A Favor for a Favor

by J-Blunt

  A loud crash at the front door made them both freeze up. What they seen took all of the air out of the room and made C-Note’s dick go limp.

  ***

  “Fuck this nigga doin’ over here?” Pop Somethin’ wondered aloud as he parked his brand new, maroon Maserati behind the black Benz truck. It didn’t take long for him to answer his own question.

  There was a snake in the grass. An un-crossable line had been crossed. He had been betrayed.

  The mean mug spread across his face, and the anger warmed his body as he climbed from the luxury sports car. The one thing he didn’t play about was family. Seeing C-Note’s truck parked out front of Shanice’s house made his blood boil. In Pop’s mind, C-Note was taking advantage of a situation. His cousin was hurting and needed comforting. C-Note probably used her pain to get his pleasure. His little homie had broken an unwritten and unspoken rule: don’t fuck with yo’ nigga’s family unless you get permission. Period. All rule breakers must pay.

  When he walked up on the porch, movement in the window caught his eye. It was Shanice. He could see she wasn’t wearing a shirt as her breasts bounced wildly as she rode C-Note on the couch. The faces she made showed a mix of pleasure and pain. For a moment Pop was caught up in the show. Shanice was beautiful. Pop knew she was special the first time he laid eyes on her, back when they were children. She was precious. Regal. A queen. God hadn’t created a man good enough to be with her. Actually seeing her fuck C-Note sent a new level of anger coursing through his body, along with something else. Jealousy.

  Before he realized what was happening, he pulled the Glock 29 from his waist and kicked open the front door. The sight of Pop Somethin’ with a gun made the lovers freeze in terror. In the blink of an eye the big man struck. He pushed Shanice onto the couch. In the same moment he dropped the gun and picked up C-Note, throwing him across the room like a rag doll. The small man flew across the living room and crashed into the wall. Before he could move a muscle, Pop Somethin’ was standing over him, dropping heavy lefts arid rights. The blows rained down on C-Note’s face and head, knocking him in and out of consciousness.

  “Paul, stop!” Shanice screamed.

  Shanice’s scream cut through the living room, the pain and desperation in her voice cutting through Pop’s rage and bringing Pop back to reality. C-Note lay on the ground, not moving. His eyes were closed, face rapidly swelling. Seeing the damage calmed Pop a little.

  He spun toward Shanice. She held Pop’s gun in her hand, pointing it at his chest. The little calm he felt vanished. “You gon’ pull a muthafuckin’ gun on me for this bitch-ass nigga?”

  “Please, stop,” Shanice cried. “Leave him alone.”

  “So, you gon’ shoot me? Do it! Shoot me!” Pop screamed, walking toward Shanice.

  She hung her head, dropping the gun to put on her t-shirt when she realized she was still naked. Pop snatched the gun up from the floor and put it on his waist.

  “This what y’all do? Sneak around? What I tell you ‘bout fuckin’ wit’ these street niggas? You ain’t learned yo’ lesson from Nitty? These niggas ain’t shit. The don’t love you. It’s all about a nut.”

  “Not C-Note. He different.”

  “How? Cause he ain’t put his hands on you yet? This nigga finna go to jail. Why you fuckin’ wit’ a nigga that’s finna leave you? You settin’ yo’self up to get hurt.”

  “I don’t care about none of that. I love him, and he loves me. That’s all that matters.”

  Confusion showed on Pop’s face. “You just buried the nigga you spent five years wit’, and now you already in love? Stop playin’.” Then realization set in. “Wait. This ain’t the first time y’all fucked, huh? How long this been goin’ on?”

  “Since he got out,” she mumbled.

  Pop ran a hand across his face in frustration. He told C-Note to check up on his cousin, not fuck her. A line had been crossed. Rules broken. And C-Note hadn’t paid enough yet. He spun around to attack the helpless man again when Shanice’s words stopped him.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Pop stopped in his tracks, her words grabbing him. He cut his eyes at her and smirked. “You muthafuckas trippin’.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Pop. I can make my own decisions. I don’t need you watching over me and tellin’ me what I can and can’t do wit’ my body. I want to be with him. We’re in love. We want to be a family.”

