by Chunichi
“Well, I’m working on that. I had a late summer date set, but the owners of the historic mansion I’m trying to book aren’t working with me.”
“For real? Girl, I got all kinds of hookups. Tell me what you trying to do. What wedding scene do you have in mind?”
I spent the next ten minutes telling Misty all about my fantasy wedding, detail by detail.
“Wow! That’s sounds beautiful! Do you have a wedding planner?”
“Nope. I thought about contacting David Tutera though.”
We both laughed.
“Girl, save your money. I got your back. Wedding planning is my thing. Any event planning for that matter. I used to work for a huge event planning company before I moved to VA. When I got here I had my own company for a while. Then I got so involved in nursing, I let it go.”
“Oh my God! What a blessing. I would love to have you be my wedding planner. It must have been meant for us to meet.”
“That’s destiny.”
Misty and I tapped wineglasses as if we were giving a toast and took another gulp of wine.
Chapter 10
“Bitch Nigga”
Poppo
After I dropped Calico off at Norfolk International Airport, I checked my voicemail. Jewel had called me earlier, but I didn’t want to answer, with Calico in my presence. I was sure she’d left a message.
“Are you gon’ do this shit or what? ‘Cause, on the real, it’s gonna get done with or without you. So you gonna be a player in the game or a fucking water boy?”
I took the phone from my ear and looked at it. Listening to her message really pissed me off. It was like even this chick was taking me for a bitch. I wondered if I had the word bitch written on my fucking forehead, or if that shit Calico had was contagious.
I called Jewel back. My first instinct was to let that little bitch have it, but instead I decided to hear her out.
“Poppo, what the fuck is going on?” she said as soon as she picked up the phone. “You bitching up on me or what?”
Fuck this! This bitch got me fucked up. Without saying a word, I straight hung up on her ass, not thinking twice about it. I thought I had the patience to tolerate the little attitude she was giving, but I guess I didn’t.
Ring! Ring!
When Jewel called right back, I put her in her place this time. “Yo,” I answered the phone, “you gon’ have to bring that shit down a few notches, ma.”
“I’m saying . . . I thought we had a deal?”
“Jewel, I’m a man of my word. I got you, baby girl. This shit takes planning. Calm the fuck down. Have a drink or something. Let me do my shit. I gotta do it where there is no repercussions. But if this nigga makes you nervous, then you will be happy to know Calico is on his way back to California. He was only in VA to look for this bitch Sasha.”
“Sasha? What he want with her? Don’t tell me he dealing with that sheisty bitch!” Jewel snapped.
“Nah, ma, not at all. That nigga want to deal with her on some whole other shit.” Then I suggested, “Why don’t we meet up? I don’t really do the phone thing.”
“Okay. I feel you. What about that little Mexican spot off of Newtown and Virginia Beach Boulevard.”
Jewel picked a real inconspicuous spot. For sure no one would have ever seen us up there.
“Cool. Meet you there in about an hour,” I told her. “When I see you, I’ll get you up to speed on everything.”
“A’ight.” Jewel hung up the phone.
I had decided to meet up with Jewel not only because I wasn’t into the phone thing, but I needed to see her face to face so I could read her. Deep inside, I still didn’t quite trust that bitch, so I was proceeding with caution.
I knew exactly what my plans were. I was gonna use Sasha to lure Calico to Atlanta, and once I got him there, I was gonna let him have it. I needed to get that nigga in an unfamiliar area. A place where I knew he had no alliance. That would make my job all the easier. I had shit all mapped out, but I was planning to tell Jewel as little as possible, at least until I felt I could trust her a little more.
After leaving the airport, I made a quick stop by Mo Dean’s to pick up a few dollars from Murdock, a nigga that owed me money from a little business we’d arranged a few days earlier. I spotted his car as soon as I pulled into the parking lot. Luckily he was sitting in his car when I pulled up. I parked right next to him. I wanted to get shit done quick so I could shoot up the boulevard and meet up with Jewel.
