“So what’s up? You ready to get outta here and go chill somewhere?” he asked.
Neeta threw back the remaining alcohol she had, and then stood up from her barstool.
“Yeah, let’s make moves,” she said, with a grin.
Chapter 6
Tone and Neeta’s date at the bar lasted just long enough for the two of them to get drunk as hell. They had gone from drinking mixed drinks to straight shots and then finished off with beers. Tone focused up just enough to navigate his rented Caddy truck down 76 and towards the big boy hotels that were located in Center City. If he would have gotten pulled over, the police would have definitely arrested him for drunk driving, which would have been a violation of his probation and resulted in him getting locked back up. Tone was willing to take that risk because he knew that he definitely couldn’t take Neeta back to his pull out bed at Melinda’s house; that shit wasn’t wavy! Fortunately for Tone, there weren’t too many cops out and he was able to get to his destination and cop a nice room for him and Neeta to get busy in.
Much like her cousin Chaunte, Neeta was a straight freak. It ran in their bloodline; they came from a long line of promiscuous women dating back to their great-great-grandmother. Neeta had no boundaries sexually and she was down for whatever. The liquor in her system made Neeta even more free and she was throwing her A-game at Tone. She had contorted herself into positions that Tone had never even seen in pornos! Neeta was sexing Tone in an attempt to make him get sprung on her and start spending cash to keep her around. That was her game plan, but if it didn’t work, she had still gotten free drinks and some good dick in a nice hotel from a nigga who she found attractive as hell. For Neeta, it was a win-win situation.
Tone and Neeta got it in until the alcohol and exhaustion finally forced them to pass out. Neeta, who was used to getting drunk five nights a week woke up first, with no hangover whatsoever. Her tolerance was crazy, and she could definitely handle her alcohol. The night had gone good, but it was currently do or die time for her. This was when she had to convince Tone that she was worth more than just a one night stand, and try to get on his good side. If she could do that, she would have successfully found herself yet another hustler to mooch off of.
“Good morning, baby. You wanna take a shower together?” whispered Neeta.
Tone woke up with his head banging. He hadn’t been drunk in years, so he had a serious hangover. It took Tone a second to gather himself and realize his surroundings before he spoke.
“Damn, what time is it?” he asked.
“It’s 10:00. We still got another hour before checkout time.”
Neeta smiled at Tone, letting him know that he could do whatever he wanted to do to her in the next 60 minutes. However, Tone had other things on his mind. The night had been fun, but he was about his money. His mission was to get paper, not just chase women, so he was ready to part ways with Neeta.
“Yo, where you want me to drop you off at?” asked Tone, standing his naked body up and searching around for his True Religions.
Neeta frowned her face up.
“Damn, so it’s like that?” she asked.
Tone didn’t have time for the drama, so he tried his best to smooth the situation over.
“I’m sayin’, I got some things to handle. It ain’t nothin’ personal. I told you I just came home and I’m trying to get my pockets back straight and all that. I don’t got time to lay up in bed all day, you feel me?” he asked.
Neeta definitely understood Tone’s point; she just wished he had delivered his message with a little more sympathy. She might not have been the classiest woman, but she still had feelings.
“I’m sayin’ Tone, you actin’ like I’m gonna be in the way of you gettin’ money. You never know, I might could help you…” explained Neeta.
“How can you help me get money?” asked Tone, slipping on his GEEK shirt and looking around the room for his kicks.
*****
“You looked real nice in that dress last night, Lotta,” said Marv.
“Thanks Unc,” Lotta replied.
Marv was coming down off of his own night of heavy drinking. He and Joy had polished off a bottle of Grey Goose, with Marv drinking damn near 70 percent of it. He had popped some Tylenol and was trying to get his head clear, as Joy lay stretched out on the couch. She was wearing nothing but her thong and a tight tee shirt. Apparently, she and Marv hadn’t even managed to make it up to his bedroom before they had dug into each other. The empty condom wrappers scattered across the floor were evidence of that. Lotta was disgusted, but she couldn’t complain since it was Marv’s house.
