Dope Girl 4: R. I. P.

by Sa'id Salaam

  Trigga laughed at the street-level drug peddlers hoping to get in and rub shoulders with the big dogs. They even looked like street dealers with the loud clothes, gold teeth, and dreadlocks. These silly dudes will swear someone snitched on them when they get caught; when in fact, they tell on themselves. It’s like a female dressing like a whore and expecting to be treated like a lady. If you see a man in a fireman’s uniform, you would assume he was a fireman. Whore uniform; whore. Dope boy uniform; dope boy. It’s not rocket science.

  He spent another hundred to get the velvet rope to the VIP lifted. The booths were all full so he took one of the two empty seats at the bar. The other was filled just as he arrived. Trigga frowned at the man realizing he seen him several times already that night. Once when he left the condo then again at the gas station. Now at the bar. He felt like he was being followed. He was but when he looked at the man, he was preoccupied with the sexy strippers. Trigga shrugged it off as a healthy dose of dope boy paranoia. If you're in the streets committing crimes your ass better be paranoid because everyone is out to get you.

  "What y'all drankin’?" a beautifully uncovered white bartender asked looking between the two newcomers. Both of their eyes shot straight down to her big breasts as if they asked the question. The big, pretty melons were bare except for pasties covering the big brown nipples. Trigga had a sudden craving for milk.

  "Cognac," the man said. He had the odd accent of someone from New York who lived in the south for a long time. Sounds kinda like a cat barking or a dog saying meow.

  "Same here," Trigga announced before she turned to leave. They both shot their eyes down to her ass as it jiggled away.

  "And niggas be saying white girls ain't got no ass," he remarked.

  "They a damn lie!" Trigga said in defense of white girls with booty. They both laughed and slapped five because a fat ass does deserve a high five. "I'm Trigga."

  "Montel, but call me Nut," he replied offering his hand. "You must be in the music business? No way you’re one of these wanna be Bama ass dope boys in here."

  "I can't rap a lick!" Trigga laughed. "I ain’t a Bama either but I am a dope boy." Trigga had sized the man up and quickly ascertained that he was working with some dough. He had seen the same watch on his wrist in the store and knew the diamonds were real. It ran just south of ten grand. The clip that held his stack of brand new hundreds was pure platinum.

  "Shit me too, I guess. More of a broker or middleman. My people got so much of the stuff I make a nice commission off it," Nut explained. That part was true even if everything after was a lie.

  "So what them thangs going for? I need as many as I can get my hands on."

  "10 grand if you're getting 50 or better," Nut replied casually. As if fifty bricks of cocaine was nothing.

  "50!" he shouted and then sipped his liquor to play it off. "50 is good but I'm going to need like about 10 to start."

  "We don't really do nothing under 50 but fuck it, for you 17.5."

  "Shit after I flip them 10 bricks a couple of times I'll fuck with you on the 50. Half a mil is a sweet ticket!" Trigger said hopefully.

  "It is sweet but check it," Nut said and paused for effect. "The people I fuck with are very, very serious. You seem like a cool dude, they ain't. If you ain't straight up and down and I mean like 6 o'clock then you better off fucking with...him."

  Trigga looked at the gold-toothed dope boy wearing bright orange everything and laughed. He was dipped in 10-carat chains with cloudy, slum diamonds. You just knew he had an old school donk outside sitting high on big ass rims.

  "Shawty I'm a businessman. Sell me 10 kilos and I'll be back in a few days for 10 more. Give me a month or so and I'll be ready for them 50," he vowed.

  ****

  "Where you think you going?" Trigga asked as Cameisha stood to follow him out.

  "With my money," she shot back since half of the one hundred and seventy five thousand dollars in the bag was hers. She wasn't in the mood to take any more losses and tucked a pistol in her purse to prove it.

  "I got this shawty. Dude lives downtown too, a few blocks away from here. I'm going to his crib," he said trying to dissuade her.

  "Mm hmm," she replied unmoved.