“What up, man?” I said through the car window.
“Ain’t shit.”
Murdock got out of his car, and I unlocked the doors so he could hop in mine.
“Here you go.” He handed me a wad of money with rubber bands separating them.
“What’s this?” I always asked niggas how much they were giving me off the jump, to prevent any confusion.
“Five grand for now?”
“Five grand for now? When am I gonna see the other ten?” I asked, a little aggravated that Murdock didn’t have all of my loot.
“I got you, Poppo. I just need a little while longer.”
“Yeah, okay, nigga.” I placed the money in the glove box then locked it. “Do I need to count after you?” I asked, even though I was gonna count the money, regardless of what Murdock said.
“It’s all there, man. Have I ever shorted you before, muthafucka?”
“Nah, nigga. You know better than that. Now get out my car. I got shit to do. Gotta make this paper!”
“Gone!”
Murdock hopped out of my car, and I began to back out of the parking spot. I watched as he walked up to the barbershop next to Mo Dean’s and started talking to a couple of guys that stood out front. By the time I reached the end of the parking lot, the police was flooding the place. I busted a right turn onto Virginia Beach Boulevard and never looked back.
“Whew!” I let out a deep breath. I’d just made it. I ain’t have shit on me but I wasn’t trying to be in that fucking mix up. I turned up the radio and relaxed as I passed Booker T. Washington High School.
Werp! Werp!
No sooner than I thought I was safe from danger, I heard sirens behind me. “Gotdamn!” I said to no one in particular. I pulled over and waited for the officer to come to the car. I watched from my side- and rearview mirrors as he walked up. Then I rolled down my window.
“License and registration please.”
“Can I ask why you pulled me over?” I asked as I gave the officer the information he’d asked for.
“I’ve been following you for some time. I got behind you after you pulled out of the shopping center on Church Street. You were swerving. Have you been drinking today, sir?”
“Yeah, right.” I laughed. I knew everything this cop was saying was bullshit. He just needed a reason to pull me over.
“Well, you don’t seem drunk, and I don’t smell any alcohol, but let me run your license. If everything comes back okay, I’ll send you off with a warning.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, just trying to cooperate. It’s when cats act all nervous or aggressive that cops harass their ass even more. I waited and waited for the officer to come back.
After about five minutes he walked back to the car. He had his right hand on his cuffs. After seeing that, I already knew what time it was.
“Could you step out of the car please?”
That was my confirmation. This nigga was about to take me to jail. “What am I being arrested for?” I asked as I stepped out of the car.
“Driving on a suspended license?”
“What?” I asked, knowing what this nigga was saying couldn’t be true.
“You had a ticket a few months back that you never paid. It resulted in your license being suspended.”
“Nah, man. I paid that,” I explained. “I got the receipt in my wallet.”
“Save the excuses for the magistrate, man. Watch your head.” The officer put me in the backseat of his car.
I was pissed off as I took a qui
ck ride down the street and around the corner to Norfolk City jail. This was truly some bullshit. I had paid that damn ticket and even had the receipt to prove it, and I still was going to jail on a damn suspended license.
When we drove through the gates, the officer escorted me inside the jail and sat me in the holding tank. I sat there patiently as I waited to speak to the magistrate. I shook my head in disgust as I looked at the drunk that sat beside me covered in vomit and piss. Then I glanced over at the prostitute that sat on the bench across from me, smacking on her gum like it was the last piece of Bubblicious on earth. She stared me in the face, constantly giving me the eye. I watched as the people who were getting released walked past me and out the back door. I could only wish I was in their shoes.
“Terrell Johnson,” an officer called out to me.
“Yes.”
“Right this way, man.”
I followed the officer to fingerprinting. Five minutes later my picture had been taken, and I was done with fingerprinting.
