Street Rap

by Shaun Sinclair

  “We got you now, you dope-slinging motherfucker! You’re under arrest!” the men shouted as Reece continued to resist. Reece finally was able to repossess his pistol, and he wasted no time squeezing the trigger. “Die, cocksuckers!!!” Reece yelled as he slaughtered them one by one. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere he felt himself being grabbed from behind in a powerful hold. Too powerful to break.

  “Get off me! Get off me!” he screamed. Then he . . . woke up in a fit of rage. His screams claimed the room as he hit Destiny in the process of waking up from his nightmare.

  “Baby! Baby! Wait! It was a dream!” Destiny grabbed Reece, attempting to placate him. Reece finally gained his composure when Destiny grabbed him in a bear hug from behind. “Calm down, baby. It’s me. I got you. I got you,” she whispered over and over in his ear.

  Reece finally calmed down and left the bed. He walked onto the balcony where the cool air massaged his naked body, instantly drying the sweat that had accumulated during the dream. For a long time he just stared out at the grounds trying greatly to gather his thoughts. He took note of Divine prowling the grounds below.

  He was lost in thought when Destiny came behind and started stroking his locks, which now extended to the middle of his back.

  “You wanna talk about it?” she gently asked. She moved around to his front and started stroking his chest. “Huh, baby. What was the dream about?”

  Reece still didn’t answer, so Destiny coaxed him on. “You know you can talk to me, baby. I got you. Now what’s up?”

  Instead of answering, Reece took her angular face into his hands. He stared at her for a moment before speaking.

  “Are you cheating on me?” Reece blatantly asked. Destiny’s face showed a look of pain and confusion.

  “Why would you ask me that?” Destiny frowned.

  Reece exhaled. “Because it’s a lot of secretive shit going on. When we together, you don’t answer your phone. I walk into rooms and you hang up phones and shit. When we first started kicking it, I thought you was getting rid of a Billy or something.”

  “A what?”

  “A Billy. Ya know, old boyfriend. Anyway, it’s almost a year later and you still doing the same shit.” Reece gripped Destiny’s face a little tighter. “So I need to know, is there someone else? You can be honest. I’ll be a man about the situation.”

  Reece was lying through his teeth! He knew that if there was someone else, and he found out, he’d bury both Destiny and the dude together, Destiny for treason, the guy for playing in his shit!

  “Reece, baby, please! You know I ain’t creeping on you. You all I need. You treat me so good.” Destiny attempted to kiss him. Instead Reece just held her head in his hands and stared at her intensely like he was looking for something in her eyes.

  Destiny felt uncomfortable. When she gazed into his eyes lately, it was like looking into a black hole. “All of this because of a dream?” she asked.

  “Yep. I learned that there’s a little truth to every dream.”

  Destiny contemplated what he said for a moment. Then she responded, “You’re probably just stressed with everything going on. You drawing conclusions to stuff that’s not there.”

  She continued to stroke his chest. Then she moved her face just inches from Reece’s face and whispered, “You don’t have to worry about me, my king. I got your back. If I can’t help you, I still won’t hurt you.” Then she kissed him. At first, Reece didn’t return the kiss. Then, being caught up in the feelings he had for her, he began to kiss her slowly, then more forcefully. As the passion intensified, Reece suddenly pulled back. He fiercely gripped Destiny’s face. They were both out of breath.

  “Listen real good, Destiny. I love you, but if you cross me, I will kill you. Understand?”

  Reece released his grip, and she nodded in the affirmative. Then she kissed him passionately on his neck and descended down his naked torso. She lingered at his belly button for a moment. Then she took him into her mouth with all the intensity she could muster. Reece cried out in ecstasy. His eyes were slits as he looked out over the grounds, while receiving his oral favors. Soon, he ejaculated into Destiny’s mouth. She swallowed and commenced to sucking harder.

  Reece loved Destiny, but he meant what he said. If she ever crossed him, he would kill her, with no hesitation. He had let her into the most intimate moments of his life. More important, among all the expensive things he had given her, he had also given her something priceless.

  His heart.

  * * *

  Qwess sat back in the chair in deep thought. He couldn’t believe what Meka had just told him. He had to ask again.