Joy was on her phone like always, commenting on Instagram pictures and retweeting her follower’s statuses. It was like her hand was glued to the smartphone; if she wasn’t taking a selfie she was shooting a quick video to upload. Lotta didn’t understand how Joy could be so addicted to social media, but she chalked it up to her being a young jawn who really didn’t know any better.
“Damn, I’m hungry as hell. Who’s cooking breakfast this morning?” asked Marv.
“Hopefully, not you. Them burgers you made yesterday were terrible, Marv. Burnt on the outside and red in the middle. Yuck!” said Joy, making a face to express her displeasure with Marv’s culinary abilities.
Lotta had to admit, she was a little hungry herself. She’d be damned if she was going eat anything Joy cooked after imagining all the nasty shit she had done with Marv the previous night, so she volunteered to whip up some breakfast.
“I’ll cook something. What ya’ll want?” she asked.
Since her mom died when she was so young, Lotta had been forced to get pretty nice in the kitchen. She knew her way around an oven and stove very well and could make damn near anything.
“What’s up with some of your biscuits, some eggs, some beef sausage and that turkey bacon?” said Marv.
“Damn Unc, you greedy as hell. I got you though,” said Lotta, as she cut on the oven.
Lotta’s biscuits were legendary and the least she could do to show her appreciation for Marv’s hospitality was to whip up a batch. She searched around Marv’s unorganized kitchen until she found a suitable mixing bowl. Next, Lotta rounded up some shortening and then the milk. The final ingredient was flour, so Lotta opened up the cabinet and grabbed what appeared to be a package of flour. However, looks can be deceiving, and the package Lotta had grabbed damn sure wasn’t flour.
“Whoa Lotta, careful with that!” hollered Marv.
Lotta quickly realized, she had actually grabbed some of Marv’s cocaine. Being the daughter of a hustler, Lotta normally knew coke when she saw it, but it had been a while. Roc was way past the stage of keeping his work in the crib that he resided in, but apparently Marv wasn’t. He had a half kilo right in his pantry!
“My bad, Unc!” said Lotta, realizing her naïve mistake.
Marv was cracking up at the situation. He had even called Joy in to tell her. The two of them were laughing like they were watching a new Kevin Hart standup.
“Well I guess them woulda been the worst biscuits ever!” Marv managed to say, between laughs.
Lotta had to laugh at herself as Marv finally passed her the real flour from the next cabinet.
“Yeah, you right about that Unc!” she said, with a giggle.
Lotta smiled even more as she started getting her biscuit dough ready; it was the first time she had truly laughed since her Dad had gotten locked up. It felt good to think about something other than that situation for once. Lotta was finally learning to only worry about the things in life that she could control. There was nothing that she could do to affect the outcome of her father’s case, so stressing out about it was pointless. All she could do was pray for him and hope for the best.
*****
Roc was in the Federal Detention Center living like a filthy animal. His hair and beard were growing in crazy, but he wasn’t about to trust the dull temporary razors that were provided by the Bureau of Prisons and risk an infection. R
oc was hardly eating the sub-par jailhouse food either. After getting his palette used to shrimp, crabs and lobster, it was hard to adapt to undercooked meatloaf and thin ass hamburgers on stale tasting buns. The stress of the offer the Feds had put in front of Roc was indeed weighing on him heavily. As he sat in the special legal room, waiting on his lawyer and the representative that the Feds had sent, Roc thought long and hard about his choices.
Getting down with the system and agreeing to cooperate and provide info about the Mexican’s drug operation would cut Roc’s sentence significantly. That way, he would eventually be able to return home while his daughter Lotta was still relatively young. The downside was that he would be forever labeled as a snitch. He would lose all respect in the world and for the time he would serve in jail, he would probably be treated like a sucker by the other inmates who had stuck to the G-code.
