by Nene Capri
“Agreed,” Dream confirmed.
“All right, have a good night.” Sherm turned back to the monitor, and Tate stood to see the men to the door.
That’s it? Trigga thought to himself. He still didn’t feel right about the whole situation. He didn’t trust how easy that shit moved. And what assurance did they have that these niggas wouldn’t get Derrick first and then come after them? Larue, on the other hand, was chill. He knew what the game was about: it was either you fuck the cat or the cat fucks you, either way somebody was going to play the pussy.
Dream, however, was satisfied. Sherm was playing his position and keeping a close eye on these niggas. His main concern was somebody getting to that nigga before he moved somewhere else.
The team headed to the door, collected their weapons on the way out. They stopped only to tip the bodyguard with the envelope Sherm had turned down. “Please divide this between the men that Sherm will send me, and I will be ready at 1:00 a.m. to start the hunt. Thanks.” He handed him the envelope and headed to the truck.
Zoom took the envelope and tucked it in his back pocket. He stared at the three men as they jumped in and closed the doors. He watched the truck until the headlights no longer were visible, slammed and locked the doors, then went to Sherm’s office.
“Those New York niggas are cocky as hell. How this nigga gonna hand me this envelope like I work at the front door at Wal-Mart?” Zoom spat, shaking his head.
Sherm burst into laughter. “It’s all good. It’s under control. We lucked up. We can sit back and let them smoke that nigga out, and then we can watch that nigga die.” Sherm said with confidence. He knew that Dream was diabolical with that murder game. A friend of his had contracted Dream a few years back, and Sherm was sure that he was not going to stop until he had Derrick at the other end of a merciless trigger.
Chapter 6 - Loyalty
Kenyatta stumbled into her apartment, falling into the end table closest to the door. “Shit!” she yelled out, hopping on one foot to the light switch. She hit the lights and looked down at her toe.
“A bitch need to cut back on the turn up,” she said and chuckled as she rubbed her big toe.
Kenyatta limped to her bed, pulling her linin jumper off her shoulders along the way. She turned on her bedroom light and almost jumped out her skin when she looked at the chair in the corner of her room.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, pulling at her clothes and moving toward her dresser.
“Don’t fucking question me,” Derrick barked.
“You know them niggas are looking for you.” She pulled out a t-shirt and slipped it over her head.
“Fuck them niggas.”
“Nah, I will leave that to Chyna.” She snickered.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He rose to his feet pulling his hood back.
“Oh you don’t know? That nigga Dream done moved in yo’ house and is fucking your dumb bitch.” She pulled her clothes down and stepped out of it.
Derrick felt vomit rise in his throat. Heat surged through his body like live currents. “Where she at?”
“Probably bobbing on that nigga’s dick.”
Derrick gave her an intense side eye, letting her know he was not playing.
“All right, damn. She got into it at the club last weekend with Jocelyn. I cussed her ass out, and she went one way, and I went the other. That bitch is definitely not loyal.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh, and you are?”
“I have always been loyal to you, Derrick. But you treat me like the basic bitch.”
“All y’all bitches is basic. I don’t know who I can trust.”
“If you weren’t fucking everybody, you might have a star player on your team. But, hey, that’s how you roll. Let me get what you came for so you can be on your way.” She turned to the closet to get the bags he’d left there if shit ever went wrong. Kenyatta pushed her clothes to the side and turned the safe. She pulled the medium-sized bag out and slid it across the floor. “You want both?”
“Nah, just one. All my shit better be right.” He walked over to check the contents.
“Fuck you. I have never took anything from you, and I have always had your back. And even though you are in love with a dumb, disloyal bitch, I still hold you down.” Tears welled up in her eyes as the words left her mouth.
Derrick observed her forced emotion and then played right into it. “I’m sorry. You know I got love for you, ma.” He tried to soften the blow he had just thrown. He took her by the hand and pulled her closer to him. “Where is my son?”
