by Jontu'
“Tell me how did you know I was at the hospital, how did you know to move the car that was shot up when they ambushed us?” Trigga asked and for some reason he couldn’t help closing his eyes tightly as he suddenly felt the throb of his temple pulsating.
“I…I… uhh, hmm, I saw that shit on the news or some shit,” Mase stuttered.
“Nigga, you just told me you stayed at the club that night tryna fuck some bitches!” Trigga barked as he suddenly stood up.
Several patrons were now watching him, including the attractive chick at the table. Trigga didn’t care, his blood was boiling and he was fuming mad.
“Nigga, what’s up with da hundred questions? I’m yo’ fuckin’ brother, your fuckin’ blood! We fam! What’s going on? Is there something you want to talk to me about? If you can’t trust yo’ fuckin’ own twin brother, who da fuck can you trust?”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Trigga said in somber tone. As he thought on Mase’s words, he happened to glance at his mired reflection in the glass window. Again, he noticed the female staring at him intensely.
What the fuck is up with her? he thought.
Mase gave his brother a dry cackle when he said, “Chill man, you always on some paranoid shit ever since we was shorties. Let’s meet up, burn a coupla blunts, get faded and plot on these slow ass ATL niggaz.”
The whole while Mase spoke, he was caressing the blue steel pearl white handle of the nineteen shot Glock 9 mm that he intended to shoot Trigga in his dome with.
“Lemme get my thoughts together,” was all Trigga said in a strained voice.
He knew his brother was lying and his heart was heavy at the thought of what he would have to do. Their dear mother would never forgive him for that. Truth be told, nor would his conscious but their deadly confrontation was inevitable. And the thought irritated him.
“Fuck!!!!!” Trigga cursed out loud then kicked at the leg of his table in frustration.
When he looked up, the restaurant security officer was approaching him and in his hand was a gun.
“What’s yo’ muhfuckin’ problem? Keep this shit up and I’mma kick yo’ long skinny ass outta here!”
Trigga gritted his teeth together and shot a menacing look at the man, as he stood tall in front of him. Just then a waitress hurried back over with a tray teetering in her hands full of food and drinks.
“Elmo, everything’s good.” She smiled sweetly at Trigga as she sat the food down at a table next to him and smoothed her apron down over her breast and midriff with the palms of her hands.
Trigga ignored the waitress as he stood up over the security guard and scowled down at him.
“Who da fuck is you? A rent-a-cop or some shit? Get tha fuck, outta here!” Trigga grumbled.
A ripple of laughter erupted in the restaurant causing the security guard face to flush red. His mouth moved with no words coming out as he fumbled with his gun holster. He couldn’t get it out fast enough.
“Fuck you callin’ a rent-a-cop? I’ll lock your long neck ass up!”
“Coming on y’all stop it!” the waitress said with a pained expression. She’d already had a long day and didn’t want to deal with any more bullshit.
“You ain’t gone fuck with me! This is a restaurant, I’mma drink my damn coffee and you better get the fuck outta my face with dat bullshit.”
“I’mma get the fuck outta your face alright!” The security guard mimicked him as he continued to fumble with his holster. Finally, he pulled the gun out and held it at his side. “Now I’mma ask you to leave the premises.”
Things had suddenly turned serious as several of the patrons got up and headed for the door. Just then somebody walked up and grabbed Trigga by the arm. Instantly he pulled away,
“Fuck wrong wit—”
Just as he was about to take off swinging, he realized it was the attractive chick that had been watching him. Up close, she was even more beautiful with long, black, kinky hair shimmering in a frosty blue holder and cascading over her left shoulder in a curly, natural poof. She had a piercing in her right eyebrow and bottom lip. Her complication was swarthy black like rich dark coffee. Trigga couldn’t help but notice her audacious shapely curves in the tight-fitting leggings with ass for days. She wore a pink wife beater with a matching bra underneath. Her ample, double-D breasts stood out like trophies to be admired.
“Don’t let him get under your skin. Come on, walk away. Too many of our innocent black men have been getting gunned down lately. Please?” she said her mellow tone was persuasive as she looked at him with angelic hazel eyes and then placed a hand on his shoulder. She tried to smile but only her eyes twinkled with an amber glow that hinted at urgency.
“Yea, you better get his ass outta here before I bust a cap in his long, skinny ass,” the security guard threatened and began to bounce on the balls of his feet with excitement and newfound confidence.
“Yo, nigga what’s going on? Trigga what’s going on?” The voice belonged to Mase. Trigga had forgot all about him still being on the phone until his voice thundered through Trigga’s earpiece.
“I’mma holla at’cha later,” Trigga said while still staring at the security guard.
“Meet you at—” Before Mase could finish the statement, Trigga disconnected the call.
“Walk away.” The young woman tugged at his arm and pulled him out of his trance. He suddenly came back to his senses then shrugged the female’s hand off him and walked towards the door.
“Hey, who is going to pay for your drink?” the waitress said.
Without turning around, Trigga jabbed a finger towards the security guard still standing by his table.
“He is.”
