Protect Me From My Friends

by Marcellus Allen

  We walked outside and were greeted with another dozen cops just staring at us. I could see the envy written all over them. We smiled and waved at their bitch asses all the way over to our Europeans.

  ***

  I took Tamia home and swapped out the suit for some real nigga clothes and hit the streets with a vengeance. We drove everywhere in the city looking for any sign of those Ghost Mob niggaz but couldn't find shit. We knew they had a stash spot somewhere and it was only a matter of time before we found it. They eventually would slip up and when they did, I was gon' introduce 'em to the reaper.

  “Yo, we should go hit the tattoo shop up,” Twin said outta nowhere.

  I looked over at him in confusion. “You think they gettin' hit up right now?”

  “Naw, dawg. They’re somewhere in a house hiding like lil' bitches. I'm talkin' about us gettin' our Gotti and Boobie tats. We might as well get 'em now while we're all together cause we ain't about to find them pussies.”

  I shrugged my shoulders in a why not gesture. We'd been talking about the shit for a minute but never actually got around to doing it. Fuck it, why not? I just beat a murder charge and had to stunt in some type of way. I busted a left down M.L.K to the tattoo shop.

  I looked through the mirror and saw the homies just making it through the light, tryna keep up. I let the windows down so the cool breeze could cool a real niggaz face off. I usually kept them up since the windows were bulletproof, too. But fuck that, I was hoping a nigga had the heart to shoot at me. My soul was beggin' to crush a nigga!

  We glided in that muthafucka twenty minutes later like our name was on the lease. It was the same spot where I got all my tats at, so the tattoo artists were all smiles when they saw me and four other niggaz.

  “What's going on, O-dawg? What can we do for you?” my favorite artist Cartoon greeted me.

  “What's mobbin' with it, Toon? Me and my niggaz are tryna get hit up. We all want the same two tats on us,” I told him.

  “A'ight, we can handle that. Y'all already got the patterns or y'all need us to draw somethin' up?”

  “Shit we all getting Boobie Boyz over our eyebrows and we need you to put somethin' together with two Gs, like a Gucci sign. We gon' get that under the right eye. That's for Gotti Gang.”

  “A'ight, we got enough artists here to take care of all y'all right now. Y'all good with that?” he asked. Everybody nodded their heads.

  “Coo', y'all pick who y'all want to do your tats and then we can get started.” He pointed out each artist one by one.

  I followed Cartoon to his work area while everybody decided who they wanted. I sat down and started making post on Facebook about how I beat the murder and fuck the gang task! I was getting it poppin' while he was setting everything up. I took a pic of myself and posted it on all my social media shit with the caption, Getting tatted! We outside! What about the opps.

  “A'ight, dawg. You ready?” Cartoon asked.

  “Yeah, you tryna get some major promotion for the shop?” I held my phone up.

  “Hell yeah,” he said and started laughing.

  I got on Snapchat. “What's mobbin' with it? Y'all already know who this is, Big O-dawg. I just beat a murder case today and I'm celebrating by getting two new tats by the hottest artist in Portland.” I put Cartoon on camera, then switched it back. “Yeah, this my nigga Cartoon and we at his shop right off MLK and Failing. Come tap in. Mob shit.” I uploaded it then got real comfortable.

  “Yo, I'ma get M.I.P. Gotti on my neck, too,” I said as I took my hoody off.

  His eye got a lil' wide when he realized I was only wearing a bulletproof vest at this point.

  “Rap beef getting real?” He had a smirk on his face.

  “I know you listen to them Chiraq Niggaz. This shit is more than just music.” I smirked back, then let him do his thing.

  Two hours later, we were all checking each other’s tats out in the reception area with grim smiles on our faces. The smiles because the tats looked official and represented our niggaz. Our smiles were grim because our niggaz were dead and the ones responsible were still breathing the same air as us. I looked in the mirror at my neck and was forced to nod my head in approval at the artwork.

  “Let's hit the club tonight,” I announced.

  We hit the parking lot to the Sin Rock strip club at around ten o'clock that night. Soon as we pulled in the lot, everybody had their eyes glued on the line of Europeans we were pushin'. It was hella bad bitches out there and I planned on leaving with at least one of them.

