My words didn’t make any of Coop’s discomfort or anger go away. His cold eyes held no sympathy for me. With his hands in pockets, he stood firm in his anger, staring at me with cold eyes. “You know how I was raised. You know I don’t have any parents. Why do you think I haven’t had kids already? You think I want to have a baby by someone who is not going to be here for my child? You think I wanna do that to someone else?!”
I silenced in shame. I hadn’t thought about that. I had been selfish when deciding to have this baby. I had only thought of myself, my situation, and my mama. But I had the right to be selfish. I was the one dying, not him.
“Get out,” Coop hissed so menacingly that I was surprised that he could be this angry towards me. I knew he would be angry once he knew everything that I had been keeping from him, but this was so much more than anger.
This was a hate-filled rage.
My heart ached as I asked, “What?”
“Get the fuck out.”
I jumped to my feet and began to beg, “Coop…”
His bit his bottom lip as he walked further away from me. “Fuck that! You put me in this position knowing that you were dying. That’s fucked up! I’m done with you. You played me more times than I let the next motherfucker get away with. You gotta go. Have the baby, do whatever you wanna do, but do it without me. I’m done letting you fuck with my head. Get the fuck out.”
“Coop—”
My words were cut off with a gasp as he hurled something across the room. I ran towards the door as I saw it hurling towards me. Whatever it was shattered into the wall, instead of me.
“Get the fuck out!” he bellowed, and this time I didn’t argue. I rushed into my shoes and then hurried out of his front door, away from my fake existence, and ran back to my reality, back to my dark space.
7
Coop
Too angry to even allow what all True had told me to marinate, I bolted out of the house right after her. I didn’t go after her, though. Fuck her. I was that nigga. I was rich. I was good before I met her, and I would be even better now that she was out of my life. This was how I dealt with losing loved ones, even the families that didn’t treat me right. When I got bounced from house to house as a shorty, I just turned the other cheek, as if the hurt had never happened. True had gotten close to me, knowing she wouldn’t be here long, so that’s how I was going to handle True; like it never fucking happened.
True had me fucked up. I couldn’t even feel bad for shorty’s illness when she was willing to put my child through the same bullshit. Her mother, her family, would have to lose her. They were forced to deal with the loss of her. But me and my child hadn’t been. She was forcing us to take part in this grief that would affect us long after she was gone. She was bringing a child into the world to purposely feel the hurt and disappointment like I had when I had to spend Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and every other fucking holiday feeling like shit because I had no parents.
I didn’t have time for this dramatic shit. True clearly was good for playing mind games. She had been since the beginning of us. I wasn’t about to do these dramatics with her. I was rich. I was good before I’d met her and I would be good now that I was no longer fucking with her.
As I sped through the city, I hoped my absence would make her realize the insanity of what she was doing so she wouldn’t have that baby. I had purposely made sure I never got a chick knocked up. I wasn’t trying to bring a child into this world to be raised in fucked up circumstances. And I considered any kid being raised with one or no parent to be a fucked up circumstance. It wasn’t meant to be like that. Kids weren’t supposed to be out here raising themselves because they had no parents or because their parents were on drugs or locked up. A daughter shouldn’t be missing the influence of her mother or the protection of her father. A son shouldn’t have to go without knowing how to love a woman or what love from a real woman was because he had no mother or father. God didn’t mean for it to be that way. I was a terrible example of the outcome of those situations. I wasn’t trying to have my son or daughter out here like that. I wanted no parts of it, nor could I stomach witnessing it. So, if this was what True was going to do, she was going to do it without me.
“Coop, I hope you ready for war, motherfucka! Prince is gonna murk your ass, and I am going to dance on your grave, you bitch-made nig—”
I hung up, groaning and shaking my head.
“What was that?” Rakim asked from the passenger’s seat. I had picked him up after getting a 9-1-1 text from him.
I gritted. “Issa’s talking crazy on my voicemail.”
I hadn’t told Rakim what True had told me, not any of it. I was in such disbelief that I couldn’t even repeat it. I couldn’t stomach saying it out loud.
Rakim smirked with a shake of his head. “Yo’, she still stalkin’?”
Nodding, I pulled away from Rakim’s apartment in Hyde Park. “Hell yeah.”
“I’m hearing Prince wants smoke.”
My eyebrow rose. “Word?”
“Word. His bitch ass went through Issa’s phone and saw all the times she’s been calling you. He hot.”
“How you know all this? You fucking his baby mama too, nigga?” I grilled.
Rakim chuckled. “Nah. I’m fucking one of Issa’s home girls.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So, he hot at me? Not her hoe ass?”
Rakim nodded, raking his beard with his fingers. “Exactly. He’s a bitch. But you know he trigga happy and talkin’ ‘bout he at you… And it’s one more thing.”
I sucked my teeth with a frown. “Fuck, nigga, do you ever have good news?”
Rakim shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m your eyes and ears on the street. This my job.”
“Go ahead, man.”
“We gotta take care of Zell.”
