When Pop stepped inside the club, it was jumping from wall to wall as usual. He headed straight for the bar, so he could get his mind right and scope out who was in the club. “Yo, let me get a bottle of Grey Goose,” he yelled over the blasting music to the cute bartender. After a little flirting Pop headed straight toward the VIP section with his bottle in hand so he could sit down and just chill for a minute.
Ten minutes later, Fresh, Tito, Rusty, and the rest of the crew came strolling over to the VIP section. Pop paid them no mind as he focused on Nika and her girlfriend entering the club.
Nika wore a tight-fitting red skirt along with her red hooker boots that came up to her knees. As good as Nika looked, Pop knew what his plans were when they got back home.
Instantly, his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw Melissa and Amanda headed toward the VIP section. “What the fuck are they doing here?” Pop wondered. “I hope Melissa and Nika don’t bump into each other,” he said to himself, looking a little nervous.
“So you just going to leave a bitch for dead like that?” Amanda snarled, getting all up in Fresh’ s face.
“Why don’t you go home and get you some rest,” Fresh shot back, turning his back to her.
“Don’t you turn your back on me, mu’fucka,” Amanda yelled as she grabbed Fresh’ s wrist and spun him back around.
“Listen, bitch, nobody told you to run out the fuckin’ house in a thunderstorm,” Fresh said strongly.
“Fuck you, you heartless bastard,” she growled as she grabbed a drink from off the table and tossed it in Fresh’ s face.
Rusty immediately grabbed Amanda and began to escort her out of the club. He didn’t want to hurt Amanda because she was like family, but his job was to protect Fresh, and that’s what he was going to do.
“You gonna get yours, mu’fucka!” Amanda yelled over her shoulder as she, Melissa, and Rusty disappeared into the crowd.
“Them Spanish bitches is crazy,” Fresh said, feeling embarrassed as he dried himself off with a napkin, feeling like a sucker. Pop continued to mind his business as he got drunk by himself. The whole club went crazy when 50 Cent’s new song came blaring through the speakers.
Pop stood over on the couch with his head down while the liquor took its effect. When Pop looked up he saw Tito all up in Nika’s face. At first he thought the liquor was fuckin’ with his mind, but as he did a double-take he realized he wasn’t bugging.
“What’ s good, baby, what’ s your name?” Tito slurred, smelling like liquor.
“I don’t have a name!” Nika responded, uninterested.
“Ma, stop stunting you know you feeling the God,” Tito said, grabbing Nika’ s hand.
“Get ya fuckin’ hands off of me, my man!” Nika said, jerking her hand away. “Beat it, you bum-ass nigga,” she said as she and her girlfriend busted out laughing.
“Bitch, you ain’t shit but a fuckin’ gold digger anyway, but I’ll tell you what you can do, you can kiss my ass with your tongue, you fuckin’ slut!” Tito capped back, ready to slap both of the women without thinking twice.
“Yo, what’s good? Is there a problem over here?” Pop asked, showing up right on time.
“Yeah, this thirsty bum-ass nigga is harassing me,” Nika said, pointing at Tito.
“Harassing you?” Tito echoed, looking at Nika like she was insane. “Ma, you can’t be serious. My worst slide look better than you on her worst day.”
“Yo, this my shorty right here, so back off, a’ight?” Pop said, looking Tito dead in his eyes.
“Nigga, ain’t nobody trying to talk to your little dirty-ass bitch,” Tito said, not even thinking about backing down. “You need to step your bitch game up, my geez ’cause this right here,” he said pointing at Nika, “this is not a good look!” Tito said as he burst out laughing.
It took everything inside Pop to control his temper and not pistol-whip the Dominican. Tito saw the look on Pop’s face and reacted.
“What’s good? You wanna get it poppin’?” the Dominican said, always ready for action.
“Come on let’s go,” Nika said as she pulled Pop by his wrist, leading him out the club before things got out of hand.
“That’s right, you better leave, mu’fucka!” Tito yelled. “And take that wack-ass bitch with you.”
Pop checked the magazine on his 9 mm as soon as he stepped outside.