  I smiled to myself as I parked right in front of a group of bitches. They were breaking their necks to see who was behind the tint. Who else gotta 'Rati? I wish you were here, Gotti. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the painful thoughts before they changed my mood and fucked around and killed somebody.

  I hopped out feeling like the realist nigga in the city. I waited by the whip 'til my goonz parked and walked over. We had our lil' niggaz with us tonight, so we were well over 20 deep and ready for whatever. My chest swole with pride as I lead the group to the front of the line like we owned the spot.

  “What's good, O-dawg?” the bouncer said with a smile on his face.

  “What's good, my nigga? We just here to spend some money on the strippers and buy out the bar.”

  I handed him a stack of bills, then walked right past him. The first thing we did was scan the crowd for enemies as we made our way to our tables. I received a bunch of head nods from niggaz and smiles from groupies that wanted to be chosen. The club was poppin' and we were the center of attention. What a feeling, but I was used to it.

  Twenty minutes later, we were all the way turnt up in full-fledge stunt mode. We had the baddest strippers and regular bitches hanging out in our section with us. It was our show and I was the lead character with all the jewelry and charisma to match. I pulled out my phone and started recording the thick stripper giving me a lap dance.

  “Yeah for all you bitch ass niggaz that claim y'all lookin' for us! Here we are!” I aimed the camera around at my niggaz and let 'em get their shine on. They all threw up the hood, showed money and talked shit. “We at the Sin Rock celebrating me beating that murder rap on the bitch nigga that tried me. Rest in piss to that man, straight up. Yo, Burnside? Come through and bring ya friends, too. Gotti Gang!”

  I threw the Mob up, then relaxed while the stripper showed me why I should leave the club with her. It wasn't even ten minutes later when Phatz elbowed me to get my attention.

  “There go them goonies niggaz right there, blood.” He nodded to a group of young niggaz sitting down a few tables from us.

  I took them all in from head to toe and wasn't impressed at all. They weren't dipped nor was their jewelry on point. Young broke niggaz wanting to be tough, I thought as I smirked at the non-factors.

  “Fuck them lil' niggaz. They ain't worth the attention,” I responded.

  “I think we should make an example outta them before it's too late. Lay a demo down.”

  I nodded in understanding. I was deep in thought, weighing the pros and cons of murkin' them lil' nobodies when I spotted Juice and his niggaz. I threw my arms up, inviting him over. I was always sparked to see him out doing his thang. It putted a smile on my face to see my dead homies’ lil' brotha out here reppin' his name right.

  “What's mobbin' with you?” I stood up showing the proper respect to a trill nigga.

  “Tryna get on yo’ level, big bro. What's hood?” Juice was all smiles.

  “I keep telling you I got a spot for you on the team, but you hard headed. And why you leave yo’ goonz over there? We got room over here,” I said.

  “Good lookin', brodie, but you know we ain't tryna stand in y'alls light. But we in here if shit get outta hand though.”

  I instantly got an idea. “What you know about them clowns over there that go by the Goonies?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders. “They a'ight. Just another crew tryna make a name. Why?”

  “They call themselves tryna
make a name in the pier parks, tryna push out the niggaz I deal with,” I shot back. He shook his head slowly. “Rico must be suicidal or they done invested in a large amount of guns.”

  “How coo' is you with them niggaz?”

  “We a'ight, but they ain't family.” Which meant he didn't care if they died or lived.

  I'm ‘bout to just deal with shit now.

  “Can you do me a favor and tell them niggaz to come and holla at me? If I walk over there, it's gon' be all eyez on me and I don't wan that,” I explained.

  “A'ight, I gotchu.” He walked off.

  I told my hittaz what time it was and not to get on no bullshit. The last thing we needed was to get kicked out of another club. I told the strippers to come back in ten minutes 'cause I didn't want them clowns showing off for the ho's.

  Juice walked back with two ugly ass lil' niggaz that looked like they only had ten dollars in their pockets. I sat down right before they made it to our section. I could tell the tall dark one with the braids was their so-called leader Rico.

