I was praying that I wasn’t too late, but deep down I knew that it was probably very little I could do to help, regardless.
By the time I’d reached my complex, I noticed several working vans, parked throughout the lot. Right then, I knew what it was. The police, we in Houston affectionately called the Jump-out Boys, were preparing to make a move.
My heart rate sped up, as I attempted to remain calm, while walking home. My hand was trembling, as I used my key to unlock the door. Nervously, I stepped inside, before quickly shutting the door behind me.
I breathed a sigh of relief, as I found him snoring on the couch shirtless. Still, the threat was lingering, so he needed to get his ass up!
“Omari,” I shook his shoulder. “Omari, get up.”
His eyes popped open. “What’s up?” he slurred, clearly still half sleep. I wasn’t surprised, because he’d been up all night, and had spent most of the morning with me.
“Omari, I need you to get up. Do you have any dope in here?”
“What?” he snapped, completely waking up. “The fuck are you talking about?” he sat up in the couch.
“I’m asking if you’re clean. The laws are busting people today, and I wanna make sure that you aint got nothing in here that will send you to jail.”
He sucked his teeth. “Main, Mya, I know you didn’t wake me up for this bullshit. How the fuck would you know what the laws are doing?”
“Uhh,” I groaned. “Apparently, somebody at school told me. Why do you think that I’m back here already? It’s just eleven o’clock, nigga.”
He cut his eyes at me. “Somebody at school like who?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Does it matter?”
He shook his head, while taking a long stretch. “Girl, you crazy. I’ma call Kells, and see what it’s looking like out there. He’ll know if don’t nobody else,” he announced, pulling his cell out of his pocket.
Impatiently, I stood over him, as he made the call on speaker phone. “Yoooo,” Kells dragged out. “I was just about to hit you, nigga.”
“Yeah?” Omari uttered, as he rubbed his eye. “What’s poppin’?
“Them laws is hot, nigga. That’s what’s popping. I just got out the way. They been hitting complexes in the Fondren area all morning. And they saying that Brays Oak Village is on the hit list. I’m talking warrants to search ya house, and they got pictures to identify the niggas in question. So, my best advice to you is to get the fuck outta dodge, and get rid of any dirt you got on ya. NOW!”
“Alright, main,” Omari quickly ended the call. “FUCK!” he blurted out, springing to his feet. “Shit, I gotta the get the hell outta here.” He tried to step around me.
“No, you have to stay here.” I grabbed his forearm.
“What?” He snarled, snatching away from me. “And wait for them muthafuckas to take me to jail?”
“No.” I closed my eyes, thinking of the correct words to express myself. “The police are already parked outside, and they’re probably waiting to see your face.”
“Shit,” he hissed, rubbing his head with both hands. “So, what the fuck…”
“Put everything in a bag, and we’ll get rid of it,” I suggested.
“What?” he narrowed his eyes.
“Come on,” I urged. “You aint got time to waste.” I pulled his hand.
Reluctantly, he traveled into Meeka’s bedroom, and into her closet. I was right behind him. Thinking that he needed some sort of bag, I unzipped my backpack. I held it open, while this nigga pulled out a taped-up package from the top of the closet. I was no rocket scientist, but I’d seen cocaine packaged exactly like that in several movies, and they’d usually say that it was a kilo. But I could’ve been wrong. Anyway, he shoved that shit into my bag, but didn’t stop there. He then pulled out two sizable Ziploc bags of weed, and another bag of bundled up ecstasy pills, stuffing it all into the bag as well.
“One more thing,” he grumbled, before pulling out a pistol.
Just seeing a gun struck fear in my heart, so I was nervous, as he shoved that into my backpack. I looked up, gazing into his eyes. “Is this it?”
He tucked his lips into his mouth. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” I sighed, as I slowly zipped the bag up. I then headed out of the closet, and toward the living room.
“Wait, where you going?” he asked, as I reached the front door.
I looked back at him. “To get rid of this.”
