by Sa'id Salaam
“Yeah? Yeah! They said the hotel dude had that work!” he shouted joining her jubilee.
“That’s right!” Meisha shouted as she checked the book. When she finally found the number, she held it high like the Olympic torch.
****
“Ramel! A-yo Ra! You better come get your son before I choke his little ass out!” Andrea screamed at the top of her lungs.
“What now?” Ra laughed as he came into the bedroom to investigate. Knowing their son, it could be absolutely anything. The gorgeous child shared their good looks but had absolutely no chill. The boy was prone to say exactly what was on his mind. No matter how much trouble he got in for it.
“This dude gon’ tell me I need to put his sister back where I got her from! Talking ‘bout she cry too much! I should give him something to cry about,” she yelled. She was talking to Ra but staring down at Ra Junior as she spoke. The boy shrugged his shoulders like ‘oh well’ and walked off.
“What I wanna know is how come every time you mad at him he’s my son? When he’s good, he’s your little man, bad, my son. Riddle me that?” Ra asked twisting his lips.
“Whatever, get your daughter. She’s wet,” Dre laughed and walked off.
“And every time she’s wet she’s my daughter,” Ra grumbled as he went to scoop the baby out of her crib. She had been fussing about being wet but snapped out of it when she saw her daddy. She smiled, cooed, and kicked her little legs in excitement. Daddies are kids’ first rock stars. How in the world do they leave them?
“Come on lil’ mama,” Ra sang as he picked the baby up. Andrea’s phone began to ring and she came to answer it.
“Yeah!” Dre barked into the phone like people do when it’s an unknown number. If the number isn’t assigned to a name, it could be anybody.
“Hello, um? I’m tryna reach Andrea?” Cameisha replied tentatively.
“Who dis?” Dre barked frowning up as if the caller could see her.
“Um, my name is Cameisha. I met her down in Belize, we…”
“Oh hey girl,” she sang turning into sista gurl. “How you doing honey chile?”
“Good, good. I um, I need to holla at you ‘bout some business. Can we meet?”
“Sure. It’s daddy’s day with the kids so I’m free,” she said making it daddy’s day with the kids. She mean-mugged Ra daring him to deny it.
Ramel didn’t even flinch. He had no problem spending the day with his children. He had been so busy doing what he does, but that’s Stud 5.
“Meet me at the Halal restaurant on Piedmont. We can have lunch on the patio,” Dre suggested eagerly.
“Can’t wait!” Meisha shot back just as willing.
****
“That’s what’s up,” Trigga responded when Cameisha announced her lunch plans. “You taking shawty with you?”
“Yeah, we going to look at an apartment over there on Candler. Somewhere close so I can check on her every day,” she said, proving she planned to be on the east side every day.
“Can’t wait to get my sofa back,” he slyly suggested causing his woman to blush.
“Me too!” she giggled. They traded a couple of pecks on the lips before Trigga departed. As soon as he got down to his car, he pulled his phone to call his right hand man.
“Sup shawty,” Troy answered sounding extremely relaxed. He should, because what’s more relaxing than some good old, southern head? Nothing, that’s what.
“Huh?” Shawna asked pausing the blowjob thinking he was talking to her.
“Not you shawty. You keep doing what you doing,” he said guiding himself back inside the comfy confines of her jaws.
“See you putting that deadly dick on another one. Just don’t kill her,” Trigga laughed at the exchange.
“That ain’t even funny shawty,” he said feeling wounded. He felt some kinda way about Ta-Ta dying on him but news of Samantha’s murder had him hot. He wanted to kill Juan himself for that.
“Anyway, I’m on my way. Be there in a few minutes.”
“Hurr up, these niggas is thirsty!” Troy exclaimed and clicked off. Just in time because a second later he filled Shawna’s mouth with babies. She obviously was thirsty too and swallowed every drop.
“You got some powder?” Shawna asked making it sound like a favor and not payment for the blowjob.
“Shole do,” he replied and gladly parted with a gram of the powdered cocaine. He carried several gram packages for situations like that.