  Pop stood there, Shanice’s words playing in his mind as he looked back and forth from his cousin to C-Note’s unconscious form lying on the floor. He was unsure of what to do. Shanice loved and wanted to be with C-Note. The only way to keep them apart was to kill C-Note. Shanice would probably hate him for that. He was already guilty of killing someone she loved and bringing her pain, and he didn’t want to hurt her again. As much as he hated C-Note’s deceitfulness, his love for Shanice trumped the ill will. He didn’t like what they were doing, nor did he respect it, but he had to accept it. They were grown. Shanice was pregnant. Her baby needed a father. It would be unfair for both her children to be fatherless.

  Instead of acting on his anger and stomping a hole in C-Note’s ass, he walked toward the door. “Tell that nigga to call me when he wake up.”

  Chapter 19

  One week later

  “Look like you been in a fight.”

  C-Note mugged the older, brown-skinned man that sat across from him. Detective Lawson was a twenty-year vet of the police force. The bald head and thick mustache made him look like a Steve Harvey impersonator. The aggressive stare-down spoke of the hostility between them. The last time he got questioned, he told Lawson the same thing. Now that he had been dragged down to the police station for a third time, he was fed up. His mean mug told of how tired he was of being harassed and questioned, and the look on the detective’s face told how tired he was of being lied to.

  “Stop playin’, man. Fuck you want?” C-Note spat.

  “I wanna know what kinda shit you was in that got six bodies piled up outside yo’ club? No witnesses. No video. Nothin’. And by the look of yo’ face, whoever came to yo’ club lookin’ for you back then must’ve recently found you,” he laughed.

  Multiple bruises covered the young hustler’s face. His left eye had a darkened and purple bruise under it, and a bump on the left side of his head was still visible. “I told you that didn’t have nothin’ to do wit’ me. Lux close at three. I was at home wit’ my sister and nephews.”

  “You already told me that. So, what happened to yo’ face?”

  “I got in a fight.”

  “Did, you win?”

  C-Note shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

  Lawson burst out laughing “What the other nigga look like? Yo’ scrawny ass ain’t walkin’ away lookin’ like that and expectin’ me to believe you won.”

  The hostile look was back in C-Note’s eyes. “If that’s all the questions you got, then I gotta go. I got a business to run.”

  “What the feds offer?”

  C-Note stood and took a step toward the door. The detective got up and stood in his way. “You in ova ya head, boy! Federal agents. Kilos. Murder. You know you ain’t built for what them feds got for ya. Work wit’ me. Tell me somethin’. I’ll get you a good deal.”

  “Stop harassin’ me, man. I already called my lawyer.”

  “I know who he is. I met him the last time you was in here. All he doin’ is takin’ yo’ money. Once them feds get their hands on you, they already got you. The only one that can help you is me. Talk to me, son.”

  Another staring contest took place. It was interrupted by a knock on the door. When it opened, a white officer stuck his head in the room. “His mouthpiece is’ here. We gotta cut him loose.”

  ***

  Meek Mill’s Holy Ghost flowed through the expensive speakers of the Benz truck as C-Note stared out at the road, lost in thought. He was in a jam. Feds on one side, Dallas Police on the other. Baby momma in front, her cousin in back. Every time something good happened, someth
ing bad followed. That was his life, and it seemed like the more money he got, the more problems came with it. A constant roller coaster ride, and now the ride appeared to be over. Bet big, lose big. C-Note was tired of losing. He needed a win.

  The phone vibrating on his lap pushed thoughts of a crashed and burned-out roller coaster from his mind. When he seen the name on the screen, his mind flashed back to a week ago, the day Pop kicked in the door and caught him and Shanice fucking. He didn’t remember any of the attack, just woke up with his head in Shanice’s lap, his entire body hurting. He waited three days to call Pop. After a long talk, they agreed to let bygones be bygones. C-Note accepted the ass-whooping and Pop accepted him fucking with Shanice.

  “What up, bruh?”

  “Where you been at, nigga? I been trynna get at you all day,” Pop said excitedly.

  “Lawson got at me earlier. Tried to put pressure on me. My lawyer got me out that shit. He filing a lawsuit on them for harassin’ me. What up wit’ chu?”

  “The streets is talkin’. Queenie heard some shit. It’s serious. We need to holla face-to-face.”

  “Say no more. I’m on my way.”

