After Amanda read that message, rage and anger could be seen all in her face. She immediately headed straight to the bathroom.
“I thought you didn’t know any fuckin’ Vanessa?” Amanda yelled, snatching back the shower curtain.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Fresh asked, not sure what was going on or what to say.
“This what the fuck I’m talking about!” Amanda growled, showing Fresh the message from Vanessa in his sidekick. Fuck, I’m slipping yo, Fresh thought as he tried to not look surprised.
“Bitch, what the fuck is you doing going through my shit?” Fresh yelled as he back-slapped Amanda with his wet hand.
“Fuck you, mu’fucka! You going to get what’s coming to you,” she promised as she tossed Fresh’s sidekick in the toilet, then headed to the bedroom.
This bitch is fuckin crazy, Fresh thought as he hopped straight out of the shower and headed to the bedroom, dripping wet. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Amanda didn’t respond; instead, she just continued to pack her duffel bag and grab the rest of her belongings. “I hope it was worth it, you heartless bastard,” she snarled as she grabbed her keys off the dresser. She headed outside in the pouring rain, heated out of her mind. When Amanda got outside she found out that the storm had gotten much worse, but she didn’t care. She just headed outside, threw her shit in the trunk, and hopped in the driver’s seat of her Intrepid.
“Baby, come back inside so we can talk about this,” Fresh yelled from the doorway as he partially stepped out, but it was no use as he watched his woman pull out into the storm.
“I shouldn’t have left,” Amanda said out loud, crying her eyes out, trying to stay focused on the road. It was raining so hard that she could barely see a thing. Her ringing cell phone didn’t help the matter—it just made it worst.
“Stop fuckin’ calling me!” Amanda yelled out loud, looking at the cell phone as if it was going to talk back.
After ten minutes of nonstop ringing she couldn’t take it any more. “What the fuck do you want?” she yelled into her cell phone as she lost control of the vehicle. Before she could regain control of the vehicle she saw a woman and a child in front of her headlights. Immediately, she stomped her brakes. The back tires slid, causing the vehicle to swerve. Before Amanda knew it the young child bounced off her windshield and up into the air. Amanda bumped her head on the steering wheel as the vehicle came to a complete stop. Blood trickled from her forehead as she stepped out of the vehicle.
“What the fuck did you do?” the woman screamed out, clutching her dead daughter’s head in her arms. “You didn’t see that red light?” the woman asked, her face full of tears.
“No, I didn’t see a red light,” Amanda mumbled, feeling sorry for the woman standing in front of her. All she could do was say sorry. Amanda was shaking nervously as she put a hand over her mouth in disbelief.
“Yeah, you going to be sorry,” the woman snarled as she dialed 911 in her cell phone. Not knowing what to do, Amanda quickly hopped back in her car and fled the scene.
“Hey, get back here, you murderer,” the woman yelled as tears streamed down her face and she watched the car that killed her daughter disappear into the night.
“What the fuck did I just do?” Amanda asked herself out loud as she tried to watch the road through her cracked windshield. “All I have to do is get to Melissa’s house so I can ditch this car, and I’ll be all right,” she told herself over and over again. Right before Amanda approached the highway she saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror. “Oh my God, I’m going to jail,” she said repeatedly to herself as she pulled over and from her rearview mirror watched the white police officer make his way to her vehicle.
“Miss, can you please step out of the vehicle?” the red-faced officer asked, shining his bright flashlight in Amanda’s face. Once out of the vehicle the red-faced officer roughly pushed her on the hood of the wet car and proceeded to search her just as rough. “Miss, put your hands behind your back,” he said in a smooth tone as he handcuffed her, then placed her in the backseat of his squad car. “I hope you got a good lawyer,” the officer chuckled as he slammed the back door to the squad car.
Chapter Eleven
“Wow, look at how real these people look!” little Brittany bragged as she and her other brother played the new game that Pop had just bought them. They were sitting, having a good time—that was, until Teresa came stumbling in. “What the fuck is that y’all in here playing?” Teresa slurred, with her eyes bloodshot red.
