you coming home so late?” Blah Blah Blah! I just continued to lean against the car till she was done running her mouth and when she got done, I just walked past her and went to the living room.
I had a drop living room with a big fireplace and soft Italian leather furniture. I had a 64 inch plasma television next to the Bose sound system with twelve speakers all around the living room. I grabbed the remote as I sat down and turned on the television because I really wasn’t the argumentative type of person. Why argue when we could talk about it? If not that, then we could go ahead and fight, but I wasn’t going to fight my wife. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve smacked her up a few times because I had to let her know she wasn’t running anything. But it wasn’t an everyday thing for me and tonight was one of them.
“I asked you where the fuck was you at? I know you think you’re the shit because you got all these nigga’s and bitches in your face, but you ain't doing shit, nigga.”
I began to get angry and calmly told her to sit down. She twisted her face up but she did what I asked of her and I said very quietly and softly, “If you don’t stop screaming at me like I’m some type of child I’m going to punch a hole in your face.” With that, I turned back around flicking through the channels.
Her mouth dropped open and she just stared at me with disbelief but she knew I was serious and got the hint. She said, “I’m going to bed and you can sleep on the couch. I don’t have time for your shit this morning.”
I said, “Bye.”
When she left I had to sit and think what to do about my connection since I disconnected my last one. I had a few people who wanted to do business with me because they knew I had the clientele to make shit happen. But at the same time, nigga’s was thirsty out here and I wasn’t going to take the chance of getting tied up. I had met this cat named Alfonso about eight months ago in Los Angeles at the Cavs and Lakers game. We met up in the bar section and hit it right off. We talked for about two hours and it wasn’t no secret what we both were into. Street nigga’s can tell street nigga’s even through the bullshit we try to cover it up with. He told me to call him when I wanted to see some of the many cars he had in his possession.
I pulled out my planner and wrote in it to make sure I got at him in the morning. I closed the planner and thought about this nigga we killed tonight and what his family would say. I left no witnesses, so they don’t have shit on me.
When I woke up in the morning the light was shining right in my face and the sun was up and personal with me. I put my hand up to block the sun rays and got up off the couch to head to the kitchen. I went to the island counter and saw that there was breakfast made for me and a letter. I read the letter and smiled to myself because it was from my six year old, Natasha.
I had to start spending more time with my kids and start being the father that mines never got the chance to be to me. Any man could be a father but it took a real man to be a dad. I just needed about six to eight more months and I would leave that street shit to Splif. He could have the whole operation and do it the way he felt comfortable because I wanted more than what this life had to offer at the end of it.
I looked at my watch and it said a quarter after nine and that would be about six in the morning out in Cali, which was too early in the morning to be calling someone. I grabbed a waffle and ran upstairs to my bedroom to get in the shower. After I got out of the shower I threw on some Azure jeans, a Lot 29 t-shirt and some Prada sandals just to make a run to the hood to make sure everything was on point.
I ran a business and my business was to spread dope across the city. Yeah it was fucked up to be spreading poison around to my people but if it wasn’t me it’d be someone else clocking that grip and I wasn’t going to be the one to pass it up. I had an operation that made about five hundred thousand a month and that wasn’t no money to be playing games with and I had to have it.
I jumped in my Hummer 3 that I bought off some white cat out in Middleburg Heights. It was already sitting on 26’s and was decked out with the latest gadgets and shit. I gave the chump nine ounces soft for it. Shits sweet when you got these fiends out here strung out. I hit the city and nigga’s was out deep on every corner I turned my head. I hit Central and went straight to Unwin where the whole operation was at.
This is where the shit was real critical at because nigga’s was on another level here. What you could see from a moving car was sufficient; young cats presiding with vigilance over any open air corner store. Nigga’s posted up in front of every building with leather coats and Timbed up with a bulletproof on like it was a tank top. Then you had the warnings posted up on the graffiti walls saying: “You are entering the jungle.” The violence was so bad that people would nail down their windows and at night place all types of shit in front of the door to try to prevent entrance to their shit. Sometimes people would lose their lives for just walking to the corner store to buy some cigarettes and milk. Every tire squeal, every stop sign, or red light could put you face to face with some type of drug dealer trying to settle a beef. So, a nigga had to stay on top of his shit because the weak ones felt the burn every day.
When I rode up to the building I had under control, I seen my little nigga’s out there hitting every car that came down the strip. We didn’t have to worry about the police because they were scared to come down this street. So, nigga’s ran up to all the cars to slang that candy. Some nigga’s done got into it because they would try to sell to one of their family members. Nigga’s didn’t care, they just wanted those ends.
I jumped out of the Hummer and they all paid me crazy respect in these bricks because I kept food in their mouths. “Yo! Stomach Pain, what’s the deal with you, son?” That’s the main young cat I give all the cream to. His name is “Yella” and he’s a tuff young cat trying to make a name for his self out in these streets.
“Let me holla at you, Yella.”
He ran over and had to keep pulling up his jeans because they kept falling off his narrow ass. “What’s the deal, Pain?” I said, “Did Blacc holla at you last night with that package?”
Yella said, “Yeah, he got at me and I’ve been on the block all night. Shits been rolling real good but we had some beef with those Longwood nigga’s last night. One nigga got shot in the head on Woodland and they think we had something to do with it because we those type of cats. Ha-Ha-Ha.”
I looked up and down the street and said, “Fuck those bitches, just keep that shit rolling and hit me up when you get done. Don’t give anyone any of that money till you talk to me.”
Yella said, “You bet, Stomach.” The little nigga said peace and walked back to his spot to post up and get that paper. I seen Splif's car outside the building and the shit fly as fuck. He copped a Ferrari Scagliettie 612 and only pulled that out when he was feeling real fly. The police be seeing his shit, but why give chase to something you can’t catch?
I walked into the building heading to the top floor where the action was. On my way up the stairs I heard some strange noises on the stairways. I pulled out the 454 and looked around the corner and saw little Shawn getting his dick sucked by some fiend bitch. “Yo! Take that shit in one of the other buildings, nigga.”
Shawn jumped when he heard the voice and when he saw me he said, “Oh! My bad Stomach Pain. She just unzipped my shit right here and I couldn’t stop the shit once she got started. But I got you. Get up, bitch. Get your ass outside and wait for me.”
The fiend couldn’t be no older than twenty and she still had a little body to her, but that would be gone in 18 months top. She wiped her mouth off and gave me one of those slutty smiles before she ran downstairs. I knocked on the door and the slide moved to the side to see who was trying to intrude.
