The first thing I did, was get rid of my BMW. That was my baby, but she had to go. I sold it for eleven thousand. Rims and all. I knew I could go to Lauryn and borrow some money, but this was some shit I had to do on my own. I wasn’t putting anybody in a position to come back later on down the line and be able to say they did this or that for me, so I owe them. No way. We were down to one car now, so I let Monique drive it to work. I was sitting on the front porch smoking a Dutch of “White Willow,” contemplating calling up some pussy to go get, when Shell hit my phone. “Yo what up?”
“What up dog? Where you at? Shell sounded excited.
“I’m at the crib chillin nigga. What’s up?”
“Bru I got something for you,” Shell said. I knew right then that he’d probably made a lick and wanted to show off by throwing me something, but I’d told myself that if I kept taking that shit from him, I’d somehow have to pay for it in the long run. Karma’s a motherfucker! At the same time, I know I only had three weeks, before my ten thousand - dollar deposit would be history. Mr. Kisclomb had just called me yesterday to remind me of that same fact. In all honesty, I needed everything I could get. Finally, I said fuck it, I’d see what he had going on, and if it was worth it, then this would be the last time. “What’s up bru? I know you Mr. Square family man now, but to me; we’re partners til the death. Tell me where to meet you so I can break bread.”
Shit! I thought. I didn’t let nobody, I mean nobody, come to my house. “Yo Monique gone with the car man. Let me come to you when she gets off work.”
“Man I’m bout to go to Charlotte to meet Azar. I’ll probably be gone for a few days so you better get wit me now.” Fuck! I thought. Reluctantly, seeing no other option, I gave him the directions and the address to my spot.
“Damn nigga you out there aint you?” Shell laughed.
“Yeah. Well away from that dumb shit. Just hurry up nigga.”
“On my way sir.”
“I’m sitting out front.”
“One.”
Twenty minutes later, Shell pulled up blasting the Big Tymers. He had a brand-new, shiny Cadillac Deville, with a flip flop paint job, and 22” inches Giovanni spinners on it. “What up bru?” Shell asked, stepping out the whip grinning like a kid in a candy store. Under one arm, he carried a brown paper bag.
“Ain’t shit. I see you copped something new.”
“Yeah nigga, you know how I do,” Shell kept grinning. “Oh yeah, bru. What’s up wit Big Los? I saw that nigga down at the car wash washing yo shit. He claimed you sold it to him.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“What!”
“I needed the money. I told you I’m bout to get this building so I can open up a spot. You need to open your eyes, think outside the box and go ahead and invest wit me.”
“Man, I aint bout to fool myself like you. I’m a street nigga til the death, and I know it.
“Nigga, it takes a special kind of fool to think he can hustle and rob niggas all his motherfuckin life. A smart nigga takes that paper and makes it work for em, instead of the other way around. Don’t be a slave to the money nigga. Make the money a slave to you. Ya feel me?”
“Whatever Dr. King. This is what the fuck I slave for nigga.” Shell opened the paper bag revealing bundles on top of bundles of heroin, and a plastic bag full of tightly stacked money. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a black and white police cruiser riding slowly past my house, staring at Shell’s whip then back up to the porch at me and him. As soon as the cop car was out of sight, I jumped and headed for the door! “Come on man!” I yelled back at Shell. I didn’t have to tell him twice either, because quicker than greased lightening, he was on my heels! Up until now I’d never taken a soul inside my place of rest, but I damn sure wasn’t about to sit out on my porch with a crazy ass nigga holding a bag full of dope and money!
“Damn nigga you got this motherfucker hooked up!” Shell yelled as he plopped his ass down on my couch and threw his dirty Timbs up on my oak wood and glass coffee table. “How the fuck yall pay for this shit and you aint hustling?”
“Because I’m smart nigga, and I knew how to save some of the bread I did trap for. And get yo motherfuckin feet off my table!”
“Oh, my bad dog.” He laughed like the shit was funny.
“Don’t get too comfortable neither nigga. Monique will be home from work soon. And by then you gonna be long gone. You feel me?”