  “What's good with y'all niggaz, fam? They call me Rico.” the one I figured was Rico said with his hand stuck out.

  I shook it outta respect. “I'm O-dawg and these is my killaz right here.”

  “This my main man Flocka right here,” he said, nodding at his man's next to him. “What y'all wanna rap about?” he asked like he didn't already know. He wanna play games.

  “The Pier Parks.” I kept it simple and straight to the point. I noticed how his body tensed up at my words. I already knew he was gonna try and play tough.

  “What about 'em?” His voice got deep and added some aggression to it. It never fails. I shook my head at Twin who looked ready to body somethin'. I didn't need him trippin' right now.

  “Whatever goes on inside of them concerns me. I don't know if you know or not, but the niggaz hustlin' in there are backed by me. So by y'all tryna muscle them out, is directly tryna stop my cash flow,” I said as I broke it down for them.

  “I hear what your sayin' but the Pier Parks is in the North, not the Northeast. We don't come over here telling you how to eat in your side, so it'd be best if you did the same,” he said it like he meant it. He ready to die. I felt my body heating up at his lack of respect. “I can't let nobody stop me from eating out there, you understand that, right?”

  “I can't let you tell me not to eat in a place where I lived my whole life. Can you understand that?” He had the heart to stare me down, too.

  “I'll make it physically impossible for you to eat at all nigga!” Bleed jumped up, tired of the talking.

  “Dis ain't what you want, nigga,” Flocko decided to speak up as he met face to face with Bleed.

  Then tension was so thick, it coulda been cut with a knife. I noticed everybody looking our way, including the bouncers. I stood up moving Bleed outta the way. “I can tell that you wanna be famous. I'ma make you famous in a bad way,” I promised.

  “Yeah, we'll see.”

  I turned to Rico. “Ya mans just got you in some shit y'all ain't ready for.”

  “Y'all run is over,” he shot back, then walked away with a cold mug on his face.

  “A'ight, I'm bout to get up outta here. Y'all stay up,” Juice said.

  I gave him a G-hug, then spoke real low so only he could hear me. “I got the bag on them niggaz, all of 'em.”

  “Say less,” he replied then walked away.

  I sat back down, then exhaled showing my frustration. I knew I was gon' have to crush them clowns ASAP in order to restore the order. I felt myself getting a headache from the drama I knew was coming.

  I waved the strippers back over and got back to throwin' money all over the place. From the outside lookin' in, we looked like we ain't have a care in this world. But we knew better than that. We'd taken way too many losses to take shit for granted.

  I looked around at the team and started nodding my head real slow. Me and my niggaz were wolves and we knew it. It was a few dummies that were tryna front out in the public, but they knew. When they laid down at night, they knew in their soft ass hearts that we were coming.

  I cracked a smile at my niggaz acting a fool. It wasn't another group of wolves that I'd rather hunt with or die next to. But we didn't plan on dying anytime soon. We were about to start lickin' our chopz.

  I leaned back and let the stripper take my mind off of the bullshit. I slapped her on the ass just to watch it jiggle, then tossed her a stack. I forced myself to focus on the moment and let the future stay in the future.

  Chapter 8

  O-dawg

  The next day, I just dropped off a brick to one of my Seattle niggaz when Olay's mom called me letting me know my son was over there. I instantly cancelled the rest of my plans and sped over there before she could pick him back up. I was pulling up less than fifteen minutes later with a smile on my face that hadn't been there for a while.

  When I didn't see the dumb bitch’s car, I felt an instant relief. He’s still here. The front door flew open before I could get all the way outta the car. My heart skipped a beat with happiness as I watched my son run off the porch towards me.

  “Daddy! Daddy!” he yelled with the biggest smile I'd ever saw on his face.

  I met him halfway and had to catch him 'cause he leaped in the air into my arms. I held my lil' nigga as tight as I could to my chest, just savoring the moment.

  “I love you, lil' nigga. You hear me?” I whispered in my son's ear. He nodded his head in my chest. “Thank you, Wanda,” I told Olay's mother as she made her way over to me.