I had to see the magistrate next. As I sat waiting on him, I could see his office from the window. Through the crack of the door, I could see some fine-ass chick standing, her hair pulled up in a curly ponytail. She had that good hair, the kind that curled up when it got wet. She was dressed in D&G jeans that was tight to death and gripped her plump ass just right.
Minutes later, she was no longer in sight, and the magistrate was walking into the room. As soon as he was settled in front of me, I explained my situation. I told him that I’d paid my ticket and had the receipt to prove it. Come to find out, the reason my shit was suspended was because, after I paid the ticket to the court clerk, I was supposed to take the receipt to DMV and get my license reinstated. Lucky for me, the magistrate had mercy, and he let me out on a personal release bond, where no bondsman was needed, just my signature saying I will appear in court.
Thirty minutes later, I was one of those people getting released that I’d admired earlier.
I sat outside the precinct waiting on a cab so I could go pick my car up from the pound. Just my luck, the same chick I’d seen earlier came strolling out the precinct door.
“Hey, beautiful.” I couldn’t let her pass by without saying a word.
“What’s up?”
“What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?”
“Handling business. But I’m sure I could guess what a thug like you is doing in a place like this. Your second home, I bet.”
That bitch had just gone from beautiful to beast. At that time I realized what they said about a person being pretty until they open their mouth was true.
“You know what, ma . . . I’m not gonna even entertain that bullshit. You have a nice day.” I walked away when I noticed my cab had arrived.
Chapter 11
“Always on the Grind”
Sasha
I’d managed to lay low and lived to see another two weeks. Eager to get on my grind, I called Diablo up to see if he was ready for me to work.
Like clockwork, his package had arrived, and he had work for me. I wasted no time dropping my kids off at my parents’ house, kissing them good-bye, and hopping on the interstate and heading back to Atlanta.
After an hour of driving, I arrived at Crossroads Bar and Grill, Diablo’s newly opened sports bar. Although he wasn’t open for business when I arrived, I walked in to see a pretty busy atmosphere. Knowing I was wanted on the streets, I was a little paranoid when walking in.
I immediately located Diablo, and we took a seat in a booth in the corner, from where I had a clear view of everything in the club. Even though there were groups of guys gathered about in different areas, I took a few moments to check out each of them.
First, I scanned a group of guys gambling in one section of the club. None of them looked familiar. Next, I checked out a group that played a game on the PlayStation 3 and none of them looked suspect.
Finally, feeling comfortable, I directed my attention toward Diablo. I asked him, “So what’s the deal?”
He told me, “Well, I got a few deliveries you can take care of for me—one in Florida, the other in Alabama, and the last just around the corner in Fort Valley.”
“Oh, I got you. All those are around the corner for me. You know I got you.”
“Cool. So we’ll set you up for Alabama first.”
“A’ight,” I said, anxious to get my hands on my first little piece of dough, “I’m ready now.”
“A’ight den. Let’s do this. Drive around to the back of the club.”
I did just as Diablo had instructed and drove to the back.
Diablo brought out the packages of cocaine and told me to stand back. I almost fainted as I watched him take off the door panel of my new car. I knew he had to hide the shit in a secure area, but just seeing the door panel off my car like that fucked me up.
Oh, well, it’s all part of the game. It’ll be well worth it in the end, I thought as I looked on.
I knew in the end everything would end in my favor. That’s one thing I always made sure of. My motto was, why settle for milk when you can have the cow? Just like that shit with Jewel—sure, she was a good friend and she looked out for a bitch—but why would I keep waiting for a handout, when I could easily take hers and do my own thing?
Chapter 12
“Back on the Scene”
Touch
“Hey, Touch. What’s good witcha?”
“Man, you looking a’ight. Can’t even tell a nigga got shot.”
“Long time no see, big homie.”
Everybody dapped me up as I stepped on the scene.
Just as I’d done when standing on my throne at Club Encore New Year’s night, I held both of my hands in the air in a kingly fashion. “Yeah, y’all niggas know what time it is. The king is back.”