“Shit, say no more nigga. I got shit to do anyway.” Shell laughed some more, leaning over and dumping the paper bag out on the table. “I know you don’t want none of this boy, so go ahead and take the bread. It’s probably about ten stacks right there.” I wasn’t about to argue with the nigga this time. I needed that money bad! “Yo, roll a blunt of some of that good shit before I skate. Shit, for ten bands the least you can do is smoke a Dutch wit a nigga.”
“I got you homeboy.” I laughed before, BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Somebody knocked on my door like the was trying to beat it the fuck down! Now that shit pissed me the fuck off! “Yo who the fuck is that banging on my door like they stupid!?” I barked as I marched to the front door, prepared to curse somebody out, or kick somebody’s ass! I looked back and Shell had his hand rested at his waistband where I knew he held some type firearm. I peeked out the blinds and immediately jumped the fuck back when I saw the police standing at my front door! “What the fuck! You brought the police to my house nigga?!”
“The police! Hell no! That’s the police?! Shell’s eyes showed the fear I felt.
“Nah nigga its Tupac. What the fuck did I just say!” I hissed at Shell’s dumb ass question. Suddenly my heart fell through my shoes, as I stared down at all the bundles of heroin and the tightly wrapped cash laying out on my coffee table! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Police officer, could you come to the door please?” I heard from outside, as it became obvious that this motherfucker wasn’t just gonna go away. Quick as lightening, I dashed over to the table and swept the dope, money, and the blunt I was about to roll, back into the paper bag. Stumbling to the living room closet, I threw open the door, put in the combination to my safe and opened it, threw in the bag, then closed the safe up before slamming the closet door back shut! Whew! Walking swiftly back to the door, I glanced back at Shell. Who although looked scared as a motherfucker, did not have anything in plain view that could get us some prison time. Taking a deep breath, I opened the front door.
“Yes sir, can I help you?” I made sure to speak proper English. The rotund policeman with the Justin Bieber haircut and the beet red face, projected a demeanor that said “black man hater,” from the outset.
“Are you the owner of this residence sir?” His right hand rested on the butt of his .40 caliber weapon. What the fuck is this? I thought to myself.
“Yes I am. Why, is there some kinda problem?”
“That your car?” He nodded toward Shell’s Deville.
“No, it’s not.”
“Uh huh.” The officer rocked back on his heels as if in disbelief. “The cars registered to one Monica Pulley. She here?” Mr. red face asked the question while trying his damndest to look into my house.
“No, she’s not here? Can I ask you why you need her?” I pulled my door the rest of the way closed as I stepped out onto the porch. The anger in the cop’s eyes was evident.
“Why’d you shut the door?”
“Because my air conditioning is on. You gonna pay my light bill? And sir with all due respect, if we have a problem, could you please state it so I can call my attorney.”
“No need to get hostile son. As I was saying, the car in your driveway is registered to one Monica Pulley. She’s wanted on drug and weapons charges. There’s an outstanding warrant for her arrest. If you know where I can find her, it could make it easier on you in the long run.” Even though I did catch the no need to get hostile “son” remark, though this fat motherfucker looked to be younger than me, I didn’t feed into it. It “was” time though, to let this clown know that I wasn’t the “stupid nigger” he probably presumed I was.
“First of all, officer. Monica Pully does not live at this residence. Furthermore, I am not now, nor have I been at any time, aware of her whereabouts. If I was, you can bet your white ass that you’d never know it. Now. If you do not possess some sort of warrant for me personally, I’d appreciate it very much, if you got off my porch and out OF my yard. Because now you’re trespassing. I keep my lawyer, Lauryn Laddell’s number on speed dial.” The red in his face turned up ten degrees!
“Well Mr…?” He paused as if waiting on me to give him my name. When he’d realized, that he wasn’t gonna get it, he proceeded. “I’m gonna leave you my card. If you see or hear from Monica, give me a call.” He reached into his shirt pocket and stuck out a card. I turned around, stepped back through the door, and slammed it in his face. Two minutes later he was gone.
“Damn bru, what the fuck that pig want?”
“Who the fuck is Monica Pulley nigga?” My question was more important than his. I was so pissed off I could literally feel the steam seeping outta my nostrils! The very first time I let somebody come to my place of rest, and the police show up right behind em! Fuck!
“Man, that’s just one of my lil broads I use for different shit sometimes. He asked about Monica? What for?”