  Trigga knew his girl well enough to know she wasn't giving up or giving in. The makeup sex they had after the club was great but that was personal and this was business. He twisted his lips, shook his head, and held his tongue. She was coming too. They pulled out of the underground parking and hit Peachtree Street. A few streets later, they pulled into the underground parking of yet another high-rise building. Their eyes quickly covered every square inch of the parking area searching for danger. Seeing none, Trigga put the car in park and they got out and walked to the elevator.

  "A-yo if we get 50 bricks we’ll clear over 2 million," Cameisha whispered as they ascended. "Shit that's more than enough!"

  "Is it?" he wondered aloud. That was one of the dope boy curses; it's never enough. Make one million you want two, make two million and you want 10. Some hustlers can shift gears into legitimate ventures but some can't. Dope boy for life.

  "Guess we'll find out huh?" Meisha replied as the door open on Nut’s floor.

  The plush unit was courtesy of Suave, who had one of his own on the top level. He would be living in it in a couple of weeks when his brother got out of prison.

  "Here we go," Trigga announced halfway down the thickly carpeted hallway. He rang the doorbell and stood in front of the peephole, which was actually a camera.

  "Who?" Nut barked from behind the door. The rhetorical question was out of habit since he already knew exactly who it was. He opened the door with a smile that quickly changed into a frown. "Who is this?"

  "My bad shawty, this is my girl Cameisha. She's in the bag with me," he explained meaning that half of the money in the bag belonged to her.

  "Sup," Nut said and stepped aside so they could enter. He shot a quick glance down at her fat ass as she passed. He didn't want to cross the thin line between respect and disrespect. That could lead to an argument that would lead to a fight that would bring out the gunman in the back and end in a gunfight. And that would disobey Suave’s order that no one made a move without him.

  "Nice place," Cameisha nodded as they entered.

  "Thanks; have a seat," the host offered gesturing towards the sofa.

  "Count that," Trigga said sitting the bag of cash on top of the table that separated them.

  "May as well blaze while we work," Nut said lighting a blunt. He took the customary two pulls and passed it over. When Trigger accepted the blunt he began running the cash through a money counter. The sound of the money machine was hypnotic and had them both entranced.

  “I like your style son," Nut smiled and nodded as the final cut was over instead of under. He slid the change across the table and stood to go get the dope.

  "That's mine!" Cameisha shouted and snatched up the extra cash before Trigga could get it. Nut returned with the coke a minute later and set it on the table. They could smell the cocaine through the wrapper and knew it was that shit.

  "Check it shawty, we run all our shit through the trap so it'll be a couple days, week at the most," Trigga explained as he put the coke in the bag the cash just came out of.

  "That's a bet," Nut said and exchanged a pound with him and a head nod with her. He took one more mental snapshot of her ass as she left. The phone rang the second he closed the door behind them. It was almost like they were being watched, because they were.

  "Damn that little bitch is fine! No wonder she had little bro all fucked up," Suave said watching the transaction through the security cameras. "I may have to hit that my damn self!"

  Chapter 32

  "Won’t be long now," Meisha said rubbing Aqua’s big belly like a crystal ball. The baby inside moved against her hands in response.

  "I wish. I can't wait to see my Stevie again," Aqua pouted.

  "How do you know it’s a boy?" Samantha asked and to everyone's surp
rise stopped talking. It was proof that you can break a person. Juan’s beatings had knocked all the extra talk out of the girl.

  “Oh, I just know," Aqua responded so surely no one doubted her. The answer was followed by a dense silence that indicated something serious was coming. Cameisha mulled over her words carefully before turning to Samantha.

  "So Sam, ummm..."

  "I'm keeping it," Samantha blurted knowing where she was going. "He or she has nothing to do with him."

  "Well you do understand that ‘him' is about to be dead, don't you?" Cameisha asked. Samantha just shrugged and sipped her milk.

  "So when you and Trigga going to have some babies?" Aqua wanted to know once again.

