The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set

by Jerry Jackson

  NeNe knew she was truly feeling Gangsta and wanted what they both had started to continue to grow because it felt good to feel like this. She accepted him as a blessing because of his good looks and great charm. She adored how he treated her, how he looked at her, how he talked to her, and how he kissed and hugged her. NeNe crossed her fingers and hoped to God that Gangsta did not change up. She vowed to be loyal and upfront and honest with him. She vowed not to cheat or betray him in any form or fashion. She was finally happy and did not want to lose what she had.

  Chapter 11

  Two Weeks Later

  “Jackson!” the female officer who ran intake at the county jail called his name.

  Gangsta got up from the steel bench and headed for the iron door while another officer used his keys to open the door. Gangsta walked out and was led to the windows.

  “Empty all your pockets. Place all devices, rings, watches, chains, and money in the tray,” the woman spoke while showing a mouthful of gold teeth.

  Gangsta could tell she was ghetto to death by her long, colorful fingernails and colorful hairdo.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled a bankroll while looking at her. He noticed greed. Gangsta tossed the money on the table along with his watch and chain.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “They must’ve got you straight out the trap. How much is this?” she asked while pickin’ up the money.

  “Think ten racks,” he said, and then moved closer to the window. “Keep a band, but just put me in the pod wit’ my partna.”

  “And what pod is that?” she looked at him as if he was crazy.

  “6 north 400.”

  She made eye contact with him. She made the kind of eye contact that said she was down, and he understood. She typed him up an account and passed him a paper with the amount of $8,766. Gangsta was led back into the holding cell as another dude’s name was called. He took a seat and waited. He was ready to get upstairs so he could kick it with his partna. He wanted to talk with Kash and see what was on his mind. He also wanted to smoke with him, because he knew Kash needed it.

  NeNe also crossed his mind, and her wellbeing. How will she handle this journey so early in the relationship? He knew his parole would violate, so he’d end up going back to prison with the open murder cases. He held strong faith she would hold him down. Gangsta explained everything to her one week before turning himself in. She cried like a baby, but promised to hold him down because she was truly in love, just as he was.

  Gangsta and NeNe were inseparable the last two weeks. All they did was have fun spending time with each other, getting to know each other, and growing a bond as one. He enjoyed every second of being with that woman.

  Terry was another issue. She was pregnant, and he was confused. He wanted to tell NeNe about Terry and her being pregnant, though he wasn’t really sure about Terry. Was she game playing? Was she for real? If so, then would she really go through with the pregnancy? He was pretty sure she would not hold him down, and in the long run she would get back with Zay. All these things made it easy for him to choose NeNe and put his faith into her, even though in the two weeks he had left before he turned himself in he did spend a few days with Terry and had sex with her. He also had a long talk with her about what was going on with him and what he expected to happen. She also promised to hold him down. Gangsta decided to inform NeNe of Terry only if she indeed was pregnant, because that was fair.

  Gangsta truly disliked the fact he had to turn himself in, but he could not and would not allow his mother or aunt’s property to be taken on his account. He had all his business handled. He got a chance to bless Veedo with ninety thousand pills, to break bread with his mother and his lawyer, and to make sure Kash’s lawyer was on his job. He took Kash’s kids shopping before turning himself in and put most of his things into storage. Gangsta let his truck go back to the lot. He also stashed his bulletproof vest, six guns, and seventy-five grand in cash deep in the woods behind his mother’s house. He was prepared.

  After another two hours had passed, Gangsta and six more guys were given county jail stripes and shower shoes and were led to the sixth floor. Some guys went north, some guys went south. Gangsta went to 6 north 400 as he requested. The pod smelled like a workout gym and looked like a jungle when he walked in. At that very moment, it seemed as if everyone stopped whatever it was they were doing.

  He saw guys hung over the rail looking down, guys watching TV, guys on the phones, and guys at card tables and checker matches. He noticed different sets of guys working out. All this time he was looking for Kash. Gangsta found an empty bunk in the back of the pod. He decided to place his mat before he looked again. Again he looked around for Kash, but he still did not see him.

