by AP Jermaine
I couldn’t believe this bullshit! I was playing fair with niggas. Getting money and letting other niggas eat too. Now out of nowhere, this nigga was causing me to get off my square, because of the simple yet unavoidable fact, that if Joe didn’t kill me, he was no more to me than a dead man walking. Either him, or me would have to go. There’s no way we could co-exist on this planet! He had disrespected me to the point of no return, and in a sense, I think he knew it. I was skeptical about coming out of this situation alive. The crazy shit was, we were sitting in the
parking lot of this huge ass restaurant, and nobody had as much as driven by! For some reason, I felt it just wasn’t my night. “I don’t keep up with Shell’s whereabouts. He’s my homeboy not my bitch. He does his thing and I do mine.” I looked the nigga square in the eye, just to show him that my anger, had overcome and surpassed any fear he may have been searching for.
“Yo Ish, what you think? This pussy telling the truth?” So that was dreadlocks name? “Ish.” Quickly I stored it in my mind for later use.
“Joe please! He doesn’t kno….”
“Shut up trick! When I want you to open your mouth, I’ll stick my dick in it! “Big Joe cut Monique off.
“Hey, what’s going on back here?” I heard a preppy sounding voice ask.
“Start the truck Ish!” Big Joe ordered without haste. “When you see your boy, tell him to go ahead and start planning his funeral.” Big Joe barked as he reached down and snatched my Cuban link from my neck! Without another word, they ran back to the Navigator, jumped in and rocketed off into the night. Monique helped me off the ground, as a slender white guy with wire rimmed glasses and a plaid sweater, approached us with concern.
“Holy crap!” The man threw his hand over his mouth at the sight of our appearance. “Stay here I’m going to get help!” He yelled over his shoulder as he ran off in the direction of the restaurant.
“Come on. We gotta get the fuck outta here!” I definitely wasn’t sticking around for no question asking cops, as I grabbed Monique and ran to the car, wiping blood and tears from her face with the sleeve of my shirt. Looking in the mirror as we pulled out of the parking lot, I saw that a group of people had gathered at the spot we had just vacated. No, I couldn’t let the police be involved with this shit. I looked over at Monique’s busted nose and swollen lip and banged my fists down on the steering wheel. “Motherfucker!” Monique jumped like I’d just fired a pistol inside the car!
“It’s okay baby. I’m fine. Were okay baby.” Monique tried to calm me with soothing words and pleading eyes. She knew that only sinister thoughts were running through my mind. She might as well have been talking to a brick wall. I was a soldier, and that fat motherfucker had just declared war! I looked at Monique and she dropped her head into her hands and cried. She knew this shit wouldn’t be over until either him or me was dead. Out of nowhere, the calm had gone and the storm had arrived.
Chapter 25 “Payback”
Keisha walked down her stairs, finding Hood and Shell in the same spot they’d been in for the past three hours. Sitting at her kitchen table nodding their lives away. Unsurprisingly, she’d reached the point where she hated Hood and everything he stood for. To her, he was a lame, that was only good for one thing. Giving her money so she could keep up her ghetto fabulous lifestyle. But as of late, his packages and his paper, had all but disappeared. His 30 days in jail, weren’t nearly long enough for Keisha. She definitely could have done without his presence for a little longer. All he did now anyway, was sit around sniffing dope, nodding and scratching. She wished she could have Banks for her man, and she envied her friend Monique. Sneaky ass Monique, she thought. In her mind, Monique had stolen Banks from her. All he’d needed was just a little more time to realize they would be good for each other. In the end, Monique was still her girl though, and she knew that Banks loved her. At times though, even if he didn’t say it, Keisha felt he loved her too. Especially when he was balls deep in her soaking wet pussy! Her clit thumped right along with her heartbeat, at the thought of Banks’ massive pipe and superior dick game. Nervously she glanced over at Hood, as if by some miracle, he could read into her freaky thoughts of another man. A knock at the backdoor shattered her lustful daydream. Hood and Shell shot straight up outta their stupor. “Humph?… What’s going on? Who dat?” Hood asked groggily.