The packages should be called ‘Crack Head Starter Kits’ because that’s exactly what they were. Ask any junkie how they got on the hard and most will tell you that they started with the soft. Dig a little deeper and you’ll find some marijuana was the gateway. Harmless weed huh? That’s how Shawna’s own mother got started many years earlier. Now she was on the opposite side of the complex sucking dick for rocks at that same moment.
****
“Hey girl! You look so different!” Cameisha gushed when she met Andrea on the restaurant patio. She stood and they embraced warmly.
“Girl that’s because I had a person inside of me,” Dre laughed.
“That’s right, what you have?”
“A diva. Now I have a matching set so I’m done,” she said trying to convince herself. “Who’s your friend?”
“Oh my bad. This is my girl Aqua. Aqua, Andrea,” she said making the belated introductions.
“Hello Aqua. What you got there?” Dre smile and patted Aqua’s belly. Aqua had her arms crossed and lip poked out.
“Duh, it’s a baby,” she shot back curtly and turned her head like a truculent child.
“Um…ok, I’m sorry,” Dre said gently. She knew firsthand the emotional roller coaster that is pregnancy.
“Don’t pay her any mind. She mad ‘cause they wouldn’t let her bring her Fat-Fat burgers in,” Meisha explained with a laugh.
“I have no idea what that means, but they make the best turkey burgers on the planet,” Dre offered. By the time, she finished laying out the ingredients and etcetera’s; Aqua was smiling and nodding in agreement.
They all took seats on the patio and made congenial small talk until the food arrived. Once Aqua got settled into her new favorite food, Cameisha got down to business.
“Yo, I need some work. I need to get plugged in with that dude from the hotel in Belize,” she admitted.
“Hold on one second,” Dre said holding up a finger and pulling out her phone. “Bae, you owe me a grand!”
“What was that about?” Cameisha laughed when she hung up.
“Oh, I bet my husband why you called. He said it was personal. I bet it was business. I won.”
“Now I feel bad! I been meaning to call since we got back but things been crazy! I’m talkin’…”
“No need to apologize. Trust me, I understand. I used to be you ma,” Dre assured her. “My plug in New York is on hold due to a…situation. You gonna have to go straight to the source. That a good news bad news type of deal.”
“Start with the good please,” Meisha said bracing herself.
“Well the good news is the price. We were only paying five grand each when we dealt with him. The bad news is you gotta get them shits back stateside yourself. And that is serious business!”
“So how you get them back?” Cameisha almost demanded. She caught her tone and adjusted accordingly. “I mean, I can do what y’all did.”
“Nah, someone snitched on our mule. Now I don’t know if she gon’ stand up or lay down,” Andrea replied twisting her lips in thought.
“Shit for five thou apiece I’ma find a way! Tell dude we on our way!” Cameisha shouted.
Dre made a coded call to Belize and told Rude Boy that she recommended his hotel. That was all that would be said over the phone. The mood went back to friendly girl talk as Aqua smashed turkey burgers piled high with fixings.
“I’ma need some of these to go please!” Aqua announced with a full mouth.
****
“Welp, this the last o
ne,” Trigga informed his partner when he broke out the last kilo.
“Shit, we need a plug! We gotta get on ASAP! ‘Specially if we gon’ hit the niggas in Glen Valley Apartments off,” Troy retorted. “I got some cousins down in that seaport. We may have to make us a trip to Savanah.”
“Real spit shawty, after yo’ uncle, I really ain’t tryna deal with no mo’ of yo’ family,” Trigga teased with a straight face.
“Oh yeah ‘cause Dirty-D wasn’t nothing like yo’ brother Keith!” Troy shot back. Loyalty is thicker than blood and each had killed the other’s blood relative to prove it.
“Anyway, my girl got something in the works. If this pop off we gon’ be straighter than straight!” Trigga said proudly.
“Good! So let’s hit Glen Valley first. Get them niggas straight and lay out the rules.”
“You trust them?” Trigga asked raising his eyebrows so he could hear the answer.