  “Say, folk, you wanna sell those?” some random dude asked Gangsta.

  Before he could reply, he noticed Kash coming out of the shower. Kash saw him, too, and smiled.

  “What’s up, boy?” Kash asked.

  “What’s up, nigga?” Gangsta asked and smiled back.

  He walked around the dude and his questions about buying the all-black Jordan number eight’s off his feet.

  “Where yo’ shit, boy? I ain’t got no cellie, so bring it up,” Kash said, elated, and then walked into his cell. Dread had went down the road the last shipping day.

  Gangsta got help from a dude and took his things to the cell. He slid the door closed and put a flap up after the guy who helped him had left. He pulled off his shirt.

  “Watch the door, bruh.” Gangsta stood over the toilet and stuck a finger down his throat. His stomach jumped twice before he vomited everywhere. Gangsta did it three more times, and each time he filled the toilet with balloons. He stood straight up, and his eyes were bloodshot red. He reached down and pulling out handfulls of balloons, then tossed them into the sink.

  “Let’s blow, shawty,” Gangsta said, while cleaning himself up.

  After Gangsta washed all the balloons, he counted out fifty-six, each one with a gram of purple haze in it. He let Kash break the purple down while he peeled away the shoe pad to one of his Jordans to reveal two ounces of mid-grade weed. His other Jordan revealed rolling papers and a lighter.

  It felt good to be around his partna. The both of them were locked inside the cell and smoked out. They discussed how Dank surprised them with the shit he was pulling. Gangsta explained to Kash what his lawyer was saying and how the case with Danny was weak and both of them had a fighting chance to beat it. Kash showed him the statements from Grich’s mother and told him it was nearly impossibly to beat with her pointing the finger.

  There was a knock at the door. A tall, skinny guy with no shirt walked into the cell. Kash sat up on his bunk and reached out to dap him up.

  “Shawty, this Moncho. Moncho, this my nigga Gangsta,” Kash introduced them.

  “What’s up wit’cha?” Gangsta asked.

  “Coolin’, young blood. Y’all got this bitch stank up in here,” Moncho stated.

  “You blow?” Gangsta asked.

  “Hell, yeah, that old nigga go in,” Kash cut in, and the three of them shared a quick laugh. Gangsta tossed him a balloon. “Roll dat up.”

  A smile painted Moncho’s face as he closed the door and sat on the toilet to begin breaking the purple haze down. Kash and Gangsta continued to talk about their old days in the streets and told tales of Rydc. All three of the guys laughed, joked, and smoked.

  The traffic in his room was niggas in and out, everybody trying to get in where they fit in at. Some walked in to spend money, most walked in for handouts and left with nothing. Before lockdown and lights out rolled around, Moncho had made a few plays and sold an ounce in sacks.

  Even after lights out, the inmates were able to move from cell to cell, so Kash and Gangsta were up in the wee hours of the night sacking up and kickin’ it.

  At 4:00 a.m. Gangsta was finally able to lay down on the top bunk bolted to the wall. Every now and then he’d take a glance out of the window and wish he woul
d’ve went on the run instead of turning himself in. Every time he thought like that, he thought of a million reasons why he did turn himself in.

  His mind drifted to NeNe, and he wondered what she was doing, what she was up to, how she was sleeping, and what she was sleeping in. He wondered how long would he be locked down. Would he beat the case or not? All Gangsta did was wonder, wonder, wonder.

  “Shawty, get up,” Kash said.

  When Gangsta heard Kash’s voice, he knew he wasn’t dreaming and he was in the county.

  “Yo’ parole officer down here,” Kash said while standing in front of the sink brushing his teeth.

  Gangsta finally opened his eyes to the sunlit room, and then he slowly sat up. He was kind of hungry, still high, and could use a few more hours of sleep.

  “What’s up, boy?” Gangsta was able to ask.

  “Shit, they called yo’ name for parole hearing.”

