Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  “Nigga, you must want me to come through this phone,” I shot back.

  “Dawg, ain’t no bitch in me. I’m just giving it to you raw. What? The truth hurts?”

  “I guess it does,” I reluctantly admitted before hitting the END button.

  I hit Inez up and told her to go house shopping. We argued back and forth because she felt that moving would be allowing someone to make her tuck her tail and run.

  “Ain’t nobody did that shit but Stan’s fat ass,” she surmised. “I’m not letting him make me catch out.”

  So, I knew what had to be done, immediately. Whether Inez was wrong about Fat Stan being involved or not.

  The night was quiet and still, but I was out on the prowl. No ski mask. I creeped his fat ass getting out of his Surburban in front of his mama’s crib in Oakland City.

  “Guess who’s behind this tree?” I taunted as I jumped out shoving the sawed off under his chin.

  “Lord, have mercy!” He damn near fainted.

  “The Lord might have mercy for ya fat ass but I don’t,” I said. “Watch how high I blow the top of your head.”

  He would not get a second chance to gun at me.

  ***

  Inez didn’t attend Fat Stan’s funeral. That caused instant problems between her and Bianca. Compounding the trouble, Fat Stan’s mother, was screaming to everyone who would listen, “I know who killed my son.”

  Detectives snatched Inez up and took her downtown to interrogate her. Tamia called me crying, afraid her mother wasn’t going to be released. Ava and I went over there to calm her down. When we arrived, Bianca wouldn’t let us in.

  “Go away! I know you killed my father!” she screamed at me through the door.

  A few seconds later, I heard her and Tamia thumping like cats and dogs. I broke a window, climbed inside and broke them apart. Tamia looked to be the most tore up of the two, but she wanted another piece of her sister’s ass. That was our pop’s blood in her veins.

  Bianca screamed, “I hate all of you!” and ran out the front door. I sent Ava to bring her back, but she could not find her.

  Inez returned an hour later and we told her what had happened. “She’s probably over his mother’s house or with her boyfriend,” she guessed. Bianca had started dating a year ago, when she turned sixteen.

  Inez called several numbers in search of Bianca, but no one had seen her. Inez wasn’t really worried. She said Bianca would come back home when she calmed down. Inez walked us to the car and told me how the detectives tried to press her.

  “Do you wanna go back to prison? That’s what they kept asking me. I told them that they better check a bitch’s file.”

  “They don’t know,” I agreed.

  “Anyway, I feel like they’ll be watching me now. So, you can hook me up with that house.”

  “I got you. Just let me know when you find one you like.” With that, I hugged Inez and told her to get busy with the house search.

  “I’m jealous,” Ava whined once we were in the car.

  I told her I was going to buy her a mansion one day.

  “All I need is you,” she purred.

  “You just want me to hit it,” I teased.

  “You know me too dang well.” She smiled and then sucked her teeth.

  A couple hours later, the wail of my cell phone woke me up from the good pussy coma I was in. Ava’s thigh was draped across my leg, and her head was buried in my chest. Her hand was still wrapped around my dick like it was too precious to let go. I had put it on her ass good last night.

  “Hello?” I answered the phone without looking at the number.

  “Fam, what’s poppin’?”

  “Who dis?”

  “Criminal, bruh.”

  “Oh, what it do?”

  “Come fuck with me. I got something to tell you. Real talk.”

  “I’ll meet you at Greenbriar,” I said.

  “That’s wassup. One,” he agreed.

  “One.”

  I woke Ava up with a kiss, stanking breath and all. She whined about me getting out of bed, but understood once I told her the business.

  I hopped in and out the shower in fifteen minutes flat. It was warm outside, beast season, so I just threw on a pair of cargo shorts, T-shirt and some throwback Jordan’s and then accentuated my look with my chain, of course.

  I had cut off my dreads and rocked a short-faded Mohawk with designs on the sides. That was the style, and although I was skeptical of rocking it at first, a nigga’s swag was on a milli when I tried it for myself. I kissed shawdy goodbye, then I bounced.