“I’m going to pop that nigga when he comes outside.”
“He’s not even worth it,” Nika said, taking the gun and placing it in her purse. “You got way more to lose than that clown,” she added, trying to calm Pop down.
“Yo, let’s be out,” Pop said as he noticed an unmarked car cruising slowly in their direction.
“Excuse me,” a voice from inside the car yelled.
When Pop looked he couldn’t believe who it was. The Chinese detective hopped out the unmarked car with his gun already drawn.
“Let me see those hands, buddy,” he warned.
“We didn’t even do nothing,” Nika said, rolling her eyes at the Chinese man.
“Put your hands behind your back,” the detective said aiming his .357 at Pop’s chest.
“Chill out, Jet Li,” Pop said, doing as he was told. Once the Detective handcuffed Pop, he thoroughly searched him, upset that he didn’t find a weapon. He roughly threw him up against the unmarked car before he tossed him in the backseat.
“What’s the charge? ’cause this is bullshit,” Nika said rudely.
“Ma’am, your boyfriend assaulted his own mother earlier—now back off before I take you in with him,” the man said seriously.
Nika quickly remembered the 9 mm that she had in her purse and passed her purse to her girlfriend, who was just standing around being a witness.
“All you cops are dirty, always fuckin’ with black people, you Chinese mu’fucka,” Nika spat as she watched the Chinese detective drive away with her man. As soon as the unmarked car was out of eyesight, Nika quickly ran to the corner and flagged down a cab so she could go home and get some money to bail her man out.
“So beating up on women must make you feel like a real tough guy, huh?” the Chinese detective asked, looking at Pop through his rearview mirror. Pop sucked his teeth at the Chinese man and continued to look out the window. He knew he would be out in a couple of hours, if that.
“Shut the fuck up and just drive,” Pop huffed, shaking his head.
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” The Chinese detective laughed, still looking at Pop through the rearview mirror.
“What the fuck you keep looking at?” Pop growled as he slid down and began kicking the fence in the detective’s car. The Chinese detective quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“You think you tough guy, huh?” The Chinese detective chuckled as he removed his night stick from underneath his seat and slid out the vehicle. He quickly walked to the back of the car and snatched open the back.
“Yo, what you doing?” Pop yelled in a panic as he began kicking his feet to keep the detective off of him. The Chinese detective caught Pop’ s leg as he was trying to kick and violently snatched him out the backseat of the car onto the concrete.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop fuckin’ with me?” the Chinese detective scolded as he beat Pop with the night stick like he was an animal.
“Fuckin’ animal,” the Chinese detective yelled as he roughly tossed Pop back in the car. “I can’t stand you stupid-ass thugs,” he huffed as got back in the driver’s seat and continued on to the station.
“Yo, come with me outside for a second, I feel like I’m about to throw up,” Rusty said, leaning on Bernard’s shoulder for support.
“Damn, you that fucked-up?” Bernard laughed as he help escort Rusty through the club toward the exit.
Fresh watched Rusty and Bernard exit the club and all he could do was shake his head. He liked Bernard but he didn’t like him enough to sit in a jail cell for the rest of his life.
“Oh, well,” Fresh said
out loud as he noticed Tito coming his way with a frown on his face. “What’s wrong now?” Fresh asked, draping his arm around Tito.
“I don’t like Pop,” Tito huffed. “He ain’t built for this business and I think you should let me take him out.”
Fresh chuckled lightly. “Chill, Pop is good money. Trust me, once y’all get to know each other y’all going to get along fine.”
“Nah, fuck all that chill shit,” Tito huffed, waving Fresh off. “I got a gut feeling and you know my gut is never wrong.”
“Listen, Tito, you just came home. Just chill out for a minute, you still on your jail shit. You home now, my nigga, leave that jail mentality shit in jail ’cause out here I’m gonna need you clear-minded,” Fresh told him.
“Nah, I’m just saying—”
“Fuck what you saying,” Fresh said, cutting Tito off. “Y’all my two best soldiers and I can’t have y’all out here beefing and shit, so just chill the fuck out, if it’s that serious you two just stay away from one another unless it’s business, you dig?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Tito said, still feeling a little salty about the situation, but he played it cool because everything Fresh was saying was right.
