Ripped Dollars 2

by Raymond Francis

  The situation left Roc with two options; either snitch or risk getting the book thrown at him. The game had changed so much since Roc had begun hustling. Back in the days, the DEA actually had to catch a hustler with drugs on him. Now, all it took was a snitch to point a finger. Informants had made the Feds job really simple and easy. It simply wasn’t fair.

  Roc was left with the decision of possibly having to leave Lotta all alone in the world to fend for herself, after sheltering her for her whole life. Was that fair to her? Did she really deserve that? Roc wanted to stick to the G-Code and take his time like a man, but no one else seemed to be sticking to that code anymore. Someone had told on him to save their own ass and take care of their family. Did that person care more about their family than Roc did about his? The questions raced through Roc’s head as he dealt with each and every possible scenario. He had some serious thinking to do.

  *****

  After getting out of prison, the Feds place former inmates on supervised release. Technically, supervised release is like parole. Conditions are very strict and limit ex-cons freedom of travel, require random drug testing and frequent reports to the probation officer. It is designed to keep people from committing more felonies, but for Tone the system was a joke.

  After robbing the trap house sponsored by the 60th street niggas, Tone had money in his pocket once again and didn’t give a fuck about his probation officer. She left messages on Melinda’s house phone, but Tone didn’t even bother to return the calls. He was all the way turned up, spending the stolen cash as if it was burning a hole in his pocket. Since Tone loved to stay in tune with fashion, one of his first moves was a shopping spree at his favorite spot; the high class King of Prussia Mall.

  Tone hit up the boutique style stores and got right! He grabbed himself a few pair of True Religion jeans, some Air Max 95’s, Nike boots, a specially ordered Marcelo Burlon tee shirt, Polo hoodies, Pink Dolphin tees and all the other gear he needed to look relevant again. One thing prison hadn’t taken from Tone was his swag and sense of style. He knew exactly what to cop and exactly how to wear it. He had gone from zero to fly in no time at all!

  Roscoe was also reaping the benefits for his role in the robbery, but after going on a three day long crack binge, he was coming back to his senses. Like Tone, Roscoe wanted more out of life. He didn’t want his addiction to define him like it had for the past decade. In a desperate plea, Roscoe reached out to Tone. He asked Tone to take the remaining crack and sell it, instead of letting him smoke it all up and possibly O.D. As a man addicted to the drug, it was one of the hardest decisions Roscoe ever had to make in his life. He was far from cured, but Roscoe was definitely taking the first step in getting clean. He didn’t want to be just another dead junkie in the streets; even ol’ Roscoe knew his life was worth more than that.

  Being that they lived in a high drug area, moving the couple ounces was nothing for Tone. He bagged up the work and posted up right in front of his building, where he knew smokers would pass by. The word that Tone had a good, cheap product spread quickly and that had a snowball effect. Smokers told each other about Tone and over a few days he offed all the work, like the hustler that he truly was. Tone pocketed a percentage of the cash, and then gave the rest of the money to Roscoe.

  With the money he had, Roscoe swore he was going to make some changes. First, he was going to start with his health. With the assistance of Tone, Roscoe booked a doctor’s and a dentist’s appointment, which was something that he hadn’t done in years. Crack had deteriorated Roscoe’s body. Some of the damage was beyond repair, but other issues were fixable.

  “Damn! I gotta fill out all this information. I don’t even know half of this shit. Don’t they know I been gettin’ high for the past decade?” said Roscoe.

  Roscoe was in the dentist’s office with Tone, growing frustrated at all the paperwork that was required to get an examination. He had already discovered that the reason his mouth gave him so much pain was because he was in need of a root canal.

  “Just give me the fuckin’ paper. I ain’t got all day to be in here with you. I don’t even know why you dragged me up here,” said Tone, snatching the clipboard and pen from Roscoe.

  Since the robbery, Roscoe was afraid to be out in public alone. While Tone had the luxury of wearing a ski mask, Roscoe had executed his part of the sting barefaced. If the young hustler from the trap house saw him, it would be ugly. Roscoe was using Tone as protection, at least for time being.

