Pat Man pulled Veedo to the side. Since their first encounter, the two linked up a couple times on pills, but Veedo still did not trust him. Pat Man was cool people, but he could not be trusted.
“I heard ya boy got out.”
“Hell yeah, shawty home.”
“You know that issue I came to you wit’ months ago is dead. I can’t prove shit, my nigga, and me and Gangsta always been tight, so I’m not tryna come at him sideways just ‘cause the streets talking,” Pat Man said and dapped Veedo up.
“I mean, bruh, me, I said back then I’m saying now. Gangsta ain’t gave me shit. I been fuckin’ wit’ shawty his whole bid and he ain’t said nothing ‘bout no pills. It’s too much paper out here, my nigga. We ‘bout to be rich, so that’s my focus,” Veedo stated. They pounded again, then Veedo left feeling good about everything. One thing he knew was that Pat Man didn’t want problems with Gangsta, so it was good to fall back.
Veedo got a room downtown and dropped Rock and Kia off before he drove to Summer Hill. It was a place he could forever call home. It was his grandmother’s house. Everybody knew of Ms. Brown for her famous baked cookies and freeze cups that she’d been selling for over thirty years.
Grandma’s house was the one spot Veedo went to for his comfort and true rest. She was his favorite person in the world. Veedo adored his granny for her warm wisdom, and no matter what the case, she always had his back.
Ms. Brown was seventy-seven, but still moved around like she was thirty-five, and not to Veedo’s surprise, she was up in the living room when he used his key to enter her home.
“Hey, son,” Ms. Brown spoke.
Veedo saw her seated on the sofa with a Bible opened up across her lap. She was a tiny lady, but God had her full. She wore a head full of white hair and had hardly no wrinkles on her face or on her body.
“What’s up, Ma?” Veedo closed and locked the door.
“It’s late. Are you in trouble or is you tired?” She knew her grandson.
“Just tired, Ma.”
Veedo flopped down in his favorite chair and kicked off his shoes. The chair was his granddad’s, and Ms. Brown allowed nobody but Veedo to sit in it since her husband passed in it nearly ten years ago. Veedo was the sole reason she kept the chair.
“Well, go lay your head. Breakfast will awake you,” Ms. Brown replied.
“I’ma just chill right here, Ma, and kick it wit’ you, ‘cause I gotta peel out in a minute.”
Veedo was drained from doing entirely too much the past week. His eyelids were growing heavy as he fought sleep in order to talk with his grandma, but it was proving to be an uphill battle.
“Well, I’m giving it to God right now, so you can join me or not.”
Veedo admired his grandmother’s relationship with God. He was raised a God-fearing man in a God-fearing household, so it was nothing to bury his thoughts in the good book with Granny.
“Take off, Grandma. I’m wit’cha.”
As Veedo’s grandmother read from the bible out loud, he prayed within his thoughts. See, Veedo understood there was a good side to every bad, so he prayed for protection and that the path he travelled continued to be blessed. Veedo prayed for these things and knew in his heart the game was kill-or-be-killed, hands down. He knew for sure now that he was about to be major, that people would die at his hands to get to the top.
***
Gangsta
After cooking breakfast and feeding his family, Gangsta made the phone call to his cousin, who wanted to meet at six, so it was a set date. Gangsta hung up the phone, opened the gym bag that contained the bricks and money, then pulled four fresh-wrapped bricks out of the bag and quickly slid them under the sofa, leaving the money inside the bag. Gangsta tossed it on the sofa.
He entered NeNe’s bedroom. She was sitting up in bed putting Junior’s clothes on. She missed work today because of staying up last night with Gangsta. They talked all night.
“Write down his sizes, too, all of ‘em,” Gangsta said.
“Just remember to feed him every two hours at least and make sure you change him every three hours,” NeNe replied to his demands. She was looking as beautiful as ever to him, and Gangsta vowed to marry this pretty-ass woman. NeNe held a special glow about herself to him. She walked with respect and was so humble in the soul. She was so sexy that every time she passed guys, they either stared or tried to step, and Gangsta was in love like never before.
“Okay, cool, I got it.”
