by Mazaradi Fox
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DeMarco was ready to leave two days later, but he first wanted to check on Killer C to make sure everything was going according to plan. He pulled up to Killer C’s grandmother’s house and blew the horn.
“Who is that in front of my house makin noise like they crazy?” yelled the old woman.
“How you doin, Ms. P.?” he said as he rolled down the window.
“I’m doin just fine. How is your grandmother doin?”
“She good.”
“Tell her I said hello and you need to talk to your friend. He had two girls in here last night fightin in my house.”
“Wow!” DeMarco said.
As Killer C came out of the house shaking his head, his grandmother went back inside.
“You telling me shit got crazy last night?” DeMarco asked, with a smirk on his face.
“Yeah, man, I had shorty from Harlem here and my BM showed up,” Killer C said. “I had to turn into Superman on this bitch. But everything straight. I got shorty outta here!”
“Man, you crazy,” DeMarco said with laughter.
“On another note though, all of the BI is taken care of. I gave Money the rundown, and you know he just like you when it comes to gettin that paper. I don’t know who’s worse,” Killer C said, while shaking his head.
“Well, in that case, go get shorty and them from 40, so they can leave in two hours and blend in with the traffic. I don’t like leavin too late. You know how the turnpike is,” DeMarco replied.
“Word, you right, especially ridin with all that shit.” Killer C’s beeper went off, interrupting their conversation. “DeMarco, it’s 156.” The code meant they were ready and they should meet up at their spot.
* * *
A half hour later, DeMarco pulled up to the meeting spot in a dark gray Dodge Caravan and Killer C jumped in. Killer C was happy to finally be going with his right-hand man. The two girls DeMarco was bringing along got into their own car and DeMarco followed them.
Both vehicles pulled into the driveway in North Carolina many hours later. DeMarco opened the door and told everybody to go inside, then got into the car the women had been driving and headed down the road. He would never leave work where he rested his head. So he drove over to a nearby farm and hopped out with a big bag, stashing it in his cousin’s friend’s yard, in a pen full of pigs. He knew nobody would ever go back there because of the way it smelled. When he returned to the house, he pulled both vehicles around the back like nobody was there.
“Damn, DeMarco, this crib is crazy. It look like one of those Long Island joints,” Killer C said excitedly.
“I told you, C, I don’t play,” DeMarco replied, as he powered off his phone.
They all lit up that New York bud and smoked until they couldn’t anymore. One by one they fell asleep.
* * *
The next morning, DeMarco turned his phone back on. Almost immediately it began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Yo, it’s about time you picked up your phone. Boy, I didn’t know what happened to you,” Michelle said with worry.
“Girl, I’m good.”
“I need to see you as soon as possible.”
“Okay, cool, where you at?” he responded.
“I’m over at the mall.”
“A’ight, meet me in the back of JCPenney. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
DeMarco and Killer C pulled up exactly ten minutes later. Michelle started walking toward the car.
“Goddamn, who that?” Killer C asked. “Shorty thick as hell!”
“They say these country girls are the ones to have.”
“Oh, I’m gon’ have fun down here.”
DeMarco sat there quietly watching the parking lot as Michelle jumped into the backseat.
“Wassup, daddy, I missed you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. “Who is this?”
“My man from up top.”
“How are you doing, miss? My name is C.”
She smiled.
“Hey, so what’s good, Michelle? What’s been goin on wit you?”
She started putting him onto what had been happening since he’d left. “Shit’s been crazy here. My brother and his crew out here robbin everything movin. Then, this dude from Miami seen me in the club and asked me to give you his number because he need some of your niggas. He said somebody robbed him for some bricks.”
“A’ight, cool. Michelle, where your car at?”
“Oh, it’s on the other side of the mall.”
“Hit my phone later, girl, and we gon’ get up.”
“A’ight, daddy.” She gave him another kiss and they pulled off.
“Damn, son, you got it like that down here?”