  When I got to Greenbriar, Criminal was already parked where he knew I would come. I wondered what bruh wanted to holla at me about. He got out his ride and slid into the passenger seat of my whip.

  “What’s it shaking like?” I greeted him.

  “‘Money, murder and mayhem,” he proclaimed.

  “I’ma bend a few corners while we talk. Is your truck gonna be good right there?” I asked.

  “Niggas know better,” he stated simply.

  I drove off and Criminal started talking. He told me he had heard from a reliable source that two Decatur niggas were running their mouths about throwing Molotov cocktails inside of a house they thought I was in because my whip was parked in the driveway.

  “Oh yeah? Who is the niggas?” I insisted on some names.

  “Nigga named Crucial from Candler Road. The other nigga is named Juwan, but you don’t have to worry about him, I already got at him for you.”

  “I owe you two for that one. Those niggas burned my grandmother and sister to death in that fire.”

  “I remember,” he murmured in a sympathetic tone. “That’s why I wet that nigga’s whole chest. Check out today’s AJC if you don’t believe me.”

  I didn’t respond. My thoughts were on Laquanda and Big Ma suffering in that fire.

  “I owe you,” I said as I dropped Criminal back off at his truck.

  I drove straight to the store up the street and bought that morning’s edition of the Atlanta Journal Constitution. I went to the metro section, where I found proof that Juwan Davis had gotten his cap pushed back sometime last night.

  I hit Criminal up.

  “Sup, fam’?” he answered.

  “I forgot to ask you where that nigga Crucial hang out at?”

  “On McAfee. He’s a tall, red nigga with dreads, drives a black old school Camaro or a two-door Caddy with the brains blew out,” he concluded, meaning the Cadillac was a drop top.

  “Thanks, bruh,” I said before I hung up.

  I shoved my phone down in my pocket and thought about murking Crucial in a manner just as heartless as he had murdered my Big Ma and Laquanda. Tears welled up in my eyes as I imagined how they had suffered in that fire.

  Crucial was gonna suffer, too.

  CHAPTER 28

  The murder of Crucial’s mans must’ve alerted him that he was next. For more than a month, I stalked the nigga’s hood and every spot he was known to frequent, but he could not be found. Mad niggas knew who he was, and that he pumped work for Zeke, but they did not know where he had gotten ghost to. The spot where he usually pumped was being overseen by someone in his place. It mattered none to me, I was closing that bitch down. I caught one of Zeke’s workers making a drop to the house and did him real dirty.

  A night later, I hit a spot of Zeke’s on Hollywood Road. That same weekend, I followed two other workers to the Chinese restaurant on Jonesboro Road and left them nodded in their truck. I was on a roll.

  I found out that one of the top niggas in Zeke’s clique was Nafi, a young head banger about my age, whom I had went to school with. I knew Nafi’s people real well. I got the word to Nafi, through his cousin, that I needed to holla at him ASAP.

  Two days later, we sat across from each other at a table at the Waffle House on Moreland Avenue. I was facing the window, though Criminal had the parking lot covered. Wearing a burgundy and black kufi, Nafi nodded his head in greeting, “As
alaam Alaikum.”

  “Alaikum As-Salaam.” I paid my respect to his faith.

  “My dude, Trouble. How have you been? Besides being a hot boy?”

  “I’m gucci. What about you, ock?”

  “Just been tryna get mine and get out,” he said.

  “I feel you. So, let me give it to you straight: Me and your connect got a big problem with each other.”

  “Yeah, I heard. But what that got to do with me?”

  “The same thing it had to do with Big Ma and my sister, Laquanda!”

  He looked at me strangely, confused by my statement.

  “I’m missing the connection, T. Maybe I’m slow. Spell it out to me so I’ll understand. ‘Cause right now I’m lost.”

  “Zeke sent the niggas who burned down my grandmother’s house and killed Big Ma and my lil’ sis.”

  Nafi’s eyes got wide. “‘You sure about that?” he asked.

  I told him about the voice mail Zeke left on my phone after the fire. He let out a long whistle.

