by Jason Poole
Jovan’s loyalty to Bilal was concrete, so there was no way he was gonna let these niggas get away with this shit. They had pulled a fucked-up move, and Carlos died for some bullshit-ass two hundred thousand. They had just talked about getting outta this game the night before, but as he saw it, once you’re in, there’s no way out. Every time you try to make that step out, something always pull you right back in.
“Look, Bilal, this the move, but first you gotta calm down. Is Meeka in the house?” Jovan asked Bilal.
“Naw, she’s at work.”
“Good, then let’s go in and have a drink and plan this shit out perfectly.”
As Bilal tried to calm himself down, Jovan laid out his plan. “Look, Lal, you know that Madness party is tonight.”
“Yeah, Jay.”
“Don’t you got tickets to that joint?”
“I got two tickets. Why?”
“I’ma need ’em. Most likely them niggas is gonna be there celebrating what they did. They got some free money, and you know they’re gonna be flauntin’. How many guns you got, Lal?”
“I got three hammers, a .357 Desert Eagle, and two sixteen-shot Smith and Wesson nine millimeters with black talon bullets. Yeah, Jay, I got a silencer that fits both nines,” Bilal said.
“A silencer? Where the fuck you get that?” Jovan asked Bilal.
“My connect sent that shit up to me the last time I copped from him.”
“Okay, that’s perfect. Give me those two nines and the silencer.”
“What you gonna do, Jay?”
“What I do best: both those niggas will be dead within forty-eight hours or less.”
“Hold up, Jay. If you’re gonna go to that party, you gotta be right.”
Bilal went upstairs and came back down with a jewelry box. “Here you go, man,” Bilal said.
When Jovan opened up the box, the 18-karat Presidential Rolex and matching bracelet almost blinded him. Bilal’s watch and bracelet had the biggest diamonds Jovan had ever seen.
“Man, Bilal, what you try’na do, get my arm chopped off tonight?” Jovan said, still staring at all the diamonds on the jewelry.
“Naw, Jay, that’s yours now. It used to be Carlos’s, but I know he’d rather you have it. That shit is worth almost three hundred thousand. You got an outfit for tonight, Jay?”
“Yeah, I got a black Versace suit I bought from California that I’ve never wore, and a black-and-gold Versace silk print shirt with Medusa heads all over it, and some black Versace slip-ons with the matching belt.”
“Damn, nigga, you try’na kill ’em, ain’t you.”
“Bilal, I’ma keep my van over here tonight and push the 850 to the party.”
“Okay. Jay, how you gonna put in the work?”
“I’ll let you know everything after I do it. Just stay home and wait for my call.”
“Cool.”
On Jovan’s way home, he thought about Bilal and Carlos. Damn, shit was going sweet. All they had to do was get that money and step off. Now it was Bilal and him, just like old times. Those niggas had violated his family, so in turn, they had violated him also.
When Jovan got to Grandma’s house, he called Sonya.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
“Hello,” Sonya said.
“What’s up, baby?” Jovan said to Sonya.
“Jovan, I was just thinking of you.”
“You mean to tell me that out of the whole day, you just started thinking about me?” Jovan said, smiling.
“No, actually I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Me too. You been on my mind also. So what’s up?”
“You, Mr. Jovan Price. You’re what’s up.”
“Look, what are you doing tonight?” Jovan asked Sonya.
“Well, I promised my friend Germain that I would go to this hair show party with her downtown,” she said.
“You mean the Madness Connection party?” Jovan asked her.
“Yeah, you heard about it?”
“I was thinking about going. You got tickets?”
“Well, Germain only has one ticket. She’s trying to get the other one now.”
“Guess what? You’re in luck.”
“Why you say that, Jovan?”
“I’ve got an extra ticket that you can have if you want it.”
“Are you going to the party too?”
“Yeah, baby, I gotta come keep my eye on you, make sure you ain’t getting too fresh with nobody,” Jovan said jokingly.
“Like I told you before: you don’t ever have to worry about that.”