“I wouldn’t trade this for nothin else.”
“Word, so wassup with these niggas Skip and Bizzy?”
“Oh, we gonna check them niggas right now.”
A few minutes later, they pulled up. DeMarco rolled down his window.
“Oh shit, you playin, my nigga! We thought y’all was the boys,” Bizzy said.
“Oh shit! Bizzy, come here!” DeMarco shouted from the car.
“Yo, look, he got this nigga Killer C with him.” Skip got up off the step and walked to the car.
“Oh yeah, it’s on now for real. C, what up!” Bizzy said as he came outside.
“You already know, my nigga.”
“So what are we gonna do about this nigga Black and his crew? Them niggas been layin low, because me and Bizzy would’ve been on them.”
DeMarco sat there with his hands crossed, piecing the plot together in his mind. He liked to think about every possible angle before putting a plan into action.
When they got inside the crib, they couldn’t believe their eyes. The room was full of guns and bags with money.
“Oh, this is what I’m takin ’bout,” Killer C said, holding out an AK-47 and an M16. “Oh, watch what I do to these niggas.”
DeMarco looked at all the money that Skip and Bizzy had made, still thinking of their next move.
“Listen, we gonna get these niggas on my time, but right now we gonna get this money. All we gotta do is beef up security for now. When niggas out there hustlin, have one pitchin, while you got the other two with straps on them. And get the whole crew walkie-talkies and scanners and everybody wear all black. I’ma show y’all how to make this real money.”
“But niggas might think we soft because we let them niggas run off with all that money.”
“Let me tell you somethin, Skip, that’s why you stay in jail all the time—’cause you don’t think first. Money is power and power is respect, you got that?”
“I got you. A’ight, let’s do this.”
Skip and Bizzy headed to RadioShack.
* * *
“Yo, Skip, we gotta make sure this works, ’cause we could cut DeMarco’s man out. We could’ve been in New York going through all type of shit, and instead he got us livin good.”
Bizzy wasn’t trying to go back to New York anytime soon, so they did everything according to plan. Shit was moving like clockwork and just that quickly they had their spot set up. Word started traveling all over the town. DeMarco’s crew was nothing to fuck with; they spread that message loud and clear. His structure and his security were so tight that niggas just got scared and started speeding off.
* * *
“Yo, DeMarco, does Michelle have any bad-ass friends that look like her?” Killer C asked.
“Oh shit, I’m glad you said somethin because I almost forgot to get up with them. Pass me your phone, let me call her real quick.”
After the third ring she picked up. “Who this?”
“It’s me, DeMarco.”
“Oh hey, daddy, wassup?”
“I want you and your girls to meet me in the Golden Corral parking lot.”
“Okay, we on our way there.”
Ten minutes later, she pulled up in the parking lot and rolled down her window. Before anyone got o
ut of the car, DeMarco told them to follow him. He hopped right on the highway to I-95 south.
* * *
Beep beep beep!
“Oh shit! I’m thinking that’s DeMarco out there,” Rah said aloud with a big smile on his face.
“Man, how you know that’s him?” Jazz replied.
“Nigga, you sleep too hard. You didn’t hear the three beeps?”
They both went to the front door. “Yo, DeMarco, y’all pull around the back of the house.”
“I hope you got that good-smelling stuff.”
“You know I don’t leave home without it. Here, fill up a few blunts.” Rah passed everybody their own.
Killer C didn’t smoke, so he was looking for a drink. “Y’all don’t have no liquor in here?”
“Yeah, we do,” Jazz said and went into the house. He came back outside a moment later with two bottles of Jack Daniel’s.
“Damn, you tryna kill a nigga,” Killer C said and began to laugh.
“We heard a lot about you and how you get down,” Jazz said.
“Man, I’m good. Just came out here to hold my nigga down, that’s all.”
Tia and Kee-Kee were looking at Killer C like fresh meat.
“Yo, DeMarco, let’s go into the house. Jazz and me got somethin to show you,” Rah said.