“Mya, I can’t have you do that. I’ma just toss that shit out of the back window. If they aint catch it on me, then they aint got a case,” he reasoned.
I shook my head. “We can’t take that chance.” I pulled the front door open.
“Nah, Mya, stop playing,” he laughed nervously, as he rapidly approached me. “Bring my shit back here.”
“I’m gone,” I told him, before crossing the threshold, closing the door behind me, right in his face.
“Shit!” I heard him shout through the door.
Trying to block him out, I glanced around noticing that nothing had moved, and those vans could still be seen deeper in the parking lot. I think they were focusing on other apartment buildings first, as I noticed one officer with a bullet proof vest hop out of a van with a DEA jacket on.
“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath, as I made a beeline across the parking lot. At the angle I’d traveled, I seemed to be out of the line of vision of the police. At this point, I was standing near Nisha’s uncle’s apartment. Periodically, we’d hang at his house or in his Cadillac that was no longer working. Trying my luck, I stepped to the red Cadillac, and tugged at the door’s handle. Surprisingly, that bitch opened right up. “Yesss,” I quietly rejoiced.
Checking my surroundings, I didn’t see anyone outside, before I carefully placed my backpack in the backseat of the car. I then casually strolled off, headed to a building diagonal from mine. I sat on the stairs, having a clear view of my front door.
In exactly twenty minutes, three vans had rounded the corner, parking directly in front of my building. With their guns drawn the police hopped out of their vehicles, before advancing to our door. One of the officers banged on the door so loudly that I could clearly hear the sound from where I was sitting.
For a second, I thought that Omari was gonna make their jobs hard, which could be dangerous. We all know how police were prone to shoot unarmed Black males in the name of fearing for their lives. Thankfully, he came to his senses, and opened the door for them. They then yanked him out of the apartment, violently throwing him on the ground.
I gritted my teeth, wishing that I could run over there, and tell them how many ways they had him fucked up. But they had him by the balls, and there was really nothing I could do about it.
While some officers stood over Omari, others rushed our apartment, and the rest canvassed the perimeter. I held my breath, as if I didn’t already know the outcome. The police being in my personal space was unnerving, and I just really didn’t know what they’d do.
After damn near a grueling hour, and several nosy neighbors coming outside to watch the scene unfold, all the police stepped back outside. From where I was sitting I could tell that they were frustrated, because they’d found no incriminating evidence. Still, I knew how they were, and could probably try to bring Omari in on some trumped up charges.
So, I definitely breathed lighter once I seen the laws stand him up, before uncuffing him. It was like the sun was shining a tad brighter, but that was eventually tainted with a dark cloud better known as Meeka. Basically, she pulled up, just as the vans loaded with police and offenders pulled off. Being the fake person she is, she hopped out of her Jeep, and rushed over to Omari, raining kisses all over his face.
The scene was so sickening that I had to turn my head. I couldn’t stomach the bullshit, realizing that everybody had skeletons in their closets, and possessed underhanded tendencies…including myself. Me, Meeka, and Omari were all wrong to a certain degree, which caused me to feel a mixture of jealousy and
guilt, as I watched them. Evilly, I was happy that he seemed disinterested in her affection, as he shoved her away. That was showing her that nothing had changed, and he still wasn’t really fucking with her.
I smirked. “Good.”
Omari
I sat watching my cell vibrate on the coffee table. Everybody and their mamas had been calling me, but I didn’t fucking feel like talking. I’d taken Meeka to work in complete silence, feeling this awkwardness between us. For the first time, I saw something in her eyes that told me that I couldn’t trust her. And being from the streets you learned quickly to never ignore your gut instincts. She just flat out had this guilty look on her face that I couldn’t ignore. And the fact that she never expressed concern about the laws busting into her apartment was alarming. She was the type that bitched about the change in weather, yet not one ounce of concern about the police practically trashing her place.