“PlayStation 3,” little Brittany answered proudly.
“Where the fuck did y’all get that from?”
“Pop brought it for us,” Brittany answered again.
“Pop brought it for y’all?” Teresa asked skeptically. She looked at the game as she swayed back and forth, trying to keep her balance.
“Didn’t I tell you he’s not allowed in my house anymore?” she barked, snatching the plug out of the wall. “I’m taking this mu’fucka to the pawnshop,” she said loudly as she placed the system in a garbage bag, and headed back toward the door. The sighs of the kids and sounds of them smacking their lips in disappointment filled the air as they looked at Teresa drunkenly gathering the cords.
“We can’t never have nothing nice,” Little Brittany mumbled under her breath in disappointment.
“I heard that, you little bitch,” Teresa said as she bent down and slapped the little girl across her face with all of her might. “You get that disrespectful shit from that idiot Pop,” she yelled as she headed out the door with the PS3.
“What the fuck you mean you in jail?” Fresh yelled angrily into the receiver.
“Mu’fucka, what part don’t you understand? It’s your fault why I’m in here anyway,” Amanda barked back.
“Who the fuck you talking to like that?” Fresh questioned.
“Fresh, don’t play with me,” she warned.
“What you mean don’t play with you?” Fresh asked as he looked at the receiver to make sure he wasn’t bugging.
“All I know is that I better get bailed out before the night is out or else! As much shit as you done put me through, shit,” Amanda stated boldly.
“You’ll be out before the night is out,” Fresh said as he slammed the phone down in her ear.
“Yo, you ready to go pick this nigga Tito up?” Rusty asked quietly, sensing something was wrong.
“Huh,” Fresh asked, snapping out of his inner thoughts.
“You ready to pick up Tito?” Rusty asked again.
“Yeah, let’s be out,” Fresh answered as him and Rusty headed out the door and hopped in the Range Rover.
“Yo, you know that nigga Bernard?” Rusty asked as he pulled out into traffic.
“You talking about that nigga you took with you on the Bamboo hit?” Fresh asked, searching his memory.
“Yeah, that nigga,” Rusty began excitedly. “My man told me he just got picked up the other day by them five-oh.”
“You think he talking?” Fresh asked quickly.
Rusty shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, he ain’t really a street nigga like that. I just used him that night ’cause I needed one more man so it probably won’t be too hard to get to roll over.”
“Do what you gotta do,” Fresh said without thinking twice about it. His motto was if you had to think about whether a person would snitch or not, then more than likely he would turn out to be a problem, and the last thing Fresh needed was another problem.
“You heard that nigga Tito getting out today, right?” Pooh asked, spitting out some sunflower seeds.
“Yeah, I heard it’s supposed to be a big party for him tonight,” Pop replied quickly.
“I heard it’s going to be mad hoes there and all that,” Pooh said excitedly.
“We’ll see,” Pop said as he noticed little Brittany walking with her head down again.
“I’ll be right back,” Pop said, making his way over to his little sister.
&
nbsp; “Yo, what’s wrong with you?” Pop asked.
“Mommy took the game and pawned it,” little Brittany said, feeling ashamed of her mother.
“Brittany, please tell me you lying,” Pop asked seriously.
“Nope, she took it to the pawnshop earlier,” Brittany tattled.
“Damn, you know how much I paid for that shit,” Pop growled.
“The people looked so real on that game too,” little Brittany added.
“Is Mommy upstairs right now?” Pop asked heatedly.
“Yeah, she just woke up,” Brittany answered.
“Okay, I want you to go to the park and play, all right?”
“Okay, Pop,” little Brittany said as she headed to the park.
“This bitch must be crazy,” Pop said to himself as he went to go pay Ms. Teresa a little visit.
“Damn, it feels good to be home,” Tito said, giving Rusty and Fresh a pound followed by a hug.
“Glad to have you back home,” Fresh said, handing Tito a brown paper bag full of money.