  “I wouldn’t wanna be Zeke,” he said, correctly reading that kill or be killed look in my eyes.

  “Nawl, you sho’ wouldn’t. And you don’t wanna be on his team, either. ‘Cause my gun don’t discriminate. If I gotta murk a hundred pawns to get to the king, that’s how it’s going down. That nigga touched people that I loved. I’ll never rest until they play that organ for his bitch ass.”

  “Homie, I don’t have beef with you. True, Zeke put me on my feet when I came home from a bid, but we’re not tight like that. I’ma just fall back and get back on my square. Allah will see me through.”

  We chopped it up for thirty minutes more and then said our goodbyes.

  “Stay out of this, Nafi,” I warned him.

  “I will,” he swore.

  “You heard all of that?” I spoke into the cordless mic that was taped to my chest under my T-shirt.

  “I heard it all, bruh,” Criminal said from the parking lot.

  “So, what you think?”

  “Trust no man!”

  A few seconds later, I heard the familiar clatter of Criminal’s four-fifth. A throng of people rushed out of the Waffle House and gawked down at Nafi’s body, allowing me to slip away unnoticed.

  The next day, I received an unexpected call from the very muthafucka who had sworn he would not fold. I laughed at him when he offered peace.

  “Youngin’, I wanna have a sit down with you and see if we can’t end the bloodshed,” offered Zeke.

  “Nawl, bitch nigga, I don’t want no muthafuckin’ peace. I want blood! If you want this to end, shoot yourself in the muthafuckin’ head and let me read about it in the newspaper.”

  I hung up and immediately had Ava to have my number changed. Big Ma and Laquanda hadn’t lost their lives at the hands of Zeke just for me to settle the beef with a handshake. That had me fucked up. Rusty ass nigga should’ve bowed down to my pedigree from the start. Now it was too late.

  I went on about my business as usual until Criminal hit me up.

  Later that same night, we squashed four Mexicans at an apartment complex on Tara Boulevard. Criminal offered me five bands for rolling with him, but I turned the dough down.

  “One hand washes the other,” I reminded him.

  Problems that I could solve with a bullet was like water off of a duck’s ass. It was other shit that twisted my face.

  Inez called me sounding down and out about Bianca. Weeks had passed and Bianca still hadn’t returned home.

  A friend of Bianca’s had told Inez that Bianca had hooked up with an older dude who had her stripping in the club, tricking off and popping X. She wasn’t my blood sister, but the love I had for Inez extended to her. Plus, I had killed her father, so I felt some pity for the girl. I found out where Bianca danced and went to handle that lil’ bit.

  When I showed up at Pin Ups, the strip club where Bianca was working under a false ID, she had no holla for me. I looked in her eyes and saw she was zoning.

  “Shawdy, on the real, if it was up to me you could shake your ass on stage forever. If you like it, I love it. But this ain’t the right way to go about it, and it’s tearing Inez apart. Now you can walk up out of here with me on your own, or I’ll drag your ass up out of here. You got two minutes to decide.” I checked my wrist.

  Bianca called my bluff. Clad only in a thong, she stood planted in the same spot. So, I showed her that I didn’t issue idle threats. She kicked and screamed as I threw her over my shoulder and headed for the door. Of course, security intervened, telling me to leave her alone. I sat her down and pulled one of the toy cops to the side.

  “Bruh, that’s my people and she ain’t even seventeen years old, too young to be up in this bitch shaking and selling her ass. I’m not no snitch, so you ain’t gotta worry about me sending the po-po up in this spot. But peep game, fam. I’m about to tell you some real shit. If you let her back up in here, I’ma murk y’all niggas one at a time until I erase all of y’all. They call me, Trouble. Ask around,” I said.

  When dude stepped aside, I walked out of the club and looked around for Bianca. She had disappeared.

  CHAPTER 29

  I guess I should’ve expected niggas to come at me on some bitch shit. They were scared to get at me themselves, so they did what a coward does. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw detective vehicles close on my bumper. Behind the DTs car was APD. I sensed I was about to get pulled over, and I knew if there was a warrant for my arrest, it would be for more than jaywalking. I hit Ava on the jack and spoke calmly.

