BURY ME A G, #1 Page 4

  “...I swear on everything I love, bitch, I bet not ever catch you in the streets on some solo shit.You better have a couple of them boys with badges with chu ‘cause I’ma knock you smooth the fuck out for disrespecting me! You must of slipped, fell, and bumped yo’ mothafucking head this morning.”

  “You just remember one thing, sweetheart.You gotta bring ass to get some. On that note, I’ll be hanging up. I gotta go cook my son some breakfast and send him off to school, so I can then suck and fuck my man. Deuces!” She hung up the phone and journeyed into the kitchen. She whipped up Te’Qui’s breakfast: French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and a glass of Simply orange juice. While little man went to work on his meal, she dipped off to the bedroom. She wrapped her head up in a scarf, slipped on one of Faison’s T-shirts, sweatpants and lady Air Maxes. She grabbed her carkeys from off the nightstand and made her way back inside of the kitchen.

  “You ready?” she asked Te’Qui.

  He held up a finger while he gulped down the last of the orange juice.

  Belch!

  He sat the glass down and stood up, grabbing his backpack. “Ready.”

  Chevy cracked a grin as she ruffled her baby boy’s head and kissed the top of it.

  “Come on.” She headed for the door with her son on her heels.

  She pulled it open and was about to step through it when she thought to herself. She turned around and lifted the mattress, revealing a Taurus .9mm. She checked the magazine for a full clip and smacked it back inside, chambering one in the head. She tucked the banger into the waistline of her sweatpants and made a beeline out of the bedroom.

  Jumping behind the wheel of her car, she opened the glove-box and stashed her gun inside. She slammed it closed and fired up the engine. Three minutes later, Chevywaspullingup at 28thStreet Elementary school and turning down the stereo system.

  “Are you staying after school today, or do you want me to pick you up?” she asked.

  “I think I’ma stay today and play basketball, if that’s okay.” Te’Qui replied.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” She smiled.

  “Alright, see you later. Love you.” Te’Qui said, opening the door.

  “Wait a minute, lil’ man, I know you’re not hopping outta this car without giving your momma a kiss.” Chevy watched as he looked around to make sure no one would see him giving her a goodbye kiss. The coast was clear.

  “Alright, one kiss. Make it quick.” He hoisted his backpack upon his shoulder.

  Chevy leaned forward and Te’Qui gave her a quick peck on the lips before hopping out of the car and running into the yard of his school.

  She laughed until he disappeared and shook her head before driving off.

  She was about to take it home when she suddenly got a craving for a breakfast from Tam’s. For some strange reason she kept picturing cinnamon toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and a bottle of Minute Made orange juice inside of her head. Just the thought of the hot breakfast made her stomach grumble in hunger. She was so busy cooking up Te’Qui’s breakfast and trying to make sure he made it to school on time, she forgot to feed herself.

  She made a U-turn and headed back up San Pedro. Peering through her rearview mirror, she spotted a gray ‘87 Buick Regal with pitch black tints making a U-turn at the exact same time she was. She paid closer attention to see if the car would follow her when she bent the corner on Adams and San Pedro, and it did.

  Growing suspicious, she mashed the gas pedal and accelerated the Caprice up to forty miles an hour.She glanced in the rearview and the Buick was right on her ass. Going down Adams she made a swift right on Stanford Avenue causing her Caprice’s tires to screech and the vehicle to slightly tip. She stole a peek in the side view mirror and sure enough the Buick had bent the corner behind her going at the same speed.

  Chevy’s heart was pounding. She thought for sure it would leap from her chest any second. Then she bent a quick left on the corner of 27th street and popped open the glovebox. Keeping her eyes on the street ahead of her, she blindly felt around inside until she found the Taurus .9mm. She was glad she brought the gun along now. Feeling the black plastic handle in her grip put her at ease. She mashed the brake pedal and brought the Caprice to a screeching halt, nearly causing the Buick to slam into the back of her.

