by AP Jermaine
“Shit, that’s what’s up cuz! Is it some bullshit? No offense my nigga but you talking some helleva numbers.” I didn’t even answer. I looked over at the short black haired white girl, sitting in the corner pushing her stem and called her over to me.
“Ay yo shorty come here.”
“Who me?” A short dark skinned woman with a handful of dirty dreads said as she ran over.
“No. I was talking to the white girl, but fuck it both of ya’ll come her. Where ya’ll stems at?” The two tricks had their pipes out quicker than a gunfighter in the old west. I reached in the bag, grabbed about a twenty - dollar sized rock and broke it in half. “Here, ya’ll smoke that and tell me what it is.” I knew the fish scale powder that I’d cooked up was that flame. Even though all my coke is good, whenever I know I’m going to encounter new customers, I always bring out what I call that “heart buster!” This is the shit that I cook up, not worrying about bringing back anything extra. Both the women threw the rocks up on their pipes at the same time, put the flame to it and sucked for dear life as the crack sizzled like bacon frying. The white chic pulled her lips from the glass first and blew out a thick cloud of white smoke. She tried to say something but started whispering instead, as her eyes bulged from their sockets as if they might pop! Soon after, the black chic blew her smoke out, dropped to one knee and grabbed her chest. I laughed like a motherfucker. If they would have taken their time and pulled slow, they would have been fine.
Geeked the hell up, but fine. But being the greedy, crack loving tricks that they were, they sucked on them stems like it was the last hit in the world, and got the full effect of the purest shit on the street!
“Goddamn!” Freeze yelled as he yanked out his money and started counting.
“Yo how much for a six deuce?” his homeboy jumped up eager to spend now. A “six deuce” is two ounces and a quarter. Half of a “big eigth”, which is an “eighth of a kilo.”
“I know niggas been letting em go for sixteen fifty, so just give me fifteen hundred and I got you.”
“Hell yeah! I’m Bob bru. Me and Freeze be trapping down on Barnes Avenue by the old Few Gardens. Our plug we been fucking wit trying to tax us for some weak ass work. That shit been fuckin up our clientele. Our spot be jumping so we can probably hit you back tonight if you got this same shit.”
“I keep the same fire all the time my nigga. I’ll probably be steppin out tonight though. But if you need something tomorrow, just get up wit Frank and he’ll call me.” Bob was short and stocky with a lazy left eye. The Polo sweat suit, iced out watch and fresh Timbs he sported, gave me the impression that he really was a money getting nigga. But yet and still, I’d just met these cats and wasn’t about to give them my number yet.
“That’s what’s up bru. We’ll hit you up tomorrow. Frank got the number so we’ll get up wit him.”
I did my thing with the scale and the coke, they gave me my bread and were gone in a flash. I weighed out another eight ball (3 ½ grams) and tossed it to Frank. The eyes of the tricks sitting around the room lit up, knowing they were about to get high. Frank still had hustle in him and would give the tricks a little something to get them started, before they hit the streets looking for a dick to suck. Any money they made, they’d bring straight back to Frank where they knew they could get good crack with a safe place to smoke it. Frank smoked, fucked, and got sucked off at will.
“Hey Frank, where the fuck did Shell say he was going? This nigga tells me to come here and he gone?”
“Oh nah dog, he here. He back there.” Frank pointed to a closed room door at the back of the shotgun house, as he distributed hits of crack to the ladies of the night, who were standing around him like hungry puppies. “Shut up bitch and wait!” Frank yelled at a second white girl in the room! This one had dirty blond hair and dirty bare feet. I couldn’t help but laugh as I zipped up my bag, threw it ova my shoulder and walked to the back. As soon as I reached the door, I heard scrambling and then a female voice.
“You almost finished? You aint give me but a dime.”
“Shut up bitch!” I paid for a nutt and I aint finished till I get one!” I listened to the unmistakable sound of skin smacking against skin and knew that Shell was in there tricking. I laughed like hell as I slowly turned the knob and burst into the room yelling… Police! Everybody get down! The horrible stink of the fishy pussy that I smelled, was nothing compared to what I saw! Shell was butt ass naked sweating like a lunatic, and on her knees bent over in front of him, with her pants and panties tangled around her ankles, was Ms. Samantha. Tika’s mama! The mother of the girl who was the sole reason I started trappin. The girl I had killed for and hadn’t seen since. Ignoring the funky smell in the room, I slammed the door behind me and dropped my bag.