  “Po-po behind me. I don’t know for what but it can’t be good news. If this is it, shawdy, stay up.”

  “Where are you at?” she asked. “I’ll meet you.”

  “Fall back. I got this.” I clicked her off before she could protest.

  The squad car’s flashing lights came on behind me. I ignored them and continued on at a moderate speed, trying to reach a good spot to bounce on ‘em or throw down at ‘em.

  My thoughts then jumped to Ava. I could see my cell phone on the seat between my legs lightning up with missed calls. I knew shawdy was going crazy with worry. I believed if this was the end of the road for me, she would do the right thing with my things that were in her possession.

  I slammed on brakes at the intersection of Georgia Avenue and Pryor Road, threw the car in park and was out in a flash, banger backing me up.

  With a limp, I dashed through screeching traffic and hit a side street doing a hunnid on foot. My Forces were smoking. A nigga kind of felt punked running with a banger, but common sense overruled my ego and foolish pride in this instance.

  I cut through backyards, jumped fences and stepped in dog shit, but I got away with the help of an old black woman who hid me in the trunk of her car and drove me to a motel out on Fulton Industrial.

  “I would rather fall dead than see another black person get locked up. My son has been in prison twenty years for some shit he didn’t even do,” she’d explained before wishing me good luck.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But I appreciate you helping me.” I blessed her with five bands and thanked her with a kiss on the cheek.

  “I sort of feel like Harriet Tubman,” she quipped with a snaggled tooth smile. I laughed, although I didn’t know who Harriet Tubman was. “Take care of yourself, son. Don’t let these crackers and the Sambo’s catch you. Because once they lock you up, they don’t like to let you go. My baby, Dexter, has been locked up for twenty-seven years. Now you know that’s a shame. I don’t care what a man did wrong, twenty-seven years is long enough.” I went into my pocket and gave her another two hundred dollars.

  “Send that to your son for me.” Tears trickled down her wrinkled, brown face.

  For an extra fifty dollars, I was allowed to register a room without presenting my ID. I hit Ava up and told her my whereabouts. Shawdy said she’d be there in twenty minutes. Next, I called Inez and told her the business.

  “Let’s hope it’s not too serious,” she sa
id.

  “They had a DT with ‘em, so that’s about a body or armed robbery. Some bitch nigga probably took out a warrant on me, tryna get me off of the streets,” I guessed.

  I was still on the phone with Inez when I heard a soft knock on the motel room’s door. I hung up and let Ava in. She closed the door and rushed into my arms.

  “I’m happy to see you, too, shawdy,” I teased.

  “It’s not funny, Trouble. I was scared I might not see you again because I knew you wouldn’t go down without a fight. I kept calling and calling and calling you, so I could come wherever they pulled you over and give those bastards the surprise of their lives. But you would not answer the phone.” Whap! She hauled off and smacked me across the face. “Boy, you had me going crazy!” She broke down crying. I kissed her sweet lips and wiped away her tears with my thumbs. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  “A’ight. Let me take a quick shower, I’m sweaty.”

  “So! I want you inside of me now.”

  “Sweaty balls and all?”

  “Yep. Funky ass nuts and everything.” Ava said as she pulled off her shorts. I tried to make love to shawdy, but that’s not what she wanted at the time— she wanted to fuck.

  She was naked in a flash, and on all fours before I could protest, giving me a hellava pussy shot. She flipped over onto her back once she’d seen me unbuckling my jeans. I went in, ready to give shawdy what she was craving. She pulled me onto her and began kissing my earlobes and whispering to me seductively.

  “Pin my legs back and make it hurt so good,” she pleaded. “I want to feel it in my stomach.”

  I pinned her legs back and stepped to my business. “I’ma kill you with this dick,” I said, stroking deep and hard.

  “Umm! Kill it, baby.” I went deeper. “Do you love your pussy? Does it grip your dick tight enough?” she rasped with pleasure.

  “Mmm hmm,” I grunted.