“Nope. That’s why I’m bringing you two,” Troy replied pointing at the shotgun leaning in the corner. Troy separated ten G-packs for the new workers and Trigga grabbed the gun. They bent a few corners before Troy pulled into yet another crime and drug infested ghetto apartment complex. The junkies from there had been making the trek for the good dope but that brought attention. Attention brings heat and heat brings indictments.
“Must be the trap,” Trigga said seeing obvious drug activity in the rear of the complex.
“Hey now!” Troy smiled at the flock of local hoes jocking them as they drove in. He had already run through the whole Oak Tree crew.
“Careful y’all, he got a deadly dick!” Trigga called out as they drove past. Troy just shook his head at his friend’s antics.
“Y’all ready to get this bread?” Troy asked as he pulled to a stop at the trap.
“Hell ye…sup shawty?” Rell said stopping short when he saw the shotgun laying across Trigga’s lap. To make matters worse, Trigga stared off while patting and petting the gun like a rich chick does with one of those loud ass little lap dogs.
“Don’t pay no attention to them. They only speak if money comes short. Now y’all line up and get this work,” he answered.
Troy passed out the G-packs and Trigga snapped a picture of everyone who got one. Some frowned inquisitively but said nothing about the pictures. Fuck it; they were getting some work so they could eat, smoke, and fuck. Not Marco though, he had to be the one.
“What are the pictures for shawty?” he asked Trigga who responded by turning his head. A few who wondered the same thing leaned in to hear the reply.
“That’s for your people to put by the casket, ‘cause I swear to God if anyone comes short, I’m talking one penny short, this the last time they gon’ look like they do today!” Troy vowed.
“$750 huh? That’s what’s up. $750 ain’t shit. Shit, I could pay fo’ mine now,” a shifty eyed teen called Snake rambled when it was time to get his package. He looked at Troy, the dope, the gun, Trigga, the backseat, floorboard, headliner, look, look, look.
“He gon’ be the one,” Trigga finally spoke. He talked of the kid’s impending murder like he wasn’t even there.
“Fo’ sure,” Troy agreed. They knew full well that at least one of the dope boys was going to fuck up. And they were going to get fucked up for it. There was always one. Always.
“Look at it as an investment. He can be a lesson for the others,” Trigga sighed. Snake wouldn’t learn from it though, dead is dead.
Once the dope boys wrapped up in Glen Valley, they hit off the workers in Oak Tree and finally their alma mater, Westfield. They parted ways with a pound and Trigga rushed home to see if Cameisha came up on anything. You already know Troy rushed back over to Glen Valley and scooped the head hoe in charge. Same corner store, same cheap malt liquor, cheap motel, and cheap sex with a cheap chick.
“Well? How’d it go? We on?” Trigga asked at a hundred miles an hour when he got home.
“A-yo, pack a bag! We’re going to Belize!” she shot back.
“Belize? When?” he asked instead of packing and got scolded.
“Now! Right now, now get packed!”
Chapter 18
‘Hoes ain’t shit but bitches and tricks. Only good for fucking and sucking dicks!’
“Trigga! Ugh! Turn that moron off!” Cameisha shouted. She didn’t wait for him to comply and reached over to turn the car radio off herself. If the song wasn’t bad enough on its own, Trigga had been rapping along with it.
“What? You don’t fuck with Verb? He’s the hottest rapper in the game!” Trigga laughed in his defense.
“Dumbest rapper in the game! I can’t with that dude. That song hurts my soul,” she said dramatically clutching her chest. “He gave an interview saying he’s the new God and he ‘bout to write a new bible!”
“Damn, I ain’t know he was doing it like that,” he replied. Trigga might not have been the brightest or most religious, but was offended by the blasphemy nonetheless. As he should be.
“Boy I’ma set the block on fire with twenty keys!” Cameisha cheered, rubbing her hands together like a mad scientist.
“Um…ten keys,” Trigga interjected as a reminder that half of the hundred grand in the suitcase was his. It didn’t make them partners, per se, but it was a joint venture.
“Oh, yeah,” she replied with a forced smirk. She would much rather run the show completely. Still, ten kilos each represented a million dollars in their household.