  Tone quickly filled out the paperwork using his own information. He had much better things to do than sit around a dentist’s office with a crackhead. Tone had money in his pocket, new clothes on his back, and there was a city full of women out there that he needed to meet. More than anything else, Tone had missed the company of women while he was in prison. He was knee deep in hoes before getting locked up and now that he was home and holding 20 more pounds of pure muscle, Tone knew he was ready to get at some females. Lotta might not be giving him the time of day, but Tone knew that there were plenty of women that would love to!

  *****

  After finishing up with Roscoe at the dentist, Tone had Roscoe ride him to the infamous Rent-N-Roll. Rent-N-Roll was a notorious car rental spot in the hood that did all types of crazy business practices, but also put people in the most exclusive rental cars. Last time Tone had dealt with Rent-N-Roll, they had rented him a truck with a package of cocaine taped underneath it. It had ended up causing Tone to catch a federal indictment, which was something Tone still wasn’t over. However, there was nowhere else in the hood to rent high class luxury cars, so for the moment Tone had to let bygones be bygones.

  “What’s poppin Lakeeyah?” asked Tone, as he walked into the spot and recognized the cashier from their previous dealings.

  “What’s gucci my nigga? Long time, no see,” she said, hood as all hell.

  “Tell me about it,” sarcastically said Tone.

  “What you need?” asked Lakeeyah.

  “Another truck. Without the drugs this time,” replied Tone.

  Lakeeyah laughed and started browsing the computer’s database to see what was available.

  “I got this white X5. It’s hot,” she said.

  “Nah, somethin’ huskier,” replied Tone.

  “How bout this Caddy truck. That jawn that’s real nice,” she replied, after looking up from the computer screen.

  “Oh man, them Caddy trucks are nice. You need to get that and let me push it at least one time. I think I got me a date setup soon,” said Roscoe.

  “Whatever, Roscoe,” said Tone, still upset about the time he had wasted with Roscoe at the dentist’s office.

  “Nah, I’m serious Tone. After all I went through for you, you gotta promise to let me borrow it!” said Roscoe, hype as hell at the prospect of getting a chance to whip the Cadillac truck.

  “All right, nigga. Calm down, I got you,” said Tone.

  Roscoe did a little fist pump celebration, which was definitely some smoker shit, as Tone reached in his pocket and started getting the cash together to pay for the car for a week in advance. Rent-N-Roll was one of the few car rental spots that didn’t require a credit card which is why they were so popular in the hood.

  “Yo, I’m a holla at you later,” said Tone, alerting Roscoe that he could be on his way.

  Roscoe was cool, but Tone’s reputation didn’t allow for him to be seen hanging around a smoker in public. It just wasn’t the image that he was trying to portray.

  Lakeeyah rang Tone up for the 2012 Cadillac SRX Truck, right at an even $100 per day. It was expensive, but Tone was ready to ride out and see what the Philly nightlife had to offer. He had been out at nighttime since he had been home, but being out with a pocketful of cash was a whole different experience. Being in a hot whip heightened that experience even more. The truck had out of state tags since it was a rental, but Lakeeyah registered it under Tone’s name via Rent-N-Roll. It had a nice Burgundy factory paint job and was equipped with a V6 engine w
ith 300 horsepower which Tone was ready to push to the limit!

  Tone’s destination was the Sugar House, a relatively new casino in the heart of Philly. Since Tone had been in prison, Philadelphia had expanded its attractions to include gambling. Philly had never had casinos before, so Tone damn sure wanted to see what the Sugar House was all about. Being able to gamble legally while in the comfort of his own city definitely had its advantages. The Sugar House, like most casinos, served free drinks to anyone who was gambling. Naturally, Tone made it his business to post up at the poker table and take advantage of the free liquor.