  "Chile, please, ain't nobody got time for that," Meisha laughed. The fake laugh was despite her wondering where her period was. It should have come days ago so she had worn a pad for whenever it decided to show up. She was on the pills but the funny thing about them is you have to actually take them for them to be effective. She would miss a couple days then swallow three or four pills to make up. "Probably just stress."

  "What is?" Samantha asked cocking her head curiously.

  "Huh? Oh nothing," she said realizing that she had thought out loud. "Anywho, let me go to check the trap."

  Cameisha planted wet kisses on her friends’ foreheads and got broad smiles in return. She was so consumed by her thoughts that she didn't even turn on the radio as she drove. For the first time she noticed how drastically, the scenery changed from downtown Decatur to the hood. The freshly painted houses with manicured lawns gave way to liquor stores and pawnshops.

  The happy, smiling black and white faces were replaced by exclusively black downtrodden hopeless ones as soon as she crossed Memorial Drive. An old drunk lady danced on the corner to music no one else could hear. Soulless zombies roamed the streets in search of a chemical escape. They would gladly trade cash or flesh for the next get high.

  Legions of young black boys stood in every parking lot with drugs and guns in baggy pants. They all dressed alike, acted alike, talked alike, and shared the same common fate. None of them would ever achieve the riches their favorite rappers lied about in songs and videos. The rappers rapped, for them it really was get rich or die trying. Many would make revolutions through the revolving doors of the state's prisons. They would continue catching two and three years skid bids until they earned recidivist status and got their socks knocked off with 30 or 40-year bids. Quite a few more would die out there in those streets.

  People always say black people have the crabs in the barrel mentality but that's not true. Crabs are far more humane. They won't murder you for what's in your pocket or for the right to sell crack on a particular corner. The police loved the black on black crime. They called them two for one specials. One black men dead and another one in prison was a win-win situation for them. It's funny how black people rally, loot, hoop, and holler when the police kill a black man but no one is concerned when Paco killed Mook-Mook. Where's his rally? Where's his protest and marches?

  The fatherless children are left behind; doomed to repeat the vicious cycle of life and death in the hood. Cameisha tried to swat the fly that landed on her face, but when it splashed, she realized it was a tear. What started out as a lone tear was quickly followed by many many more. She was suddenly overwhelmed and began bawling like a wet, hungry, lonely, project baby. When she pulled into Eastwyck, she tried to man up and get herself together. She lifted her shirt and dried her face before going into the apartment.

  "What's wrong with you?" Self asked as if he was angry at whatever had her so distraught.

  "Nothing, I'm cool; what we looking like?" she said trying to deflect the attention away from her.

  "Looking like some rich niggas! The trap is booming. I put them niggas on Glenwood down and they on point too. If they fuck up I'm going to go over there and air that shit out," he said demonstrating his new taste for murder.

  "I know that's right...Wait! No, if they come up short cut 'em off," she said catching herself. It was like the voice inside of her said no more killing.

  "Huh?" he asked in confusion. He knew full well she was a killer and would kill about her money.

  "You heard me; no more killing. If niggas want to bite the hand that feeds them then fuck them, they don't eat. Let them starve out this bitch!" she shot back trying to sound tough. Self looked at her oddly wondering what had changed. He couldn't see it because changes of the heart are invisible to the naked eye.

  Between Trigga and Cameisha, the 10 kilos were gone in ten days. Ten days later, they ran through another 10 keys and then did it again. It was now time to make the buy that would set them straight for life. With Troy living on in memories and t-shirts, Trigga had to make all the pickups and drop-offs by himself. After Snake, no one ever came short again. The chicken heads never even looked his way since he never even gave them the time of day.

  Of course, they could have moved the dope a lot quicker by selling wholesale but at a much smaller profit. Instead they grinded nick by nick and dime by dime until they had the half a million dollars that they needed. They were all set for their happily ever after until Bilal came home.

  Chapter 33

  "Well, well, well look at my baby bro," Suave clapped as Bilal stepped off the bus. Amber and Darla also clapped and bounced by his side.