Meeka was always suspect to me, but my suspicions had been heightened, as I really mulled over who I could actually trust. I really didn’t fuck with my family, since they’d all basically left me for dead in jail, and I hadn’t had many non-superficial relationships since I’d been released from prison. And that’s when something entered my mind for the first time. With all the relationships I’d established that were rooted in convenience, there was nothing deep there. No reason for loyalty or dedication. So, even if I would’ve gone to jail that day, I couldn’t honestly say that any broad I was sticking the dick to was guaranteed to be there. Not one. And that didn’t sit well with me.
I aint know who was really fucking with me, fucking with me. But on the contrary, I had to ask who was I fucking with. I definitely wasn’t good to Meeka. Then the hoes I’d encounter in the streets were treated accordingly, but in the long run was I hurting myself? Initially, I laughed at Kells when he jumped into that relationship with his girlfriend, Daynah. I thought that he’d foolishly fallen for some young broad with nothing to offer. And I couldn’t believe that he’d put complete faith in love. But that nigga was doing better than he ever had with Glenda. Turns out, Daynah was a part of a well-connected family, and now Kells had been recently brought into the fold. So, now, he was getting more money, and was given an advantage that most niggas in the streets only dreamed of. Daynah’s people had the laws in their pockets, which allowed them to move in ways other niggas couldn’t. But not just that. Daynah had put him in a position where he didn’t have to constantly place his freedom on the line. She’d done that simply because she loved the nigga, and didn’t want to see him in a fucked-up situation. She had his back.
I was beginning to understand what it meant to have a bitch down with you, and I was undeniably missing that. I mean, yeah, I was living with Meeka, and one could say that she was down for a nigga. But that would be just looking at the surface. She provided a stable place to live, and a car to drive, but that’s where it ended. And she’d never attempted to be more to me. She’d never offered a solid piece of advice, or even one objection to my life of crime. Her only concern was me looking good on her arm, and fucking her. She hadn’t taken out the time to actually know me, yet was completely okay with having me in her bed every night. That all told me that I was a mere vessel, and it could be any dude in my shoes. I just provided enough for her to say that she wasn’t completely alone. And in the process, I was in a dead-end relationship, thinking that I’m getting over, while real peace and happiness was eluding me.
It’s funny that I never really stopped to think about a lot of shit, until I was getting jammed up, and the possibility of going back to jail is looming over my head. Names of who I could call on raced through my head, and I’d come to the conclusion that there weren’t any. That was some sad shit to admit to yourself. I was in this world by my muthafuckin self, and the shit was even more devastating, as I considered the loss I’d just taken.
Mya had gotten rid of over forty thousand worth of drugs, and pretty much all that I had to my name. The thought of starting over was depressing, as I pictured myself stuck with Meeka, dealing with her bullshit. That aint what I wanted for myself, I was beginning to realize more than ever. And what’s fucking with me is that I could’ve left a while ago. I’d been hustling enough to sustain my own household, but I was taking the easier route. One where I had no responsibility. One where I was in somebody’s space regularly, although I felt nothing for them. One where I wasn’t even sure if the bitch would’ve been okay with me getting locked-up. Long story short, I was now questioning if I’d been depriving myself of something genuine for the sake of convenience.
“And I’m broke on top of all this shit,” I grumbled, rubbing my head with both palms. “Fuck,” I grunted.
I was filled with so much despair and regret that I didn’t bother lifting my head, once I heard the front door unlocking. Since I’d dropped Meeka off at work, I knew that it could only be Mya. She came in quietly, and shuffled around a bit. Still, I was feeling so fucked up that I didn’t acknowledge her presence.
“Here,” she uttered, dropping something next to me.
I glanced to my left, noticing her backpack. I aint even know what to say.
“Are you gonna get your shit or what?”
Gradually, I gripped the bag, before unzipping it. Just as I’d left it, my chrome glock was on top. Carefully, I removed everything from the bag, finding everything I’d placed in it. Everything. Which meant that she’d taken a guaranteed FED case, strapped it onto her back, and strolled past the police with it. I just knew that she’d sloppily tossed that shit somewhere close outside. I was actually surprised that the laws had come up empty handed when they searched the area right outside the door. I was honestly stunned. What would make her take such a risk?