If Roc kept his mouth shut and took his chances at trial, he would still be revered by the hustlers who admired him. He could look at himself in the mirror, without feeling like a punk or a sellout. Roc had talked his whole adult life about how real he was and rejecting the Feds offer would prove just that; not only to everyone he knew, but most importantly to himself. Both choices had benefits and consequences, and with the Feds waiting on an answer, it was time for Roc to decide.
“So what’s it gonna be, Roc? Are you playin’ ball for my team or am I wasting my time here today?” anxiously asked the cocky lead federal agent.
Roc rubbed his hands over his face like he always did when he was stressed out. He took a deep breath and finally replied.
“I’ll talk. What exactly do you want to know?” he reluctantly said.
The agent smiled from ear to ear upon hearing the answer he wanted. Elated, he sat down at the table next to Roc with an ink pen in his hand and a tape recorder.
“So give me some names. Who is your supplier? Where does the cocaine come from?” he asked.
The tension in the room was thicker than Nicki Minaj’s thighs. Roc wiped some sweat from his brow and started his dramatic response.
“I deal with the boss of all bosses. Goes by the nickname Your,” said Roc.
The agent excitedly jotted down the name down on his legal pad.
“Your? he asked, wondering if the strange nickname belonged to one of the Mexican druglords the Feds so desperately wanted to indict and convict.
“Yeah, nigga. Your Mama. She’s my connect. As a matter of fact, I connect my dick with her mouth every night,” said Roc.
The pale faced agent instantly turned redder than a Washington apple. He was infuriated; Roc had just insulted the hell out of him.
“Now dig this; you can take that deal you are offering me and shove it up ya ass. This ‘death before dishonor’ tattoo I got ain’t just words. I live by that. I’ll take this to trial. See you in court, ya bitch,” taunted Roc, as he stood up from his chair.
Roc had chosen to take his chances in court as opposed to snitching on the Mexicans that he dealt with. He couldn’t live with himself if he became one of the very people that he hated. As far as Lotta was concerned, she would have to rely on the values that he had instilled in her to survive. After all, she was in her twenties and not a child by any means. It was the hardest decision Roc ever had to make, but he was not going out as a snitch!
The lead agent was monumentally pissed. His blood was boiling so much that he could barely speak. Not only had Roc turned him down, but he had made a complete mockery of him.
“I hope you rot inside of these prison walls you son of a bitch!” he finally managed to say, storming out of the room.
*****
As Tone gathered up the rest of his clothes from around the motel room, he was anxiously awaiting for Neeta’s response. He damn sure was interested in how she could help him get money, so he repeated his question.
“How can you help me get money?”
“Well like I said, I kept the key to my ex’s crib,” she finally replied.
“And?” asked Tone.
“Oh my God! Do I gotta break it down, spell it out, and write it on the wall for you?” said Neeta, with a deep sigh.
Neeta maneuvered her naked body from on the bed and got closer to Tone, then began rubbing on his broad shoulders.
“I told you, my ex was a hustler. He keeps work and money in the crib. You said you do stick-ups. You should rob him,” she explained.
“This lil’ bitch is grimy as hell,” thought Tone to himself.
In Tone’s head, everything wasn’t adding up. Something just didn’t seem realistic about the situation. People don’t just set their exes up without a good reason. Neeta had to have an ulterior motive. She probably wanted a nice chunk of the money for herself he figured.
“So I’m supposed to go in there and take a risk like that and then split up whatever I get with you? I don’t even know you like that to be pullin’ off no shit like that,” he questioned.
“I don’t even want you to split nothin’ with me. I just want to see that sorry bastard get what he deserves,” explained Neeta.
“Whatever. You gotta want somethin’ more than that outta this deal,” said Tone, failing to believe Netta’s logic.
“Nope, it ain’t like that. All I want to see is for you to come up. Then you can take me on another date and we can do what we just did in that bed all over again. I need some more of that!” she said, pointing at Tone’s manhood.