“Shell what the fuck is you doing!” I screamed! Shell pulled out and stood to stretch as if it were the most natural thing in the world! I looked at his glazed eyes, then down at the floor, noticing for the first time the empty bags of heroin.
“What’s up my nigga?” Shell asked, walking towards me with his dick saluting the room.
“Man put yo goddamn clothes on!” I turned my head disgusted.
“Oh, my bad bru.” Shell laughed and reached for his boxers as if he’d just realized he was naked.
“Ms. Samantha, what the hell are you doing?” I asked looking down at the half naked woman I had so much respect for.
“He aint give me but a dime! He on that shit and can’t cum!”
Ms. Samantha looked horrible! Her once curvy body was now rail thin, the beautiful long jet black hair she once possessed, was now short, dirty, and nappy. The shine that her pretty brown hair once held, was no more. Her appearance now, all but said she’d already given up on life. “You got something? My daughter can’t do it like me. I can suck you off, real good and fast Teddy.”
“Hell no! You crazy? What the hell happened to you! Where’s Tika!” I looked over at Shell, and I’ll be damed if this nigga hadn’t bent over to pick up his boxers, and got stuck right there in a fuckin nod!
“Shell!!!”
“Huh? Oh, my fault bru.” This nigga was high as a Las Vegas hooker! He couldn’t keep his head up long enough to put on his fuckin clothes! By now I was mad as a motherfucker as I looked back over my shoulder at Frank peeping his head into the room.
“Everything alright in here?”
“Yeah everything’s alright! Close the goddamn door!” Frank ducked back out the room like a turtle pulling his head into its shell. My patience was wearing thin! Reaching into my waistband, I pulled out my ratchet and cocked it. The unmistakable sound of that, brought Shell up outta his nod quick fast! “Get out!”
“Huh?”
“I said get out nigga!”
“Aight bru damn. But that bitch still owes me a nutt.” Shell walked out of the room, and without another word, I walked over, grabbed Ms. Samantha by a handful of her nappy ass hair and pushed the tip of the barrel into the side of her head!
“Oh god! Please! I’m sorry, I’ll do it! I’ll get him straight!” She screamed out in terror.
“Shut the fuck up with that bullshit! I don’t care nothing about that shit! I respected you like my own mother! What the fuck happened to you and where is Tika!”
“I don’t know.” She started to cry. “I just need another hit so I can think.”
Becoming even more frustrated, I tightened my grip on her hair and pushed the gun even harder into her forehead! I pushed so hard I broke the skin! “Now, I’m gonna ask you one… more…. time.” I growled just inches from her face. “What the fuck happened to you and where is Tika?”
“It’s…. It’s all my fault!” Ms. Samantha broke down crying as she fell over on her side and balled herself into a knot. “My greed did that to my baby! My greed for a nigga wit money made me blind to what was happening to my baby! Her uncontrollable sobbing made it hard to understand her, so I sat down beside her to make sure I heard her clearly. “I should have seen the signs.
I… I saw the way……. The way he looked at her but I ignored it. Why would he want a little girl when he had me? I ignored the signs. It’s all my fault. I’m a whore and that’s all I’ll ever be! I hate myself for what I let happen to my baby!” Ms. Samantha poured her heart out for the next thirty minutes about how she’d failed Tika. She seemed to be releasing a deep pent up sadness. How and when she started smoking crack, I never found out.
“Where is Tika Ms. Samantha?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in over a year. I woke up one day and she was just gone.”
“Where were yall staying?”
“On Riddle Road.”
“So, you haven’t got a clue as to where she might be?”
“No, and I don’t ever want her to see me like this.”