Gangsta left shortly after NeNe got Junior dressed. He had ninety racks on him and an F/N 9 mm. Gangsta carried Junior nested in his arms to NeNe’s 300C, which he decided to drive today. I gotta upgrade her. He took 285 and got off on Bankhead Highway, a straight shot down Bankhead and a right turn and he was on South Grand. Gangsta walked into his mother’s house with Junior to find Keshana on the floor in front of the large TV. She happily jumped up when she saw her daddy.
“What I tell you ‘bout sitting that close in front of that TV, huh?”
Gangsta put Junior down on his tiny feet and picked his daughter up. He kissed her candy-filled lips and stood her next to Junior.
“Ma.”
“In here,” he heard his mother from the kitchen.
Gangsta put the gym bag on the sofa.
“What’s up, Ma? Junior in there. I’ll be right back.”
He kissed his mother’s jaw and headed out the back door. It took him no more than twenty minutes to dig up his stash in the woods. Inside his old bedroom, Gangsta counted six more brand new guns, a bulletproof vest, and one hundred sixty-five grand, not including the eight racks he had in his safe from years ago. Gangsta put the money into the bag along with all the guns, then pushed it into the closet.
He left his mother’s crib with Keshana and Junior, so he was three deep with no sleep. His only plan for the day was to kill some time with the kids, so he took them shopping and took pictures with them.
“What’s Keshana’s sizes?” He had to call Terry, who was acting extra to him.
“I will text it to you, and when are you bringing my baby home? Your first night home and you didn’t spend it with your first-born. Had my baby waiting for your ass all night. You shacked up with that ho.”
“Man, Terry, just text me the size.” He wasn’t hearing shit she had to say.
Gangsta enjoyed fatherhood, being that it was his first time ever being with the kids. They got all kinds of attention, and Gangsta was loving it.
Gangsta took his kids to Ebony’s crib so they could meet Kash’s kids. He dropped them off with promises to be back within an hour because he had to meet Eric at the club.
It’d been a while since Gangsta walked into any club, and it was his very first time in a strip club. Blue Flame was the place to be any day of the week, ‘cause it hosted some super bad females from all parts of Georgia and many other states. Gangsta just didn’t do clubs in his line of work, but he made this trip with exceptions. Once he paid and got frisked, Eric met him at the door.
“What’s up, cousin?” They pounded fists. Eric was draped in Prada with a nice pair of Raybans on his face, and he was iced out on his neck, wrists, and ears.
“Whoa, what’s hap’, foo’?” Gangsta replied and followed him into the V.I.P. section of the club.
Pussy and sweat is all Gangsta smelled, along with weed and cigarettes. Music was loud, the hos were lovely — he had to approve. Inside the V.I.P. room for the first time, Gangsta laid eyes on this Bam dude, and his whole swavy spoke murder. Eric walked over and introduced them.
“Yo, Gangsta, this my nigga Bam. Bam, this cuz I’m telling you ‘bout, Gangsta.”
“Yo, son, have a drink, have a seat. Get comfortable. I have heard great shit ‘bout you, straight up.” Bam reached his iced-out hand to Gangsta, who shook it while sitting down. “So, I hear you just came home from prison.”
“Lil’ eighteen months. Yeah.”
“And that you wanted to make that cheddar, lots of cheese, huh?” Bam asked a
s he fixed Gangsta a cup of hen.
“You might’ve heard wrong.” Gangsta looked at his cousin, then took the cup Bam handed him.
“Is that word?” Bam then looked to Eric.
“Yeah, I’m just cooling, bruh, plus I talk one-on-one. I ain’t got time for co-defendants.”
“Understood,” Bam said, then he called the waiter and ordered up some dancers. Within one minute, a group of bad bitches walked into V.I.P. with the three guys. Gangsta grabbed an exotic-looking female.
“Hey,” she spoke and stood between Gangsta’s legs. His second day out and he still ain’t had no pussy. He leaned back as she began to move her hips.
The girl had long, jet-black hair and a super nice body with some slanted eyes. Gangsta enjoyed a few of her dances and tipped her nicely.
“’Preciate it,” he said.
“No problem. My name is Asia. What’s yours?”
“I’m Gangsta.”
“Why so harsh?” she wanted to know.
“Why not when we in a harsh world?”