  She threw the car in park and swung open the door, grabbing her piece from her lap. She whipped aroundbanging three rounds through the windshield and making the Buick back up in a hurry. The Buick rolled in reverse until it nearly reached the end of 27th street coming into San Pedro, before whipping around and pulling out into traffic. With a heaving chest, she lowered her gun and looked around. The coast was clear so she hopped back into the Caprice and drove off.

  ***

  Chevy ran into the house and slammed the door behind her. She took a quick peek through the curtains to see if she was followed. The coast was clear. She tucked her keys into the pocket of her North Face jacket and walked into the kitchen. She took a glass down from the cupboard and a bottle of Captain Morgan from the refrigerator. Chevy pulled her Taurus from her waistline and sat it down on the table before pouring herself a glass. She took a sip and her cell phone rang. She pulled the cell from her pocket and looked at the screen. Faison’s name and picture lit it up. Chevy sat the glass down on the table and pressed talk, placing the cell to her ear.

  “You may wanna get cha self some professional hitters, playboy. Them niggaz you sent are novices. A bitch is still breathing,” Chevy boasted, taking a sip from her glass and listening for Faison’s response.

  “Don’t get cute, I just sent them boys to scare your ass. You’re lucky you’re my son’s mother ‘cause otherwise you’d be dead right now. The next time I send my people they’re flat lining everything. I’m talking you and that faggotass nigga Azule you got lying up in there. I’ll just take my son and raise him myself.”

  Faison disconnected the call. Chevy sat her cell on the table and casually sipped from her glass.

  Faison was bluffing.He had no intentions on killing her. In all actuality, he was still very much in love with her. His heart longed for his family. He realized he had fucked it all up because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, so he understood Chevy being hurt enough to want to kill him. Hell, if he was on the receiving end of the betrayal, he would have murked her and whoever he caught her in bed with.

  Faison understood the reason why Chevy shot him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling some type of way about it. He hated the way she made him feel and he hated himself for still being in love with her despite it. He felt the only way for him to feel better was to pump fear into her. And in doing so, he hoped she’d come crawling back to him. And if she did, there was no doubt in his mind he’d take her back.

  It all went down about four years ago. Faison hadn’t quite yet reached Top Dawg status yet, so he was still putting in most of his own work.

  The Thompson Cousins had muscled their way on his territory. After repeated warnings to shut down shop were ignored, the young upstart resorted to what he felt was the best solution, murder. Faison went at all three of them boys with two chrome 9 double M’s. He gave them flatlines, but there was only one problem. Someone had seen him when he laid down his gunplay.

  “You may as well go on and live your life, baby, ‘cause I’m through. I’m washed up.” A defeated Faison spoke into the telephone from behind the Plexiglas of the county jail’s visiting room. He was dressed in a blue jumpsuit.

  “What?” Chevy frowned, worry lines across her forehead. She looked like hell having been stressed the fuck out about his situation. “How much time are they talking?”

  “Life.” He told her with a pair of glassy, red webbed eyes. He shook his head and bowed it as he was massaging the bridge of his nose. “My ass is in the fire here and there’s only one way I can pull it out.”

  “How?” She sat up, desperate for his answer.

  “How much do you love me?” He locked eyes with her.

  “I love y
ou more than any human being can possibly love another.” She matched his intensity.

  “Good.”With that said he hung up the telephone and rose from the stool, walking away. Chevy looked alive, rising to her feet.

  “Faison! Faison!” She called after him but he kept his stride.

  Later that night...

  Bone, one of Faison’s hands, made a visitto Chevy. He gave her the rundown on his case and the cat that had became a liability by the name of Sha’Quell. Homeboy had given up Faison’s involvement with the three homicides.The crazypart about it was that he wasn’t in any real trouble himself. He had been picked up with enough crack for him to pass off as a user instead of possession with intention to sell. But when The Boys applied a little pressure to him he broke like a pregnant lady’s water bag.

  “Homie’s gotta meet with death if Faison wants to see another sunset, ya feel me?” Bone said to Chevy as she held open the door for him.