  “You telling me a dude is willingly cooperating with the police?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “All because he salty over his man getting killed?”

  “Um-hm.”

  “I thought they were supposed to be gangsta?” Meka shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t get it, Meka. Who is this cat to you?” Qwess asked.

  “Just some fuck nigga I used to mess with.”

  “Okay, so why is he puttin’ his man on front street?”

  “They fell out. Somethin’ to do wit’ some money. Plus, he really didn’t put him on front street, because he didn’t tell me who it was.”

  Qwess thought about this. Meka was effectively telling him that an outsider had infiltrated the Crescent Crew working for the police, all because he was mad about the Crescent Crew killing his man. Therefore, he was a confidential informant trying to take down the Crescent Crew. The sticker was that the guy didn’t tell Meka who the CI was. So why even tell her anything if he wasn’t going to tell her everything?

  “What kind of bullshit is this?” asked Qwess. “How he gon’ tell you half the story? Where he at anyway?”

  “I don’t know where he at now. And I think the only reason why he ain’t tell me everything is because he had a change of heart.”

  “A change of heart!” Qwess exploded. He stood to leave, but thought about something. “Why are you telling me this anyway?” he bluffed. “I ain’t part of the crew no more.”

  Meka shot Qwess a sarcastic look.

  “What?”

  “Come on, Qwess. Everybody know you are Crescent Crew to the death.” She accentuated quotation marks. “Besides, I’m telling you so you can let ya boy know what’s up.”

  Qwess decided to test her sincerity. “Ya know my boys play for keeps. If I tell them, your friend might come up missing.”

  Meka didn’t flinch a bit when she said, “It serves him right, too. He ain’t shit. It’s niggas like him that killed my girl.”

  Qwess laughed. “Damn, girl, you done got gangsta, ain’t you?”

  “Nah, I’m just tired of niggas playing games. If he was a man, he would handle it in the street.”

  Qwess couldn’t deny she had a point, but it was unusual to hear Meka talk like this. He always knew her as a hoe. That was about as street as he knew her to be—messing with street niggas.

  Not wanting to show his hand much, he kept things short. “All right then, good looking. I’m ’bout to pipe out.” When Qwess got to the door, he turned to Meka. “Oh, by the way, thanks for putting some clothes on this time.” He was referring to her boy shorts and tank top.

  “Fuck you, Qwess!”

  “I thought we already went through that.” He smiled. Meka threw a pillow at him. He dodged it as he went through the door.

  Once inside his Escalade, his thoughts ran wild. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to Meka’s story. Reece normally recruited soldiers personally. Yet since they expanded so fast, he had authorized his captains to draw people in.

  On one hand, it didn’t matter. A mere foot soldier could never get close enough to Reece to damage him. On the other hand, Qwess knew every big thing started small first. In the end, Qwess was obligated to tell Reece. Even though Qwess was no longer a part of the Crescent Crew’s illegal enterprises, he still had helped build it and thus felt indebted to it. Additiona
lly, he had known a lot of those brothers since they were kids. He brought them in himself. He would hate to see them brought down by a lesser man. That was unacceptable! He decided that much immediately.

  He had to tell Reece as soon as possible. His only concern was, how would Reece handle it?

  Chapter 19

  It was once said that the music game was like the dope game. The high flossing whips. Pretty chicks. Stacks of chips. They all were synonymous. Well, during Bike Week in Myrtle Beach, the two definitely merged. Some of the hottest artists in the music industry converged on Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, to frolic in the sun with some of the nation’s top ballers, finest females, and prettiest whips. Some of the artists performed during the week. If you were hot enough. Others just came to partake in the festivities. A.B.P. came to do both, and they came to do it well.

  There was a convoy off Highway 9 leading to the beach. Qwess and Doe were in Qwess’s purple Lamborghini roadster with the top out. Behind them were Reece in his Ferrari 360 Spyder with the top down. Next in the convoy was Samson in his brand-new Viper. Of course, the top was down. His twin brother, Hulk, was riding shotgun. Way behind them in traffic was Flame in his BMW with the top peeled back. He had a crew of trap niggas riding with him. Finally, behind them were the three Rovers with two motorcycles hitched to each one. Additionally, most of the Crescent Crew were also present driving their numerous luxury vehicles or riding their bikes.