“Well, look.” Asia walked over to his ear and spoke. “I wanna hook up with you. I mean not on the sex thing. I’m talking about being cool, you know?”
“Okay, that’s possible,” Gangsta replied.
“Alright, I’m about to go write my info down.”
And in a flash Asia was gone. Eric had walked away with some big-booty ho, so Gangsta found him at the bar.
“Man, what made you say dat you don’t need no money?” Eric seemed pissed.
“’Cause I’m not try’na be down wit’ no lame.”
“Man, you trippin’.” Eric walked away as Asia came out of nowhere. She passed Gangsta the number.
“How old are you?” Gangsta pushed the paper into his pocket and asked.
“Twenty. Why, how old are you?”
“One. I’m twenty one.”
When the girl walked off, Eric pulled back up. Gangsta could tell he was kinda drunk.
“Cuz, have I ever told you anything wrong?” Eric asked, sitting at the bar with Gangsta.
“Naw, bruh, but what I did, I did for you. I’m fresh out, bruh. I’m not really tryna link up wit’ new friends, feel me?”
“I feel that, but listen to me, my nigga. I’m almost rich. One more play and I’m there. You been gone, what, two years? Nigga, two years ago I was buying a quarter brick. Now I got too many of these bitches.”
“I can dig that, shawty, but I’m doing my own thang. I don’t need no team. Plus, most them niggas soft, shawty, they ain’t built to hold that type o’ paper,” Gangsta said, and he meant it. Eric, on the other hand, didn’t like what he was hearing, and it showed on his face.
“’Cause niggas ain’t on that robbin’ shit no more. It’s way too much money to be risking going to jail for all the bodies taking money presents. Just hustle this shit. Lock shit down like Cool did,” Eric spoke back at the same time, turning up his drink.
“I’m ‘bout to push, shawty, I got to get my kids. I will fuck with you later.” Gangsta and his cousin dapped and hugged at the bar before he left.
Gangsta knew Eric was telling him some good shit, but at the same time he couldn’t put his trust in Bam. It was just something about the nigga Gangsta didn’t like.
After picking the kids up, he decided to hit the road to make a drop for Kash and Blue at Macon. It was nothing but some phones and a half-pound of loud, so he took the kids for the trip.
“What’s up, shawty?” Kash answered his phone.
“Whoa. What’s hap’, fool? I’m finna take shawty that pack,” Gangsta said
“Okay, cool. What da mojo?” Kash asked.
“Man, shit try’na pave the way for us.”
“How it feels to be free?” When Kash spoke those words, it hit Gangsta like a blow to the stomach unexpectedly, because he knew that his partna needed and wanted to be free, but he was stuck with a life sentence.
“Don’t feel right wit’ you left in that bitch wit’ a bow, shawty.” Gangsta was being honest.
The last months he and Kash were cellmates, they had grown closer like never before, and Gangsta viewed him as if he was Cool, his blood brother. It was hard for him to just leave Kash, though Gangsta vowed to fight with his partna to the end.
“It’s all G, nigga. I’ma be straight,” Kash answered him.
“Say no mo’, fool. I got us, though,” Gangsta reassured Kash.
***
The Next Day
When Gangsta pulled up at Zay and Terry’s crib, he was amazed to find it gated heavily. Once cleared to go through the gate, Gangsta saw four old school cars and two Benz 600s, white and black. He knew the crib cost a grip just by the stone bricks, plus it looked to have at least seven bedrooms or better.
Gangsta parked the Range Rover. He took Keshana out of her car seat, then noticed Nikki walking toward them. She had on some tight high-ankle jeans and flip flops.
“What’s up, Gangsta? Welcome home,” her baby voice said.
“’Preciate it.”
“You gonna stay out this time, I hope.”
“Shit, I am,” said Gangsta and took his daughter into the house.
Zay opened the door for him.
“What’s good, bruh?”
“What’s happenin’ fool?” replied Gangsta, walking deeper into the nice house. Zay led him into a movie room where Terry was laid across a soft-looking chair. “I’ma get her this weekend.”
Gangsta put Keshana down.
“Ok,” Terry shot back without looking his way. She clearly had an attitude.
“And Terry, stop the drama you started when you see NeNe.” Gangsta put her on blast in front of Zay. “You act jealous or something, shawty.”