“I don’t know nigga!” Keisha spat back with attitude as she stomped over to the door. “Who is it!”
“It’s Luke Keisha. Is Hood here? Keisha opened the door, and in walked Luke. Dirty, dusty, and grimy, just like he always looked these days. The monkey on his back, had transformed into a full-grown silverback gorilla! And just like so many others before him, it had ridden his simple ass straight to the ground. The Polo shirt he wore, looked at least three sizes too big. A shirt that six months ago, had fit him just right. The “P” on the shirt was so faded, it looked like the shirt read “OLO” instead of POLO. He had to hold his dusty jeans up with one hand, while wiping his runny nose with the other. His once all white Air Force Ones, looked like construction boots they were so brown and dingy!
“Wipe yo goddamn feet before you come in here nigga!” Keisha barked on Luke.
“Oh, hey Keisha,” Luke strode by her without a second glance. “What up Shell? You still got some of that same boy from this morning?”
“Yeah what you need?” Shell asked as he stood up and stretched, forgetting the pistol that was in his lap, as it slid heavily to the floor. Quick as a cat, he reached down, snatched up the pistol and tucked it in his waistband. “You got straight paper?”
“I got sixteen bru, I’ll bring you the rest in a few aight? I’m sick homey. I just need to get off empty, then I can function. You know how it is dog?” Luke pleaded as he continuously wiped his runny nose. At this time, bags of “boy” were going for twenty - five dollars.
“Man fuck that shit nigga! This is business! If you sick, then that’s yo problem!” Hood looked up and laughed before his head fell back into a nod. “You better bring me some sales too nigga!” Shell barked as he reached in his underwear and retrieved the bundle of heroin he had stashed there.
“You know I got you bru. This me.” Hood smiled with renewed happiness as he placed the crumbled five and eleven one dollar bills on the table. Keisha walked back up the stairs, pissed at what her life had become. She was a bad bitch and knew it. The perfect arm-piece for a real get money nigga. But after Armand, her Jamaican fiancé; whose father just happened to own half the shit in Miami, including the cocaine; was knocked off in Fort Lauderdale, with one hundred and thirteen kilos of coke, and two point three million dollars in cash, Somehow. Meraculously; she’d gotten hooked up with Hood’s weak ass. Just the thought of her current situation was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She needed to be fucked good. To relieve some stress. If she could just get Banks to meet her in the bathroom of the Arab store on the corner, a good fast pounding could do the trick. She massaged her clit through her shorts as she dialed his number.
“Yo?” He answered on the fifth ring.
“Hey boo. What you doing?”
“Not shit. Just riding and smoking. What’s good? You wanna meet me at the store?” Banks really didn’t give a fuck if Hood knew he was fucking Keisha, but he continued to take extra precaution to keep their secret for two reasons. One, he knew Hood would beat the hell outta Keisha as soon as Banks wasn’t around, and two, it was a much more thrilling nutt when it felt like you were sneaking. Keisha jumped with glee, when Banks spoke as if reading her mind.
“Yes baby! I can be at the store in five minutes! Hood down there with Shell and Luke. I’m just gonna slip out the back and….”
“You said who’s there with you?”
“Hood, Shell, and Luke. Why baby what’s wrong? Hello?… Hello?… Banks…?” The line had gone dead….
