by AP Jermaine
“Well damn, excuse me. I was just trying to show you this!” Monique threw something in my lap and stomped off to the back. I picked it up and didn’t know what the fuck it was until I turned it over and read. First Response Pregnancy Test. I looked down and saw the plus sign in the small box. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what that meant. I threw the game controller halfway across the room as I jumped from the floor!
“Oh shit! Monique! Monique!” I dashed off down the hall way behind her. Standing in the bedroom door, she was pouting with her arms folded across her chest. “Is this? Is this…?”
“I been trying to tell you, you gonna be a daddy.”
“Oh shit!” I yelled as Monique threw her arms around my neck, jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist!
“That’s right big daddy!”
I jumped, hollered, and screamed til I was exhausted! I was about to be a father. Yeah!
Chapter 39 “Businessman”
The large brick building on Avondale Drive, previously occupied by the K Mart Shopping Center, was for lease or sale. My mind was set on buying. It was the perfect location for a Grown & Sexy nightspot. All I had to do was keep the young niggas out, and my shit was sure to blow. I’d open up something for the younger crowd later, but right now, I needed something that was guaranteed to stay open. Once I got this spot jumping, then I could venture out into other opportunities. I knew right away, that promotion would be the key to my success. From the front of the building I’d written down the contact numbers of the owner, called and spoken to a Mr. Nayer Kisclomb. We’d set up a time to meet today at the Golden Corral on Hillandale Road. He’d informed me that he’d be sitting by the front window, alone, wearing a beige suit with a red bow tie. Normally I’d smoke a blunt for breakfast, but not today. I wanted my mind clear and sharp. I was about to try and make the deal that would change my life. I was both nervous and excited when I walked into the restaurant and spotted the man I would be meeting. Stting by the front window as he’d promised, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up from his paper as I approached the table. He was a small man. His bald head and glasses, for some reason made him look like he was all about business, no bullshit. Or maybe it was just me being nervous. “Mr. Kisclomb?”
“Ah. Yes. You must be Mr. Banks.” He glanced at his watch then folded his paper. “Thank you for being prompt. Please have a seat.” He extended his hand and I shook it firmly as we sat down. “So, Mr. Banks, you’re looking to lease one of my buildings?”
“Well, I was really more interested in buying. By the way sir, if you don’t mind me asking, Kisclomb, is that Russian?”
“No, no.” Mr. Kisclomb laughed heartily. “I’m Jewish.”
“Oh. Sorry sir, my mistake.”
“Nothing to apologize for. A man should always ask questions if he’s unsure of something. So, Mr. Banks. How do you make your money? What is your profession? He flat asked me that shit with a straight face. Damn, is he looking for honesty? Or is he setting my ass up to say, “Hell no! I don’t deal with your type of people!” The question had taken me by surprise, so I thought for a second before I answered. Sensing my hesitation, Mr. Kisclomb laughed again. “Mr. Banks, I am not the police nor the I.R.S. The only reason I am inquiring about your profession, is because for you to be able to purchase this building, it is going to take a substantial amount of money. It’s an extremely large building in a prime location and my asking price is ninety thousand dollars. Does your profession provide that type of income?”
“Well, to tell you the truth Mr. Kisclomb, my former profession may have provided these types of numbers, but I am recently home from an unfortunate incarceration, with a wife and child to be, and I’m trying to get away from that life, so I won’t have to return from whence I have come.” I took a chance and spoke honestly.
“I can truly respect that Mr. Banks. We all go through trials in life, that should never be looked upon as any more than learning experiences. Were you a drug dealer in your previous profession?” Damn! He was killing me with the bold ass questions. But once again, I decided to play straight and not try to lie. Because one thing about a lie, you tell one, you gotta keep telling em.
“Yep. That’s exactly what I was.” I answered staring him straight in the eye.
“Alright. So, I assume whatever finances you’re bringing to the table will be in cash?”
“Why? Is that a problem?”
“Oh no Mr. Banks, on the contrary. Cash rules the world we live in. Cash is always better. Anywhere in the world. Trust me, I know. I tell you what Mr. Banks. My asking price is ninety thousand. For cash, I’ll let you have it for seventy- five.”