“Why…why did you take that chance? What if they would’ve caught you with this?” I queried.
She sat down, and shrugged her shoulders. “I really didn’t think about that.”
I furrowed my brows. “Then what were you thinking about?”
She twisted her lips, seemingly going into deep thought. “I was thinking that regardless of the words exchanged earlier, you’d grown on me. And life here at this house has been a smidge more tolerable with you here. Then I considered what it would be like for you not to be here. And I couldn’t sit back idly, and not at least attempt to help you out. No more than I’d hope someone would do for me if the roles were reversed. I guess I care about you, Omari.”
I can’t lie and say that her words didn’t do something to me. I’d been the nigga in a crowded room, feeling completely alone. But then here she comes, shattering my whole mindset. She’d just done something that I couldn’t claim that my own mama had done. She was there. Unselfishly.
I shook my head, as a wide fiendish grin slowly etched onto my face. “Girl, you a fuckin’ life saver. I was in this bitch thinking I’d lost it all. I just knew you’d panicked, and dropped my shit off in the dumpster somewhere.”
“Nah, I wouldn’t do that,” she claimed. “I mean, I might feel like you need to do something better with yourself, but I figured all that stuff had to be worth a lot of money. So, I definitely wouldn’t toss it out, and have you back on your ass. Shit, I understand that much.”
I chuckled. “I’m saying, you could’ve gotten caught up, and the fear of that’ll make most people too nervous to think rationally.”
She blinked her eyes. “I’m not most people.”
“Yeah, okay,” I continued to smile.
“Besides, who has time to be running down there to that jail to see you all the time? You know I hate catching the bus as is.” She ran her fingers through her hair.
My gaze fell down to the floor, as I licked my lips. I allowed our conversation to sink in, and really process what she’d done…and her whole stance about me. No other broad had come close to being that down. None had been realer. I lifted my head. “Mya, on the cool, I don’t give a fuck what you say.”
“What I say about what?” she questioned with confusion laced in h
er voice.
I leaned over, catching her completely by surprise, as I pushed her back. “That you can’t fuck with me.” I feverishly kissed her lips.
“Wait.” She pressed her palms against my chest.
“Nah, man,” I grabbed her hands. “Aint no waiting.” I hurriedly undid her jeans.
“Omari, I don’t know,” she whined, as I wrestled her jeans down to the middle of her legs, discovering that she wore no panties.
“You don’t know what?” I asked, eyeing her neatly trimmed snatch.
“About doing this,” she breathed heavily, causing her chest to heave up and down.
“Girl, stop,” I asserted, lifting her legs, although her jeans were still at her knees. With aggression, I pushed her thighs apart, easing my head in between. Nastily, I eased my tongue between her slit.
“Nooo,” she whimpered, as I found my way to her clit.
I licked her ferociously, pushing her knees to her shoulders. As I flicked the tip of my tongue on her pearl, her thighs began to shake.
“Uhh, wait, wait, wait!” she screeched, as I kicked into overdrive.
She was leaking like a faucet, as my face became covered in her juices. Feeling like a fiend for her cream, I slurped on her wetness.
“Omariiiiii,” she squealed, as she arched her back.
“Omari, what?” I asked, as I lifted my head. Gripping her jeans, I yanked them down her legs, before snatching them completely off. “Huh?” I dropped my jeans and boxers. I gazed down, as my hard-on saluted her. “You can save that shit. I been waiting on this pussy long enough,” I growled, while clasping her thigh with one hand, and guided myself within her with the other.
“Owwww,” she whined, as I slid through her tightness.
“Got damn this pussy feel good,” I grunted, as I shoved myself completely inside. “Shit,” I breathed, as I lifted the bottom of my shirt over my head, resting it behind my neck. It was time to put in work.
I grabbed both of her thick thighs, as I pummeled into her.
“Ouuuu,” she crooned, as I beat the pussy up.
Even When It's Wrong Page 9
