Bones and Skip had Oshiwa’s home looking more like a trap house than anything these days. Digital scales could be found scattered all through the house, along with boxes of sandwich bags, Ziploc storage bags and random rubber bands. Skip stood in the kitchen over the stove cooking crack, while Bones and Oshiwa smoked a blunt as he teased her about last night’s events.
“It don’t matter. I did it though. I got it done,” she said, defending her right to be shaken up after everything that had taken place. No one really spoke of Carlos and his death, with the exception of the news reports. It was like he never existed to them. Since Carlos was only a hired gun, no one felt the loss, and life went on as usual.
“Did you give ’em some head though?” Bones asked with a grin, referring to Lines.
“I mean, I did what I had to do. You sent me on a mission, I did what I had to do,” she explained.
“I’m just asking did you give him some head.”
“You know she gave him said head, nigga. Quit talking stupid,” Skip shouted from the kitchen after eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Yeah, I gave that nigga some head. He asked me to. I wouldn’t have just did it if he didn’t ask, but he asked,” she said with a shrug.
For some reason, Bones felt something about her sucking Lines’ dick, but nothing about her fucking him. He wouldn’t make a fuss about it, but he felt a bit disrespected.
“What time you going shopping?” he said, changing the subject.
“Whatever time you give me some money.”
“What? You got money, whatchu talking ’bout?”
“I know I do, but I wanna spend your money, nigga. I just went to hell and back for your ass. I shouldn’t even have to ask.”
What could Bones say? He knew he needed Oshiwa more than anyone on his squad. He passed her the blunt, went in his pocket, and pulled out a bankroll of five thousand dollars. He gave her two thousand and she cupped her hand back and forth, signaling for more. He peeled off another five hundred shaking his head.
“Now it’s something else I been meaning to talk to y’all about,” she started.
“What’s that?”
“How much y’all be paying for the work?” she inquired.
“Who sent you?” Skip shouted from the kitchen.
“Nigga shut up. I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. Who sent you?” he teased, making Bones chuckle.
“Aiight, y’all joking, but I’m so serious right now. I think I could probably get it cheaper,” she announced.
“Yeah right,” Bones said waving her off.
“Okay. I see you still underestimating me. Why?”
Bones could see she was dead serious now, and she had his attention. It just didn’t seem like she would have something like this under her hat all this time and not mention it.
“So, how about this? How about you tell me how much you can get ’em for?” he said, not wanting to reveal the price he was already paying to her.
“I’m not sure. It’s been a minute, I’d have to call and find out.”
“Is you fucking with me, girl?” Bones said.
Skip was done in the kitchen, so he came out and joined them in the living room.
“Where you get a plug from all of sudden?” Skip asked.
“It’s not all of sudden, he been around. I just wanted to make sure I was gonna be treated right before I spoke on it.”
“Okay, so who is the plug?” Bones asked, now dying to know who this mystery man was.
“Dontae’s old plug. The mayor’s son.
Skip’s eyes grew wide, and Bones just looked confused. Bones had been away, and he didn’t know much about the mayor or his son. Dawson was an eastside dude, and most of the hustlers he supplied were also, but Skip knew of him. Skip also knew that if Oshiwa was being truthful, her connect was worth investigating.
“She talking about this cat named Dawson. I heard about him,” Skip confirmed.
“Oh yeah? So where you know him from?” Bones asked.
“From Dontae. You keep acting like I’m new to this or something,” she said with attitude.
“You got a number for this nigga?” Bones asked.
Oshiwa got up and stomped out of the room with even more attitude. She was upset that she wasn’t being taken seriously. A minute later, she came back with a little black book and flopped down next to Bones. She thumbed through the pages until she found what she was looking for.
Stabbing at the number with her index finger, she said, “Right here. Dawson.”