“I need some time.”
“Well, there’s really no immediate rush. There’s paperwork that will need to be processed. So, you bring me a ten thousand - dollar; non-refundable deposit, and the building is yours upon my receipt of the other sixty - five. You’ll have sixty days. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good. But what about the I.R.S. With all that cash exchanging hands won’t the Feds be interested?” Kisclomb laughed even harder than before.
“Mr. Banks, I’m Jewish. Don’t worry about the Feds. I know how to handle the paperwork. Everything will be nice and legal. Okay?”
The shit he was spitting was music to my ears. Now all I had to do, was scrape together the rest of the money somehow. I knew I was still gonna need start up money, which could easily end up being another twenty- five, thirty thousand. Damn. Going legit was harder than I thought. But with Monique pregnant now, the shit was no longer just an option. I had to make it pop!
Chapter 40 “Dirty Money”
The first thing I did, was get rid of my BMW. That was my baby, but she had to go. I sold it for eleven thousand. Rims and all. I knew I could go to Lauryn and borrow some money, but this was some shit I had to do on my own. I wasn’t putting anybody in a position to come back later on down the line and be able to say they did this or that for me, so I owe them. No way. We were down to one car now, so I let Monique drive it to work. I was sitting on the front porch smoking a Dutch of “White Willow,” contemplating calling up some pussy to go get, when Shell hit my phone. “Yo what up?”
“What up dog? Where you at? Shell sounded excited.
“I’m at the crib chillin nigga. What’s up?”
“Bru I got something for you,” Shell said. I knew right then that he’d probably made a lick and wanted to show off by throwing me something, but I’d told myself that if I kept taking that shit from him, I’d somehow have to pay for it in the long run. Karma’s a motherfucker! At the same time, I know I only had three weeks, before my ten thousand - dollar deposit would be history. Mr. Kisclomb had just called me yesterday to remind me of that same fact. In all honesty, I needed everything I could get. Finally, I said fuck it, I’d see what he had going on, and if it was worth it, then this would be the last time. “What’s up bru? I know you Mr. Square family man now, but to me; we’re partners til the death. Tell me where to meet you so I can break bread.”
Shit! I thought. I didn’t let nobody, I mean nobody, come to my house. “Yo Monique gone with the car man. Let me come to you when she gets off work.”
“Man I’m bout to go to Charlotte to meet Azar. I’ll probably be gone for a few days so you better get wit me now.” Fuck! I thought. Reluctantly, seeing no other option, I gave him the directions and the address to my spot.
“Damn nigga you out there aint you?” Shell laughed.
“Yeah. Well away from that dumb shit. Just hurry up nigga.”
“On my way sir.”
“I’m sitting out front.”
“One.”
Twenty minutes later, Shell pulled up blasting the Big Tymers. He had a brand-new, shiny Cadillac Deville, with a flip flop paint job, and 22” inches Giovanni spinners on it. “What up bru?” Shell asked, stepping out the whip grinning like a kid in a candy store. Under one arm, he carried a brown paper bag.
“Yeah nigga, you know how I do,” Shell kept grinning. “Oh yeah, bru. What’s up wit Big Los? I saw that nigga down at the car wash washing yo shit. He claimed you sold it to him.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What!”
“I needed the money. I told you I’m bout to get this building so I can open up a spot. You need to open your eyes, think outside the box and go ahead and invest wit me.”
“Man, I aint bout to fool myself like you. I’m a street nigga til the death, and I know it.
“Nigga, it takes a special kind of fool to think he can hustle and rob niggas all his motherfuckin life. A smart nigga takes that paper and makes it work for em, instead of the other way around. Don’t be a slave to the money nigga. Make the money a slave to you. Ya feel me?”