“Remember, we do this to make money, we don’t do this for bragging rights,” Fresh said, refilling his glass along with Tito’s
“Damn, I feel like shit,” Rusty said hunched over by the curb still faking like he was sick. When he saw Bernard pull out his cell phone to make a call, he slowly removed a .380 from his waistband.
“Yo, nigga, come here real quick,” Rusty said pretending like he was out of breath. Once Bernard was close enough Rusty quickly raised the .380 and let off two shots. One landed in Bernard’s neck while the other bullet found a home in the upper part of his chest. Rusty watched Bernard’ s body hit the ground; the man’s boot shook twice then he died. Rusty looked over both shoulders before stepping over the body and headed back inside the club.
After the club, Fresh hopped in his Lexus and turned up his music. He grabbed the blunt from out of his ashtray and lit it as he pulled out of his parking spot. “This chick better be awake,” Fresh said to himself as he exited off the highway. Twenty minutes, later Fresh pulled into the empty parking spot. He stepped out his Lexus, feeling nice from the yak he had consumed earlier. As soon as Fresh’ s foot touched the curb, he heard the clicking sound of a gun, and felt cold stainless steel on the back of his head.
“You already know what this is, fam,” the gunman said in a deep voice. His identity was hidden by a hoodie and a bandana tied around his face.
“Chill, fam, let me talk to you for a second,” Fresh said, attempting to turn around.
“Don’ t do it to yourself, playboy,” the gunman said, pressing the burner deeper into the back of Fresh’s head. “Fuck a talk,” he said as he held the gun to the back of Fresh’s head with one hand and searched through his pockets with the other hand.
“You know I’m going to see you again, right?” Fresh said with a smile.
“Yeah, well, next time bring a gun so at least you can have a chance,” the gunman said as he hit Fresh in the back of his head with the gun knocking him out cold. Once the gunman saw that Fresh was knocked out he unlocked his Lexus, hopped in it, and pulled off leaving the hustler laid out in the middle of the street.
Three minutes later, Fresh woke up on the ground. “What the fuck,” he whispered, holding the back of his head. He sat up and slowly looked around and saw a mini-crowd. Fresh quickly stood up and walked over to the first girl he saw. “You saw anything?” he asked.
“I just saw a man wearing a hoodie hit you in the back of your head with something, then drive off in your car,” the woman answered honestly.
“You couldn’t recognize who it was?” Fresh asked, still holding the back of his head.
“Nah, his face was all covered up,” the lady told him.
Vanessa stepped out of her building and saw a mini-crowd standing around Fresh. Immediately her heart sank as she jogged over to where Fresh stood. “Baby, are you okay, what happened?” She asked in a fast paced voice.
“I just got robbed,” Fresh said.
“Oh my God, are you okay, do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Fresh answered. “Mu’fucka snuck me from behind,” he said. Vanessa helped him to the building.
“You know I’m going to catch that fool, right?” Fresh said, refusing to let the situation die.
“I know you are, baby,” Vanessa replied, knowing that Fresh wouldn’t rest until he caught the person who had done this to him.
Chapter Twelve
Pop sat in his crib watching BET when he heard his phone ringing.
“What up?” Pop said into his cell phone.
“I need to see you, Fresh said before hanging up the phone.
Pop walked up in the warehouse and his attitude immediately changed when he saw Tito. From the look on Tito’s face, Pop could tell that he was drunk.
“Glad you could make it,” Fresh said as he passed the blunt to Rusty. “Yo, I need Tito, Pooh, and you to handle something for me.”
Pop didn’t really want to work with Tito, but he had to do what he had to do.
“What we gotta do?” Pop asked.
“It’s this new guy in town, Fresh paused so he could inhale the weed smoke. “He calls himself setting up shop on a few of my corners. Word on the street is he holding mad bricks ... I want those bricks and I need y’all to get them for me.”