Chapter 16
All Jay could think about was Lines and J-Rock as he drove to the hood to meet with Gunner and the rest of his crew. He wondered who the triggerman was. It had been a good seven years since he’d seen Bones face to face, but he still held a vivid picture of the enemy’s face locked in his mind. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost a friend to the game or street war, but never had he felt so directly responsible for it. He had known Lines all his life, and had practically raised J-Rock. He felt a rising lump in his throat when he thought of Lines laid out dead on a hotel floor. He felt something inside he had never felt before. Jay felt… defeated. This was the part of the game he had discussed with his pops on many occasions, and he wished he could pick up the phone and call him at that very moment.
When Jay pulled up to the house Gunner used to hide women from his wife, he saw so many cars outside he knew everyone was already there.
He didn’t know what anyone was driving these days, but that’s the way it had to be. When he walked in, the lump in throat returned as he stared into the eyes, of Bake, E, Gunner and Ray Ray.
“I told that nigga to stay out of the fucking street,” Jay scolded in frustration.
“I hate to say it man, but Lines got his own self killed. He left the club with a set up bitch. He didn’t know that bitch from a can of paint,” Gunner informed.
“What the nigga look like that shot him?”
“Light skin nigga, that’s all I remember. I never seen him before.”
Jay’s cell phone rang and he saw it was Dawson. He was probably calling about some new shit he just got in, about to brag on his product as usual. Jay didn’t have time for his nonsense, so his ignored the call.
“I can’t believe we just letting niggas pick us off like this, dog,” Jay continued. “Ray Ray, you ain’t found nothing about this nigga Bones yet?”
“Naw man, but I’ma tell you like this. Y’all say the nigga got family all around this bitch. If we can’t find him, I say we find the next best thing. You know I don’t give a fuck, Jay, I’ll kill kids and all if need be.”
“Naw, we ain’t killing no kids, Ray Ray, that ain’t gonna bring Lines back.”
Ray Ray was a cold blooded killer, and he was ready to put in work to show just how valuable he was to the team.
“I hear you, Jay, but nothing we gone do is gone bring Lines back. Meantime, we need to show muthafuckas we the last niggas in the world they wanna beef with. If you don’t wanna get the kids, that’s cool. I’ll get sisters, mamas, uncles, cousins.” Ray Ray was hype now. “You know me, I’m a dog. Put my food in a bowl and slide that shit in the corner on the floor, ’cause I’m a muthafucking dog! And I ain’t with watching my niggas die.”
Ray Ray was bringing a much needed energy into the room. Just when Jay was beginning to feel like he had no one, he realized he had some of the coldest killers in the D on his squad. Ray Ray came with a small crew of his own, all gutter just like him. It was definitely time to let them earn their stripes. First, they had to sniff out the enemy’s trail.
__________
The next few days were bittersweet for Michelle. On one hand, she was extremely excited about the opportunities that lay ahead. She had gotten the word that she and Andrea would be filling in for Diane on the evening news as possible candidates to fill her position when she left the station. Apparently, all Andrea’s brownnosing was paying off after all. On the other hand, she hadn’t h
eard from Jay since the morning she dropped him off at the rental car company. Inside, she felt unbelievably stupid, and it was taking her off her A game. She sat at a Starbucks on her lunch break contemplating what could have possibly gone wrong, and how she should handle it from here. She called Leslie to confess and to hopefully get some guidance.
“Hey, love of my life,” Leslie answered.
“If I’m the love of your life, whose ring are you wearing?”
“Oh hush. Be glad somebody loves you.”
“You don’t know the half,” Michelle said, feeling underappreciated.
“Why, what’s wrong?
“Huuuuuuh,” she sighed. “Where do I start?”
“How about the beginning?” Leslie said with concern in her tone.
“Okay, so me and Jay hit it off really, really well, as you know.”
“Right?”
“Everything was going perfectly until I made the mistake of getting caught up in a moment and moving too fast. To make a long story short… I slept with him”
“Wow.”
“Yes, and that was three days ago and I haven’t heard from him since then.”
“No!”
“Yes! And it’s driving me crazy because you know I would never in a million years just sleep with someone I didn’t really think I saw a serious possibility of being with. So right now I’m going through quite an array of emotions.”