Inside, DeMarco’s eye got wide looking at all the money—ten bricks stacked up damn near the ceiling.
“Yo, Rah, go tell my man C to come here.” DeMarco was sure he could trust Killer C with just about anything.
A few seconds later, Rah walked back into the room with Killer C a couple steps behind him.
“What the fuck is this?” Killer C asked with a curious smile on his face.
“Remember when shorty was in the car talking about them niggas got robbed for some bricks?” DeMarco said.
“How we gonna move all this money?” Killer C asked.
“Shit, if there’s a will, there’s a way,” DeMarco replied. He had family all over the South, and to top it all off, his uncle owned a funeral home. So as far as he was concerned, he could come get that money and put it inside one of those caskets.
DeMarco slid off like he was going to the bathroom and called his uncle. He told him what he wanted to do and how to get to the house. Then he swapped the house keys off Jazz’s ring.
Then, with excitement in his voice, he said “Check this out we all goin down to my favorite spot, Myrtle Beach.”
They all jumped into their cars and headed out.
* * *
When they arrived, they rented two rooms connected to each other.
“Y’all know wassup,” Michelle said to her two homegirls as they walked into the shower together.
“Yo, DeMarco, I can’t lie, this is the life, my nigga,” Killer C said with a Kool-Aid smile. “Man, New York chicks don’t move like that. You got to fight to get the pussy. I see why once you come down here you take forever to come back to NY.”
DeMarco started rolling up some blunts.
“Which one you gonna let me get?”
“Nigga, Michelle is off limits. That’s my boo right there.”
Kee-Kee and Tia came out of the shower butt naked. Killer C couldn’t believe how these country chicks worked in the South.
DeMarco walked into the bathroom with Michelle and they both got into the shower. Michelle felt so special and thought to herself, I’d never turn my back on this nigga for nobody, not even my punk-ass ol’ brother.
DeMarco started fucking the shit out of her in the shower, all over the sink, against the wall, everywhere, you name it.
She whispered in his ear, “Daddy, you gotta go out there and fuck these bitches. You know what I’m sayin? So we can keep them on the team.”
On the real tip, Michelle was a real bitch. They went out into the room to find the others waiting.
“Y’all took forever,” Kee-Kee said, thirsty for some dick.
Killer C was already underneath the covers waiting to tear one of them up. Michelle looked at Kee-Kee and gave her the nod. She jumped on DeMarco like a dog in heat. Kee-Kee and Tia switched between DeMarco and Killer C as Michelle sat and watched. Killer C was in heaven.
DeMarco’s phone rang, interrupting their small orgy. He got up and walked to the bathroom. It was his uncle.
“What’s good?”
“Okay, I’m here, where did you say the key was at?”
“Under the front rug,” said DeMarco.
“Hold on a minute.” He returned to the phone a few seconds later. “A’ight, boy, I see you when I see you, like always.”
“Okay, cool, unc.”
When DeMarco walked back out of the bathroom, it looked like a movie set. One thing was for certain: country girls loved New York niggas!
“Yo, what’s that noise?” DeMarco asked.
They heard somebody moaning in the next room. DeMarco walked to the attached door, peeked inside, and saw his cousins with four chicks getting their porn on. He smiled and closed the door.
“What was it?” Killer C asked.
“That’s them niggas over there with a few chicks.”
“Where they get ’em from?” Killer C wanted a piece of the action.
“Last time we was down here, them niggas was in a strip club makin it rain, so they must’ve hooked back up with them.”
“Word? Oh a’ight. I’m sayin, where is the ice machine? I’m thirsty as hell.”
“Oh, you gotta go to the long hallway. It’s right next to the Pepsi machine,” DeMarco replied.
Killer C hopped up and walked out. DeMarco already knew what he was really up to: he was sliding next door to get a piece of that action.
“Here, daddy,” Tia said and passed DeMarco the blunt.