“Don’t you even worry. Shit, I’ma make sure I personally teach this fuckin’ cocksucker a lesson,” Tito said, pounding on his chest. “You already know how I do,” he said loudly as he gave Rusty a pound.
Pop sighed loudly as he just shook his head.
“You got a problem over there, fam?” Tito asked, turning his gaze on Pop.
“No problem over here,” Pop said, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“That’ s what the fuck I thought,” Tito countered.
“Y’all two niggas better chill the fuck out,” Fresh said. “All this money out here and y’all wanna be arguing like some bitches.” He paused. “Now this nigga bitch goes and gets her nails done every week at this place right here,” Fresh said, handing Tito a piece of paper with the address on it along with a photo of the woman. “Get to her and she’ll lead y’all straight to him.”
“Say no more,” Tito said, stuffing the photo and piece of paper down in his back pocket. “Come on, let’s be out,” he said as he exited the warehouse.
Pop knew he had to control his temper while out with Tito, knowing how ignorant and foolish the man could act. Pop slid in the passenger seat of Tito’s gray Range Rover while Pooh climbed in the back.
“Yo, fam, don’t be slamming my fuckin’ door like that, B,” Tito complained. “Once you get you Range Rover then that’s when you can start slamming doors, until then don’t be slamming my shit,” Tito huffed as he looked for a CD. “Next time I’ma just smack the shit out you ‘cause I’m tired of talking to you.”
“Come on that shit ain’t even that serious,” Pooh said from the backseat, trying to defuse the situation.
“It ain’t that serious to you ‘cause it ain’t your shit he slamming,” Tito said as he pulled out into traffic.
For the entire ride Pop didn’t say a word; he just rode in silence, caught in his own thoughts. He couldn’t stand Tito, and damn sure didn’t want to work with him; it took everything in his power to not to punch him in his face. He just wanted to get the job over with and go home.
“Fuck you doing? You over there crying?” Tito said just to fuck with Pop.
“Yo, just shut up and drive, damn!” Pop sucked his teeth. “You always gotta be saying something—just shut the fuck up.”
Tito immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and hopped out. “Fuck you talking to like that? Get out the car and say that shit.”
“Come on let’s get this shit over with,�
� Pop said and exhaled as he slid out the passenger seat.
“Yo, y’all niggas need to chill y’all attracting mad attention, and y’all know we riding dirty,” Pooh said, stepping in the middle of the two angry men. “Come on, Pop, get back in the truck and be the bigger man.”
“Nah, fuck that, I’m tired of this clown-ass nigga,” Pop said with his fist balled up.
Tito never took his eyes off of Pop. He wanted so badly to break his jaw, but he knew Pooh was right. “We’ll handle this later,” Tito said with a smirk as he slid back in the driver’s seat. All three men climbed back into the Range Rover as Tito pulled back out into the street.
Twenty minutes later Tito parked across the street from the nail shop that Fresh had given him the address to.
“A’ight, look, as soon as the bitch come out we going to follow the bitch to her crib, then make her talk,” Tito said, making it clear that he was in charge.
“Why don’t we just catch her before she gets in her car, ’cause what if she don’t go home?” Pop asked. “Then we gon’ just be following her all around the town for nothing.”
“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up,” Tito replied nastily. “We following the bitch and that’s that.”
“Yeah, a’ight,” Pop sighed loudly. Seconds later they saw the girl they were looking for walk out of the nail shop.
“There go our girl right there,” Tito said, making the engine come to life.
“Damn, she got a fat ass,” Pooh said undressing the woman with his eyes.
“I still say we should just grab her now,” Pop said once again.
“Shut the fuck up,” Tito replied quickly as he made a U-turn and began to follow the woman. “Yeah, this nigga must be getting some money,” Tito said, referring to the Lexus the woman drove.
“Yeah, we know she can’t afford that shit,” Pooh said from the backseat.
Twenty minutes later Tito watched the woman pull up into the driveway of a nice-looking house. “I’m about to pull up behind her; y’all go grab the bitch,” Tito ordered as he zoomed the Range Rover in the driveway right behind the woman’s car. Immediately, Pooh and Pop hopped out.
Knee Deep in the Game Page 11