?! You tried to play me like I was a fucking chump?!” Warren was like a demon possessed. After the first gun butt, the guy’s head had split open. The gash was so big I swore I could see his brains. Blood and gray gushed out of the guy’s face and head. I cringed as I felt vomit creeping up my esophagus. I hated the sight of blood. Warren didn’t seem fazed by that shit either.
“You thought I wasn’t gon’ find out?! Huh, nigga! You know who the fuck I am ’round this, muthafucka! Stealing from me is like denouncing God. . . . I’m God around here, motherfucker! I got the power to send you straight the fuck to hell!” Warren said through tightly clenched teeth as he continued to wail on the defenseless dude. Warren’s entire face was like a monster’s face, balled up into a hard scowl. The guy was crying like a little girl after he had taken hit after hit. He was literally begging for his life. I think I even saw the nigga piss on himself. Every time the dude opened his mouth, Warren hit him in it even harder than the time before. After about the third time, I could see that man’s teeth dropping from his lips like Chiclets. Blood was everywhere. It was a complete mess.
I had to finally turn my face. I could actually feel that man’s pain, and suddenly I had an instant headache. Warren continued to pound the guy in the head until the guy finally relented. He crumpled to the ground like a deflated balloon, no longer able to stay on his knees. I couldn’t even look back over at the scene as Warren made a mess of that dude’s face.
No one on the streets dared to try and stop Warren or come to the guy’s defense. Everybody knew who Warren was, and now, just like me, they knew what he was capable of. Warren didn’t have to worry about the police either. In the Trinidad section of DC, the cops only came when it was absolutely necessary—like if they thought something might make the news. Besides, the residents there were totally against snitching, so Warren knew he didn’t have to be concerned about anyone calling the cops either. It was the first time I’d ever seen Warren like that. I had never witnessed his wrath to that extent.
When Warren started back toward the truck, I swear I could see the devil dancing in his eyes. Those shits flashed red like someone had lit a fire inside of them. Something inside of me was literally shaking and I could not keep my teeth from chattering. I had to actually put my hands under my thighs to keep those shits from trembling so much. Warren slid back behind the steering wheel with blood on his hands and all over his shirt. The smell of the fresh blood on Warren reminded me of raw meat gone bad. I had to put my hand over my nose to keep myself from hurling. I was terrified and shocked at the
same damn time. I didn’t dare say a word. I didn’t even recognize the man sitting next to me. He had never been anything but gentle and loving toward me. But right then, I was scared to even breathe around him. I just remained quiet. I figured I’d let him calm the hell down before I even tried to speak to him.
After what seemed like an eternity of eerie silence in the car, Warren started speaking. I widened my eyes and looked over at him. I wasn’t about to interrupt him either.
“G-money . . . why niggas try to test me? They ain’t ask about me out here?” Warren asked.
Obviously he wasn’t looking for answers to those questions.
“Let that nigga’s face be a lesson to anyone who saw that shit. That’s what happens when you try to steal from me. That shit applies to any human walking this fucking planet. These niggas ain’t about this life! I am this life!” Warren huffed, his nostrils flaring like a bull seeing red.
I was still silent. Too struck to speak. Lost for words. However you wanted to characterize it, I wasn’t saying shit. There was nothing I could say that would calm him down and nothing I could do to quell the alarming fear that flitted through my stomach right then.
“Damn . . . now I gotta head back on the fucking highway to go change these clothes. I should make that nigga buy me a new pair of sneakers too. I gotta throw these brand-new Pradas in the damn garbage. Ain’t that about a bitch?! Don’t worry, G-money, we still going to grab our food. I’ma go change it up and then we on our way. This shit was just a small setback, baby girl,” Warren said like it was nothing. He was worrying about changing clothes and throwing a new pair of sneakers in the garbage after he had just fucking put a man as close to death as that? That was real crazy to me. Warren showed no remorse.
I kept staring at the side of Warren’s face in astonishment. I was looking for the least bit of remorse or caring. Nothing. I saw no signs that he could care fucking less. In fact, strangely, Warren was back to the same cool, calm, collected dude that I knew. Most people couldn’t just fucking do something like that and be all regular right afterward. It was like beating someone half to death was a regular task for Warren. That day was the first time that a small twinge of fear of him sprang up inside of me. I don’t think it ever really went away.
3
Gotta Have Trust
It was about two months after I’d seen Warren basically obliterate a dude’s face with the handle of a gun that shit got critical for us. Life was easy for the most part until one fateful day, but as usual, shit always has to change. I always slept later than Warren. I don’t know if it was the fact that most nights he wore my pussy out so bad I’d be in a coma the next day, or if it was just the constant paper chase that Warren was on that got him up so early every day. That day, Warren had come into our bedroom all frantic, shaking the bed to make sure I knew he meant for me to get the fuck up. Mind you, this was a man who never really broke a sweat over shit. He handled business and life the same way—calm, collected. Except when someone crossed him. So I knew shit was serious when his voice was a few octaves higher than I was used to.
“G-money! Get up. C’mon, get up . . . sleep is the cousin of death,” Warren huffed while he used his muscular thigh to shake the bed. I swiped at his leg letting him know I wasn’t a happy fucking camper that he was waking me up so violently. “G-money! Sit up! Some shit came up and I need you to ride with me today!” Warren huffed. Warren’s voice was kind of a mix between slight panic and desperation. Still groggy with sleep, I sat up slowly, confused. I hated to be jolted out of sleep like that. That was the surest way for me to have a fucking headache all day long.