Michelle went to put the chain on the door and gave Kee-Kee a devilish grin. “Now we are really gonna play doctor,” she said.
They started going in on one another. Tia was licking the shit out of Michelle’s pussy while Kee-Kee had DeMarco’s dick in her mouth. DeMarco loved every minute of it.
* * *
“I’m saying wassup, are we gonna stay in the hotel all day, daddy?” Michelle asked.
“Nah, let’s get dressed and hit the club tonight. They have a lot of good spots down here,” DeMarco replied, then went to take a shower while Michelle schooled her girls.
“Listen, when we get to the club, try to get every number of any nigga that look like a baller. We tryna have daddy rob everything movin. You see last time he bought damn near the whole mall for us. This time he gon’ buy all of us cars.”
* * *
DeMarco and his crew went to the club on the beach and bought out the whole VIP section. They even had niggas and chicks they didn’t know in their section. The girls were doing their thing. Baller after baller, Kee-Kee had so many numbers in her phone that she had to borrow Michelle’s phone to add more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Steven Goldberg.”
DeMarco stood next to his lawyer wearing a black suit and tie.
The bailiff began speaking: “Jones docket #95J2826, The People vs. DeMarco Jones, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of a firearm, and attempted murder in the second degree.”
“How do you plead, Mr. Jones?”
DeMarco’s lawyer, Mr. Walter Vanzetta, said, “Not guilty.”
“Does the state have anything to say?” the judge asked.
“Yes we do, Your Honor. We need more time to investigate this case,” the prosecutor replied.
“Okay, the next court date will be August 12th.”
DeMarco and Mr. Vanzetta left the courtroom.
“Mr. Vanzetta, what you think the outcome will be?” DeMarco asked as he passed him $5,000, all in hundreds.
“Mr. Jones, I’m confident we will beat this. If you ask me, it’s a self-defense case. I just have to prove you were trying to protect yourself from being attacked.”
DeMarco was confident in his attorney and felt
at ease as they parted. His next stop was to check in with his bail bondsman to mark his court appearance and take note of the next court date. When he arrived, there was a lady at the front desk who he hadn’t seen before.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, my name is DeMarco Jones. I had to go to court today, and my next court date is August 12th.”
“Okay, give me one minute, sir.” She walked off to the back of the office.
DeMarco sat there patiently waiting for her to return.
“Excuse me, sir. We have you marked down, so everything is clear.”
“Okay, thanks a lot. Oh, can you tell me what happened to the other people that used to work here?” He was trying to avoid saying any names.
“They still work here. You know India? Her boyfriend and her had to go out of town to catch a few people. You know when you youngsters get rabbit and everyone runs away.”
DeMarco didn’t even reply. He nodded his head and walked out with a smile on his face. On his way to the car, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Oh, I know that ain’t that nigga Black.
The dude looked over at him with an evil stare and pulled up to DeMarco’s car just as DeMarco was getting into it.
“Yo, what up, city slicker?”
“You tell me, country bumpkin,” DeMarco replied.
“Yeah, okay, New York boy,” he spat.
Black and his homeboy immediately drove off. Little did they know DeMarco was clutching the six-shot .357 that he kept in his stash box. DeMarco pulled his fitted Yankee cap down and played track three off the Nas Illmatic CD: “Life’s a Bitch.”
* * *
When DeMarco got back to the house, Killer C was out like a light. DeMarco stared at his phone wondering what his next move was. He noticed that he had two missed calls from Michelle, so he called her back.
“Wassup, girl?”
“Ain’t shit. That big-eye boy from Miami gave me a number and told me to have you call him. I don’t know what he’s really talkin about, but he thirsty.”
“A’ight, cool. I’ll hit you back in a minute.”
“A’ight.”
DeMarco immediately dialed the number. After the third ring, the kid picked up.
“Who dis?”
“This is DeMarco.”
“Oh, man, this is Gee. I been trying to get up wit you, my nigga.”