“I’m just joking wit’cha, boo.”
“Jovan, you’re the one who’s probably going to be talking to all them bitches,” Sonya said sarcastically.
“Naw, boo, you ain’t got to worry about that, because I’m too focused on you.”
“Well, that’s good that you’re going. Now I can keep my promise to Germain and see you at the same time,” Sonya said, happy that Jovan would be at the party that night.
“How you getting there?”
“Germain is driving.”
“Good, then I can take you home after the party.”
“That’ll be perfect, because Germain lives all the way out in Oxon Hill, and if she takes me home, it’ll be out of her way.”
“You can come on over now and get the ticket and meet my grandma at the same time, if you like.”
“Where does she stay, Jovan?”
Jovan told her the address.
“First, I’ma call Germain and let her know about the ticket, and then I’ll be over.”
“Cool.”
While Sonya was on her way over, he was still thinking about a master plan on how to lay his demonstration down. Jovan took out his suit, belt, and shoes and laid them out. He hadn’t been to a party like this in a long time, so when he went, he was gonna do it right.
Sonya came over and got her ticket and met his grandmother. She didn’t have a lot of time to stay, because she had to get back home and get herself together. Before she left, they kissed as if they had been together for years.
“I’ll see you tonight, Jovan, and you better behave yourself.”
“Like I told you—you ain’t gotta worry ’bout that.”
Sonya
Little did Jovan know I was all his. That night, I planned to look extremely good, so I got out my black Chanel dress, my Chanel shoes, my Cartier earrings, necklace, and bracelet with the matching watch. I let my long hair out so it could fall down my back. My dress was a perfect fit. I had never worn it before. It was strapless and exposed the crease of my back, and it felt so good and smooth, like another layer of skin on my body.
Germain was on her way to pick me up, but little did she know she wouldn’t be bringing me back.
Jovan
It was ten o’clock and the party had just started. I was still at home contemplating my move. I showered and got myself together. I never went to parties when they first started; I always came in a little late to give that grand appearance, so I just lay back on my bed and thought about my plans.
After I killed these two niggas, I would take Sonya home, and who knew what would happen after that. I only hoped Sonya didn’t follow me around, because I had to duck her for at least half the time we were at the party.
At eleven o’clock, I put on my clothes and took out the new Rolex and bracelet Bilal had given me. Damn, this watch was hittin’. I looked at my fine-ass image in the mirror and said to myself, “Jovan, you’re a fly mu’fucka.” I then grabbed about two thousand dollars out of my gym bag, all hundred-dollar bills, got in my 850 BMW, and headed to the party.
When I pulled up, I circled the block first to see if I saw Petey and Chicken Wing’s cars. They wasn’t out front, which was good. As I turned the corner onto Fourteenth Street, I saw Petey’s Benz parked in the cut, and it was kinda dark, which was perfect. Then I looked down the street and saw Chicken Wing’s Porsche parked at least a half block away. I parked my car three spaces
from Petey’s, got out, and went into the party.
As soon as I came through door, I heard D.C.’s number one party anthem, “Before I Let Go” by Frankie Beverly. The joint was packed with females, gangsters, and a few lames. As I made my way through the crowd, I could see bitches out the corner of my eye, tapping their girlfriends as I walked by, saying, “Girl, who is that fine-ass brother right there?”
I made my way upstairs to where everyone was chillin’, and as I glanced through the party looking for Petey and Chicken Wing, I saw a few good men who were regarded as real niggas. In D.C., when real niggas acknowledge one another, we call it tilting our hat. The first MOBs I tilted my hat to were Don and AB. They were over by the VIP section, poppin’ bottles with some bad bitches. Then I saw ED and Ty, the ones giving this party. Also I saw that paradise of MOBs: Block, Marlon, Pee-Wee and the number one super middleweight champion, Keith Holmes. Mark Johnson. who was the flyweight WBC Champ, was also in the house. Big Sweat and them Willington Park youngin’s were there also. I also saw young Ish, J-Rock, Rat Man, Rudy, and Fat Troy; these young niggas were doin’ it.
