by Sa'id Salaam
“You coming to take us back tomorrow?” Meisha asked when he pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.
“Tomorrow! Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Malik asked Trigga. He shook his head when Trigga’s blank expression said they didn’t have a clue. “Nah, catch a cab. Go check in and meet Rude Boy at ten. In the bar.”
“Welp, we got an hour,” Cameisha offered when they checked into their room. That was plenty of time since they stripped immediately. She was as wet as he was hard when they met in the middle of the bed.
“Grr,” Trigga growled as he pushed inside of her. Good pussy is definitely something to growl about. You really think Tony the Tiger was happy about some cereal?
Cameisha was so worked up from excitement that she came almost instantly. She braced herself when he scooped her legs onto his shoulders and dove deep. It wasn’t long before he bust a nut of his own and collapsed on top of her. The couple basked in the afterglow for a few minutes before hitting the shower. They washed, dried, dressed, and then hit the bar.
“Welcome to the Seaside Hotel!” Rude Boy greeted from behind the bar. He might have owned the joint, but he still worked as a bellhop, cook, waiter, or bartender.
“You must be Rude Boy,” Trigga replied, remembering him from their last visit there.
“That’s me. My friends Ra and Dre told me to take care of you guys,” he said. It was a tacit clarification that they had been vouched for.
“They did,” Cameisha nodded explaining that she understood. If she screwed up it would be on Ra and Dre as well.
“We can speak in my office. Jane, watch the bar,” he said coming out from around the bar.
“Sure!” Jane cheered since she was actually a guest. Her first duty was fixing herself a double on the house.
“In here,” Rude Boy announced as he opened his office door. He stepped aside and took a glance at Cameisha’s ass as well as the bag in Trigga’s hand. Both made him nod in approval. Once they were seated on opposite sides of a mahogany desk, they got down to business.
“We heard the ticket was five bands?” Trigga began hopefully. A five thousand dollar price tag on a whole kilo was too good to be true. Actually, it was too good to be true.
“Was, it’s ten grand now. I lost my mule so the price went up to compensate. Our mutual friend worked for that price and so can you,” Rude Boy explained and read the body language.
“Shit we don’t mind working! What we gotta do?” Meisha cheered. The dred twisted his mouth in contemplation, and then shook his head no.
“Tell you what, see how this goes, and come back,” he decided.
“Well here’s a buck,” Trigga said placing the hundred thousand on the desk.
“Great. I’ll give it to you before you leave. You guys going to the Keys?” Rude Boy asked slipping back into tour guide mode.
“Nah, we leaving tomorrow,” Trigga replied.
“Tomorrow!” Rude Boy yelled. “…Remember, you were referred.”
****
The sex the next morning was fast, furious, and selfish. Each was focused on busting a nut to ease their minds instead of libido. Cameisha barely got hers off before Trigga grunted and seized in the spasm of a good orgasm.
After relieving themselves, they met in the shower. They thoughtfully washed each other and got out. When they went back into the room, ten kilos sat on the table. They both stared at them like they were afraid of them. Shit had just gotten real.
“Let’s get this money!” the dope boy said snapping out of his trance. It was every dope boy’s dream, picking up work across the water. He pulled the first layer of clothing out of the suitcase and carefully laid the bricks.
Meisha raised an eyebrow at how inept their plan was. If cocaine smuggling was as easy as just putting bricks in a bag then everybody would be doing it. She was too greedy not to try it so she shrugged her shoulders and said, “I’ll get a cab.”
‘Get greedy, go to jail,’ Daddy reminded in reminiscence. The girl caught an attitude with the memory and pursed her lips like a spoiled brat.
****
“Welcome to Belize Air,” another pretty clerk said flashing her pretty Caribbean smile and accent.
“Sup,” Cameisha huffed as she handed over the tickets. The woman entered the names and frowned at what she read. She glanced up to see Cameisha gawking while Trigga watched a plane take off.
“One second,” she offered with another smile but it was less genial than the last. Forced even. She quickly tapped out an alert that the couple was returning. The boarding passes came out of the printer and she handed them over. “Enjoy your flight.”