I was pissed, and yet relieved. Relieved that there was at least some hope that I’d run across Tika again. If only for some closure. I was knee deep in the game and didn’t know where or how she would fit into that. As I stood up to leave, I looked down with pity at the woman I used to have so much respect for. Quickly Ms. Samantha jumped up and ran to my side. “Wait Teddy! You sure you don’t want to do something? I’ll suck….”
“Shut up! Don’t ever ask me no shit like that again!” Reaching into my bag I took out a pen. Sliding a hundred - dollar bill outta my pocket, I wrote my number down on it and handed it to her. Reaching back into the bag, I took out the remaining seventeen grams of crack and threw it at her feet. Her eyes stretched so wide I thought they would explode. “Stop selling your body. You’re a queen. Somewhere along the way you’ve forgotten that. That’s my cell number on the bill. When you ready to get off this shit, call me. I’ll help you.” I turned, walked to the door and headed out. Just before I shut the door behind me, I looked back to see her bent over with crack in her hands. Crying. Two days later Frank called me. And spent the same one hundred - dollar bill with my number on it. Ms. Samantha was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 23 “The Jumpoff”
About three and a half weeks later, I reluctantly went with Shell to the liquor house he’d been begging me to go to. I didn’t really fuck with liquor houses like that, even though it’s the best spot to find some late-night stray pussy. For those of you who don’t know, a liquor house is sorta like a bootleg club that only opens after the real clubs shut down, and it’s too late to buy liquor legally. That’s where the liquor houses make their bread. The thing about liquor houses is there aint no real security, so damn near every nigga up in there is toting a ratchet. Niggas is already drunk as hell and high on weed, coke, Ex, Percs, Molly and anything else they can afford. It’s the easiest place in the world to catch a murder charge or get murdered. It’s also a prim location for the stick-up boys, who hang around and try to catch a nigga drunk and slippin.
“Damn this shit packed bru! There goes old girl right there,” Shell said pointing to a short, thick redbone standing beside a white on white Range Rover with a few more broads, talking to the two cats in the truck. To park you had to pull around to the back of the house, where cars were already packed in like sardines. There was still a long line of cars, along with people standing around in the yard and in the street like it was a block party. It seemed to be more girls out than dudes. Most of em were drunk as hell with tits and ass hanging out everywhere. More than likely if you see a drunk chic and her drunk homegirl crew at a liquor house at 4 o’clock in the morning, their either looking for some stray dick, looking for their man, or trying to bag a man. Preferably one, “getting money.” If you a smart nigga though, you won’t be out at four in the morning searching for your bride to be. But as the old saying goes, “there’s a sucker born every minute.” I could already see that as packed as it was out there, it wouldn’t be long before the cops made their appearance, and I wasn’t trying to be around when they came. I carefully eased my way around a sky blue, Cadillac Seville and slid up beside the White Range so Shell could holla at redbone. My cd player was bangin Jeezy’s “Trap or Die.” My BMW was one of the hottest whips out there and I knew it. What I didn’t know, was how many people there were out there, whom actually knew who I was. I cut the music down so Shell could holla at his chic, but the first thing out her mouth was,
“Oh shit! There go Banks!” Her homegirls heads whipped around like they smelled some fire loud! “Hey Banks.” The girls purred in unison, which surprised the hell outta me because I didn’t know none of these chics. I nodded my head what’s up. “Shell, you didn’t tell me you knew Teddy Banks.” Redbone squealed as she ran around to my side of the car. Several cats said what’s up as they walked by, and I thought I heard one of em say my name. I reached down to feel the reassuring coldness of the chrome .45 tucked underneath my shirt. How the fuck did all these strangers know me? Another lesson in life I learned that night, is that nobody talks more than the streets. Fletch was widely known in the Bull City. And even though there was never any heat from the cops, the streets had credited his murder to me. Just as Fletch was widely known, he was widely feared, and was known to put the murder game down himself. A lot of niggas were glad that he was gone. So, in a nutshell; by taking Fletch out of this world, along with the
bread I was now stacking, made me the new up and coming “hot nigga” in the streets. Bitches and niggas alike, flock to “new money.”
“Bonita what the fuck you think you doing? Bring yo ass over here!” Shell barked at redbone.