“Good looking, baby, It’s going to be just like old times out here, B,” Tito stated, happy to be home.
“You know I had to bring your baby girl,” Rusty cut in, placing a P89 in Tito’s hand. Tito looked at the gun and let out a slight chuckle. “Damn it feels good to get away from those crackers and those fuckin’ mountains,” he said as he took a brief pause, admiring his P89 Ruger. “I’m home now, baby, you already know what time it is,” Tito said as the Range Rover pulled off, headed to the big city.
When Pop entered his mother’s small apartment it was junky and dirty as usual. He stepped over the clothes and random trash as he made his way over to Teresa, who was sitting on the couch slouching.
“What the fuck you doing in my mu’fuckin’ house?” Teresa asked, frowning at the sight of her son.
“Yo, where the fuck is my money?” Pop asked bluntly, as he ignored the several roaches on the wall playing follow the leader.
“What money you talking about?” Teresa asked, dumbfounded.
“Bitch, stop playing stupid with me. You know what money I’m talking about,” Pop said, kicking over a bag of dirty clothes that stood in front of him.
“Boy, you must have lost your fuckin’ mind!” Teresa yelled as she hopped up and back-slapped Pop dead across his face. The impact from the blow busted his lip and caused his hat to fly off. Instantly Pop turned and caught his moms with a right hook followed by a sharp uppercut, sending Teresa crashing into the kitchen table. He snapped.
“That’s just what I wanted you to do, you dumb mu’fucka. Now you going straight to jail,” Teresa snarled through a pair of bloody lips as she held her jaw. Pop quickly ran out of the house when he saw his mother reaching for the phone and disappeared into the staircase. Once outside Pop made his way straight to Nika’s house, so he could hide out until it was time to go to the party. When Pop stepped in the crib Nika was naked placing lotion on her sexy body.
“Hey, baby, what you doing home so early?” Nika asked, happy her man was home.
“I just had to fuck my moms up!” Pop blurted out.
“Please tell me you lying,” Nika said, walking around naked.
“I had just bought my little sister a PS3, and my mother pawned it the next day.”
“So you going to risk going to jail over six hundred dollars?” Nika asked, not understanding the point.
“It’s not about the money, it’s about the principle, you dig?” Pop replied.
“I hear what you saying, but you still have to be smarter than that, because you know your mother will call the cops on you in a New York minute,” Nika reminded him.
“Yeah, you right. I’m going to go take a shower real quick; hopefully, that will make me feel better,” Pop said as he removed his shirt.
“Pop, is it all right if I go to the club tonight with a few of my friends?” Nika asked as she began to paint her toenails.
“I don’t care,” he answered. “I’m going too but I really don’t want to!” he said as he closed the bathroom door. While Pop was in the shower, Nika came in the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat, hoping to cheer him up.
“Baby, no matter what happens you know I’m going to be right here by your side the whole way,” Nika promised him.
“I know, baby,” Pop responded as he cut off the water and hopped out of the shower. That last comment made him love Nika even more—knowing she had his back 100 percent was all he needed to hear. Once fully dressed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Pooh’s number.
“Yo, where you at?” Pop asked.
“Nigga, I’m downstairs waiting for you,” Pooh answered excitedly.
“Cool. I’m coming down right now,” Pop said, ending the conversation.
“Baby, I’m out. I’ll see you at the club, okay?” Pop yelled over his shoulder.
“Okay, boo, be careful,” Nika said as she continued cleaning up the house. As Pop headed down the steps he felt bad about lying to Nika, but the truth was he loved her and Melissa, no way he would be able to choose.
“Yo, the cops are out here looking for you,” Pooh said as he gave his friend a pound.
“Word? Where them clowns at right now?” Pop asked, looking over both shoulders.
“I don’t know, they were out here with your moms earlier,” Pooh said as he slid in the passenger side of the Magnum.
“Those mu’fuckas going to have to catch me, you dig?” Pop said, pulling out of his parking spot.
“You about to finally meet Tito,” Pooh said, letting out a light chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’ll see when you meet him,” Pooh answered.