“Whatever Dr. King. This is what the fuck I slave for nigga.” Shell opened the paper bag revealing bundles on top of bundles of heroin, and a plastic bag full of tightly stacked money. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a black and white police cruiser riding slowly past my house, staring at Shell’s whip then back up to the porch at me and him. As soon as the cop car was out of sight, I jumped and headed for the door! “Come on man!” I yelled back at Shell. I didn’t have to tell him twice either, because quicker than greased lightening, he was on my heels! Up until now I’d never taken a soul inside my place of rest, but I damn sure wasn’t about to sit out on my porch with a crazy ass nigga holding a bag full of dope and money!
“Damn nigga you got this motherfucker hooked up!” Shell yelled as he plopped his ass down on my couch and threw his dirty Timbs up on my oak wood and glass coffee table. “How the fuck yall pay for this shit and you aint hustling?”
“Because I’m smart nigga, and I knew how to save some of the bread I did trap for. And get yo motherfuckin feet off my table!”
“Oh, my bad dog.” He laughed like the shit was funny.
“Don’t get too comfortable neither nigga. Monique will be home from work soon. And by then you gonna be long gone. You feel me?”
“Shit, say no more nigga. I got shit to do anyway.” Shell laughed some more, leaning over and dumping the paper bag out on the table. “I know you don’t want none of this boy, so go ahead and take the bread. It’s probably about ten stacks right there.” I wasn’t about to argue with the nigga this time. I needed that money bad! “Yo, roll a blunt of some of that good shit before I skate. Shit, for ten bands the least you can do is smoke a Dutch wit a nigga.”
“I got you homeboy.” I laughed before, BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Somebody knocked on my door like the was trying to beat it the fuck down! Now that shit pissed me the fuck off! “Yo who the fuck is that banging on my door like they stupid!?” I barked as I marched to the front door, prepared to curse somebody out, or kick somebody’s ass! I looked back and Shell had his hand rested at his waistband where I knew he held some type firearm. I peeked out the blinds and immediately jumped the fuck back when I saw the police standing at my front door! “What the fuck! You brought the police to my house nigga?!”
“The police! Hell no! That’s the police?! Shell’s eyes showed the fear I felt.
“Nah nigga its Tupac. What the fuck did I just say!” I hissed at Shell’s dumb ass question. Suddenly my heart fell through my shoes, as I stared down at all the bundles of heroin and the tightly wrapped cash laying out on my coffee table! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Police officer, could you come to the door please?” I heard from outside, as it became obvious that this motherfucker wasn’t just gonna go away. Quick as lightening, I dashed over to the table and swept the dope, money, and the blunt I was about to roll, back into the paper bag. Stumbling to the living room closet, I threw open the door, put in the combination to my safe and opened it, threw in the bag, then closed the safe up before slamming the closet door back shut! Whew! Walking swiftly back to the door, I glanced back at Shell. Who although looked scared as a motherfucker, did not have anything in plain view that could get us some prison time. Taking a deep breath, I opened the front door.
“Yes sir, can I help you?” I made sure to speak proper English. The rotund policeman with the Justin Bieber haircut and the beet red face, projected a demeanor that said “black man hater,” from the outset.
“Are you the owner of this residence sir?” His right hand rested on the butt of his .40 caliber weapon. What the fuck is this? I thought to myself.
“Yes I am. Why, is there some kinda problem?”
“That your car?” He nodded toward Shell’s Deville.
“No, it’s not.”
“Uh huh.” The officer rocked back on his heels as if in disbelief. “The cars registered to one Monica Pulley. She here?” Mr. red face asked the question while trying his damndest to look into my house.
“No, she’s not here? Can I ask you why you need her?” I pulled my door the rest of the way closed as I stepped out onto the porch. The anger in the cop’s eyes was evident.
“Why’d you shut the door?”
“Because my air conditioning is on. You gonna pay my light bill? And sir with all due respect, if we have a problem, could you please state it so I can call my attorney.”
“No need to get hostile son. As I was saying, the car in your driveway is registered to one Monica Pulley. She’s wanted on drug and weapons charges. There’s an outstanding warrant for her arrest. If you know where I can find her, it could make it easier on you in the long run.” Even though I did catch the no need to get hostile “son” remark, though this fat motherfucker looked to be younger than me, I didn’t feed into it. It “was” time though, to let this clown know that I wasn’t the “stupid nigger” he probably presumed I was.