FOUR
An ardent bright sun sat high in the sky, embellished by sublime blue skies as Trigga stalked out the restaurant with his thoughts heavy on his mind. He was in foreign city, in a distant land with the thought of murder heavy on his mind…the murder of his own flesh and blood, his beloved brother.
Suddenly he heard the chime of a door opening behind him followed by the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. There was no doubt it was the whack-ass security guard determined to continue their confrontation on the street. Pissed off to the fullest, Trigga acted on instincts and survival mode. With the quickness, as people passed on the crowded street he reached in his waist and came up with his banger in one swift motion. Midway, he stopped when he realized his blunder and tried to hide his weapon
Too late!
The startled expression on her face said it all as her delicate eyebrows rose with a hint fear. She stopped in her tracks and clasped a hand over her right breast. Furtively, he stashed his banger in the back of his pants. So much had been going on, things had been moving so fast and he wasn’t on his shit with everything concerning Mase swirling around his mind. But the last thing he wanted was to frighten a stranger that wasn’t involved in his mix.
“Damn, shawty, I apologize,” he said with a shrug as he observed her.
Her thick hair blew in the wind. She wiped a lock of hair from her forehead as she expelled a deep breath. For some reason she didn’t look at him as sunlight glistened off her eyes. Unsure of how to handle the awkward moment, Trigga swiveled on his feet to walk away.
“I was just trying to look out for you…from the moment you walked into the restaurant I couldn’t help thinking you look like…like…somebody I used to know,” she said quietly as is if heavy in her thoughts.
“Things did get out of hand. I apologize. But naw, you don’t know me,” he said. He continued to walk away but he heard her steps behind him.
“Well, what’s your name?” she asked.
Trigga groaned inwardly and closed his eyes. He didn’t have time for any of this shit. It seemed like the more he tried to get away from women, the more they showed up and wouldn’t go away. Although he felt something for Keisha, part of him wished that she hadn’t followed him that night at the club. Then he wouldn’t be worried about her in addition to
whatever was going on with Mase.
“You can call me…Kevin,” he answered as he turned around. He wasn’t comfortable with giving her his real name or his nickname because, no matter how beautiful and innocent she seemed, she was someone he didn’t know.
She stared at him without saying anything, which intensified the awkward feeling he was already feeling. He extended his hand to her, which seemed unnatural to him but he did it anyways in an effort to appear kind.
“NeTasha. But you can call me Tasha,” she responded. She grabbed his hand and held it a second too long. Trigga noted it, but waited until she pulled away.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Trigga said and began to walk away again.
“Ohhh, you running now?” Tasha chided him.
“Running?” he quipped making a face as he stopped in his tracks and turned to her. Something about his behavior made her smile.
“Yes, we are just getting acquainted and all I know about you is that your name is Kevin and that you have a sexy accent. Then you try to run off,” she said while placing her hand on her hip. For some reason the small gesture made him smile, it also aroused his manhood.
He couldn’t help it and gave her body a quick once over. She caught him looking and blushed. Remembering that he had enough shit already on his plate to deal with, he tore his eyes away from her. More determine then before to keep it moving.
For a nigga who is normally focused on business, you seem to have issues gettin’ rid of these chicks who keep popping up, he thought to himself.
“I have a lot going on. Today has been one of them days. You don’t have a clue.”
“Oh, yes I do,” Tasha told him. “You almost got shot by that Smurf looking security guard.”
They both laughed. Then Trigga glanced at his watch and frowned. She read his demeanor.
“At least walk me to the bus stop. Then you can leave, I promise,” she asked sweetly as she beamed with a smile. It took everything in his power not to offer her a ride. But, remembering what happened the last time he offered a fine ass female a ride, he nodded and they took off walking.
“Where you headed?” he asked while guiding her across the street by her elbow in all the heavy traffic and crowd around them.
“Gotta get to the Marta station. I go to Clark Atlanta. I’m studying criminal justice. I want to be a lawyer,” she answered looking up at him.
“Oh, your ass is a brainiac. You probably been studying me the whole time like Gideon law.”
Tasha nearly stumbled as she walked looking up at him. Bemused she asked, “What you know about Gideon Law?
“It’s a landmark case. The right to counsel.” He made an expression like that was something everyone should know.
“You’re smart, too,” Tasha said looking at him in admiration.
“I went to college on a basketball scholarship.”
“What happened?” she inquired and stopped walking as if she expected a long explanation.
“What you mean what happened?” He was slightly offended like she was implying there was something wrong with him. He continued, “I’m good Ma, ain’t hurtin’for nothin’. I just decided to take a different route.”
She frowned making a face like she wasn’t buying it.
“Okay, I had a sports injury and couldn’t play ball, then my mama was having financial problems so I had to get it from the muscle.”
“So basically you dropped out of college and started hustling?” she summarized his statement.
“I plead the fifth,” he retorted smartly throwing up the palms of his hand. Tasha couldn’t help noticing the iced out Rolex watch glimmering in his wrist.
Then it happened out of the blue as they passed a soulfood restaurant, two homeless people stood outside begging for money. They were both filthy dirty and disheveled. The stench of their bodies you could smell a mile away.
“Boy, how you doing?” the homeless man asked then scratched at his privates like something down there was biting him with razor teeth.