  “Ok, bet.”

  Gangsta didn’t think his parole officer would be here so fast. He was not expecting the sudden visit, but jumped down from the top bunk to the floor. He found his toothpaste and toothbrush. Gangsta quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face. He decided to smoke when he got back from his visit. After leaving the cell, he saw it was still early at just 10:15 a.m. Most inmates were still in their beds asleep as he made his way to the door to go out.

  Three minutes later, Gangsta was seated in the lawyer booth in front of his parole officer. He was a hard-nose white man who loved to send people back to prison. He loved when you slipped up and got caught. He spared no one.

  “Murder?” That was the first word spoken as he opened the folder that sat in front of him. “You just love violence, huh?”

  The parole officer shook his head and finally looked up at Gangsta for an answer.

  “They got the wrong guy, Mr. Mann,” Gangsta said.

  He did not want to overplay himself even though he knew the verdict already. He thought anything was possible, and Mr. Mann could be in a good mood.

  “To hell with what you say. Them folks will not say two different murders if the truth wasn’t in it. I’m revoking the remainder of your five years. Do you wanna go to court, or do you wanna sign?”

  “I’m sayin’, Mr. Mann, how can you just convict me like dis?”

  “If you beat ya charge, you make parole, but if you don’t, then oh well. You signing or going to court? It don’t matter to me,” the parole officer said.

  Gangsta knew he wasn’t playing. He wasted no time because he was ready to get this show on the road. He signed the paperwork and couldn’t believe he was on his way back to prison. Gangsta was truly hating Dank, because he was the reason behind all this bullshit.

  Mr. Mann held a smirk on his face as he gathered the paperwork and stood to leave. Gangsta felt so defeated with his back against the wall. He did not like this feeling. Quickly, Gangsta made his way back to the pod. He needed to smoke one badly.

  Both Gangsta and Kash hated that they made the mistake of embracing Dank.

  After smoking three phat sticks, Gangsta made his way downstairs to the phones. It wasn’t so crowded this morning, so he found an empty phone and dialed up Terry’s number, who picked up and accepted after a couple rings.

  “Hello,” Terry said into the phone.

  “What’s up, baby?” Gangsta asked.

  “Why is you just now calling me, Gangsta?”

  “Been stressing, sleeping, and working on my case.”

  “Oh.” She sounded down. She had been missing him like crazy and crying herself to sleep at night. She was scared he would never get out of prison. “Baby, just pray and everything will be okay,” she told him.

  “Yeah, I am, but I gotta go down the road.”

  “Where?”

  “To prison.”

  “For what, murder?” Terry asked.

  She sounded as if she panicked quicker than his words.

  Gangsta kind of laughed, but quickly reassured her.

  “Yes to prison, and no to murder. I’m on parole, baby, and that’s why, but when I beat this charge they gonna let me out.”

  Gangsta hoped that was enough understanding for her. They talked the entire fifteen minutes, mostly about his case and about them some, and then they said their goodbyes.

  The very next day Kash and Gangsta both were called to visitation because both Erica and NeNe came. They got as clean as possible and headed to 700, another part of the jail where they held visits. Gangsta, followed by Kash, walked up the steps and looked through the booths until he spotted Erica, and in the very next booth sat his love.

  “’Sup, girl?” he asked, and then took his seat.

  “Hey,” NeNe replied with a nervous smile.

  “Stand up, step back so I can look at you,” Gangsta spoke, and NeNe did as he said.

  Gangsta loved the way she stood back on her bowed legs. Her hips and small waist were perfect on her slim frame. She wore capri pants, a sheer blouse top, and sandals with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Babe—” she started to say.

  “Turn around, boo, I need all dis.”

  Gangsta got closer to the window so he could see.

  “Baby, I miss you,” NeNe said, and then took her seat.

  “I miss you, too, baby. Just hold me down, ‘cause this ride ain’t gonna be long.”

  “I pray not, ‘cause I hardly sleep at night.”

  “I hardly sleep, too.”

