I finally caught up with Shell later on that night. Mr. asshole Greene came by at 7:05 pm to see if I was in the crib. The nigga seemed disappointed that I actually was. Around 10:30 he doubled back trying to catch me slipping. I fooled his clown ass though. I’d already made up my mind, that fucking with this dickhead, I wasn’t gonna dip out until the a.m. I left out of the crib around 1:30 am, and headed to the one place I thought I might find Shell. The liquor house. It was a new one, across the street from Turnkey housing development. Also known as, “The Key.” A money-making neighborhood, right at the edge of the city. The liquor house was in a building, that was formerly a “whites only” massage parlor. I emphasize that it was “whites only,” because of the fact that I’d lived in The Key for over half my life, and I’d never seen a black person go up in there. It was rumored that the old man who used to own it, was something like a “Grand Wizard” of the Klu Klux Klan. He’d probably roll over in his grave if he could see the place now. For at this very moment, it was full of niggas! I pulled up into the gravel parking lot and got out. I was driving my 535. Yeah, I still had my baby. Pushing my Glock .45 down in my waistband, I pulled my shirt down over it and walked up to the door. Yeah that’s right. Even though I never intended on going back to the penitentiary, I still wasn’t stupid. There was no way I was going up into no fuckin liquor house without my ratchet. No way. Not in the “Bull City!” The streets still didn’t know I was back home yet, so no sooner than I got recognized, did the whoops and hollers start up,
“Oh shit, Banks!”
“What’s up Banks?”
“There go Banks! What’s good my nigga?”
“Banks! My nigga!”
I gave a couple cats dap and hugged a few chicks; but I still kept walking as I gave the girl at the door ten dollars, and headed up in the spot. The room was smoky, dimly lit, and smelled like cheap perfume, weed, and pussy. I spotted Shell right out the gate. That nigga Flame was with him. By the shining jewels and gear that he was rocking, along with the easy to predict sack chasers that were hanging all over him, I knew one thing that Tamia had told me was probably true. He was getting money now. Even with the joint being packed with hustlers, stick up kids and etc., Shell seemed to be the star of the show. As soon as his eyes met mine, he did a double take and jumped up out of his seat! Flame reached for his pistol, and off instinct I whipped out mine! “Oh shit! Hold the fuck up! Hold the fuck up! I know that ain’t my motherfuckin brother! I know that ain’t my motherfuckin brother right there!” Shell yelled like he was foolish, before running up and embracing me. “Oh shit, it really is you!” I could only embrace him with my left arm, because my right hand held my locked and loaded four fifth, as I watched Flame intensely, who still had his gun trained on me too. Shell caught wind, turned and barked on Flame something fierce. “Nigga what the fuck you think you doing! Sit yo ass down! Don’t you know who this is? This my brother motherfucker! This Teddy Banks nigga!” The music stopped
abruptly, as everybody stood frozen, waiting to see which way they needed to run if shots started to ring out. Flame slowly put his ratchet up and sat back down.
“My bad my nigga.” He said with a grin as he jumped back up to give me dap. “I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. All that yelling put me on point.”
“It’s all gravy.” I answered, sliding my pistol back in my waistband.
“Hey Banks!” This chic named Kaneisha that I knew, walked up and threw her arms around my neck, rubbing her D-cup sized titties against my chest. Kaneisha was a thick, medium brown skinned chic, who was wearing her hair in one of those… crazy ass Mohawk style hairdo’s that girls be wearing these days. I gotta admit she wore the shit well. It looked good on her. I’d been wanting to fuck Kaneisha for a long time. Before I did my bid, she was the arm piece of a bricklaying nigga named Dougie. Since I’d been away, Dougie had fucked around and caught 86 years fed time. And that was after he snitched out his whole team.
“Ain’t shit Neisha, what’s good?”
“Everything. What you doing tonight?”
Now when a chic asks you at three in the morning, “What you doing tonight?” and you don’t know she ready to fuck and suck, then you’re a lame and you need to take your dumb ass home! “Shit I don’t know. Probably get fucked up, then go fuck the hell out of somebody’s daughter.”
“You got some tree?” She asked, rubbing up against me as I reached down and squeezed that super phat ass.
“Naw, not…”
“Hell yeah, he got some tree! He got the best motherfuckin tree!” Shell butted in before I could tell Kaneisha that I hadn’t had the chance to cop nothing to last me yet. “He coming to get wit you in a minute Kaneisha. Let me holla at my dog for a few. Come on nigga, let’s go roll this Dutch.”
“I’ll be over here Banks.” Kaneisha smiled then licked her lips, staring back at me with a wicked grin as she strolled her bad ass over to the bar. Jay Z’s “Can’t Knock The Hustle” was booming through the speakers, and I was starting to feel like I was back home.
“Ay yo my nigga home yall! Drinks on me!” Shell yelled out, reaching in his pocket and tossing two knots of money to the girls serving the drinks. “Yo let me get two fifths of that Hennessey back there and a twelve pack of Heinekens.”
“Whatever you say Big papa,” One of the chics smiled as she picked the money up off the bar and tucked it into her apron. Without hesitation, she handed him the bottles and the beers, before Shell threw his arm around my shoulder and led me to the back.
“Yo Flame hold me down I’ll be right back. Let me holla at Banks.”
“Aight bru, I got you.”
The music was pumping and the drinks and weed smoke were flowing as we sat down on a couch in the back. Shell handed me a bottle of Hennessy and I took a long swig, damn near choking as the fiery liquid raced down my throat into my chest! Shell laughed like hell as I struggled to keep the cognac down. “Yeah nigga. That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.”
Reaching into his Sean John jacket pocket, Shell pulled out some tree so funky I could smell it through the bag.
“What’s that?” I asked him.