I cringed. “Candi say he still talking shit?”
“Yeah. I know he’s been under you since he was a shorty, but he’s too weak. He’s an indictment waiting to happen. One interrogation and that motherfucker’s lips are gonna start flapping. We gotta get rid of his ass.”
In this game, I was used to dealing with some foul shit. A lot of hustlers I knew had been taken out by this game. Hell, my life had started by losing two of the most important people to a person—my parents.
However, today, I had never felt this type of pain; losing two people that I cared about. I had been trying to ignore it since she’d told me the words, but in that moment, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Faced with having to take the life of one of my closest people, I thought about life and how True, such a seemingly loyal and caring person, was losing hers out of her control. I couldn’t take being around that type of hurt. My earlier life had been filled with pain, and I had been dodging it ever since for a reason. I had allowed her to make me loosen my grip on my control over my life. But no more. I had temporarily made the mistake of leading with my feelings. But no more and never again.
“Text him and tell him we’re on our way to pick him up.”
Rakim grabbed his phone with a nod and started typing. “Say less.”
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of Zell’s apartment building in my hood. Rakim hopped out to hit the corners and trap houses to ensure they were bussin’. While I waited for Zell to come out of the building, I grabbed my piece from the glove compartment and placed it in the compartment in my driver’s side door.
Then I snatched my phone from the cup holder and sent him a text message telling him that I was in front and to bring his ass outside.
Rage was boiling over. I glowered as I bit my lip, telling myself not to take my anger toward True out on Zell. I tried to remind myself that Zell was one of the most loyal hustlers on my team. I didn’t have blood relatives, but I had a few niggas that I knew were loyal to me. Rakim was the main one. I thought Zell was the other.
But the angry, hurt little boy who’d had to raise himself was present in the car. The guy whose heart had softened because of True had faded away
. He had run away because of how hurt he was. The savage was back.
Zell soon appeared from the building. Concern was etched all over his face, wondering what this sudden, urgent meeting was all about.
Zell hopped in the car, filling the inside with the aroma of loud. I reached for my own blunt that was already rolled and perched in the ashtray.
After sliding it between my lips, I threw my ride in drive. “What up, bro?” I greeted Zell as I pulled off.
As I fired the blunt up, he gave me a dry, “What up?”
“You tell me.”
“What you talkin’ about?” His voice was shaky. I looked over at him quickly and peeped the nervousness in his expression and sweat beads on his brow, despite my good-ass air blowing in this bitch. Then I focused back on the road.
“Do I need to worry about you?” I asked him point blank.
“N-n-nah,” he stuttered. “You ain’t gotta worry about me. Why you ask me that?”
For the first time in my years in the game, I was stuck. I knew what I had to do, knew what I needed to do, and what was necessary to protect me, my business, and the people who depended on me to eat. But looking at him, my cold heart went out to him. To take out one of the few people who had always rocked with me was giving me a sympathetic feeling that was new to me since falling for True. Her words were ringing in my ears. Now that I knew she was expecting death soon, her words made so much more sense when she had asked me how I wanted to be remembered. Her words now had so much more meaning. Even more so, the thoughtfulness behind those words were so much deeper. She cared enough about me to take care of me when she was the one who needed to be taken care of.
I suddenly pulled over with a jolt that sent Zell’s face flying into the passenger’s window.
I threw the car in park while reaching for my piece with my other hand. Before Zell knew what was happening, I placed the gun to his head and cocked it.
He threw his hands up in surrender and started to stutter uncontrollably. “Y-y-y-y-y-o, man. What the fuck?!”
“You running your mouth, lil’ nigga?” I barked as I pressed the gun into his head, forcing his head to bang against the window. “You got a problem with how I run my motherfucking organization, nigga?”
“N-n-n-nah, man! I swear!” he tried to ensure me.
I gritted, “I’m hearing different.”
“Whoever said that shit is lying!” he insisted with tears coming to his eyes.
“You want your life?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
My jaws clenched as I asked, “You sure, bitch?”
His eyes filled with tears. “I promise! Man, please?!”
Leaning forward caused the gun to press deeper into his temple. He winced as he looked up at the roof of the car, seemingly praying silently.
“Then this is what you gon’ do,” I told him. “You gon’ pack your shit and get the fuck outta town. You ain’t trusted in this crew no more. Since you’ve been running your mouth like a bitch, run your ass out of town tonight. You understand?”
Again, he nodded strongly. “Y-yeah.”
“You hear me?!” I barked.
“Yes!” he promised. “I swear. I swear! I’m gone. I promise.”
Gnawing on my bottom lip, I reluctantly removed the gun from his head and sped away from the curb, back towards his apartment building. I hated that this True situation had changed me. It had changed me to the point that I was actually seeing my love for this weak-ass motherfucka. But, as he sat there with tears streaming down his face, I knew his years of loyalty deserved more from me than a bullet in the head. And now, knowing that True would soon lose her life so young, I was looking at my own life differently and with more appreciation. I suddenly cared about family, relationships, and connections.