Trigga damn near vomited and, to make matters worse, the hot humid breeze was pushing the funk right in his face. He glanced over at Tasha and she was wrinkling up her nose with a look as if she was holding her breath but didn’t want to be obvious about it. She tried to play it off by smiling.
The homeless man scratched again, then called over to his companion. She was deep into a heavy argument with herself. She ambled over to him as Trigga started to walk away.
“Don’t you remember him?” he asked her.
“Yea, sure do,” she replied. Then added. “What ever happened to that girl? Did she make it? Is she still alive?” the homeless woman asked with sincere compassion.
Then it hit Trigga like a ton of bricks and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was the homeless couple that helped them find the hospital on the dark and dreary night Keisha and he had been ambushed, badly bleeding and shot multiple times. If it had not been for them, Trigga and Keisha could have very well died.
“Yea, she good. Thank y’all so much,” Trigga said instantly overwhelmed with guilt as people walked by giving the homeless couple disgusting looks of disdain. He reached into his pocket to give them some money and realized Tasha had already beaten him to it. She passed each one of them a few crumpled one-dollar bills.
Trigga pulled out a large wad of money and peeled off a few hundred-dollar bills to add to hers. Tasha’s eyes got big as saucers as she watched him give the homeless people the money. Tacitly, she smiled and nodded her approval.
“Thank you! Thank you!” Both of the homeless people erupted in chorus and began to do some type of happy dance in the middle of the sidewalk as people scurried by them.
“I want you all to take that money, get a room and buy some clothes and food.”
Suddenly the homeless man stopped dancing and furrowed his brow.
“How I’mma get a room for me and my wife? We homeless, we don’t have no identification…no nothing,” he said with grim expression.
Trigga glanced over at Tasha and she gave him a quizzical shrug, like ‘what do we do next?’ Trigga had a remedy for that. He truly intended to bless the homeless people for saving him and Keisha’s life. He wanted to give them a night they would never forget. He pulled them to the side and passed them a key then gave them instructions. The looks on their faces were as if they had won the lottery.
Then as the homeless couple rushed off Trigga shouted, “Don’t forget to take full advantage of the showers and bathtub.”
Tasha swatted his arm, “Don’t be so cruel!” She laughed as he shrugged at her.
“Never that, but you have to admit they both was a little musky,” Trigga joked with a grind.
“No, what I have to admit is that was generous of you giving them all that money. Where do you know them from?”
He glanced at his wrist again and lied with a straight face. “Me and a friend were in a car accident and those two homeless people just happened stumble up on us. They save our lives. We needed directions to get to the hospital and they went out of their way to get us there or else my friend could have died.”
“Oh… a friend? By any chance does your friend happen to be your girlfriend?”
He stopped for a second and looked squarely at Tasha. “No.”
Just then his iPhone chimed. He checked the caller I.D. and it was Keisha. Trigga felt a strange feeling wash over him. It was almost like she knew he was thinking about her. He threw up a finger as if to say ‘wait a sec’ to Tasha and stepped away.
“Yo, what’s good?” he spoke into the phone.
“You. I was just checking on you. Is everything okay? I … I do want to see you again…soon,” she said in a timid voice.
A small smile crept up in the corner of Trigga’s face as he listened to her. It wasn’t every day that Keisha used this kind of tone that made her sound vulnerable. Her texts were always short and whenever he called to check in with her in the past, she tried to act like she was holding everything do
wn with ease, although he knew she was faking it.
“Yea, I want to see you too. But I got to handle some situations,” he said thinking about the difficult task at hand with his brother. As much as he wanted to pretend that the issue with his brother didn’t exist, he couldn’t.
The whole while as he talked, Tasha was looking at him closely like she was reading his lips.
“I know and I’m scared,” Keisha pouted over the phone. The sound of her voice tugged at his heartstrings. He glanced at Tasha and noticed her examining his face but didn’t think much of it as he continued speaking to Keisha.
“Don’t be. You’re good. I left you with some heat and I even showed you how to use it. Okay?” he reminded her, trying to instill confidence in her.
“But the last time I had a gun…I’m just…I’m scared,” she complained and he sighed. He had too much going on and this additional shit wasn’t helping it.
Trigga mopped at his forehead in frustration. He looked up and saw that Tasha had an expression on her face like she had bit into a sour lemon as she watched him intensely.
“Okay, let me think,” he muttered, flustered, into the phone.
Something panged deep in his chest. He wondered if he was catching too many feelings for her. They had been through so much in a short span of time. As much as he hated to admit it, it had all been partially his fault. They both were emotionally and physically bonded to each other because of their experiences.
But still in the dark crevice of his mind, in that place that was often sacred and sheltered when it came to family and love ones, there was a dualism as he tried to figure out whether to be logical or emotional. He prayed his logic was telling him right about his brother and even more so that he making the right decision with Keisha by allowing himself to catch feelings for her.
As much as he hated to admit it, she was trampling all over his ‘Money Over Bitches’ rule. In fact, she had become his emotional soft spot, if a gangsta ever had one. He was in violation of his thug’s code of ethics.