  Qwess, Reece, and Samson raced to the beach. However, when they ran into a traffic jam as they neared the beach, they were forced to forfeit. As they crossed the big bridge, they were met with what Bike Week was all about.

  They were still in a traffic jam, but they would be entertained down the remainder of the strip, as girls were shaking what their mamas gave ’em. Beautiful women of all shapes and sizes and colors were crammed into tight clothes with thongs on full display. At least the ones who cared to wear them were. Some women just wore high heels, thongs, and bras! Others were topless as they hung out of sunroofs in rimmed-up, high-dollar foreign and domestic cars, mostly souped-up Chevys.

  “Damn, the hoes is out this piece this year!” Doe told Qwess as they inched along in traffic. The Lamborghini was so low to the ground, Doe and Qwess had to look up at bikes. As they crept by motorcycle after motorcycle, all they were met with were healthy thighs just inches from their faces.

  “No doubt!” Qwess responded. “Shit is gon’ be lovely.”

  Behind them in the Ferrari, Born was telling Reece the same exact thing.

  “Hell, yeah, nigga. I got my video camera. I’ma see how many hoes I can fuck this weekend. I’m talking threesomes, foursomes, whateva! Too bad you can’t play,” he teased Reece.

  “Don’t get it twisted, nigga!” Reece snapped. “I run shit. I don’t get ran. I can do what the fuck I wanna.”

  “A’ight, we’ll see,” Born taunted.

  As the convoy progressed down the strip, word slowly started to spread that Qwess was in town. Females hung out their windows trying to get a glimpse into the purple Lambo. By the time they made it to their hotel, they had a full following. They pulled into the parking garage where security was deep. Non-guests of the hotel were quickly detoured.

  The entire crew checked in, checked their bags, and in a matter of minutes—literally—they were back out on their bikes. All wore similar outfits: Timbos, jean shorts, and wife-beaters or no shirt at all. All flew their flags. The platinum diamond-encrusted Crescent Crew pendants hung from all of their necklaces almost down to their nuts.

  They hit Highway 17 and headed straight to Atlantic Beach, the place where the thoroughbreds partied, where everything was legal. In years past, a heavy police presence attempted to thwart the heavy influx of traffic that amounted to most of the black-owned businesses’ yearly revenue. However, since they elected a new mayor, the youngest mayor in the history of South Carolina, things were different. Things were returned to the days past with Mayor Waajid participating in the festivities himself. As a result of this, all of the young and old who wanted to have a good time ventured to Atlantic Beach. Oh, there was still a police presence, but they only policed violence. Everything else was fair game.

  Thus when the Crescent Crew/A.B.P. turned onto 30th Avenue, burnt rubber assaulted their lungs. Naked flesh assaulted their eyes. Nothing but boomin’ bass soothed their ears accompanied by high-revving motorcycle engines. Who said there wasn’t heaven for the ghetto?

  As they neared the bottom of the street, they could vaguely see the ocean. The bottom of the street also served as the burn-out pit. GSX-Rs, Ninjas, Mustangs, Vettes. They all left their marks on the pavement to the raucous cheers of the crowd.

  When Reece reached the bottom on his Ducati, he set his tires ablaze. Then in unison, all of their entourage stopped on a dime and smoked their tires, much to the amusement of the crowd. Smoke lit up the street like a forest fire. They had all day to ball out and have fun since Qwess wasn’t scheduled to perform until the next day.

  * * *

  All the way on the other end of the strip in Myrtle Beach, Flame was behind the wheel of his Bimmer. He had been to Bike Week plenty of times before, but never on this level. He had more dough than he had ever seen, one of the hottest whips he’d seen so far, and he was a rapper on the rise. The boy was in heaven.

  “Damn, look at that white bitch right there, dawg!” 8-Ball pointed to a thick sister walking the strip. “She got an ass like an African.”

  “Damn!” J.D. said from the back. “Yo! Woo-wee!! Pink-toe!” he called out. The young lady looked back to see who was calling her. Upon seeing the rims spinning on the Bimmer, even though it was stopped, she scurried over.