  “He’s not just the love of my life, he’s the father of child. I’ll do whatever I have to do to help him.”

  Chevy was given a wallet size photo of Sha’Quell and placed on his trail. One morning she found him at IHOP having breakfast with who she believed was a couple of plain clothed cops. She didn’t want the police to identify her so she gave his waitress a twenty dollar bill and wrote a kinky message on a napkin with her phony name and telephone number. She finished her coffee and shot him a sexy smile on her way out of the restaurant. They went out a few times until she made him feel comfortable. Then one night when the time was right The Grim Reaper made his appearance after they’d come back from the movies.

  “Alright, baby, good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Sha’Quell kissed Chevy sloppily. When they pulled away they both wiped the corners of their mouths, smiling. Suddenly, Chevy’s expression morphed into a hateful one and she shoved him backwards, slamming the door in his face. A look of confusion crossed his face as he stumbled back and nearly fell. His face tightened with anger and he was about to charge up the steps until he heard the rustling in the bushes.

  His head snapped to the right and a dark figure emerged. It lifted something. Sha’Quell peered closely trying to see who it was but it was already too late. Flickers of fire flashed before his pupils. Hot bullets went through his cheekbone and eye. Horror crossed his face and he toppled over. With the work put in the gunman fled into the darkness.

  Chevy had gotten Sha’Quell to sneak out of the way of police protection. For a week straight he’d dip off with her to a cheap motel to get busy. They sucked and fucked like it was going out of style. Sha’Quell had gotten hooked on her loving and with that came his stupidity. She was finally able to lower him to a knock off house that Faison had gotten a suited up crack head to renovate under a dummy name.

  With the witness out of the picture there wasn’t anyway to link Faison to the murders. Therefore he was set free. Faison was grateful to Chevy for sacrificing her body and dignity in order for him to be released from jail. With that act, he knew she was down for him and finding someone else worthy to be on his arm was going to be a hard task.

  Chapter 5

  Threat made his way across Florence Avenue smoking a cigarette. He wore a tan bucket hat pulled down over his brows and cheap liquor store shades over his eyes. His T-shirt was dingy and his cargo pants were a size too small, so he sagged to make them look like they fitted. The homies had blessed him with some paper to get him some new digs since he’d just came home, but he decided to hold that change to get him through the next couple of months until he came upon a lick.

  He’d lost a considerable amount of weight since he’d been out these pastfew weeks, which wasn’t surprising since he’d been eating like he was still on lock. Every day he’d eat what jail niggas called a spread, which consisted of noodles, clams, sardines, and mayonnaise. The dish was the bomb when he was locked up, but now that he was out and had caught whiffs of the fine cuisines out in the free world, the spread made him sick to his stomach. He would have to make due for now because his pockets were on tilt and the comeups were few and far in between. He knew that he could easily hit some of the homies up for a couple of dollars until he got right, but begging from another grownass man wasn’t his shtick, he’d rather die of starvation than ask for a hand out. So for now, he’d make it on what he had until he was able to do better.

  Crossing the street and heading toward Mount Carmel Park, Threat spotted Don Juan leant up against the grill of his Porsche truck eating a bag of popcorn and spitting at some caramel dipped fox. He figured he must have been saying all of the right things because he had old girl blushing and smiling. By the time he had approached Don Juan the girl had put her phone number into his cell and pecked him on the cheek before leaving. Don Juan smacked her on her ample ass and admired the sway of her apple bottom as she sauntered away, throwing it extra hard as she went along. He smiled and bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head as he enjoyed the show. He imagined himself burying his black cobra deep inside of her sugar walls. The thought caused his joint to stiffen and jump behind the zipper of his jeans.

  “What’s cracking?” Threat spoke as he drew near to Don Juan.