“Boy, I ain’t thinking ‘bout that trick,” Terry got defensive.
“Why she gotta be all dat?” Gangsta and Zay both laughed ‘cause they both knew Gangsta got under her skin.
“Let me holla at you a minute, bruh,” Zay said once they walked out of the movie room. Zay led him to a game room that was laced. Gangsta had to tip his hat. Bam was sure enough upgrading every drug dealer in Atlanta.
“What’s up, bruh, what da move is?” Gangsta asked.
“I’m just putting you on point ‘cause I fucks wit’ ya. Pat Man is coming at you, bruh. He feel like you killed that ho. Nigga got her phone before the police got there, got that shit traced back to you. Da nigga been on it for a minute now, and he just got the trace back last month. Bam told him to fall back, but he being slick ‘bout it. He up to something, so be on your ones and twos,” Zay said.
“Shawty, I sho’nuff ‘preicate ya. Pat Man gon’ make me fuck him up. I’m just tryin’ a make it last dis time, but I will definitely give him what he wants.” Gangsta was about tired of the talk.
“We all came up together on this west side, shawty. It don’t need to come to that. I will holla at this nigga and see what’s really going on, ‘cause you family,” Zay added. “Here, this your coming home gift.” Zay gave Gangsta two fresh-wrapped bricks. They kicked it another 30 minutes, smoked a blunt, then Gangsta left.
Chapter 20
Kash
Ms. Wishob was making her rounds as niggas gawked at how bad she was, plus some niggas downright stared at her to see if she was about to make a drop. Kash hated this fact, but it came with the game in prison, because if you were personally dealing either inmate or officer, somebody would peep you, and nine times out of ten somebody would say something.
Ms. Wishob had been dropping for Blue for over a year now, and niggas in H2 knew the move. There had been times Kash and Blue had to jump on a few cats for looking too hard or talking too much. Both Kash and Blue made sure to bless the pod, and the niggas were still hating.
“Shawty, you can snatch dat ho.” Meco tapped Kash’s shoulder when he walked up.
Meca was GF, an Atlanta gang that was most hated and feared. He was a nigga from Summer Hill who was down eight years on a body.
“Anybody can get
that ho, bruh.”
“I know, right.”
Both guys leaned on the rail.
“Dat ho crazy, I know dat much,” Kash added. Neither him nor Blue ever tried to get at Ms. Wishob, plus she liked Gangsta when he was there. Gangsta just paid no attention to her as every other nigga did.
“Where’s Blue’s ass at?”
“Detail,” Kash said
“What’s up, Kash? What’s up, Meco?” Tae strolled up, a nigga from Atlanta, an old-school cat.
“GF mob shit,” Meco boasted.
“Y’all wanna blow one real fast?” Kash noticed Ms. Wishob putting on her gloves.
“Shake down!” someone yelled in the pod.
Kash waited a few minutes after he saw her enter his cell. When he got downstairs, he saw her checking under this bunk, bent over. A couple niggas caught glimpses and also stopped. She was coming out of the cell moments later with a cup and spoon.
“That’s the only cup I got, Ms. Wishob,” Kash said while walking into his room when she walked out.
“Y’all are not allowed these.” Ms. Wishob held it up and walked to another cell.
Meco and Tae walked inside the cell, too. Kash pulled out his phone as Tae began to roll up a joint to smoke. He called Gangsta, who picked up on the third ring.
“Whoa.”
“What da hell going on, foo’?”
“Shit, boy, I’m on my way back to prison.” Gangsta laughed, but Kash felt he was serious.
“What’s up?”
“Shawty, dis shit crazy out here. All these niggas working one plug, and all these niggas eating. Pat Man, Zay, Eric, all the nobodies got that check. But peep, this nigga who plug everybody tryna fuck wit’ me. Pussy-nigga crazy. Plus, Pat Man acting like he want beef. I’m just laughing at them niggas, bruh.”
“Man, fuck them lames. Look, though, I can plug you with the Mexicans, foo’. I’m still good with Loco, and his folks got it.”
Kash boasted Loco was the Mexican who fronted Kash the pounds of mid-grade. Kash never got the chance to cross him, so instead he kept a clean face.
The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set Page 19