  It didn’t take long for J.D. to get her in the truck. A few choice words spit through his gold teeth and she was game. Five minutes later, she was in the back of the BMW getting all of her holes explored as J.D., Fat Black, and Lil J put their fingers all inside of her. Five minutes after that, she was going down the line blowing each of them. All the while, 8-Ball had the camcorder taping the whole thing. Flame had to drive, so he couldn’t participate.

  Thirty minutes later, they kicked her out and picked up two more broads with tans so deep they looked black. Instead of getting hit up in the car, they decided to take these two to the room. The women were obviously bisexual, judging by the way they kissed each other. The fellas wanted to see a freak show.

  That was their intention when they returned to the hotel.

  * * *

  Doe, Reece, Qwess and some top captains of the Crescent Crew were enjoying a pool party with some of the industry’s top entertainers and models when the call came through.

  Qwess was throwing the “Eye Candy of the Year” in the pool when his cell phone rang from a lounge chair. At first, he didn’t want to answer it, but he knew when it rang relentlessly that it might be something important.

  “Salaam alayka,” Qwess answered.

  “Uh, Qwess, it’s me,” a voice said.

  “Flame?” wondered Qwess.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Man, what’s wrong with you? Where you at? What’s all that noise in the background?” Qwess fired away, already fearing the answer. The eye candy had collected herself from the bottom of the pool and was now throwing water at Qwess. He waved her off.

  “Yo, I’m in jail, man,” Flame whimpered.

  “What?! For what?” Qwess couldn’t believe this shit.

  “It’s a long story, dawg. I need you to come get me out.”

  “No shit!” Qwess spat. “Where you at?” Flame told him. “A’ight, I’ll be there in a few, hold tight.”

  Qwess hung up and dropped the phone. He called out to Doe, who came running over.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “We gotta go. Somethin’ came up.”

  Doe already knew what time it was. “Flame?” Qwess nodded. “Damn.”

  They left the pool party and headed to Myrtle Beach. Qwess was on the phone the entire time.
By the time they arrived at the Myrtle Beach police station, Flame was already out and waiting on them. Qwess went in to sign some papers and returned shortly. He jumped in the back seat of the Rover with Flame.

  “All right, what happened?” Qwess demanded.

  “A’ight, check it. We in the tellie wit’ two gray broads. They freakin’ each other out eating ass and shit, the whole nine. Right? Niggas sticking fingers all in the puss, everything. The hoes loving it! Okay, we blowing pine getting right. All of a sudden, it’s a knock at the door. 8-Ball open it, it’s one-time, the rollerz. They come in, see the two gray broads on the bed naked wit’ pipe in they mouth and start freaking out.”

  “Why 8-Ball open the door in the first place?” Qwess wondered.

  “I don’t know what the nigga was thinking, but he got light soon as the rollerz came in the room.

  “So anyway, po-po start asking for IDs. Niggas pull ’em out, give ’em to ’em. Then the broads didn’t want to give up their IDs, so po-po said nobody could leave the room until the broads show their ID. Okay, niggas start panicking, knowing somethin’ ain’t right. Po-po see this and start searching the room. Look right under the bed and find an ounce of dro.”

  “Word?”

  “Yeeah! So check it. They ask who it belong to. Nobody say nothing, so they took all of us in.”

  “What about the broads?” asked Qwess.

  “Shit, they locked up, too!”

  “A’ight, where’s 8-Ball?” Doe wanted to know.

  “Man, your guess is as good as mine. He got light when they first came in.”

  “So, let me ask you this,” Qwess said. “Whose weed was it?”

  Flame hesitated before answering. “It was J.D.’s.”

  “And he didn’t own up to it? Even though he knew you had a show to do this weekend?”

  “I guess so,” Flame managed, shrugging his shoulders.

  “So where he at now?” Qwess inquired.

  “He still in there. Everybody still locked up! Hell, I don’t even know how I got out, ’cause they was like ain’t nobody going nowhere ’til they find out who the li’l gray broads are. All I know is a CO came and told me to roll, so I dipped.”