“He’s at my sister’s house.”
“Don’t worry, we won’t have to hide this forever. As soon as I make these moves, you will be straight,” he tried to reassure her.
“I hope so. I can’t keep doing this.” She settled into his embrace.
“Don’t worry, it’s almost over,” he said, pulling at her t-shirt.
Kenyatta knew what it was. For over a year she had been his dirty little secret. Many strong feelings and a baby later, he was still tipping in and out of her bed and pretending he barely knew her name in public. She felt deep inside, he would never make her number one, but she just needed to hold onto what he needed long enough to try and win a star spot. In reality, she knew he loved Chyna. As long as she was alive there wasn’t a chance in hell.
Derrick hit Kenyatta with the only thing she was good for, dick action. When she curled up on her side and he heard a light snore, he was back in his clothes. He grabbed the bag of money, pulled his hood over his head, and went back into the shadows. He was running out of options, and it was only a matter of time before Dream caught up to him. His life hung in the balance, and Dream held the keys to what would end it all.
Chapter 7 - Tainted Love
Chyna pulled up to her grandmother’s house in Queens. She killed her engine, jumped out after grabbing some bags from the backseat, and headed up the driveway. When she walked in the door, her sons jumped up off the couch and ran to her.
“Mommy,” they sang out, grabbing her around her legs.
“Hey, my babies,” she squeezed them hard and took in all the pure love they were giving her. “Y’all being good for grandma?”
“Yeeeesss…” they sang out again
“I miss you, mommy,” Jason, her oldest, said.
“I miss you more.” She smiled. “Look what mommy got you.” She pulled back, showing them the bags.
Jason snatched the bags. “Look, Corey, mommy is the bomb,” he said, pulling a Minecraft game from the GameStop bag. He dropped the other bags and took off.
“Ohhhhh…” Corey said, chasing him to the television.
Chyna watched as they debated over who would go first. She picked up the bags and set them on the couch.
“So you found your way home, huh?” Mrs. Atty said, sliding her house shoes across the wooden floor and looking at Chyna like the merchandise she had was stolen.
“Hey, Mama,” Chyna said, walking over and kissing her grandmother on the cheek.
“What’s all this?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch.
“Just some clothes and toys for the boys.” She pulled the outfits from the bag and laid them on the soft, burgundy suede couch.
“They can’t eat no toys,” she stated sarcastically, taking a cigarette from the pack and lighting it up.
“I have groceries in the car.” The smile dropped from her face.
“Well don’t let them spoil,” she said, looking at her with one eyebrow raised.
Chyna just turned and walked toward the door. The one thing she had learned over the years, arguing with her grandmother was a no-win situation. Chyna hit the alarm and grabbed the bags of food from the trunk. She walked back inside and put everything away, then sat next to her grandmother.
“You spend way too much on these boys. They grow right out of this expensive shit.” She held up the True Religion jeans, looking at the price tag.
&nbs
p; “Ohhhh…” Corey said, covering his mouth.
“Turn your little butt around and play that game,” she lightly scolded.
He shrugged and turned slowly.
“So what you gonna do about your situation?” Atty asked, pulling the clothes from the bags and folding them neatly.
“I’m working on it, Mama,” she said, keeping her gaze on the boys.
“Working on what? Them boys’ dad is gone. You got some new man, so I hear, and I only see you twice a week. What are you working on?”
“Ma, I can’t have them with me right now. I need them to be here with you where they are safe,” she said as a lump formed in her throat.
“I understand all that. And I would never turn my babies away, but you are not making good choices. Their father is an asshole, leaving you here alone with these kids. And you didn’t let the sheets cool before you are entertaining another man.”
“Mama, you don’t understand.” She turned to face her. “I’m alone out here. I need him,” she said as her heart beat quickened.
“You don’t need anybody but those boys.” Atty pointed at the children. “I heard about this man you are playing house with, and trust me when I tell you: Never trust a man with a tongue that splits two ways.” She gave Chyna a firm gaze. “You can’t trust him baby.” She reached out and put her fingers under Chyna’s chin.
