Road. They noticed an accident ahead and had to make a detour. As they approached exit 5, they made a sharp right onto Bay Street, the main street that leads to the projects. Sevyn’s eyes got big. They saw drug dealers and crackheads everywhere.
“Tracy, do you see apartment 456?”
“Hold up, slow down, 452, 454, 456—there it is to the right.”
They parked and jumped out, and Sevyn and Tracy saw li’l kids playing in dirt with no shoes on. One kid even ran up to Sevyn and asked for a dollar.
“Here you go, li’l man.”
“Thank you.”
Sevyn knocked on the door four times and then took a step back. A voice from behind the door said, “Who is it?”
“It’s me Sevyn. Rich is expecting me. Is he here?”
“Hold up.” After two minutes of waiting, the door finally opened. “Come in,” the short stocky man said. “Have a seat. He’ll b-b-b-b-be right with you shortly.” The man stuttered so bad Sevyn and Tracy wanted to burst out laughing, but they heard someone come in through the back door. When they turned around, they saw a tall, slim-built black kat, about six feet and four inches, walk in Tom Ford from head to toe with waves in his head that will make a bitch seasick. He had a mouth full of gold teeth, a Rolex watch, and a gold chain. Everything about him said drug dealer.
“Yo, wazzup, Sevyn? I see you brought a guest with you.”
“Yeah, this is my best friend Tracy.”
“Fo sho. Wazzup, Tracy? I’m Rich, nice to meet you both. I see y’all met my cousin Stutter Box. Wazzup, Stutter Box?”
“Wazzup, R-R-R-R-Rich. What’s g-g-g-good?”
“Man, you gon’ have to learn sign language with all that stuttering.”
“F-F-F-F-Fuck you, Rich.”
“Say, Sevyn, I sent my li’l homies to come holla at ya because I have a job for you.”
“What kind of job? And how much does it pay?”
“The job pays $25,000. But being that I paid you $5,000 up front, I only owe you $20,000.”
“So what’s the job?”
“I heard you are pretty good at writing books and telling stories.”
“Fo sho. I’m one of the best to ever do it.”
“So I need you to tell my story, that’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m starting a publishing company and I really want you to be a part of it. I’m publishing books for the up and coming authors. I think this would be a good opportunity for you and me. So what do you say?”
“I’m all in, let’s do it.”
“I just came home from doing a federal prison bid, and I’m trying to get my life back on the right track. So I’ll take you back to the beginning where it all started at. I remember it like it was yesterday.”
Chapter 3
It was the fall of ’95.October eighth, to be exact.
“Daddy, can you buy us a bike?”
“You know Daddy got y’all.”
“We want a big bike, not li’l cheap bike like last time.”
“You know what, Rich, them girls got you wrapped around their fingers.”
“Anything for my baby girls.”
While Rich was in the room bagging up cocaine, his phone started ringing. “Auntie Donna, bring me my phone.” Rich flipped open his phone and said hello.
“Hey, Rich, this Tina.”
“Wazzup, cousin?”
“Kareem want you.”
“Hold on, wait a minute.”
But before Rich could ask Tina, he was cut short The guy started talking. “What’s good, my guy?”
“Chillin’. What’s good?”
“Nothing much. Man, Rich, I need to see ya. You know a nigga just came home.” Click.
Rich waited for a few minutes and then called Tina back. “Yo, Tina, who was I talking to?”
“That was Kareem.”
“You talkin’ bout Kareem from Fellwood Homes?”
“Yeah, that’s my nigga.”
“Run back outside and go get him.”
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