The dude Ish had a Rolex on his arm that looked so heavy it made him slow down when he walked. I respected these dudes ever since their man Li’l James got double life for a crime he didn’t commit. It was rumored that they stopped hustling and ventured their money into the music industry so they could pay for his lawyer legitimately. I heard they were tryin’ to get him Johnnie Cochran. Damn, that’s real.
Then I saw Big Poo and Fats. They used to cop from me back in ’91. As I walked through the party, all these dudes tilted their hats to me, and I returned the favor. Also, a lot of bad bitches I knew were coming up to me try’na get with a nigga. My Rolex was attracting bitches like a magnet. The first broad I saw was Peppa, and she was looking good as shit. I wanted to tell her to meet me outside after the party, but I had plans for something else, so we kicked it for a minute.
Then I saw Keda, and she also looked good. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since I had been home. I let her know how much I appreciated what she did for me when I was locked up, and I told her if there was ever anything she needed, I’d help her out.
Then I saw Big Titty Tracey and her crew. Cha-cha and Nicki came over to talk to me, and Li’l Shana and her cousins, Nicki and Toya, were also there. I used to mess with Nicki back in the day, and she was looking good as shit, too. If I didn’t have nothin’ to do, I would have taken her straight to the hotel.
As soon as I finished talking to Nicki, my old piece, Barvette, walked up behind me.
“Hey, Jovan,” Barvette said, hugging me around my waist.
“Hey, what’s up, Barvette?” I said, turning around.
“I haven’t seen you in years, boy. Where have you been?”
“I was away for a minute,” I said to her.
“I can see nothing has changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“You still fly, and you got a watch on that looks like it cost more than this building,” she said.
“Yeah, you know me. Shit don’t stop ’cause the nigga got knocked,” I said, laughing.
“Jovan, you still the same.”
As we were talking, I saw Petey and Chicken Wing with some bitches taking flicks, and it looked like they were already drunk. I locked my eyes in their direction, not looking directly at them, but I kept them in sight.
While I was peeping Petey and Chicken Wing, everybody rushed toward the stage where the hair show was. I didn’t go down there, but I looked off the balcony. When I looked on stage, I saw the strangest shit ever at a party like this: there was Trina Boo and another girl modeling for a hair salon. I think it was Erotica. Trina Boo was behind this girl, motioning like she was fucking her doggy style with a dildo. The whole party was in an uproar. Niggas were trying to get on stage, and people were rushing up front to see what was happening. These broads were on stage acting out a lesbo scene. Throughout all the commotion, I still kept my eye on Petey and Chicken Wing.
After Trina Boo and her friend did their little lesbo trick, everything calmed down, and that’s when I saw Sonya and Germain downstairs by the bar. Sonya had on a black dress that look like another layer of skin, and she also had on some pretty diamond earrings and a necklace. I could see the shape of Sonya’s ass through her dress, and her hair was falling straight down her back. Damn, she looked so good—a straight dime piece, and I mean a strong dime.
I went downstairs to greet her, but I still kept my victims in sight. As I crept up behind Sonya, I whispered in her ear, “Damn, you look gorgeous tonight.”
She didn’t even bother to turn around as she said, “I see you finally got away from all them bitches that were hawking you.”
“What are you talking about, boo?” I asked her innocently.
“Jovan, I just left the ladies room, and every bitch that came in there was talking ’bout you.”
“I can’t help that, Sonya.”
“I know, baby. You’re just a smooth-ass nigga, and I can’t get mad because other bitches want you. In fact, that shit kinda turns me on.”
Sonya then turned around and looked at me and said, “My God, Jovan, you look very nice. Now I see why all these bitches try’na get with you.”
“And you mean to tell me all the time you been here, ain’t none of these niggas try to talk to you,” I said to Sonya.
“Yeah, they have, Jovan, but I batted that shit down.”
“What’d you tell ’em?”
“I told them that I was very involved with a man I hardly know.”