I hated her for that shit.
“Get the fuck out!” I barked. The bite in my bark had more to do with True than with Zell, but it was vicious enough to make Zell hop out, just as the back door opened. I whipped my head around to see Rakim hopping into the back.
I shook my head, reluctantly, seeing the questions in his face as I sped off.
“Yo’, why the fuck that nigga still alive?” Rakim asked.
“He’s leaving town,” I announced.
Rakim’s voice was full of surprise. “That’s good enough for you?”
Grimacing, I told him, “I said it, didn’t I, motherfucka?”
“I’m just sayin’, bro,” Rakim pushed. “What if he talks?”
Taking my eyes off the road for a second, I looked over at the pool of piss in the passenger’s seat. “He won’t.”
Just then, a truck driving sporadically behind me caught my attention in the rearview mirror.
“What the fuck?” I muttered as I glared through the mirror.
Just as Rakim asked me, “What’s going on?” shots started blasting off from the truck and pierced through the back window. I could hear the bullets passing my head, firing over and over again like fireworks. Glass shattered all around us. Bullets pierced the windshield as I attempted to keep control of my ride.
“Fuck!” I barked as my foot pressed the gas. Now, going over a hundred miles an hour towards the onramp on 90/94, I swerved, attempting to dodge the bullets flying through my ride.
“Aaaaaaaargh!” I heard Rakim yelp from the back seat. “Fuck, fam! I been hit. They shot me, bro!”
Just as I turned around to check on him, more bullets flew through the back window, causing me to duck and steer blindly. Horns blasted around us. Glass continued to fly.
“I need to go to the hospital, bro!” Rakim pleaded.
Pressing the gas to go one-twenty, I ensured him, “I’m trying, fam. I’m trying.”
Finally, the gunfire stopped just as I heard tires screeching. But I couldn’t tell whether the tires screeching were from the shooter, my ride, or others around me that I was swerving into.
I glanced into the rearview mirror and was relieved when I saw the truck exiting on the passing onramp.
“Arrrgh,” Rakim growled. “I’m dying, bro. I’m dying.”
Frantically, I pulled over on the shoulder of the expressway. I jumped out of the car. I noticed that many vehicles had pulled over on the shoulder during the mayhem. I rushed to the rear passenger’s side door. I threw it open and jumped inside. I crawled over Rakim as he leaned against the opposite door, holding his neck, which was spewing blood.
He struggled to speak through gritted teeth. He was holding on to life with every ounce of his strength as blood splattered from his mouth with every word. “It… It was… That…that nigga, Prince.”
I tore my shirt off and pressed it against his neck tightly. I could hear multiple sirens in the distance, which meant someone had called the police.
“It was him,” Rakim swore.
“Don’t talk,” I urged.
“Get that, nigga.” I pressed my shirt into his wound harder, but Rakim pushed my hand away as if there was no use. “Make sure you get that, nig…” His words disappeared into the sounds of him choking and coughing. As he did so, blood spewed all over the upholstery and my face. I cringed at the sight of seeing my only family, my only friend left, die in front of me. It caused an unfamiliar sharp pain to pierce through my heart and trickle down to my gut.
I was watching the only person I loved in this world leave me. It was nauseatingly heartbreaking. I had never cared this much or hurt this much until that day.
I pressed the shirt against his neck despite his rejection. “Hold on, bro. Hold on.”
8
Remi
“Here, girl.”
My head was so heavy as I lifted to see what Niyah was handing me. It was another red cup full of the 1738 that we had been drinking all night. I had been drowning my broken heart in it, hoping that it would stop hurting. Niyah was drinking with me just because. I had run here the night I found out about Banks’ utter betrayal and had yet to leave. I didn’t have the heart to talk to my sister. It
was too embarrassing to tell her that she was right. I for damn sure couldn’t tell my mother. And since I didn’t have any friends, I called Niyah. She and Iyana were the closest two female associates I had to listen to me ask myself the same questions over and over again. How did I not know? Who was she? Why had he chosen her over me?
It had just been shy of twenty-four hours since Banks had humiliated me while ruining me for the rest of my life, and I hadn’t heard from him. I had sent him pages and pages of irate text messages without receiving one response from him. I sat on Niyah’s couch, wondering how I was going to live on. All I knew was Banks. And even though he had hurt me over and over again, I would give anything to trade this betrayal for one of those bitches he had only fucked while we were together. Because this betrayal was different. He hadn’t gotten caught but professed his love for me, despite his infidelities. He had been quiet, telling me he had indeed given that ring to the right woman.
My attention was briefly pulled away from my thoughts when Iyana came barreling into the house. Being bestfriends, she and Niyah shared an apartment on the southeast side of Chicago.
“Biiiiiitch,” Iyana sang as she plopped down on the couch. The sound of that and the look on her face told me she had some tea.
“What?” Niyah pried.
I was reluctant to ask.
Iyana’s eyes seemed to water as she told us, “I got the tea on that bartender bitch.”
When My Soul Met A Thug Page 9