  "What are you doing here?" Bilal asked with his displeasure written all over his face.

  "My baby brother fresh out from a bid, you know I had to be here! Not like when I got home and you were off playing doctor. But we're not going to go there right now. Besides you're paroling out to my address so I'm responsible for you," Suave said. He came over and put his arm around him to lead him to the car.

  “I don't know why we're here. You think that girl is going to show up? After he went to prison for her?" Brice asked as he and Toshiba waited on Bilal’s return as well.

  "I doubt it but you know your boss, he likes to cross all the Is and dot all the Ts,” she replied. Toshiba shot her partner a side eye scowl seeing him oogling the white girls following the men to their car. "You like what you see? What is it with you black men and white women?"

  "White girl head. Eighth wonder of the world," he said not blinking from Amber and Darla's ample asses.

  "Whatever!" she laughed at yet another silly stereotype. She started the car and discretely followed them to the high rise. That address got put on their stake out list too.

  ****

  "Wow!" was all Cameisha could come up with when her count confirmed what Trigga had. The cash on the table in front of them equaled a half million dollars.

  "Wow is right!" he agreed.

  "A-yo, let's take the money and run! We won, let's just go!" she suggested. The money would be worth three or four times that amount in South America. Not to mention Self was straight. He had cash stacked to the ceiling. Jackie had damn near every dope dollar she ever made. Aqua and Samantha were together. Bad Ass tricked his off but he was cool too.

  "Shit shawty, we flip this and we gone be super straight!" Trigga replied. It was that old dope boy curse once more. One more score, one more flip. How many tombstones should that phrase be on? Either that or 'died trying'.

  "You right," she agreed since the dope boy curse affects dope girls too. "Make the call. I got to use the bathroom."

  When Cameisha got into the room, she retrieved her recent purchase hidden in the closet. The bankbooks left by her dope boy father caught her eye. The worthless books contained only numbers and no name. It was all that he had left behind as far as she knew. What she did not know about the trust funds was that they were in every one of his kids’ names. They were straight for life.

  "Stop procrastinating and handle your business," she heard herself say and got up. She went into the bathroom opened the box and read the directions aloud.

  "Pee on stick and wait 15 minutes...That's it?" she asked the box. It seemed like something so important would be a little more difficult.<
br />
  "Say shawty, come on. He ready now!" Trigga yelled from the front of the condo. He had just hung up with Nut who had told him to come now.

  "Give me 12 minutes!" she shouted back.

  "Man, I'll be back by then I'm finna go!" he insisted and hit the door. Cameisha was on his ass before he reached the elevator.

  "I can't believe you were going to leave me," she pouted as she caught up. She left the test strip on the counter in a rush to grab her gun.

  "What's in there?" he asked even though he already knew it was a gun. They had done business so many times before he felt like he could trust Nut. In this business that's called getting rocked to sleep.

  "A Mac and I don't mean lip-gloss" she shot back. Cameisha was taught by the best and she didn't take naps. Especially with a half a million at stake.

  ****

  "So you ever do anal?" Toshiba asked as they sat in the garage of Suave’s high-rise. As usual their stake out was filled with sexual banter.

  "Yuck! No!" Brice grimaced.

  "Me neither," Toshiba said seeing his aversion. "Here's our new friends."

  "Where to now? The barbershop? A restaurant?" he said since most of their surveillance went nowhere. He prepared to start the car and follow.

  "Dude is out of it," she couldn't help but notice as Bilal followed in a zombie like state. He was even like that when his brother sicced Amber and Darla on him. He would just stare off into space while they tag team blew him.

  "Looks like he's walking the plank," Brice noticed. He has an odd dead man walking look in his blank eyes. They got into the SUV but didn't move. It was like they were on a stake out of their own. Or an ambush.

  "The plot thickens, isn't that the boyfriend?" Brice asked when Trigga pulled into the garage.

  "And the girl. What the hell is going on here?" Toshiba asked but didn't wait for an answer. "I'm calling it in."