  Don Juan turned around with his hand near his waistline ready to pull his banger if it was drama. But seeing it was Threat, his face softened and he smiled. “What’s cracking, boy?” He slapped hands with Threatand snapped his fingers. Don Juan took in the threads that he was wearing. His clothes said what his mouth didn’t have to. He was hungry, and Don Juan was going to throw him a bone. If he acted like he wasn’t sure of what he wanted to do again, then he wasn’t going ask him anymore. He’d be damned if he was gone beg a nigga to put some money in his pocket. “You ready to get put on and get this money, or what?”

  Threat nodded and rubbed his hands together greedily. “Yeah, I’ma get down.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.Come by the house ‘round 9 o’clock tonight. I’ma set chu out and set chu up.”

  “Cool.” Threat nodded and dapped him up. “But look, I gotta lil’ something, something I gotta take care of so I’ma need a throwaway.”

  Don Juan formed his hand into the shape of a gun and he nodded yes. “I got chu. You don’t need any backup, do you? You know I gotta couple head bustas that are always ready and willing. Sheeiiit, you wouldn’t even have to get your hands dirty.”

  “That’s love. I appreciate it, but I gotta handle this dolo. Feel me?”

  Don Juan nodded his head. “Alright. Well, come on. I’ma get that hammer for you.” He dropped the empty bag of popcorn and smacked the crumbs from his palms before sliding behind the wheel of his truck with Threat in the front passenger seat.

  The next day...

  The doors of the chapel flew open. The bride and groom came down the steps smiling from ear to ear. Their family and friends followed behind them, applauding and cheering them on. The newlyweds narrowed their eyes into slits and held their arms above their brows as rice and colorful ribbons were thrown at them. The bride’s Uncle Bruce, an older cat with a salt and pepper goatee and a shaved head, stood on the side of a Mercedes Benz. He beamed when he saw the couple, smiling and boasting his thirty-two whites. Uncle Bruce tossed the carkeys over to the groom and he looked into his palm, the key chain was black and had the Mercedes emblem on it. The groom smiled and embraced his wife’s uncle before they hopped into the Mercedes and drove off. Just married and congratulations Ta’shauna and Orlando was spray painted on the back window. The empty soup cans that were attached to the fender by yarn chattered on the streets as they sped along. The wedding guests ran out into the street happily saying their farewells and waving goodbye.

  “Can you believe it? We’re actually married.” Ta’shauna excitedly held Orlando’s hand as he pushed the Benz.

  “Yep, Mr. and Mrs. Greene,” Orlando gave her aquick smooch. He then held up his wife’s hand and kissed it.

  His loving expression turned into a bewildered look when
a honking horn brought his attention around to the driver side window. He saw an old raggedy sky blue Saab rolling beside him with a smiling driver motioning for him to let his window down.

  “What does he want, baby?” Ta’shauna asked.

  “Probably some directions,” Orlando said, holding down a button and letting the window down. “What’s up, chief?” He asked the driver of the Saab.

  The driver’s smile transformed into a mask of hatred and he pointed a dull black Desert Eagle in Orlando’s direction. Orlando’s eyes bugged and his mouth dropped open. The barrel of the Desert unleashed triplets, all of which struck its target in the chest. A single bullet entered his temple and blew out his righteye. Blood splattered onto Ta’shauna’s face and she screamed out in horror, hands trembling. Orlando’s head hit the steeringwheel as he slumped over dead. His foot mashed the gaspedal, speeding up the Benz and sending it barreling toward a lightpost. She tried to get control of the steeringwheel, but it was too late. The Benz crashed into the lightpost and wrapped itself around it.

  Ta’shauna peeled her head from off the dashboard, groaning. There was a nasty gash in her forehead. She was disoriented and her sight went in and out of focus. She looked into the rearview mirror and saw the Saab pulling up behind her. Frantic, she tried to shake Orlando awake, but he wouldn’t budge. Realizing Orlando was dead; she opened the door and fell out into the street on her hands and knees. She crawled toward the opposite side of the street, looking over her shoulder. When she saw the driver of the Saab hopping out, she crawled faster and screamed for someone to help her.