“Yeah, a’ight,” Pop said, turning up the volume on his Lil Wayne CD.
When Pop pulled up in front of Fresh’s warehouse, cars were parked everywhere—you would have thought the president had just got out of jail. “Yo, pass me my ratchet from out of the glove compartment,” Pop said, sticking the 9 mm in his waistband.
As soon as Pop stepped foot inside the warehouse he spotted Tito immediately. They way the man handled himself demanded attention. Tito was a fast-talking Dominican who didn’t take no shit from nobody, and was known for being very disrespectful.
“Let me introduce you to my main man, Pop,” Fresh stated plainly as him and Tito walked over to where Pop and Pooh stood.
“So, this suppose to be my new replacement, huh?” Tito asked, laughing loudly, making a scene. “This baby-faced cocksucker wouldn’t hurt a fuckin’ fly,” Tito said cockily, not caring about the man standing in front of him. Little did he know, he was talking to a killer.
“Who the fuck is you talking to like that, B?” Pop asked, ready to get it on and poppin’.
“Make your move, chump,” Tito growled, getting all up in Pop’s face.
“Y’all niggas chill the fuck out. We all on the same team,” Fresh said, stepping in between the two men.
“I’m home now, B. Get use to me being around, my dude,” Tito said, looking Pop up and down like he was a child.
“You all talk, but no action,” Pop shot back calmly and not backing down.
“Yo, I said that’s enough, we all on the same fuckin’ team.” Fresh paused before he continued. “We all going to the club tonight to have a good time. I don’t want to hear no more shit out of you two,” he warned.
“Yo, Fresh, I’m just going to meet you at the club, I’m about to head that way now,” Pop said, walking out of the warehouse.
Once Pop was gone Tito started up again. “Yo, Fresh, why you fuckin with these young chumps? He ain’t no soldier.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover—that kid is more of a soldier then you think,” Fresh assured him.
“Yeah, Pop ain’t no punk. He be getting it in,” Rusty added.
“Well, I ain’t convinced,” Tito responded, being the stubborn bull that he was. “He’s going to have to make a believer out of me because honestly I don’t see it in him.” T
ito busted out laughing as he poured himself another drink. In all reality he was jealous of Pop; he hated that a younger hustler had taken his spot while he was away. Tito didn’t know how but he planned on getting his position back one way or another.
“I should of popped that nigga,” Pop said out loud. “I knew he was going to throw on the fake tough-guy routine,” he said as he felt his Nextel vibrating. When he looked at his caller ID he saw that it was Fresh.
“What’s good?” Pop asked very uninterested.
“You a’ight, my nigga?” Fresh asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Pop answered quickly.
“Don’t worry about Tito. He’s just happy to be home and a little overexcited,” Fresh said, explaining his man’s behavior.
“I see, but Fresh, you know I don’t be with all that talking shit. Make sure you let that fool know that before I have to lay my hands on that boy,” Pop said harshly.
“I got you, baby. I’m going to take care of it. We ’bout to head to the club now,” Fresh said, hearing the anger in Pop’s voice.
“A’ight, I’ll see y’all inside,” Pop said, closing his Nextel. For the rest of the ride, all Pop could do was think about Tito. He hated the fact that he couldn’t put his hands on the Dominican. He felt as if Tito was challenging him and Pop just couldn’t see himself bowing down; something inside of him just wouldn’t let him. As Pop pulled up in front of the club, he noticed it was hundreds of people crowded around the front as usual. He was about to place his 9 mm in the glove compartment, but his instinct told him to keep it on his waist.
“Where the fuck is Fresh at?” Amanda asked, ready to kill him.
“He’ s at the club, he sent Rusty to give me the money to bail you out,” Melissa stated plainly.
“This mu’fucka got a lot of fuckin’ nerves,” Amanda said, trying to hold in her tears. “Take me to the fuckin’ club, I need to talk to this mu’fucka,” she demanded from the passenger side of the car.
Knee Deep in the Game Page 10