  “I love you, Gary. I hope you know this. No matter what happens, I’ma be right by your side.”

  Tears started to form and fall from her eyes.

  “I love you, too.”

  Gangsta wanted badly to hold his woman. It hurt him to see her hurt like this, and it made him want to snap for some reason.

  ***

  Kash

  “I miss you, honey,” Erica said when he took his seat.

  He looked her in the eyes hard and wanted to blow up on her, but he bit his tongue and spoke.

  “What’s up? What them lawyers talking ‘bout?”

  “Trial, baby.”

  “Yeah, well, they need to come on with it, then.”

  He shook his head.

  “They talking good about the case with Danny, but not so good with the mother going on stand,” Erica shot in.

  “How much money in the stash?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Count it up, ‘cause I need ten bands.” Kash decided to play mind games with her because it was showing to him her true side.

  It was becoming clear what type of female he had in his corner.

  “Ok,” was all Erica said.

  “Well, I’m gone,” Kash started to get up.

  “What’s wrong wit’ you, Kash?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You sho’ acting funny. You acting different.”

  “Nah, everything straight,” Kash replied.

  He got up and gave her a disgusted look before he walked away. He made it back to the pod before Gangsta, so he waited until he came back before he smoked. It didn’t take Gangsta long at all to make it back, being that Kash just walked off leaving Erica crying, which messed up his visit.

  “Shawty, why you do Erica like that today?”

  “What, bruh?” Kash asked Gangsta while eating a honey bun spread with peanut butter.

  Gangsta laughed.

  “Man, you just walked out on the girl. Her ass was cryin’ and shit to NeNe. You fucked up my visit.”

  “Shawty, fuck that ho, bruh. I’m not finna let that bitch handle me like I’m some peon.”

  “I feel that.”

  Gangsta started to roll up a blunt of purple haze. It was time to talk some more about their case and how it could be beat.

  Chapter 12

  Veedo

  The sunlight peeked through the blinds and caressed his face. The radio played low overhead, and his wall clock read 9:35 a.m. Boy, was he tired from hanging at the strip club all night with
a couple partnas. Veedo turned to the side and saw April, then behind him was her best friend Balinda. A slick smile crept to his face as memories of last night played in his head. April was his baby’s mother. She was highly jealous, insecure, and extra ghetto, so it surprised him when he got home and she had her best friend willing to comply with a threesome. Veedo got out of the bed, crawling over Balinda’s good-pussy self. He was completely naked as he made his way to the bathroom to piss.

  Veedo was twenty-nine and raised in Atlanta’s Bankhead Courts Projects. He was the only son to a known stripper named Goldie and a mack for a father, whom Veedo still hadn’t met. He grew up hard like most people in his hood, so by the age of thirteen he was a drug pusher and slanging nickel bags of weed. He was spoiled due to his mother’s success in Atlanta’s best strip joints. Growing up, Veedo always wore the best clothes and shoes, and he was always known to keep money in his pocket. By the time he turned fifteen, he was caught and convicted of drug charges and received five years probation. For the next two years he hustled on the low and stayed far away from slangin’ on the block. He sold out of his girlfriend’s mother’s apartment, and fate landed him on Rice Street when the police raided the apartment. Veedo got sent to prison for the next seven years of his life.

  When he was released, he worked different jobs, but nothing seemed to sit right with him. Nothing seemed to work in his favor. He continued to try to walk straight because his third strike was sure to land him in prison for life, and that was a pill he wasn’t willing to swallow.

  For the next seven years, Veedo busted his ass for the white man and got his record cleared. He was struggling, but he no longer had probation or parole on his backbone. He had two children by April. She didn’t have a job, so that made life a bit harder for him, but with every ounce of him he tried and tried to stay focused — until he saw Gangsta a few months back.

  Veedo knew Gangsta from doing time in Alto. He knew Gangsta was solid, so he swallowed his pride and asked for help, and he got it. Gangsta hit him off with four pounds of purple haze and blew Veedo’s mind.