“Oh, this some Arizona mixed with Purple.”
“Arizona?”
“Yeah Arizona. It really ain’t nothing but some kind bud, but that’s what they been calling it lately. Bout seven, eight months ago it was a major drought on weed. I’m talkin about didn’t nobody have shit! They say two big shipments got hit coming from Texas. Fucked the streets up! If you did find something, it was straight dirt! The drought lasted almost a month. Then finally, one day somebody just popped out the blue with some decent shit, and said it came from Arizona. It was all you could get for about two more months. Every time you’d find somebody with tree, they’d say they got the shit from Arizona. So, from then on, whoever had some kind bud, they called it “Zona.” Or, “Mid.” It’s all good though. I usually just mix it in with some Kush or Purple. Now, you know what this is?” Shell asked with sarcasm, pulling out a Dutch Master Corona. “You never could out roll me. You know it’s an art to fucking with this leaf. It takes practice bru. One slip, and the whole blunt fucked up!”
“Nigga please! Who you talking to? I was smoking Dutches when you still thought White Owls was the shit! I taught “you” how to roll nigga!” I set that shit straight as I snatched the blunt from his hand, busted it and dumped the tobacco right on the floor. While I was getting the blunt right, I could feel somebody watching me. I looked to my right and there was Kaneisha. Standing on the dancefloor swinging that juicy phat ass from left to right to the beat, while staring intensely into my eyes. I knew I needed to take my ass home, but fuck that, I’d been wanting to test that pussy out for years, and the Henny was telling me that tonight was the night to knock the lining outta her shit! She danced her sexy ass right back over to me and whispered into my ear.
“Is that dick really as good as them bitches say?” She asked huskily before sliding her tongue halfway down my ear canal. I almost jumped outta my sneakers before composing myself!
“Oh, don’t worry about it shorty. You about to find out in just a few.” She smiled, turned around and sashayed back to the dancefloor, swinging that ass even harder as T-Pain’s “I’m in Love Wit a Stripper” bumped through the speakers. I reached over, grabbed another Dutch outta the box and a handful of weed outta the bag. “Kaneisha!” I yelled over the music, calling her back to hand her the blunt and the weed. “Go ahead and get right. You’re gonna need it.”
“Thank you baby. I’m waiting on you.” She turned and I smacked her hard on that phat ass before she walked away. Shell fell over laughing.
“Yeah nigga! You back! Yo, how the fuck you make it out? I thought you had sixteen joints?”
“I did. I spread a lil bread around and got that shit cut to four. So here I am. You aint mad, is you?” I watched his face for his expression.
“Mad? Nigga quit talking crazy. This a celebration! You my brother nigga! I’m overjoyed! It’s on now! Bam! Look at that bru. A work of motherfuckin art.” Shell smiled as he held up the perfectly rolled Dutch that he’d finished before I could finish mine. Why was this nigga always trying to beat me at something? I laughed to myself. Shell lit the blunt and passed it over to me, and yeah, he was right. It tasted like I was smoking motherfuckin Jamaica! I was in love. The Zona and Purple Haze mix was nice and fruity. I laid back on the couch letting the sweet smoke invade my lungs, as Shell pulled out what looked to be about a quarter ounce of powdered cocaine. Rolling up a one hundred - dollar bill, he dug down into the bag, took a long snort up one nostril, and a giant snort up the other.
“Damn nigga. You sniffing coke now too.”
“This aint coke brother. Its raw “boy.” This the shit I got the projects and North Durham locked down wit. Niggas can’t touch the coke I got out here neither.” Shell bragged. Once again for those of you who may not know, “boy,” is heroin, and “girl,” is coke. I didn’t say shit to the nigga, just took another long pull of the tree and looked at him like he had shit on his face. “It’s all good bru. You aint gotta look at me like that. With the connect I got now, aint shit that can stop us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah nigga us! You know I got you. I know you. I know you ready to stack them bands. Nigga I…” Before he could even finish his statement, the dope kicked in and his head fell down into a nod. “Sucking his own dick”. As they say in the dopefiend world.
“Ay nigga!” I yelled smacking him in the back of the head.
“Huh! Yeah, yeah like I was saying.” He jumped up like he’d heard a gunshot.
“Don’t worry about it homeboy.” I stopped him before he got started. “I ain’t fuckin wit it no way.”
“Come on Banks, I know you. You not about to be walking around here broke.”
“Who the fuck said I was broke? My paper still straight nigga. Matter of fact I’m going to cop a safe tomorrow. I’m about to invest my bread though. I’m trying to get rich and stay rich. Not, get rich and spend it making bonds and paying lawyers. You feel me? Once I get some legitimate bread behind me, then aint no telling what might pop off. If you’re smart nigga, you’ll quit bullshitting and ride with me on this shit.”
“Come on man. Don’t tell me you scared to get this money now?” Shell asked as he took another sniff outta the bag of dope.
“Yeah I’m scared alright. Scared I’m gonna catch that life sentence next time for having to body one of these clowns out here. Bru, most of these punks you running around with ain’t real. They claim to be gangsta as long as shit going sweet, but the first time they get knocked, they shaking like a whore in church and singing like Eddie Kane Jr! I’ve seen it too many times. The game ain’t the same no more. These sucker for love ass niggas don’t wanna have to leave them broads out here, because they know just as soon as they get that time, the next nigga in line gonna be pushing a mile worth of dick down her throat. Now that’s what’s real! If it was just the police I had to worry about, I might be ready to jump this shit off wit ya. But I’m not about to let one of these sucker for love ass clowns sell me off to the FEDS. Fuck that! I gotta be smarter than that.” I looked back over at Shell and this nigga was nodded back off again. I reached over grabbed the
weed and Dutches off his lap, scooped up Kaneisha and skated out the door. Some niggas never learn.