Chyna took in her grandmother’s words and then laid down on her lap. Tears again forced themselves from her eyes. “Just don’t stop believing in me, Mama,” she said, slowly wiping away the water that slid down her face.
“I will never give up on you, but you have to believe in yourself as much as I do. Find your strength,” Atty said, rubbing Chyna’s hair.
Tears ran from the corners of her eyes and settled on her grandmother’s house dress. She was struggling to find her strength. With the odds against her, she didn’t know if she would succeed or fail.
Chyna stayed long enough to have dinner with her kids, bathe them, and put them to bed. In those few hours, life almost felt normal. She closed the door to their bedroom and then tiptoed down the hall and looked in on her grandmother. Atty was propped up in the bed with the television playing, fast asleep with her glasses on her face.
Chyna removed her glasses and pulled the blanket up to her chest. She then pulled a couple hundred from her pocket and set it in the pencil cup she had on the nightstand. Chyna turned down the television and tiptoed out.
When Chyna got in her car, she felt the weight of Atty’s words. She wanted her to be strong, but all she knew how to do was survive. She pulled off, plotting to do just that.
* * * * *
“This nigga on the run hard as hell. I heard that nigga was back up here and is ghost again,” Trigga said as he took a seat on Dream’s couch.
“Y’all been turning up the heat?” Dream asked, leaning back with his feet on the coffee table.
“Hell yeah! We got these niggas hopping on one foot, trying to shake all the heat we been putting on they ass.” He paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blunt. “I also found out that the nigga been robbing muthafuckas all up and down the east coast.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he is doing to the next nigga. I want him on his knees begging at the other end of my double barrel, smoke that nigga out,” Dream angrily ordered. His frustration was rising daily.
“We on it,” Trigga said, pulling deep.
“You can’t get on it sitting in my face.” Dream gave him a hard stare.
Trigga nodded. He took one more pull, put it out, and rose to his feet.
“I need some certainty to slip from your tongue the next time I see you,” Dream said as he watched Trigga walk to the door.
Trigga didn’t say a word. He knew the anger wasn’t personal, they were all feeling the heat. The last thing they could let happen was to let a sucka nigga get over. When Trigga hit the door, Chyna was coming in.
“What’s up, ma?” Trigga asked on his way out.
Chyna didn’t even respond. She locked the door behind him, walked into the living room, and set her bags down.
“Where you been?” Dream directed his tension toward Chyna
“I went to see my boys. You straight?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.
“Nah, but I’m about to be.” He grabbed her by the back of the head and pushed her toward his waist.
Chyna didn’t hesitate she went into position as he pulled out his thick pole. She slid him between her lips and went to work. Dream gripped a handful of her hair and forced her head up and down. Her jaws hugged firmly along his length, and his grip became tighter with each movement. Every time his dick touched the back of her throat, she cringed inside.
“Damn, this feels good. Thank you, baby. You always know how to make it all better,” he stroked her ego while she stroked his dick.
Dream showed no mercy, forcing her to go faster. He was fucking the game raw, and she was taking it for the whole damn team.
Chyna closed her eyes and tried to pretend she wasn’t there, but the harsh reality of being on her knees in front of the man that was trying to destroy her etched the realness in her mind. She looked up at him staring coldly down at her, and she knew that she was just bait. When he was done with Derrick, he would be done with her too.
Chapter 8 - On the Run
Twist and Frank pulled up in the parking lot of Menlo Park Mall on 1&9 in New Jersey. They drove through the many lanes of cars to a back parking lot and pulled up next to each other. Twist jumped out first, and Frank hopped out next. They met in the rear of their vehicles and posted up.
“What’s up?” Frank asked, leaning on the trunk of his car.
“Ain’t shit, just trying to stay a step ahead of these niggas,” Twist responded.