We both laughed then Germain joined us. “Oh, hi, Jovan,” Germain said.
“Hey, Germain.”
“You know, we’ve only been here for a half hour and we’ve already heard a lot about you in the ladies room.”
“Yeah, Sonya already told me,” I said to Germain.
“Jovan, are you behaving yourself?” Germain asked me.
“Yes, indeed,” I said, smiling at her.
“You better, ’cause if you make my friend mad, I’ma have to kick your butt.”
“She know she doesn’t gotta worry about that.”
As I talked to Sonya, I could see that Trina Boo was on her way over. I didn’t know Trina Boo personally, but I had heard a few rumors that would make a nigga want to get to know her fast, and I do mean real fast.
“Hey, cuz,” Trina Boo said.
“Don’t ‘hey, cuz’ me. I saw you on stage acting like you don’t have no sense,” Sonya said to her cousin Trina.
“Girl, that was just an act for the shop. Who is that with you?”
“Oh, excuse me. Jovan, this is my cousin Trina.”
“Hi, Trina.”
“Call me Trina Boo.”
“No, Jovan, call her Trina. Her name is Trina.”
“There you go acting like you somebody’s mother.”
As Sonya was talking to Trina, I saw that Petey and Chicken Wing were about to leave and they had that broad Pebbles wit’ ’em. This was my chance to make my move.
“Hey, Sonya, can you excuse me for a moment? I gotta go talk to one of my clients in the lobby,” I said.
“Sure, baby. I’ll be right here waiting on you. Jovan, you sure take your work seriously. You at a party and you talking to clients.”
“Gots to get that money, boo.”
“That’s right, baby. Go right ahead.”
“Hey, you better behave yourself while I’m gone,” I said.
“Boy, I told you once before—matter of fact, twice—that you definitely don’t have to worry about that.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, maybe less.”
As Petey and Chicken Wing were in the lobby still trying to talk Pebbles into leaving with them, I walked straight past them and out of the party. I looked around to make sure no one saw me as I went to my car and popped the hydraulic stash. I took out one of the 9 mm that Bilal gave me and screwed on the silencer. Then I got out of my car and wen
t over to Petey’s Benz. I took off my watch and bracelet, put them in my pocket, and crawled under Petey’s car.
I waited for about ten minutes before I saw Petey and Chicken Wing walking toward their cars. Pebbles wasn’t with ’em, which was good, ’cause if she was then I’d have to whack her too, and I wasn’t try’na kill no bitch who ain’t had a damn thing to do with this.
As they got closer, I could hear them talking.
“Damn, slim, I told you we shoulda got that nigga Bilal first. He the one wit’ all the bank,” Chicken Wing said.
“It’s hard to get that bitch-ass nigga because he don’t even be coming out,” Petey said.
“Yeah, I searched the fuck out that party for him.”
As I heard these niggas talking about killing and robbing my best friend, my only family, I knew I had to kill these niggas. I wasn’t nervous or anxious; I just wanted this shit to be done right.
As Petey walked toward his car, Chicken Wing stepped off.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. We can page that bitch nigga Bilal, tell ’im we got his money, and get him then,” Petey said.
“Yeah, that’s what’s happening,” Chicken Wing said.
Chicken Wing headed down the street to his car. Damn, that nigga Chicken Wing was getting away. Fuck it. I couldn’t let the cat outta the bag. If I jumped out then, I’d have to kill Petey then chase Chicken Wing down the street, and that shit would be real sloppy and for sure somebody would see me. So, I stayed on Petey.
As Petey got close to the car, I positioned myself, and as soon as he put his key in the door, I rolled from under the car and placed my gun right up under his nut rack and said, “Nigga, if you still wanna make babies, then shut the fuck up!”
Petey was in shock. He couldn’t move or scream, so he tried to negotiate. “Look, man, all I got is my Rolex and about fifteen hundred on me. You can have the shit.”
“Naw, nigga, give it to your peoples for funeral arrangements,” I said, and then I shot Petey in the nuts three times. Pat-pat-pat.