Slamming down on my brakes I did a 180 degree turn right in the middle of traffic, punching the accelerator down to the floor as I spun tires off Geer Street
turning onto Alston Ave! Weaving in and out of traffic, I prayed to god I didn’t get pulled! Slamming down on the brakes again, I slid around to bank a hard left without breaking stride, pushing my BMW around the winding curves and up through the bottom of the projects! Finally, I brought my car to a screeching halt, right behind Keisha’s building! In one swift motion, I reached over into the passenger seat and snatched up my brand new .50 caliber Desert Eagle, threw open the door and hit the ground running! My pistol led out in front of me as I rounded the corner of the building and my sight registered. “BOOM! BOOM!” I let off two thunderous rounds, while seemingly being blinded by lightening then knocked down by a bull! Instantly I was thirsty! My ears finally stopped ringing, and I could hear Keisha’s voice screaming! I needed some water bad! All I could think about was something to drink! And then suddenly, I knew why. Reaching over; feeling the warm, sticky blood, pumping out of my shoulder, I realized I’d been shot! Struggling I pushed to my feet, stumbling in excruciating pain over to where Shell lay shot and bleeding. Big Joe lay not two feet away from him. A large portion of the right side of his head, was nothing more than shattered bone, brain matter, and blood. The thick dark red blood that continuously flowed, gradually encircled the back of his head as his dead eyes stared out into nothingness. The jolting pain in my shoulder was agonizing, but still I gathered myself and focused long enough to calm Keisha and tell her to call 911. Shell, with the fear of God in his eyes, lay petrified holding his side, as he stared from Big Joe, to me, to the excessive amount of blood, that wouldn’t stop seeping through his fingers. Hood came limping outside, holding a knot on the side of his head the size of a fuckin grapefruit! His right eye was completely swollen shut.
“Oh fuck! He dead! He dead!” Hood yelled hysterically, just like the bitch that he was. Off in the distance I could hear sirens blasting, gradually growing louder as they drew nearer. The loud wailing sounds of the oncoming Calvary, caused me for the first time to realize the rapidly growing amount of people who were standing around, peaking out of project windows, and stopping their cars in the middle of the street; running, yelling, and pointing at the drama unfolding in front of them! A howling ambulance along with two Durham Police cars, came to a screeching halt just twenty - five to thirty feet away from the murder scene! Justine, a long legged medium brown skinned lesbian, with a Caesar haircut and tattoos all over her arms; whom lived just three doors down from Keisha, leaned out her back door and called out to me!
“Banks! Banks! Hurry up, come through here!” She beckoned me into her apartment. There was no time for trying to analyze the what’s and whys of her helping me. So, without a second thought, I dashed into her apartment backdoor, emptying all the money I had in my pockets out onto her living room floor as I ran through, bolted out her front door bleeding like a stuck pig, and with God and luck on my side, jumped back into my BMW and got the fuck up outta up there!
Chapter 26 “Hunger”
My shoulder throbbed, then spilled blood with every beat of my heart. I’d watched enough episodes of The First 48, to know the protocol of a murder scene. Find out if there are any other shooting victims. Question them. Hold them. I almost lost consciousness twice while on the highway headed to the Burlington hospital. The nurses asked me a thousand questions, the doctors simply barked out orders. I’d lost a lot of blood. I told them I was at Burlington Coat Factory about to head in and shop, when a car full of dudes rode by and shot out the window, hitting me once in the shoulder. I had an I.V. in my arm and a tube pushed down the head of my dick. They said I was fine but that the bullet had shattered my collarbone, which was probably where the majority of the pain was coming from. They asked if I had anyone I wanted them to contact and I gave them Monique’s number. The morphine drip they gave me was starting to take its toll, as I drifted off thinking of the events that led me to Burlington Hospitals Trauma Unit.