“How he holding up?” Frank asked as he turned to look in the car at Twist’s girl. He couldn’t believe the nigga had her on the fucking run with him.
“She a rider. She doing what she supposed to do, hold a nigga down,” Twist stated firmly.
“Have you heard anything from Derrick?”
“Nah, last news came across my desk, the nigga was in Virginia headed to Georgia,” Twist answered.
“That nigga owe us money. How the fuck he gonna just fall off the radar?”
Frank looked over at him and nodded. “I hear you, everything gonna be a’ight,” he stated smoothly.
Twist nodded. “I’ma bounce, I gotta get on the road.”
“That’s cool. Look, it’s probably wise for us to not meet. Just beep me the code when you need to talk and keep the conversation short and nonspecific. Be careful.” Frank held his hand out. They smacked palms and moved back to their vehicles.
Frank needed to get far away from this honeymoon-ass nigga as possible. He could see the nigga bending, and with a little persuasion, he would break.
* * * * *
Money nodded his head to Jay Z’s song, “Cry,” as he pushed his ride along the freeway. Derrick’s team had done a lot of dirt to make a come up, but they’d made a mistake on the last hit. They let the wrong man live. Money fidgeted in his seat, looking ahead to what was going on as traffic began to slow down.
“Shit.” He hit the steering wheel and sat back. As he settled into his seat, he reflected on that fatal night.
Derrick and Devon had been beating and cutting him for hours, trying to get him to give up the code to the money cage. He would say he didn’t remember, then close his eyes and brace himself for the next blow. Only Cook knew the code. Dream wanted it that way, and they had a “die with no tongue before you give up the stash” policy. When Dream saw that his boy couldn’t take any more, he ordered him to tell.
“Fuck these pussy-ass niggas, Dream,” Cook mumbled through his bloody, split lip.
As soon as he finished his sentence, Derrick hit him again, cracking his jaw. Dream tensed up at the sight of Cook’s mouth slanted to the side. With flared nostrils, he looked up at Twist, who stood over him with a do
uble-barreled shotgun pointed right at his chest, and he wondered who was the about to be the dead man behind the mask.
He looked back over at Derrick and down at Cook. “Tell brah you ain’t gotta die over this shit,” Dream said. He thought about how Cook had just become a father, and—unlike himself—he had shit to live for.
“I don’t remember,” Cook said again.
“This nigga think we playing,” Money said. He went over to Dream and pointed the end of his gun at his temple. “Maybe we should just blow his fucking brains out. Will that make you speak?” Money yelled, putting one in the chamber.
Cook cringed when he saw the gun against Dream’s head. That was his brother, he was prepared to give his life for Dream, but he definitely was not prepared to watch him die in front of him. “All right, I’ll tell you,” he mumbled, and blood poured from his mouth.
Derrick stood with gleam in his eyes as he watched Frank punch in the code. Dream sat on fire watching them dump money into several garbage bags.
“Nice doing business with you,” Derrick stated smugly as he and Frank headed for the door.
Twist lowered his gun and patted Dream on the shoulder. “See you around.”
“Fuck you. Bitch-ass niggas.”
“This muthafucka think he is in charge up in this muthafucka,” Derrick said, moving back to where Dream sat. He looked down into Dream’s face. “Money, kill his boy and leave him alive to watch him die, since we some bitch-ass niggas.”
“Nigga, you got what you came for. Y’all niggas can go. We even,” Dream said from his seat, where he was bound by rope and tape.
Money looked at Derrick through the holes in is mask for confirmation. They robbed niggas, they didn’t murder them.
“Do it,” Derrick yelled out.
Money lowered his gun to Cook’s chest and then pulled the trigger. Cook labored with each breathe as his chest muscles began to spasm under the pain. Dream put his head up high as they walked by, he wanted to look in each man’s eyes. Derrick and his team got away with more than money, they walked away with a man on their tails, because Dream was coming for each one of them.