  Tone had played his fair share of poker while he was locked up, but it was a whole different game in the casino. The dealer was much more savvy than the men that he had been locked up with. After just a few hands, Tone was down almost $300. To make matters worse, the free drinks were watered down like hell.

  “You look frustrated,” said a woman, as Tone lost another hand.

  Tone turned and looked at the woman speaking to him. She was a short, young jawn, wearing a halter top barely covering her chest at all. She wasn’t the cutest in the face, but had some potential. After doing all that time though, damn near any woman on two legs looked good to Tone.

  “I can’t get the right cards,” said Tone, as he admitted defeat and stepped away from the table.

  Tone wasn’t having any luck at poker, but the way the woman talking to him was looking at him, he knew that he would have some luck with her! Her whole body demeanor already let Tone know what was up. Most times that a woman goes out of her way to strike up a conversation with a random man, she is interested in getting to know him better.

  “I wish I knew how to play then I could help you,” she said.

  The statement didn’t make much sense but Tone appreciated the woman’s attempt to flirt.

  “You wanna slide out of here and go get some real drinks?” he asked.

  Tone got straight to the point, which the woman appreciated. With no hesitation, Tone and his new friend dipped from the Sugar House and headed towards his rented Caddy truck. She was definitely impressed by the whip, and was all over Tone right from the jump. The sexual chemistry was definitely there, and the alcohol would only fuel the situation. It would just be a matter of time before the two of them were taking each other’s clothes off, and they both knew it.

  “By the way, what’s your name?” finally asked the woman.

  “Everybody calls me Tone.”

  “Tone…that’s cute. I’m Neeta.”

  *****

  “Where you been? I was worried about you,” said Marv, as Lotta finally strolled back through the front door.

  Marv was sitting on his couch next to a new woman, sipping on his Grey Goose and smoking a blunt. Although he was a little high, he could see the pain and hurt Lotta’s eyes.

  “I caught the bus to go visit my Mom’s grave. I just had some things to think about. I’m straight though,” explained Lotta.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” confirmed Lotta, as she headed towards the stairs that led up to her room.

  Marv sat his cup of Goose back down on his living room table.

  “Hold up a sec. I want you to meet my new friend, Joy,” he said.

  The last thing Lotta was in the mood to do was meet another one of Marv’s ratchet ass girlfriends. Joy looked even more trifling than Neeta! She was also a young jawn, with dreds in her hair and a nose ring. She was a little overweight, but just like Neeta, she had huge tits. That must have been Marv’s thing, figured Lotta.

  Joy was sitting on the couch, passing the blunt back and forth with Marv. In between pulls, she was on her Samsung Galaxy phone looking at her Instagram , Twitter and FaceBook pages. She looked like the type that was more interested in the social media world than the real world.

  “Nice to meet you,” Lotta forced herself to say.

  “Same to you,” said Joy.

  Lotta proceeded to go upstairs, but once again Marv stopped her.

  “Wait. I had got you something earlier today,” explained Marv.

  Lotta turned and looked as Marv got up from his seat, a little tipsy off of the Grey Goose and marijuana.

  “Where you put that bag at, Joy?” he asked.

  Joy looked up from her phone just long enough to point towards the corner of the room.

  “See, Joy works at TJ Maxx. I saw a dress in there I knew you would like and had her pick it up for me. I just figured since you been going through so much drama and you weren’t able to get your clothes out of the house.”

  Lotta was elated. She didn’t really do TJ Maxx, but the fact that her Uncle had thought enough of her to buy her a dress that would boost her spirits meant a lot to her. Marv handed Lotta the bag, and she slipped the dress out. It was light blue, which was actually a good color on her. Lotta thought about all the shoes and handbags she used to have that would have matched it perfectly, which was a bittersweet memory since she knew the chances of her seeing her old wardrobe again were slim to none.

  “Thanks, Unc!” she said, flashing the first smile that had come across her face in days.

  “Well go upstairs and try it on,” instructed Marv.