Crackheads know no loyalty. Their loyalty stays true to only one thing. CRACK! I was spreading crack all over the Bull City with the message that I had an ounce of “hard white,” for anyone with the information that would lead me to Big Joe. The nigga was good though. He hardly ever showed his face in the daylight, and he kept a few heads on the payroll himself. One of em was Luke. One night I’d ran into a stripper bitch named Sasha, who used to be a correctional officer at the Durham County Jail; until she fucked up and fell for a smooth-talking nigga named Pete, who at the time was in jail for Trafficking Heroin. Pete got off on a technicality and he and Sasha became an item. What Sasha didn’t know at the time though, was that Pete was nothing more than a crack smoking run boy that had gotten caught holding somebody else’s package. Sasha, after being busted smuggling cell phones to inmates at $200 a pop to support the powder cocaine habit that Pete had helped her to acquire, lost her job, then turned to her first available moneymaker. Stripping. Soon after, Sasha got rid of Pete, after finally realizing that he was nothing more than a leaching crackhead, and not the big-time hustler that he had claimed. She’d grown tired of shaking her ass and selling pussy all night, just to have him waiting for her money to get high when she got home in the mornings. She’d never lost her coke bottle shape like most chics who get strung out on “soft.” Her ass stayed phat and her titties stayed plump, not to mention she had the best head in East Durham! A true toe curler. Even “hoodrich” niggas would scoop her up and slide off to a hotel room in the cut for couple days. Everybody knew Sasha, and Sasha knew everybody. On this day in particular, I was out driving a green Nissan Maxima that I’d rented from a head for two grams. Cruising through East Durham I’d spotted Sasha jumping out of a Black F-150 in front of Brothers III strip club. It was late and I thought, “What the hell.” Might as well get my dick sucked before I take it in. I eased the Maxima up beside Sasha and rolled down the window. She was obviously startled at first, but upon seeing my face, she lit up like a New York night!
“Hey Banks! I been looking for you!” She yelled as she ran around to the passenger side and opened the door to get in. “I seen that nigga Big Joe!” Sasha shouted as she closed the door behind her. My blood ran cold and instantly my mood changed. This was the motherfuckin
faggot that had put a pistol to my head, smacked up my girl, then finger fucked her right in front of me! He had to know that this beef wont over!
“Where you see him at?” I asked trying to hold down my anger.
“You still paying aint you?”
“I might be. But right now, I wanna know where you saw this nigga at?” I spoke seriously as I slid my hand away from my lap so she could see the snub nosed .38 that rested there. At the sight of my gun, Sasha’s eyes almost jumped from her skull! And suddenly, I couldn’t stop this bitch from talking! I wasn’t gonna shoot her. But I had to let her know that I won’t playing no games and didn’t have the patience for no bullshit. This shit was serious! She told me she’d spotted Big Joe dropping Luke off at a trap spot in Braggtown. She said Luke sold dope for Big Joe outta the spot. She’d been inside twice tricking with Big Joe’s partner Ish. “I know you don’t think I’m giving you no ounce for that do you?”
“Oh, nah Banks you don’t owe me nothing. I just wanna help out.” Her voice trembled as she looked from me, to the pistol in my lap, back to me.
“You ain’t gotta be scared of me Sasha. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” I reassured her with a laugh.
“Whew! Damn! Thank God!” She let out a deep breath while wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I still need something though Banks. You got something? I know you probably don’t be fuckin with this small stuff but I got a hundred.” Sasha produced a crispy big faced Benjamin from her bra. On any other occasion, I would never be riding around with work. But it just so happened, that earlier in the day, a nigga that I’ll just call Tuck, had called me saying he wanted to cop seven grams. I figured I’d slide through Hoover Road, pick that lil change up, then ride through the East on my way to the crib. But when I got to Hoover Road projects with the work, the nigga was a hundred dollars
short. I would have given the nigga the shit, then told him to just hit me with the yard later, but this was the second time in a row he was pulling this shit. So, I left his ass with nothing. I took the Benjamin from Sasha’s hand, looked at it and handed it back. “Please Banks it’s all I got,” she begged with sadness.
Reaching into the console I pulled out the seven grams, turned off Holloway Street onto Spruce, and put the car in park. Sasha’s eyes stayed glued to the coke. “How good can you suck my dick for this?” I smiled, Sasha smiled back, and in a flash had my dick and balls out, moaning and groaning as she licked and sucked me to a fast and furious nutt! Pressing my feet into the floorboard and grabbing onto the armrest, I almost whimpered as I shot ropes of hot sperm down her throat! When she knew that I was drained, she kissed the head and looked up at me smiling.