“Un huh,” Meisha said cynically as she took them. Poor Trigga, it is a good thing that he’s pretty because he missed everything.
‘If something feels like it ain’t right, it ain’t right!’
“I know Daddy, dang!” she pouted.
“Huh? I ain’t even say anything,” Trigga replied confused by her sudden outburst.
****
“Lookie, lookie, lookie at who it is!” Detective Walton sang as he looked at Cameisha and Trigga’s pictures on the latest alert.
“That’s the girl!” Brice cheered pointing at the picture, “Belize?”
“Roundtrip to Belize in 24 hours. Way too sloppy for a Salazar associate,” Walton said scratching his chin thoughtfully.
“Well she hasn’t been seen around the clan in some time. You think she struck out on her own?”
“Nah, she’s alive. Juan Salazar fires his employees with a firing squad. Perhaps she’s doing some side deals,” the detective surmised.
“Who’s the guy?” Brice wanted to know.
“That’s for you to find out. They land in an hour!”
Toshiba rode along with the rookie to Atlanta’s Hartsfield Airport. Their credentials got them in the secured part of the airport. Once the plane landed, they pulled their bag and searched it.
“Jack…fucking…pot!” an airport security agent announced when the search struck gold. Coke actually.
“Cocaine,” Brice said shaking his head. A pair of Cameisha’s cute little panties also caught his attention.
“We got a hit boss,” Toshiba relayed into her phone to Walton back at the office.
“Let them pick it up and wait for my word. Nobody moves until I say,” he ordered.
“You heard the man!” the airport cop said eagerly. The thirty-year-old black nerd loved making busts and was eager to make another.
****
“The fuck our shit at?” Trigga griped when he saw the same bag circulate the carousel twice. Cameisha knew in her gut that something was wrong. Every fiber of her being screamed ‘Run!’ but she wouldn’t. She had too much invested and was too greedy.
‘Get greedy, go to jail!’
“I know, I know, I know!” Meisha fussed at her father's memory causing Trigga to snap his head in her direction.
“Chill shawty, oh there it is!” he said when their bag magically appeared. Cameras rolled from several angles as he scooped it off the carousel.
Cameisha scanned every face that walked by. Anytime she made eye contact, she peered into their soul looking for a badge. Most people frowned at the odd girl and turned away. Not Agent Super-Cop though. He stared back, then ducked under a newspaper and stared some more. Meisha felt her heartbeat thundering in her throat when he got up and fell in step behind them.
“Aw man,” she whined as she watched the bust unfold in slow motion. They were cooked and she knew it. Ten kilos in the bag was self-explanatory. Get greedy; go to jail.
“Fall back Agent Harst,” Toshiba growled into her headset. The gung-ho cop was feet from the couple ready to take them down. If Detective Walton hadn’t spoken up, he would have.
“Abort! Abort! Nobody move,” he relayed urgently. “Brice, Toshiba, put a trail on them. Everyone, fall back."
“Sup with you shawty? You turning red!” Trigga informed Cameisha alerting her to the fact that she was
holding her breath.
“Uh, nothing?” she said wondering why nothing happened. She surprised everyone when she hailed a taxi once they got outside.
“Sup shawty?” he wanted to know when she pushed him inside.
“Shit!” Toshiba fumed realizing they lost them. By the time they could reach their car, the taxi would be long gone.
Chapter 19
“You tripping’ shawty!” Trigga declared dubiously when Cameisha relayed the events at the airport. “I ain’t seen none of that! So why they ain’t bag us?”
“I don’t know!” she shouted a little harsher than intended. That had been eating at her the whole way home. Why let them go? Trigga not believing her only made it worse. She was sure of what she saw. They were caught and she knew it.
Cameisha stared out the window of the cab to be sure they weren’t followed. She switched to the train and another taxi with Trigga complaining the whole way.
“Why don’t you call them and ask them!” she murmured.
“Whatever! Tell you what though; once I finish this, I’m going back! With, or without you!” he shot back and turned his back to signal the end of the conversation. He got back to the task at hand which was cooking coke.