“Well let me see. Maybe it’s the fuckin outstanding warrants the bitch got! That shit might pose a problem don’t you think!” My patience with this nigga was wearing thin.
“Check it bru. About a month ago I had to take them boys on a high-speed chase through the South Side. I was lucky I’d just got my windows tinted, because it was them faggots from the Heat Team. I lost em, bailed out by Liberty Street and dipped. I had to leave a half ounce of blow and my gun though. The car in that bitch name. I told that dizzy broad I was gonna take care of it, but her dumb ass went to get the car, and they charged her ass. I bonded the bitch, out and she ducked off before first appearance. I can’t find that ho nowhere!”
I was stunned. Shell couldn’t be this stupid. “So, nigga you mean to tell me, you been driving that car around Durham, knowing that shit is on fire?”
“Shit, the car don’t look nothing like it did then. I got it painted, threw the feet on it and all that.”
“Nigga the license plate still the same! You running around here like you Jesse James, robbing every nigga wit a package! You think niggas ain’t laying to get at you! You a moving target in that loud ass car! You say you trapping all this paper out there now, so why you still robbing! For what!”
“Cause its free motherfuckin money nigga! I don’t know how you carrying it, but I can’t never have enough money!”
This nigga was out of his fuckin mind! I saw that now. I don’t know how I missed it before. I knew now, that I was gonna have to separate myself from him. This nigga was bound to drizzown, and when he did, I wasn’t getting sucked under with him. “Get outta that loud ass car man. You aint bulletproof. Stay under the radar.” I was tired of talking to this nigga.
“Yo stop judging me man! Ever since you came home you been on some bullshit! All I do is try to help you, nigga! This how you thank me?”
“Nigga I told you I’m straight. I don’t need nobodies help. I’m Gucci!” I did need to get this nigga up outta my house, then fall back from him completely. I went back to the closet, entered the combination to the safe, took out Shell’s dope and closed everything up.
“Damn nigga. You really did stack some paper!” Shell grinned as he sat back down from peeping over my shoulder.
“Nigga I’m good! Get yo self together. Get outta that bright ass car before one of these niggas you juxed, catch yo ass out there nodding somewhere and push yo shit back!”
“I told you to stop judging me man! You do you and I’ll do me! And I never worry about these pussies! I never leave home without Nina Simone.” Shell laid back showcasing a chrome nine - millimeter with a pearl handle.
“Look, it’s time for yo ass to roll on up outta here. Nique will be home in a few.” I gave Shell the signal that it was time for him to raise up, as I handed him his true best girl; the bundles of heroin.
“Shit nigga you might as well come on and roll to Charlotte wit me. I can let you meet my man.”
“I got business to take care of dog. I’m not going to no Charlotte.” I wasn’t trying to meet anybody, and I damn sure wasn’t getting on no highway with this cat!
“I’m telling you bru, the shit is popping! Tonight’s club night nigga! Nothing but big booty baby dolls. They know we from out of town off gate. You know we got a different swag than them Charlotte cats. You aint even gotta attempt to holla at nothing. They coming up to “you,” asking to buy “you” drinks. I’m talking bout they dick thirsty for real down there for real niggas like us! The white broads be freaking hard too! I’m talking sisters and everything! Real talk!”
“Sounds tempting homeboy but no thanks.”
“Bru just listen. They got a car wash off Independence, where all the hustlers bring they whips out to stunt. Big boy shit! Every duck from Greensboro to South Carolina be out that bitch! I’m talking bout the N. C. Feak Nik nigga! You don’t want none of that? Straight Stuntin Magazine supposed to be out there recruiting tomorrow. So, you “know” them thick bitches coming out! The top whips get the top ho’s nigga. You know when my nigga pull up in that Maserati, shit be over! Aint nobody touching that shit. That joint like three hundred stacks! Nigga you gotta see them bitches come running when we pull up! Oh Lawd!” Shell sounded like a kid bragging on his big brother. I wasn’t impressed.
“Have fun nigga, but I ain’t going. I told you I got business to handle outta town myself.”
“Word? Where you going dog?”
“Business bru. Just business.” I opened the door for him to go ahead and slide as I spoke.
“Aight bru, but you missing out on some prime new pussy,” Shell yelled over his shoulder as he walked to his police magnet. “I’ll hit you when I get back dog.” The door was already closing as he spoke.