  “You’re welcome, baby. I don't know what you and my daughter got going on, but y'all need to fix it 'cause it's affecting Mar-Mar. And I done taught her to never play games with a man's child no matter what he's done. She knows better than that shit,” Wanda said, fuming.

  “That's 'cause you don't know I helped kill yo’ daughter, I couldn't help thinking as she stood there defending me. Me and Wanda had a real good relationship from day one. She always kept it trill and never chose sides when me and Olay was beefin'. I shoulda spared Falcon's life just based on my love for Wanda. I ain't shit. I felt the guilt consuming me, feeling the desire to leave her presence.

  “A'ight, mom. I'ma get up outta here and spend some time with my lil' mans,” I said.

  “Y'all give me some kisses before y'all leave.” She kissed both of us on the cheeks, then we hopped in the car.

  “You bet not tell ya mom I let you sit in the front seat either,” I told my lil' nigga as I drove out the driveway.

  “I ain't no snitch, daddy!” Mar-Mar yelled out like a real nigga.

  I busted out laughing at how serious he looked. He was dead ass serious. I felt full of pride knowing my son wouldn't grow up to be no snitch ass nigga. I'd been lecturing him about not being a rat since he was in Olay's stomach. I was glad my hard work had been rewarded by a three year old. I wish all these rat niggaz’ dads woulda trained their sons before birth.

  “I know you ain't Mar-Mar. You got my blood runnin' through your veins. Anyways, you wanna go see your uncle Jaxx?”

  “Yup! And I want some money too, daddy,” he had the nerve to say.

  I pulled out a few small bills and handed them over to him. “Have you seen any new men hanging around mama?” I tried to bribe my son. It's fucked up I was tryna turn my son into exactly what I didn't want him to be. But I needed to know for my own ego and pride.

  “Uh un.”

  “You sure, Mar-Mar?”

  “Yup! I’m sure, daddy,” he promised.

  I felt a wave of relief at my son’s words. Because if he hadn't seen no new niggaz, then there weren't none. Olay barely let him outta her sight and Wanda only babysat for a few hours at a time. So wherever the hell they were living at, it damn sho wasn’t no nigga laying up with my bitch.

  I thought real hard and long about me and Olay's future together on my way to Jaxx's house. Even though her crazy ass did cross the line by pointing a pistol at me, I still loved her.
I knew she was only acting off of emotions and really couldn't blame her.

  I did sanction her sister's death. I needed my bitch back. I looked over at my son playing with his money and came to that conclusion. I knew it wouldn't be hella easy, but it wouldn't be that hard either. I was the only nigga she'd ever loved or she even let touch her, period.

  We pulled up to my big brother’s spot in twenty minutes and I had to mentally prepare myself. What I was about to let him know was gon' piss him the fuck off, but oh well. It had to be done. I grabbed the bag of money out the trunk, then knocked on the door. Jaxx opened up with a blunt in his mouth like usual.

  “Sup, Uncle!” Mar-Mar yelled out.

  “Come here, lil' nigga.” Jaxx picked him up, taking him into the house.

  I sat in my usual spot on the couch while Jaxx took Mar-Mar to the back room so he could play all those damn games he loved. I started taking the money out the bag and stacking it on the table.

  “You ain't gotta do all that, lil' nigga,” my brother said, then sat across from me.

  “I know. I just needed somethin' to do.”

  “Hit this while you prepare to tell me whatever it is that I don't wanna hear.” He passed me the backwood. “Oh, I like yo new tats, too. They’re real cute.” He started laughing at his own joke.

  Nigga always think somethin' a joke, I vented to myself while inhaling the weed. “How you know it's somethin' you don't wanna hear?” I asked.

  He waved me off. “Get to the point, lil' nigga.”

  “This gone be the last re-up until we get shit under order. We've been moving too sloppy and letting too many people think they can test us. I can't have my team focusing on money and war at the same time. We gonna move these last couple of birdz, then focus on killin' Burnside,” I explained then hit the weed one last time before passing it.

  My brother just sat there quietly, looking me dead in the eyes. I could tell he wasn't feeling where I was coming from one bit. He leaned back, hittin' his blunt but never broke eye contact. My phone started going off, breaking off our staring match.