“You should call him,” Leslie suggested.
“What? No.”
“Yes. Call him, because you could be getting yourself worked all up over nothing. Things happen, you know? Maybe he lost his phone or maybe something is going on with him you don’t know about. Just call him.”
Michelle thought about the last time they were together and how they flew out of the Fox theatre in the middle of the play.
“Maybe you’re right, but I just don’t wanna call him and find out that he really has just been avoiding me, then I’ll really feel like shit.”
“I don’t believe that’s it. I mean, what man in his right mind would settle for one night with you when you were clearly offering more?”
“Well thanks, I really needed to hear that. I still don’t know about calling him though,” she admitted.
“That’s because you’re all in your feelings right now. Just call the man, and when you find out you were wrong, you can call me back and tell me I was right.”
Michelle pondered her next move.
“If you’re wrong I’m never taking your advice again.”
“Oh, but I’m so right. Call the man. And congrats on making lead anchor, I’m claiming it early.”
“Thanks. Love you.”
“Love you more. Bye.
“Bye.
Michelle hung up, still petrified of making the call. Rejection from men was something she had no experience with, and the thought of it was terrifying. She clutched her cellphone, tapping her nails on the table. Get out of your feelings; she’s right, you’re a hell of a catch. Just call him.
Michelle decided it would be worse to continue the day waiting and wondering, so she decided to call. She dialed Jay’s number and it rang. It rang again. It continued to ring, until finally, the voicemail picked up. She didn’t have a thought out message to leave, because she had called on the spur of the moment, so she hung up. She sat in Starbucks waiting for a call back the rest of her lunch break, but it never came. How badly she wanted to drive to Leslie and choke her right now.
__________
Jay was in the middle of passing out the new bulletproof vests he had just bought for everybody when he looked at his cellphone and saw that Michelle had called him. It was such bad timing that he’d met someone he actually could see a future with, and now he didn’t even want to have a simple phone conversation with her. There was nothing else on his mind but the current situation that needed to be dealt with. He knew Michelle was probably worried that she had done something wrong, or probably just extremely confused. He promised himself he wouldn’t avoid her for much longer. She didn’t deserve that, but right now his mind was running rampant.
They had been in Bones’ old neighborhood all week trying to come up with something or somebody to leak some information or blood, one or the other. But they had come up empty handed. Meantime, business still had to be handled, but as the day of Lines’ funeral approached, Jay’s mind was clouded and somewhat disoriented as he went about his day. Dawson had continued to call him, and had even left a voicemail on his answering machine, sounding upset about not receiving a call back. As far as Jay was concerned, their business was done, so fuck Dawson and his feelings. He had bigger fish to fry. Truth be told, it was dangerous to still try to hustle with so much serious beef on the floor, but Jay knew if he let Bones stop their hustle, he will truly have won the war.
That night, the crew met up again at Niecey Girl’s house to turn in money to Jay and to put together some funds for Lines’ family that would be passed out after the funeral. Jay still felt like his nuts were in a vise, and he was just sitting around waiting for someone else from his crew to get whacked. Not being a drinker, he felt lost when he found himself turning to alcohol to comfort his state of confusion. He had a bottle of Don Julio, and he was using a toast to Lines as his excuse, knowing it was his favorite drink. The truth was, he just needed to calm himself by any means necessary.
“I gotta get this feeling off of me, dog. I don’t care how many people gotta die,” he admitted, throwing a shot back.
“I know it feel like we lying down right now, nigga, but we gone take it to that bitch ass nigga sooner than later. This city ain’t that big, trust me,” Gunner assured him.
“I can’t think straight.” Jay said, pouring another shot and passing the bottle around. “Everybody get a shot, man, so we can toast to the memory of my muthafucking dog, ya dig? Both my niggas, matter of fact. We gon set this city on fire about my niggas. Teach these bitch ass niggas who to play with, ya dig?”