“Hold up baby. I’m just saying what’s up to Banks,” Bonita answered as she rested her arms on my open window and leaned in letting her loose fitting Fendi top fall open as she did, giving me a front row view of a huge set of braless titties. “Hey Banks. I’m Bonita. I see you out here doing it big. What you getting into tonight?” I could tell by the thirstful lust in her eyes that she was hoping like hell that I’d say “her.”
“I ain’t doing shit shorty. Just chillin,” I answered.
“You trying to chill wit me?” Redbone licked her lips as a sign of what was to come if I said yes.
“No disrespect shorty, but I came down here wit my nigga right here. He came to see you, and we never step on each other’s toes. That’s not how we do it. But you can grab up one of your girls for me and jump on in so we can get the fuck up outta her and go cop us a suite somewhere.” Shell stared at Bonita like he wanted to blow her brains out. I tapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “Lighten up nigga. Ain’t that what you told me?” He broke his deadly gaze and his features softened some.
“Get yo ass over here Bonita! I’m gone knock the bottom out of that pussy for that stupid shit you talking!” Shell laughed as he stepped out of the car. Bonita walked back around to the passenger’s side and threw her arms around Shell’s neck. Typical THOT, I thought to myself.
“You can’t handle this pussy boy.”
“Yeah well we sure gonna find out aint we?” Shell smacked Bonita on the ass as he lifted the side of her short skirt, squeezing her plump ass cheek. Goddamn! She did have a pretty red ass.
And she didn’t have on no panties! Her two homegirls named Sharee and Tamia were arguing about which one of them would be fucking me for the night, and which one would get left behind. They were both cute girls. Sharee was slim with thick thighs. She had her hair cut like Toni Braxton’s when she first came out. I envisioned those thighs pressed back into the mattress as I pounded this dick into her. Tamia was light brown skinned with a tight round ass. She had a tattoo of a baby angel on her left forearm. I peeped and checked their feet out. Both passed the toe test. Finally, I got tired of their bickering and intervened.
“Fuck it. Both of y’all get in. There’s enough room in a king size for three people. If ya’ll wit it then I got plenty of dick to go around.” The two girls giggled in delight, as they all three slid into the backseat. I looked in the rearview as we pulled off and Bonita was ice grilling Sharee and Tamia. I knew what that was all about. As the self-proclaimed leader of the clique, she felt she had rights to the top baller of the nig
ht. Namely me. If not for the fact that she’d already made plans with Shell, she probably would have been the lucky winner of about three or four hours of pussy beating from the champ. But there was entirely too much pussy in Durham to be stealing jumpoffs from my partner. I glanced back in the mirror, and this time Bonita was staring me square in the eye. Even though we both knew she was about to go fuck and suck my right-hand man dry, she licked her lips again, slower this time, and held her hand up to her ear as a signal for me to call her. The devilish grin on her face said it all. Damn.
We were three blunts of Purple Haze, about half a fifth of Remy Martin and one mile from the Embassy Suites Hotel, when Sharee got a phone call from her man. They had one of those, you do you, and I’ll do me type of relationships. Her stupid ass man had gotten himself pulled over on the Southside, with a trick in the passenger seat and a thirty bag of powder laying in the floor board of his Sentra. I knew the nigga. His name was Jugs. His head said it all. I also knew that he was a powder and pill head and was probably dead broke. He was downtown with a one thousand dollar - bond, and needed Sharee to come bail him out. Sharee stomped, cursed, and cried that she was missing out on the night of her life. Still in the end, she told us to go drop her off at the magistrates’ office, with me promising to get her number from one of the other girls and call her.
“For real now Teddy, or I’m gonna say fuck him and leave his ass in jail,” she whined. Me being the pimp that I am, promised I’d check her in a couple days. So, we could go, “chill.” Even though the bum ass nigga should have had the $150.00 dollars to pay a bondsman himself, I didn’t wish jail on no man. About thirty minutes after dropping Sharee off downtown, we finally made it back to the hotel and copped a two - room suite. The shit was plush just like I like it. Even though I never kept anything at my crib, I never took any chics there either. With the moves that I was making, there was just too many ways for that shit to come back and bite me in my ass.