“Mmm,” I moaned, turning my head away from where he stood, letting him know I wasn’t happy with being woken up like that.
“C’mon, I ain’t got time to hear your mouth about sleep. Sleep when you’re fucking dead, now get up,” Warren said, shaking the bed with his leg again. I could feel heat rising from my damn feet to my head. He was pissing me off. I huffed and puffed, but I finally got all the way up. “What is it! What are you waking me up for!” I snapped. My morning breath was fierce. I wished I could blow it straight up his nostrils to get him the fuck away from me. Warren started pacing. That surprised me too. He never showed any signs of nervousness before. Pacing was not his style at all.
“Yo! Obviously I’m waking you up for a reason! This is important, G-money. I have to have you do me this real big solid today,” Warren said seriously as he kept his feet moving. I looked at him as if to say spit it out already. He took the cue.
“I set up a meeting with some real, real important cats to buy something off me. These is not your regular around the way cats. . . . I’m talking internationally known muthafuckas. I can’t let this shit slip through my fingers. Ant was supposed to conduct the transaction on my behalf, but this nigga Ant got caught up real bad. He fucked around and got into it with baby moms and caught a quick DV charge. That nigga hot right now and I can’t send him. I can’t afford for no police to be on that nigga’s ass. This shit is real important, G-money. It has to be done today. I don’t trust nobody else but me and that nigga Ant to get it done. And I ain’t tryna let this deal go because it is just the first of many that’s gon’ make me some real cake. I’m talking ’bout the kind of cake that’s gon’ be our retirement fund . . . get us out this fucking hood, put us on an island somewhere and set us up for life.”
Warren was rambling. My mind was reeling as he spoke. What exactly was he asking me to do? I knew the situation was serious because he hardly ever told me his business like that. He had always preached that the less I knew about his lifestyle and business, the better off I’d be if the boys in blue ever tried to pull that polygraph bullshit on me. This was a first, but believe me, I was all ears when he started talking about setting us up for the future. I liked to hear plans for the future that included me.
“What you want me to do?” I asked, my voice still gruff and filled with sleep as I ran my hand under the covers trying to find my robe to cover my naked body. Warren stopped pacing and turned toward me. The expression on his face was serious. More serious than his normal bad-boy frown. He walked over and sat down next to me on the bed. His voice was low and steady. Sexy!
“Look, all you gotta do is sit in the car and look pretty. You can do that shit well, can’t you? Pssh, why am I even asking the prettiest chick in DC that question? I know you know how to play your position, G-money, right?” Warren answered my question with a question of his own. He was being a smart ass and I could tell he was kind of frustrated by me asking him for details, but shit, I wanted to know what all this little transaction was going to entail. I guess he could tell by the look I wore on my face that I wasn’t fully satisfied with his previous explanation.
“Like I said . . . for you it’s just a ride along. See, the Jake ain’t gon’ really fuck with me if I got a lady in the car. You know how that shit is. They see me alone.... I’m a suspect. If I’m with a chick, they’ll just think we going for a nice brunch or some shit. The chances of them stopping me with you in the car all dressed up and shit is slim to none. I have heard of niggas riding dirty all the way down I-95 and never getting clocked just cuz a chick was in the car looking fancy,” he explained.
It was like a lightbulb had gone off in my mind. Okay, so it clicked. He wanted to use me as a decoy to keep the police away. I twisted my lips and curled my face up into a frown. I thought that was a dumbass idea. Since when did the police care if a black chick was in a car that they wanted to pull over after racially profiling the shit? Especially those fucking Virginia state troopers who were known to be racist pigs. Warren saw my face and made a face of his own.
“But what if they still decide to pull you over anyway? I mean . . . I hear about chicks getting caught up all the time in the car playing that ride-or-die chick shit. I also hear about them getting fucking longer sentences than the dudes,” I said, concern lacing my words. Those words were like blight as soon as they left my mouth. Like I had put
the bad luck whammy on us. Warren was on his feet in a flash.
“Yo! Don’t be speaking negative shit into existence, G-money!” Warren immediately yelled at me. I jumped and when he saw that he had startled me, he quickly softened his voice. He needed me, so he wasn’t trying to ruffle no feather. “We gon’ be good. I ain’t never gonna do shit to put you in harm’s way . . . believe that, baby girl. Once we get near the spot, I’m gon’ put you some place safe . . . like a mall or something nicer like a spa . . . then I’ma go do the business and come get you after the fact. After I have that cake in hand. As a matter of fact . . . I’m telling you I’m gon’ make enough cake that wherever you go you can buy whatever you want. I don’t care how much it cost. I just need you to be focused right now and say that you gon’ do me this one,” Warren assured, finally sitting down on the bed next to me again. Warren had said some key words that I’m sure he knew would get my gears going. Shit! My eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. I was no longer tired, worried, or thinking about the consequences. All that nigga had to say was shopping, spa, and whatever I wanted. All that sounded like music to my ears. I was a chick who came from nothing, so admittedly material things were more important to me than a lot of other shit. I was more concerned with showing bitches in my old hood that I had come up than going to school or finding a job. It was just the way it was at the time. I hadn’t even ever put a dime of the money Warren gave me in the bank.
Most Wanted Page 2