  ***

  When C-Note pulled to a stop in fron’ of Pop’s house, the big man climbed in the SUV wearing a serious look. “Gonzo got knocked.”

  C-Note looked blown away. His eyes popped and jaw dropped. “You bullshittin’, bruh. Tell me this some bullshit.”

  “Nah. This shit might be real. I tried to call him, but his phone off. This shit might be true. Queenie got word from Skittlez. Overheard some niggas last night at some club on the otha side.”

  C-Note lay his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. An unspeakable emotion was etched across his face. Ups and downs. A constant roller coaster. “Nah, bruh. C’mon, man. This bad luck shit is fuckin’ me up. If it ain’t one thing, it’s anotha.”

  “I know, my nigga. I feel the same way. We had it good. A plug in Mexico. The plug of all plugs. I hope it ain’t true. Gonzo was my nigga.”

  C-Note opened his eyes and exhaled deeply. “A’ight, I gotta get up wit’ Lucci. I was on my way to Lux. What you on?”

  “Shit, I’m wit’ chu. In case Gonzo hit one of us up, we need to stay together.”

  The men got lost in thought as C-Note whipped the Benz through traffic. “So, what the next move is?” Pop asked. “If Gonzo really gone, then what? Every move you made on the grind got my pockets right, so I’ma fuck wit’ chu. You a real hustla. You know how to make somethin’ outta nothin’.”

  “I don’t know, Pop. I don’t even wanna think about that shit. I’m still stuck on Gonzo gettin’ knocked.”

  “You thinkin’ ‘bout callin’ it quits? Even though I don’t like it, you and cuz about to have a baby. I ain’t sorry I whooped yo’ ass, but I got love for you, nigga. You already in a fucked up spot. Trynna get greedy might get you in a tighter jam. You got a business and a nice stash. Sometimes you gotta fold yo’ hand. Leave wit’ somethin’ instead of nothin’.”

  “You know Lawson fag-ass had jokes about my eye,” C-Note laughed. “I know I crossed a line, my nigga. I shoulda been real enough to tell you ‘bout me and cuz on day one. I know what type of nigga you is. I did this to myself.”

  “Yeah,” Pop agreed, “but we good, my nigga. I fuck wit chu the long way. Now, tell me what you know about investin’ money.”

  “Not much. Gotta talk to Shanice. She s’posed to be lookin’ into some accounts for me. She want me to quit trappin’. I’m sittin’ on half a ticket. She want me to go legit and set up a future for the kids.”

  Pop smiled. “Li’l cuz a winner, isn’t she?”

  C-Note gave Pop a look that told his true feelings. Shanice was more than a winner, more than a dime. She was one in a million, his way out of the streets. Fine and smart. A good woman who waited her whole life for a good nigga.

  He was about to brag to Pop about Shanice when something caught the corner of his eye. His foot reacted. The Benz truck jerked, tires skidding as the brakes locked up. Pop Somethin’ braced himself for impact. He had seen the Dodge Ram pickup truck at the last moment. The collision couldn’t be avoided.

  The pickup rammed the Benz, sending both vehicles in a spin-out. As soon as the Ram spun to a stop across the street, the shooting began. Two gunmen hopped out of the truck with M-16s. They sprayed C-Note’s truck with bullets, trying to kill the occupants.

  A novice to the streets would’ve died from the high-powered rifle bullets that tore through the Benz’s frame, but not Pop Somethin’. His instincts had been honed like that of a soldier on the battlefield. Right before the truck smashed into the Benz, he braced himself. By the time the Benz stopped spinning, his 44-caliber Desert Eagles were out of his shoulder holsters and in his fists. The enemy had choppers, and he had chopper stoppers. Thirteen bullets in each gun was enough to take on anybody. He also had something else that his enemies didn’t: the protection of the Benz truck’s frame.

  When he started firing the hand cannons, loud and powerful booms made his attackers pause, and that was their mistake. In the split second it took them to duck and flinch, Pop got the advantage. He spotted his enemies taking cover. One of them didn’t duck low enough. A high-powered 44 bullet hit him in the chest, another in the neck. The last one took a chunk out of his face. He dropped to the ground, his last breath already breathed. The final enemy had the heart of a lion. He’ was on a mission and would see it through or die trying. When the 44 slug slammed into his head, he didn’t even feel it.

