“They already called you, O.G., here you go,” Rich’s cell mate said, handing him his mail. He was the only one Rich allowed to get his mail for him. Rich went off into one of the unit’s quiet rooms to read the letter he had just received from Teflon.
I hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits by the time it reaches your presence. As always, it was good hearing from you. You know that without comforting and motivational words in your letters I would not have lasted this long. Glad you’re enjoying the chapters I’ve been sending you. Like before, you’re going to have to wait until I write the next couple of chapters because the ones I have now are the intimate parts of the book and like I told you, I don’t need you all up in me and your son’s personal business (smile!), but I got you, father-in-law. Still no news on little Treach. I count the days down that you’re released and hope that you are able to locate him like you said you could. One of us has to find him and guide him before it’s too late. Where your time is limited mine has really just begun, so there’s nothing that I can do for him from in here, it’s up to you to save your grandson. You know it’s in his blood so I can only imagine how he will be ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. If he’s anything like the three of us, he may not even make it to see that long. It’s because of my mother I survived as a child, it’s because of your son I survived as a woman, it is because of my child I chose to live, it is because of you that I continue to fight, and it is because of me that I’m still here. This is all I know and this is all I’ve ever had. Two are gone and three of us are still here, let’s cherish and protect that at all cost. We’re in this together now. I look forward to hearing about your reunion with your grandchild and the restoration of your freedom.
Eternal and bulletroof love, Always your daughter-in-law, aka Your Ride Or Die Chick.
Rich folded the letter back up and put it in the envelope. Teflon’s letters always touched him in the deepest way. Her words were always so powerful to him. She reminded him so much of Treacherous’s mother, Teresa. He could see why his son had loved her so much. From reading the chapters Teflon had been sending him, about her and his son’s life as a team, the two reminded him of himself and Teresa. He realized that Treacherous was like him in so many ways than one, especially after reading the last few chapters Teflon had sent him days ago. Prior to reading pages entailing his son’s life, Rich had no clue Treacherous had acquired a passion and love for motorcycles just as he had. He also hadn’t known that Treacherous had inherited his passion and love for robbing the way he had previously to taking down the same banks. One caper he had read about his son and female partner had pulled off put him in the state of mind of a stickup he had committed while Treacherous’s mother was with him. Rich chuckled to himself and strolled down memory lane for a brief moment.
“Rich, where are you going?” Teresa asked, coming out or the bathroom in her sheer black nightgown. Rich had just checked his two revolvers and slipped on his burgundy leather blazer. “Steppin’ out for a minute. I’ll be back shortly,” he replied. Teresa could tell by the way he avoided eye contact with her and kept his back toward her that he was going out to “work,” as he referred to it as. She knew that he knew. One look into his eyes and she saw right through his words. “I thought you were going to take off this weekend, baby,” she reminded him. Rich contemplated on making up something, but knew it would be pointless. Especially when Teresa already had a suspicion of where he was headed and what he intended to do. “I’m bored, just gonna shoot over to the juke joint in Newport News and see if anything happenin’ on that end of town.” Teresa was full aware of what see if anything happening meant. That was Rich’s way of saying he was going to see if someone was out worth robbing “I’m going with you, then,” Teresa announced, already slipping into a pair of jeans and throwing on a tube top.
“Mama, I’m taking the bike,” Rich shot back. He knew how much Teresa hated riding on the back of his Kawasaki.
“So I don’t care, I’m still going.” Rich knew it was useless to argue with her when her mind was made up. He shook his head, snatched up his helmet, and made his way to the front door.
“And I’ll go in to see if anything is happenin’ tonight. If it is then, I’ll bring them out, you stay outside,” Teresa told him, snatching up the other helmet. Again, Rich said nothing, but smiled to himself. Richie Gunz lurked in the darkness on his pearl machine, awaiting Teresa’s exit out of the Newport News saloon. He checked his watch for the fifth time. Teresa had been in the bar for over an hour now. He was not in the least bit worried, but anxious. He knew if she had stayed in the establishment that long then she had locked in on a potential jook. The door of the juke joint flew open and Rich saw Teresa exiting the bar holding up a six-feet-four, light-skinned brother with good, wavy hair, a butterfly-collar paisley shirt, blue jeans too tight for Richie’s taste, and brown cowboy boots, who was slightly staggering. Rich noticed he had stumbled out the door and nearly lost his balance. But what caught his eyes the most was the man’s hand constantly sliding down, trying to rest on Teresa’s ass. Richie’s blood boiled like Iowa about to erupt out of volcano at the sight. As if Teresa could read Rich’s mind, she put her hand up for only him to see and signal for him to remain at bay. Rich laughed because he had already drew his turns and was about to swarm down on the john. Rich watched as Teresa escorted the man to his assumed vehicle. Rich’s demeanor changed when he saw where Teresa and the man had stopped. Rich wasted no time making his way over to where they stood now.
“Beautiful, I told you I got it. I’m good,” the tall, light-skinned brother slurred. “Let me ride me at my place.” He laughed at his own joke, reaching for his Harley-Davidson keys Teresa had taken out of his hands.