“First of all, officer. Monica Pully does not live at this residence. Furthermore, I am not now, nor have I been at any time, aware of her whereabouts. If I was, you can bet your white ass that you’d never know it. Now. If you do not possess some sort of warrant for me personally, I’d appreciate it very much, if you got off my porch and out OF my yard. Because now you’re trespassing. I keep my lawyer, Lauryn Laddell’s number on speed dial.” The red in his face turned up ten degrees!
“Well Mr…?” He paused as if waiting on me to give him my name. When he’d realized, that he wasn’t gonna get it, he proceeded. “I’m gonna leave you my card. If you see or hear from Monica, give me a call.” He reached into his shirt pocket and stuck out a card. I turned around, stepped back through the door, and slammed it in his face. Two minutes later he was gone.
“Damn bru, what the fuck that pig want?”
“Who the fuck is Monica Pulley nigga?” My question was more important than his. I was so pissed off I could literally feel the steam seeping outta my nostrils! The very first time I let somebody come to my place of rest, and the police show up right behind em! Fuck!
“Man, that’s just one of my lil broads I use for different shit sometimes. He asked about Monica? What for?”
“Well let me see. Maybe it’s the fuckin outstanding warrants the bitch got! That shit might pose a problem don’t you think!” My patience with this nigga was wearing thin.
“Check it bru. About a month ago I had to take them boys on a high-speed chase through the South Side. I was lucky I’d just got my windows tinted, because it was them faggots from the Heat Team. I lost em, bailed out by Liberty Street and dipped. I had to leave a half ounce of blow and my gun though. The car in that bitch name. I told that dizzy broad I was gonna take care of it, but her dumb ass went to get the car, and they charged her ass. I bonded the bitch, out and she ducked off before first appearance. I can’t find that ho nowhere!”
I was stunned. Shell couldn’t be this stupid. “So, nigga you mean to tell me, you been driving that car around Durham, knowing that shit is on fire?”
“Shit, the car don’t look nothing like it did then. I got it painted, threw the feet on it and all that.”
“Nigga the license plate st
ill the same! You running around here like you Jesse James, robbing every nigga wit a package! You think niggas ain’t laying to get at you! You a moving target in that loud ass car! You say you trapping all this paper out there now, so why you still robbing! For what!”
“Cause its free motherfuckin money nigga! I don’t know how you carrying it, but I can’t never have enough money!”
This nigga was out of his fuckin mind! I saw that now. I don’t know how I missed it before. I knew now, that I was gonna have to separate myself from him. This nigga was bound to drizzown, and when he did, I wasn’t getting sucked under with him. “Get outta that loud ass car man. You aint bulletproof. Stay under the radar.” I was tired of talking to this nigga.
“Yo stop judging me man! Ever since you came home you been on some bullshit! All I do is try to help you, nigga! This how you thank me?”
“Nigga I told you I’m straight. I don’t need nobodies help. I’m Gucci!” I did need to get this nigga up outta my house, then fall back from him completely. I went back to the closet, entered the combination to the safe, took out Shell’s dope and closed everything up.
“Damn nigga. You really did stack some paper!” Shell grinned as he sat back down from peeping over my shoulder.
“Nigga I’m good! Get yo self together. Get outta that bright ass car before one of these niggas you juxed, catch yo ass out there nodding somewhere and push yo shit back!”
“I told you to stop judging me man! You do you and I’ll do me! And I never worry about these pussies! I never leave home without Nina Simone.” Shell laid back showcasing a chrome nine - millimeter with a pearl handle.
“Look, it’s time for yo ass to roll on up outta here. Nique will be home in a few.” I gave Shell the signal that it was time for him to raise up, as I handed him his true best girl; the bundles of heroin.
“Shit nigga you might as well come on and roll to Charlotte wit me. I can let you meet my man.”
“I got business to take care of dog. I’m not going to no Charlotte.” I wasn’t trying to meet anybody, and I damn sure wasn’t getting on no highway with this cat!