“Take a deep breath dickhead,” Meisha mumbled under her breath seeing his surgical mask down around his neck. He pulled it up proving that he heard her.
Trigga hogged the stove cooking on two burners at the same time. He planned to cook one of his five kilos right then. Cameisha had to wait on the sideline until he finished. Once he did, he moved to the dining room table to weigh and bag while she moved to the kitchen.
“Un uh! Don’t come in here,” she chided Aqua when she waddled in. “You can’t breathe this stuff!”
“Oops!” she said covering her mouth with her hand. She retreated back into the living room and shouted her request. “Can we go to that Halal place again?”
“Hell yeah!” Trigga answered for Cameisha. He dug in his pocket and came out with a hundred dollar bill. He was so grateful she found a replacement for the Fat-Fat burgers that he would gladly finance her new addiction.
“Sure we can,” Meisha said as if Trigga hadn’t even spoken. She was still in her feelings about the whole airport business. They were also going to look at a condo for her. “You ready to see your place?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Aqua moaned sadly. She wasn’t crazy about being alone now that Dasia was gone and Cameisha had a boyfriend.
“Don’t worry mama, we getting a two bedroom ‘cause I’ll be spending plenty of nights over there,” she said snarling at Trigga as she spoke. He made a ‘yeah right’ chuckle and kept on working without looking up.
“Well, bring some turkey burgers when you come,” Aqua insisted.
Trigga finished separating the coke into eight 4.5-ounce packages. They would fix the G-packs once he got to Troy’s apartment then supply the traps.
“See you later?” he asked as he stood to leave.
“Maybe,” she quipped. It was a bold face lie though because she planned to be bent over the arm of that sofa that night.
“I know,” he laughed patting the arm on his way out. It was a date!
****
“Come on in,” Troy laughed sarcastically as Trigga used his key and walked in. Chaun tried to lift her head from his lap to speak but he held her in place. “Don’t be nosy.”
“Sup Chaun,” Trigga said in passing. She waved since speech was out of the question with that much dick in her mouth.
Trigga laughed and settled down at the dining room table. He was still in eye and ear shot of the blowjob but didn’t pay any attention to it. Instead, he got to work fixing up G-packs. The blowjob Chaun was giving was a lot less work than stuffing G-packs and they were up to almost 50 a day. At that rate, five kilos wouldn’t last two weeks.
“I was worried about you cross that water shawty!” Troy called to him in the next room.
“Uh, can we wait till she done fo’ we talk?” he laughed.
“That’s what’s…mmm…argh! Mm…shit!” Troy grunted and moaned as Chaun sipped the juice.
“Good! Now come help me bag this shit up,” Trigga chided.
“I got you,” he said getting his dick back from the girl. It was all shiny and clean from the blowjob as he put it away. He pulled a couple of twenties off a large roll of cash and handed it over.
“Thanks,” Chaun smiled and leaned in for a kiss.
“Yeah, right,” Troy laughed and walked away. “Lock the door behind you.”
“Let me tell you ‘bout this trip!” Trigga began and ended with the unseen drama at the airport.
“So you don’t believe her? That ain’t something no one would make up. She mighta just got paranoid with all that work,” Troy reasoned. Trigga twisted his lips in careful consideration before speaking.
“I believe every word shawty ever spoke. Nah, she wouldn’t make no shit up and that girl don’t get paranoid!” he replied.
“So…what we gon’ do?” Troy asked hopefully.
“I’on know shawty. Worse comes to worst, I may have to try it. If don’t nothing else pop we ain’t got no choice!”
Once they had enough work to resupply the traps they set out to make their rounds. They had to first collect the receivables from the night before, before restocking the shelves once more. Since they were already in Westfield that’s where they started. The local dope boys passed close to ten grand into the car window and got broke off again. So far, so good, then it was off to Oak Tree.
“Hey Troy!” a flock of ghetto birds squawked as they drove through the complex. Troy just lifted a hand in a fake wave without even looking in their direction.