  “C-Note! Get up! Let’s go,” Pop yelled.

  Blood leaked from C-Note’s nose as he tried to shake the stars from his head. The airbag had burst in his face, dazing him a little. When he came to his senses, Pop Somethin’ was dragging him across the passenger seat and out of the truck. “I’m good,” he called trying to stop Pop Somethin’ from dragging him.

  When he seen C-Note was fully conscious, Pop let him go and ran toward a green Jeep that was stopped at a stop sign. C-Note watched the goon bring Grand Theft Auto to life. He snatched open the Jeep door and ripped the woman from the driver’s seat like she only weighed ten pounds. C-Note barely had time to close the door before Pop smashed the gas.

  “Them niggas was Mexican!” Pop screamed, wiping blood from his face. He had a cut on his jaw where his head went t rough the passenger window.

  “I didn’t’ see ‘em. I don’t know.”

  “I’m not askin’ you, nigga. I’m tellin’ you. They was Mexican,” Pop repeated as he whipped the Jeep through traffic at a high speed.

  C-Note looked puzzled. “I didn’t see ‘em. You sure they was Mexicans?” We don’t got no beef wit’ them niggas.

  Pop glanced over at C-Note, a sure look on his bearded face. “They was Mexican. I been around enough of them niggas in the joint to know one when I see one. Don’t tell me you busted Gonzo head. I know you didn’t do no bitch-ass shit like that?”

  A mix of emotions passed over C-Note’s face. Fear. Shock. Anger. “Why you comin’ at me like that, bruh? I’m a man. I stand on my own two feet. Don’t put that fuck-nigga jacket on me, man. I’m a gangsta. I get down for mine. You know that.”

  Pop stared at C-Note like he was trying to see through to his soul. “Tell me the truth, nigga. I don’t tolerate niggas that snitch. Put it on everything you love that you didn’t bust a move on Gonzo.”

  Tears the size of raindrops welled up in C-Note’s eyes. “On everything I love, I didn’t tell on Gonzo. I’m takin’ my weight, bruh.”

  Pop turned his attention back to the road. “We gotta get the fuck off these streets. That shit back there got you hotter. I know them people gon’ trace that truck back to you. It might be time for you to take yo’ money and run, li’l bruh. We burnt up Dallas. Too much bullshit comin’ yo’ way. Only a matter of time ‘fore it get to me.”

  “Fuck Texas,” C-Note agreed. “This shit too much. Go to the playa pad so we can lay low and think of our next move. We gotta get the
fuck outta here as soon as possible.

  ***

  “What you think goin’ on? Do you believe Pop?” Queenie asked as she and her sister walked up on the porch of their house.

  “I don’t know. That shit ain’t addin’ up. When we got ABLE Team out the way, everything was’ s’posed to die down. It ain’t no coincidence that somebody came at Pop and C-Note. Not after you heard that shit about Gonzo. That nigga opened his mouth. He in love wit’ Shanice and trynna save his ass. I’ma tell Pop what I think as soon as we get our shit out this house and get back to him.”

  The sisters grew quiet as Queenie unlocked the door. Princess looked around outside as they walked in, keeping her eyes open for anything that looked out of the norm. After the sisters made it safely in the house, Queenie locked the door behind them. “I just didn’t think it would be over in Dallas. Not this fast. We only been here a couple months, and the money so good. Damn, we was gettin it.”

  “I know,” Princess agreed, “but Pop is a good nigga. The best thing you ever did was ride off wit’ his crazy ass. The three of us make a badass team. We can go anywhere and make it happen. We just gotta convince Pop that his boy is a rat so he can terminate his ass. C-Note is a sinkin’ ship, and we can’t let our nigga go down wit’ him.”

  “Hell yeah. Go grab the guns and money from downstairs. I’ma go to the room and put us some suitcases together.”

  Queenie went to their bedroom and grabbed three suitcases and threw them open on the bed. She packed one for her, Princess, and Pop Somethin’. Since they didn’t have a planned destination and would probably be living out of hotels, she knew she couldn’t pack much. The thought of leaving behind thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, appliances, and electronics saddened her. This was the first house she ever felt at home in, and now they had to leave.