That was how Neeta played the game. She pretended she just wanted to help Tone out because she genuinely liked him. In actuality, Neeta figured that if she helped Tone come up, she would come up too! She planned on sticking very close to Tone, and if he had money in his pockets, Neeta felt that she would be entitled to some of it. Getting back at Marv was just an added bonus for her.
Most things that seemed too good to be true usually were, so Tone was apprehensive about Neeta’s proposal.
“She’s just going to point me to a trap house, give me the key and all I got to do is go in and take what I want?” he wondered to himself, while staring Neeta down.
The deal was sweet, but there was no such thing as an easy lick. Tone had no idea about the man he would be robbing. He could be a straight killer and could put a hot one in Tone as soon as he walked through the door. Furthermore, Tone couldn’t even be sure the man was even getting any real money.
“Would it even be worth it?” he continued to wonder.
At the end of the day though, Tone was an optimist. He saw the trap house as half full as opposed to half empty. Also, at the point he was at in his life, Tone was with whatever. Even if he only got a few grams or a couple hundred bucks out of the crib, it would be all profit. It wasn’t an issue of greed, but Tone wanted all that he could get in life. His hustler mentality couldn’t allow him to turn down an opportunity like this one. Little did he know, by running up in Marv’s trap house Tone was going to get much more than he bargained for!
Chapter 7
Lotta’s biscuits, eggs, sausage and bacon had hit the spot and her, Joy, and Marv were subsequently suffering from a serious case of the ‘itis. Lotta was plopped down on the loveseat, comfortably watching Love and Hip Hop Atlanta reruns and laughing hard at ‘Steebie J.’ and his many faces. Marv was stretched out across the sofa, while Joy was sitting Indian-style on the floor, with her back up against the sofa right up under her boo Marv. As always, Joy was using her phone to see what people were talking about on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr and Facebook. Surprisingly, Lotta could actually tolerate Joy. She was young acting, but not all ratchet like Neeta. Everything inside the house was relaxed, but outside was a whole different story.
Neeta had provided Tone with the key to Marv’s house, as well as his address and information on where he kept his work and his stash. After practically living with Marv for a month, Neeta knew pretty much where everything was. She also knew that Marv kept several loaded guns strategically placed around his house, but Neeta had conveniently failed to mention that fact to Tone!
It was weird as hell to be plotting on robbing a house in broad daylight, that he actually had the key to! Also, it was different that Tone was all by himself. He was used to doing stick-ups with Amir back in the day, and for his last jux he had at least rolled with Roscoe. Now that Tone was solo, it was making him paranoid as hell.
“What if this broad playin’ games and there is a whole bunch of people up in the house?” he continued to wonder.
Little did Tone know, one of the people up in the house was Lotta; a woman he had once cared about more than anyone. What Tone and Lotta once had was a beautiful thing, but since he hadn’t been able to contact her upon returning home from prison, Tone had pushed her to the back of his mind. Currently, she was less than 100 feet away from him and he didn’t even know it!
As Tone tried to look through the front windows of the house from his vehicle to see if anyone was inside, he began to relax just a little because there was no movement in the house. Everyone was still very much inside; they were all just halfway asleep after Lotta’s incredible breakfast. However, Tone saw no action at all, so at that moment he decided it was a go!
“Fuck it. What I got to lose?” he said to himself.
Tone was hungry and when someone’s stomach is growling, they tend not to think about the consequences of their actions. Throughout all he had been through with the legal system, Tone hadn’t learned his lesson at all. He was still the same, ruthless stick-up kid that he had been for years. This was just another episode in a long running series that was his life. With an all too familiar feeling in the middle of his stomach, Tone masked up his face, grabbed his burner and made his move towards the crib!
Tone had a sense of urgency in his walk, since it wasn’t even dark outside. He didn’t want to be spotted at all, but if someone did see him, at least he was masked up. Cautiously, Tone did a double check to make sure he had the right address and then scampered up the front steps of the porch. He took the key Neeta had given him and inserted it into the lock. It took guts to run up in someone’s house, but to come in through the front door in the middle of the afternoon required testicles the size of two NBA basketballs!
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