“Really? The whole crew huh?” Trigga laughed. He knew his friend well enough to equate his lack of interest to the fact that he ran through all of them. Troy was a conqueror. He was always on the hunt for new vaginas to vanquish.
“The whole crew!” he laughed and relayed which one had the best head, the best tail, etc.
“Err body out,” Trigga nodded at the gathering of dope boys waiting on them. They would hate to have to go on a ghetto duck hunt. Those end just like a regular duck hunt, with a dead duck.
The trap stars broke bread, re-upped, and hit the trap. Everything was moving nice and smooth so they moved on to the next spot. When they reached Glen Valley, the dope boys gathered around.
“Even ol’ Snake is…uh oh,” Troy said then saw the dispirited look on his face.
“Uh oh is right, here comes the bullshit,” Trigga said when he saw it. More proof came when he deliberately fell to the back of the line while everyone else jockeyed to be first.
One by one, the dealers forked over seven hundred and fifty dollars and got more work. They immediately rushed over to the trap where junkies were milling around waiting to be served. The young men puffed their chests out in pride when their count came correct. In return, they got more coke to sell. There were no pats on the back but they didn’t get shot either. Besides, you can’t spend accolades anyway. Just as expected, Snake’s money was short.
“Only two…forty-three?” Troy winced painfully after counting it twice. Snake shifted from foot to foot like he was ready to bolt.
“Pay up nigga!” Trigga blurted happily. Snake flinched but he wasn’t talking to him.
“You got that,” Troy said and fished out his bankroll. Snake looked on in confusion as he counted out five hundred bucks and handed it over. He didn’t know that the men had bet on just how short he would come. Troy figured it would be at least five hundred, but Trigga was nowhere near that optimistic.
“Ok, see what had happen was…ok first my mama, she be gambling, then, then I got robbed? Yeah robbed, some niggas in ski masks…the police ran up on me and I had to toss it and my mama,” Snake rambled on a muddled collage of excuses.
“Un huh, oh! Damn!” Trigga and Troy nodded in bemused agreement. Even if any of it were true, it wouldn’t have mattered. They gave their word that
they would murder whoever came short. They intended to keep that promise and make another one just like it. He was short and was going to get shot. Nuff said.
“Ok, no problem. We done ran out of dope but shit, you wanna hit the club with us later?” Trigga offered.
“You for real? Hell yeah! Shoot I’m finna go shopping and get dead fresh!” he went on and on not realizing he had put himself in the air. Later that night, Trigga and Troy would simply kick away the chair.
Chapter 20
“Ok boy, I see you!” Cameisha cheered pulling up behind Bad Ass washing the new used car he’d just bought.
“Shit dope ain’t it!” he said patting the Caddie like a puppy. “I’ma trick this shit out! Somebody too busy tricking to buy a car,” he added pointing at Self on the porch getting cornrows.
“Say it ain’t so?” she asked Self as he sat wincing from pain between Angel’s thick thighs.
“No,” Self said looking like he wanted to cry. He moved a little too much and got in trouble.
“Be still,” Angel fussed and popped him with the comb. Bad Ass cracked up and Meisha just shook her head.
“I don’t love them hoes,” Bad Ass announced as he dropped the sponge in the bucket to follow her inside.
“And they’re not going to love you either,” she said over her shoulder. Self was grateful for the reprieve and got up to follow them inside.
Instead of following them into the kitchen, Self darted up the steps to collect the trap money. Eastwyck was doing 60 G-packs a day plus what Mama shuttled from the house. Self was sitting on over a hundred grand and glad to get rid of it.
Bad Ass and Self were splitting five to six thousand a day for running the show. Not bad for a couple of latch key kids from the Bronx. Self stacked most of his while Bad Ass balled. Clothes, shoes, jewels, and now a car. Self always shot Angel some mall money but it ain’t tricking if it’s your lady.
“Drop it in the bag,” Meisha said when he shoved the cash under her nose. They were long past the counting money point. If it was anything other than what it was supposed to be, he would have told her. She was too busy double-checking the G-packs.