The rest of the ride to the airport was made in quiet contemplation. Trigga parked in the long-term lot and led the way into the airport. The couple then scanned the airline signs looking for a flight to Belize. They say proper preparation prevents poor performance so this last minute, off the cuff mission, was doomed from the start.
“Oh, I know!” Cameisha said suddenly and popped herself on the head like she should have had a V-8. She pulled out her phone and hopped on the internet. “Ok, Atlanta to Belize…roundtrip…leaving today…tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Shit, we need to come back tonight!” Trigga exclaimed as she entered their parameters into the phone.
“Ok, let’s see,” she said taking his dumbass suggestion. And flying to Belize and returning the same day with twenty kilos is a dumbass suggestion indeed. “Nah, gotta be tomorrow.”
Mistake number one was booking a one day trip to the Caribbean. Who does that but a drug trafficker? If you were balling hard enough to just fly to Belize for a night, you’d take your own plane to do it. Mistake number two was paying the two-thousand dollar fare in cash.
“One minute please,” the pretty clerk smiled as she handled the transaction. The keyboard clicked from her rapid input of data so they had no way of knowing she entered the code for suspected drug activity. At the same time the tickets printed, photos were taken, and a file created. Various law enforcement agencies would receive the file to check against their open investigations. Cameisha and Trigga were now on the radar.
“She liked me,” Trigga joked as they walked away with their tickets.
“That’s because you’re so pretty,” she teased back and cackled like an old witch. That set off one of the famous sessions of playing the dozens. Everyone on the shuttle tram was treated to a comedy show as they went back and forth cracking on each other.
“Your ears so big you can hear into the future,” Trigga snapped.
“Nigga your head so big you make a solar eclipse!” she shot back. Back and forth until they reached their terminal. Cameisha got suddenly sullen once they reached the gate.
“Don’t be scared shawty, I’m here,” he said misunderstanding her apprehension.
“Scared! I…oh, ok baby,” she said taking him up on the offer of his outstretched hand. They interlocked fingers and found their seats. As soon as the plane was airborne, she conked out on his shoulder.
****
“We here bae,” Trigga said, gently waking Cameisha as the plane landed in Central America.
“My bad,” Meisha giggled and wi
ped the puddle of slobber she left on his shirt.
“No problem, I been knew you were a drooler!” he laughed setting off round two of jokes.
Once they collected their bags, they walked through the terminal to catch a cab but didn’t make it.
“You think he means us?” Trigga asked with trepidation when he saw a bearded man holding a sign.
“Man it’s a good thing you’re pretty!” Meisha chided and marched straight to the man with their names on his sign. “Who’s you?” she demanded like a tough guy.
“You must be them, come on,” Malik laughed and turned to lead the way out of the terminal. “Dre asked me to drop you off at the hotel. Call me Unc.”
“Oh, ok,” Cameisha beamed and extended her bag towards him.
“Yeah right,” Malik cracked up and kept walking.
“Bae, you dropped something,” Trigga warned pointing at her feet.
“What?” she asked looking down and not seeing anything.
“Your face!” he laughed and set off round three. Malik just shook his head as they cracked on each other all the way to his truck.
“You live down here Unc?” Trigga asked in astonishment as they rode along the magnificent countryside. Even at night, it was brighter than the bleak ghetto of southwest Atlanta. He couldn’t fathom people actually lived in such serenity.
“Yeah, I do,” Malik nodded in satisfaction. After 40 plus years of the concrete jungle of New York, he was grateful to be there.
“We moving to South America. My people got land down there! We’re building houses and everything. We gon’ move there and live happily ever after,” Meisha said as if trying to convince herself.
“That’s nice,” Unc replied pensively. He knew firsthand how hard ‘happily ever afters’ are to come by. He’d been with a hundred women before finding the one. Been in drug deals, shootouts, hospitals, and prisons trying to achieve his happily ever after.
Happily ever afters are doable but a lot more work than most can manage. Most who try to purchase it with drug money go to jail or die trying. He didn’t believe in luck so he was grateful to his Lord instead.