I had just walked in “A New Look,” a barbershop where all the ballers and street niggas went to get their hair cut. Behind the barbershop was another room with a pool table and a crap table, where men came to smoke weed, brag and talk shit, and lie about all the money they had and bitches they fucked. The truth be known, more business transactions took place there than corporate America handled on the golf course.
The spot was packed, which made my entrance all the more dramatic. The whole barbershop atmosphere made a nigga feel real dapper, just from the smell of aftershave and powder, the sound of clippers, and rap music that played in the background. This was a man’s thing. Nothing like a fresh cut and shave to make a man feel like a man. I was already jiggy with my gear and an added fresh cut was exactly what I needed to make me feel like my old self. I hopped in Mike’s chair and requested my usual “edge-up.” I wanted and needed to feel like “that nigga” again.
This was the first time I’d been out since my recovery. I was determined to go back in public holding my head high, to let niggas know I wasn’t scared of the streets. Sure, I’d gotten shot, but I wasn’t letting that shit hold me down. I was strapped with my Glock and dressed in the best. Although I only wore a pair of Robin’s jeans, a plain beige D&G thermal shirt, and a fresh pair of wheat Timberlands, it was the Louis Vuitton scarf and skullcap that really set it off. I was finally walking with no assistance, free from walker and cane, so I was feeling on top of the world.
As Mike prepared to line me up, everyone gathered around me to shout me out and sincerely seemed happy to see me. They acted like I was Lazarus being resurrected from the dead, which, in a sense, I was, or better yet, like I was some return war hero from Iraq. These streets were at war, and that ain’t no joke. I could have died, fucking with that damn Calico, and I’d planned to dead that nigga as soon as I located his snake ass.
When I finished getting my cut, a few niggas gave me pounds, tapped shoulders, did the infamous handshake that all street cats do.
Raz, another heavy drug nigga on the streets, called out, “Hey, I heard you and Jewel gon’ tie that knot.”
“Yeah, we decided to do that thang,” I said, acting nonchalant
.
“Word on the streets is, Jewel got a diamond on her finger so big, it’s making bitches sick!” Mike said.
“Yeah, sort of like mine.” I gave them a glimpse of the ice I was holding.
“Y’all niggas doing it . . . living large,” Raz chimed back in.
“What you mean, nigga? I’m trying to be like you,” I said jokingly to Raz.
Suddenly the shop was filled with boisterous sounds of admiration and compliments. Everyone stood around and examined my platinum wedding band with my engraved initials boldly lifted across the band. Jewel had picked this ring out to match hers, which was just as large.
“Man, that ring is sick!”
“Damn, nigga! I ain’t never seen no ring like that.”
The dick riders started to add their praises.
“Hey, my lady says y’all niggas gon’ put on the wedding of the century. They say Barack Obama and Michelle’s inauguration ain’t gon’ have nothing on y’all thang. We got our invitation the other day.”
This started a round of everyone saying they did or didn’t get their invitation.
I held up my hands good-naturedly. “Hold up. I’ll make sure Jewel get y’all niggas your invitation. If you don’t get one, on the real, everyone here today is officially invited,” I said, knowing Jewel would have a fucking fit if she knew I invited everyone from the barbershop. Knowing her, she didn’t send them an invite on purpose.
I finally felt like I was in my element again. I was back, back on center stage where I belonged. All of a sudden, the room fell quiet. I was still popping shit with one of my niggas when I heard somebody whisper, “Poppo’s here.”
I looked up to see that bitch-ass nigga standing in the door, staring at me. In one quick motion, I went for my Glock, which was in the holster hooked on my belt. My first instinct was to kill his bitch ass, but I knew I was in a public place, filled with snitches. I knew wherever Poppo was, Calico wasn’t too far away. I threw my left hand in the air as to say, “What’s up?” I didn’t want to have to light the barbershop up, but I would, if I had to.