“No, big boy, you had one too many, I got this,” she said. “I don’t wanna die before I get to enjoy you,” she added seductively. Teresa could see the lust tap dancing in the tall, light-skinned brother’s eyes as he took in her words.
“That sounds good to me, sweetness, I stay out in Virginia Beach, on the beachfront, can you get me there?”
“No problem honey,” Teresa answered, hopping on the Harley. The tall, light-skinned brother admired the way Teresa’s ass spread on the seat of his machine. He envisioned his erection pressing up against what he know to be soft bottom as he attempted to straddle his pride and joy. Just as he raised his left leg, he was knocked off balance by a sudden blow to the side of the head. Instantly, he went tumbling down, crashing onto the pavement. He never knew what hit him. That is until, he looked up and saw Rich towering over him.
“Hey, man what’s your problem,” the light-skinned brother snapped.
“You, you pretty muthatfucka!” Rich barked, shoving one of his twin revolvers in the victim’s face, tucking his other one.
“What I do?” he asked innocently.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rich ordered. “Baby, hold this, he move you know what to do.” The light-skinned brother saw that Rich was talking to the pretty sister with the big butt he intended to bed down the evening. “Ain’t this about a bitch. You stankin’ ass—” He never got to finish his sentence.
“Lights out nigga.” Rich brought the butt of his gun crashing down on the light-skinned brother’s temple. He relieved him of the four gold chains and medallion from around his neck, his nugget watch, and three link bracelets, along with a wad of cash he later found out to be 3,500 dollars. “Baby, follow me on my bike,” Rich instructed Teresa. He handed her his keys and hopped on the Harley. Rich drove until he reached Chesapeake Park. As much as he liked the experience hog, he knew he couldn’t keep it. Besides, it wasn’t about the motorcycle; Rich wanted to make a statement. He knew how bike owners felt about their machines, He wanted to disrespect something he knew the light-skinned loved just as he disrespected someone Rich loved. Teresa watched as Rich unloaded both of his revolvers into the Harley-Davidson. She knew the reason behind destroying the bike. It was times like this that made her love him the way she did.
That night they made love until the exhausted themselves and fell asleep.
Rich snapped out of his trance, hearing the officer’s thunderous voice call count. He made his way to his assigned area to prepare for count time, anticipating it to clear so he could write Teflon back.
Chapter 5
Teflon’s stopwatch beeped, indicating that she had completed her two-mile jog around the facility’s track. She walked an additional two laps to cool her body as she took in the sounds of Akinyele’s throwback cut “Gangsta Bitch” on her Walkman. As she walked, she noticed a short, petite, charcoal-complexioned female staring at her the first time she passed by. The girl seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She knew it wasn’t from the compound, because she made it her business to lock in any and all faces to be on the safe side, due to all the dirt she and Treacherous had done on the streets. This girl’s face was a new one to the women’s prison. Teflon had actually remembered when the girl had come in six weeks back. Thinking back, she was almost certain that the little girl had ice-grilled her for a split second, seeing the familiar look on her face now. Rather than speculate or wait, Teflon approached the girl. Teflon’s sudden approach caught the girl off guard. Teflon saw that her entire facial expression had gone from hard-core to marshmallow-type. That caused Teflon to downplay the situation.
“Where do I know you from?” Teflon asked, pulling the earbuds out of her lobes.
“Probably from Norfolk, I’m from Tidewater,” the dark-skinned girl replied. Hearing where the girl was from put Teflon on point, though the girl didn’t seem like too much of a threat, but that’s where Treacherous was from and she remembered how he had terrorized his area. Besides, Teflon was not the type to have female friends or any friends, for that matter. In their line of work both she and Treacherous kept their circles very small and even tighter.
“Why would you think I know you from there?” Teflon questioned, watching the girl carefully.
“You’re Teflon, right?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Well, I know you ride bikes and I ride too. Remember seeing you out there at the Afram Fest some years back,” she confessed in a calm manner, but Teflon saw right through the front. She knew the last time she had visited the historical Afram Festival and why, but still she couldn’t figure where the girl fit into the equation and for the life of her couldn’t place her anywhere at the scene that night. She was normally good with faces, but this one just wasn’t registering. Nonetheless, she grew tired of the back-and-forth with the dark-skinned girl and decided to put an end to it.
“You didn’t see me at the fuckin’ Afram and you damn sure don’t know me, so what the fuck’s your problem?”
“You bitch!” the dark-skinned girl roared just as she slipped a jailhouse-made knife down and out from under the sleeve of her sweatshirt and launched an attack against Teflon. Her slowness and inexperience caused her to fail in the attempt and allowed Teflon to capitalize off it. Teflon sidestepped the dark-skinned girl and faded like the Matrix. The girl spun back around as quickly as she could, only to be met with Teflon’s razor blade she had now spit out of her mouth. Out of nowhere she slashed the five-foot dark-skinned girl across the forehead with the blade. The girl went down from the blow, clasping her forehead with both hands. Teflon was tempted to continue her attack, but was not in the mood to get sent to solitary confinement.