Jay continued to talk himself into believing he could win a war with a ghost. If there was a will, there was a way, and he would find it. After drinking the first bottle, Bake left and came back with another bottle, and the crew sat around drinking and reminiscing until well after midnight. Jay being the only lightweight in the room, was certifiably drunk. As they all prepared to leave at the same time, Jay even staggered a little.
“You might wanna stay here tonight, ’cause you look drunk,” Niecey Girl said.
“Naw, I spent the night here last night. I’m going home,” he slurred.
“Okay. You grown,” Niecey Girl said, leaving it alone.
As everyone piled outside, Jay staggered again, and this time Bake saw it too.
“Man, you sure you can drive, dog?”
“When have I ever been unable to drive, Bake?” Jay said, getting upset.
“Never. But when have I ever asked until now?”
“I’m straight, dog. I’m straight. I’m about to take my ass home and get in the bed.”
“Aiight man, call me and let me know you made it or something.”
“Yup.”
Jay climbed behind the wheel of his rental Camaro and started it up. He backed out of the driveway and went flying up the residential street like he was drag racing.
Bake was worried.
On the freeway, Jay drove like a lunatic, dipping in and out of lanes, doing over a hundred miles an hour. He petrified motorists to the point that everyone just moved out of his way to let him pass. His music was blasting and Young Jeezy’s song, “Gangsta Music” had a hypnotizing effect on his mood as he plotted military minded war strategies. He gunned past a state trooper parked in the shoulder with no lights on. It was too late to slow down, but after spotting the trooper’s car, he did it anyway.
Jay could see the trooper in his rearview mirror with his red and blue flashing lights, but he didn’t slow down any more than he already had. He contemplated running. He was drunk, wearing a bulletproof vest, and carrying a pi
stol. If he stopped, he was going to jail, no doubt about it. He stomped the gas and switched over to the last lane so he could exit the freeway.
At the first available exit ramp, he rolled down his window and slung the pistol as he bent the corner at the same time.
The state trooper got off on the same exit and was still behind him. Jay bent another hard right, barely missing the tail end of a black Bronco. He swerved around the Bronco and into the far right turning lane. The state trooper was about four cars back, and Jay knew that more were probably on the way. He turned left, down a residential street, and the back end of his Camaro spun out and fishtailed before he got control and stabbed off again. He could hear the number of sirens doubling. Tripled now. Getting closer. He spotted a patrol car setting up to block his path at the end of the next block.
He slowed down, trying to think quickly, but now the state trooper was really on his ass, close enough to ram him if he wanted. Jay thought of surrendering, but decided against it. He yanked the wheel and jumped the curb, but the wheels spun out, hitting freshly watered grass, and he had trouble getting traction.
More police cars lined the block.
Jay had no way out as he drove up the sidewalk until he had no choice but to slam on brakes, or ram a squad car head on. He slammed on his brakes as police jumped out and approached the car with weapons drawn. Jay put his hands in the air in surrender, and police snatched the door open and dragged him from the car.
“Don’t fucking move! Matter of fact, move so I can blow your fucking head off!” A Detroit police officer yelled.
Jay knew it wasn’t just a threat, so he remained stiff as a board and they cuffed him quickly and snatched him from the ground. As they shoved him in the backseat of the State trooper’s car, a calm came over Jay as they began to search his vehicle. He knew there was nothing in the car, and whatever charges he was facing, he’d surely be out in a day or two. Still, he had to face the fact that his life was spiraling out of control.
Chapter 17
Sitting in the slammer at some precinct on the westside of town that he’d never seen before, Jay tried unsuccessfully to get some rest on the cold hard cement. He wasn’t able to reach his lawyer with his one phone call, so he called Niecey Girl and told her what happened and what to do. He looked around at some the other degenerates of society and felt trapped. He wasn’t charged for the bulletproof vest, but he was charged with alluding and reckless endangerment. He knew the vest was illegal, but it wasn’t something they pushed to prosecute normally, unless it was attached to crime involving a firearm.
The War Report Page 10