  Lotta wasn’t really in the mood to play dress up, but it was the least she could do since Marv had went out of his way to get her a new dress. All of Lotta’s clothes had been confiscated and would eventually be auctioned off, so she had been wearing some cheap shit she managed to get from The Gallery Mall. Lotta was used to staying fresh, but she was no fool. She wasn’t going to blow through her last couple dollars on clothes when she had more important things to worry about.

  As Lotta slipped off her jeans and into the new sun dress, her ripped dollar slipped out of her back pocket. Naturally, seeing the bill had her thinking about Tone. With all the drama, she had forgotten that he was scheduled to be out of prison. Unfortunately, Lotta had no idea how to reach him. Verizon had disconnected her phone, so she had no access to the old messages that he had left. All she could do was hold her half of the ripped dollar tight and hope that her boo was alright.

  Lotta was busy fantasizing about Tone, but unfortunately she was the last thing on his mind.

  *****

  Philly is a big city in some ways, but in other ways it is small. Everybody knows everybody, in some way or another. This is especially true for the people who move in the same circles and live the same lifestyle. Tone lived the lifestyle of a stick-up kid and hustler who was all about getting his money. Naturally, he dealt with plenty of women. Neeta sought out men like him, so the fact that they had crossed paths was coincidental, but not surprising.

  After being dumped by Marv for pulling a knife out on Lotta, Neeta was back on the prowl looking for the next street nigga with money to provide for her. She was trifling, but Neeta didn’t have any shame in her game. For her, it was like playing the lottery. She would find a man who was getting it, let him ‘scratch her ticket’ and she might get lucky enough to get some big bucks from him. Tone was her current target and so far he was providing Neeta with drinks, which she was throwing back faster than the bartender could bring out.

  “So what’s your story Tone?” asked Neeta, as she polished off a Henny and Coke.

  Neeta had no idea Tone was the same bul who had slept with her cousin Chaunte years ago, but it really wouldn’t have mattered. That was ancient history and Neeta had her current needs. She had hoped that Tone would be a provider for her, much like Marv had been throughout the past month. Neeta wasn’t about going out and working eight or ten hours a day; she’d rather take her chances dealing with someone who was ‘bout that life and didn’t mind breaking bread with her.

  “I’m just a get money type of nigga,” said Tone, without elaborating much.

  Tone’s frame of mind was to just get what we wanted from Neeta without doing too much talking. What he wanted was some ass. Neeta was no super cute girl, but she did have a nice sex appeal about her. She was light-skinned, with
a busty C-cup rack and a little bit of a booty.

  “And how do you get money?” asked Neeta.

  Tone could see that Neeta was the type to ask questions, so he would have to provide some answers. However, he was going to be as vague as possible. In Tone’s line of work, it was never a good thing to leak your personal business in the streets.

  “I just get it how I live it. I do what I gotta do,” he replied.

  “You drawlin’. Can you be a little more specific?” asked Neeta.

  “Look, I ain’t tryin’ to put my business in the streets but when I see a nigga slippin’, I make it my business to get him. You feel me?” said Tone.

  Neeta grinned; all that gangster shit turned her on.

  “So where is your man at?” said Tone, flipping the script and asking her a question of his own.

  “I just broke up with my dude. I got into it with the nigga’s niece and then that nut ass nigga had the nerve to slap me! He didn’t even care that the lil’ hoe had hit me first!”

  Tone just shook his head, while sipping his cranberry and Ciroc yet listening intently.

  “He kicked me out the crib and everything,” complained Neeta.

  “Damn, that’s messed up Ma,” replied Tone, faking sympathy.

  “I got the last laugh, though,” said Neeta, with a smile.

  “For real. How is that?” wondered Tone.

  Neeta pulled her keychain from her fake Louie Vuitton bag.

  “I kept the keys to his crib,” she revealed, shaking the house key to Marv’s place.

  Tone just laughed as he looked at the keys shaking back and forth. Obviously, Neeta had some drama with her. She was definitely a wild type of woman, and Tone hoped she would be the same way between the sheets. With the liquor choosing his words, Tone laid his game down.