Instead, she inconspicuously trotted off, leaving the girl rolling in her own blood. Teflon had already showered and re-dressed by the time the code on the compound was called. The compound was locked down, everyone was instructed to report to their assigned housing, and a full body search was conducted on all females in the facility, to no avail. Teflon was surprised and respected the fact the dark-skinned girl hadn’t snitched. Because she hadn’t told on who committed the assault on her, the dark-skinned girl was taken into protective custody. Later word had gotten out that she was the baby’s mother of an ex-baller from New Jersey by the name of Brickz that had been found murdered during Afram weekend after leaving with some biker chick from Club Reign. Teflon remembered the incident all too well and was not mad at all at the dark-skinned girl for trying to ride out for her child’s father. There was no doubt in her mind that had it been her in those shoes she would have done the same, only she would have been successful in her revenge, a confident Teflon was sure of. Apparently the girl hadn’t done her homework, thought Teflon. It was evident to her that the girl had no clue or way of knowing that she had tried to ride on a chick not to be fucked with. Teflon laughed to herself. She couldn’t wait to write Rich back and tell and made a mental note to include the incident in her memoir.
Chapter 6
“You have a prepaid call from a federal correctional facility. To refuse this call please hang up. To accept this call dial five now.”
Rich could hear the painful cough coming through the phone before he was able to speak a word. He waited until his only friend was done.
“What the hell took you so long?” O.G. complained as the cough faded. Just as he was to Rich, Rich was also his only friend.
“You know I don’t like talking on these people phones,” Rich replied. “I’m just checking in, that’s all.”
“If that’s why you called then you could’ve saved your money, ’cause everything’s smooth sailing on this end,” O.G. shot back.
Rich smiled. For as long as he could remember O.G. had always been like that, having a never-let-’em-see-you-sweat type of attitude. He and O.G. had known one another for over forty years, long enough to know that O.G. was short for Orlando Goines and not just Original Gangster like everyone in the streets assumed. Being twelve years Rich’s senior, O.G. was not only his friend, but also like father figure to him. It was O.G. who had actually showed him the ropes of the streets when he had taken them on full time. It was O.G. who, outside of his mother, knew what he had done to his father. It was with O.G. that he had committed his first murder. It was O.G. who had even schooled him on a lot when it came to the way he had raised Treacherous in the absence of Teresa, and it was O.G. who had been doing the time with him since he had caught the bank robbery charge. The two of them had an extensive history beyond belief.
“This is me you talking to, Orlando,” Rich addressed O.G.
“Sucka if I could get through this phone I’d kick yo’ ass for callin’ me that jive-ass name,” O.G. spat through coughs.
“You’d probably pass out before you get to me,” Rich chuckled.
“You probably right.” O.G. returned the laugh.
“Seriously, friend, talk to me. What did the doc say?” Rich’s tempo changed.
O.G. let out a deep sigh. “That cracker don’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”
Whenever he tried to downplay a situation Rich knew it was something serious, but still, he didn’t want to push his friend.
“They never do when it comes to us, but what did he say?”
“That’s just it. The muthafucka didn’t say nuthin’. Not shit I wanted to hear anyway.”
Getting something out of O.G. was like pulling teeth, knew Rich. His beating around the bush furthermore let Rich know that it was more serious then he imagined. To him, O.G. was the one person he thought would outlive him, despite their age disparity. To think that would not be the case was unimaginable for Rich, but might very well be the reality. Either way, Rich wanted to know.
“What did the cocksucker say?” Rich tried a different approach on his friend.
“That white-faced nigga gonna tell me there’s nuthin’ they can do for me. I started to shove my pistol in goddamn mouth and tell ’em to check that shit again, but I played it cool and told him to kiss my black ass and left out.”
Although it was no laughing matter, Rich couldn’t help but to let out a slight chuckle, imagining his friend’s reaction to the doctor’s words. But he sympathized for O.G.
“How the hell is he gonna say that when I know cases of colon c
ancer where niggas done got treated and still kickin’?”
There was a brief pause. “It ain’t just colon cancer no more, Gunz,” O.G. stated.
“He said I took too long and the shit spread. I didn’t wanna tell you ’cause you didn’t need this shit on your mental, but you all I got and you deserve to know. I’m fucked up out here, baby boy. My whole right side locked up on me. I told the doc to give it to me raw with no cut and he said it’s just a matter of time before this ragged-ass disease start eatin’ at my brain.”
“Damn, O.G.” was the only thing Rich could muster up. He felt as if someone had just plunged a knife into his heart. The fact that when he walked out of the place that would have been his home for nearly thirty years and not be able to see the one person who rode with him day for day bothered Rich. For the first time in his life Rich felt alone. In just a few more years he would be a free man and the reality had set in that he had no one to go home to. He started going down the list in his head of those who’d he’d lost. Before prison there was his one true love, Teresa; during prison there was his son Treacherous, and now O.G. Rich’s mind began to drift into time. His thoughts began to take him back to the last time he had seen Teresa before she had died giving birth to his son. Images of her on the operating table hemorrhaging invaded his mind. His thoughts then flashed to the day he stood in the dayroom of the federal facility and watched on television as his son chose his final fate by holding court on the interstate. Rich revisited the uneventful day he’d been carrying with him since that day.
Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 2 Page 4