Back in the Hood (3 page)

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Authors: Treasure Hernandez

BOOK: Back in the Hood
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Halleigh closed her eyes and shortly thereafter fell off to sleep, and Malek sat with her until the nurses forced him to leave. When he finally emerged from Halleigh's room, he saw Mitch sprawled out in the waiting room, his coat thrown over his face.
Malek looked at the clock on the wall. It was nine o'clock in the morning. He had completely forgotten that Mitch was even with him, but he had a new respect for his right-hand man. Mitch had waited patiently throughout the night without complaint.
He approached Mitch and kicked his foot gently. “Yo, man, we outta here.” Malek rubbed his red eyes. He had a lot on his mind and needed to get some sleep so he could wake up refreshed and analyze his situation.
He wasn't going to say anything to Mitch about his plan to leave Flint until he had all his ducks in order. Since Mitch knew all of Malek's business affairs anyway, he'd be the one to inherit the throne.
“How's Hal?” Mitch asked as he stood up and stretched. “She a'ight?”
“She was in the fucking rehab center. I had the mu'fucka shot up with her inside. Now she's laid up on the fifth floor,” was all Malek could say, his voice cracking from emotion. Admitting to himself that Halleigh's circumstance was his fault was like taking a bullet himself.
“What?” Mitch asked. “What was she doing there? You should've made sure she was in pocket before you put that order in, fam. You know that. She should've been right underneath you, just so you were sure she wasn't in harm's way.” Mitch's tone was more that of a concerned boyfriend than a supportive best friend.
Malek didn't like the way Mitch was coming at him, but he couldn't really get mad, because everything Mitch was saying was right. He didn't appreciate another nigga speaking on his relationship with Halleigh, but he was too tired to start anything. He held his tongue, unaware that Mitch had larceny in his heart.
“I know, fam, I know. Don't rub salt in it, my nigga.” Malek extended his hand to Mitch.
Mitch embraced Malek and grabbed his coat as they began to leave. “I got to piss.” Mitch tossed Malek his car keys. “Go grab the whip. I'll be out in a minute.”
Malek nodded his head and exited the hospital.
Mitch headed over to the elevator. He looked around inconspicuously before pressing the call button, and then slipped into the space unnoticed as he headed to the fifth floor. He walked casually down the hall, peeking his head into each room until he saw Halleigh's silhouette in a darkened room. He knocked lightly but didn't wait to be invited in before he stepped into the room.
Both his slight knock and presence caused Halleigh to open her eyes from her light sleep.
“What's good, ma? How you feeling?” he asked as he walked over to her and sat on the edge of her bed.
Halleigh sat up and nervously fidgeted with her hair. She never felt completely comfortable around Mitch because of the history they shared. She looked behind Mitch, expecting to see Malek walk through the door behind him. When he didn't, she asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I came here with Malek to check on you. I just want to make sure you're straight.” Mitch looked over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. He turned his attention back to Halleigh and began to speak in a whisper. “Malek went a little bit crazy, Hal. I don't know what's up with him lately, so be careful, ma. I know you're with him now, but I care about you, and I don't want to see you caught out there on some bullshit.”
Halleigh's eyebrows furrowed, and a look of confusion washed over her face. “What are you talking about, Mitch?”
Mitch began his infiltration into his comrade's relationship with the girl he truly had desires for. “Malek thought you were stepping out on him, Hal. He had you followed and then gave the order to have the building you were in shot up.”
Halleigh didn't speak. She just lay there shaking her head.
“It's true, Halleigh,” Mitch said convincingly. “He knew you were inside. His jealousy over you is crazy. I don't want to see you hurt.”
Mitch was manipulative. He knew he was planting seeds to cause problems in their relationship. His lies might not do much now, but they would remain in Halleigh's head until they manifested into a bigger problem. He was going to chip away at Halleigh's trust for Malek until he could snatch her, and then take the streets away from Malek.
“No, he wouldn't do that,” Halleigh finally responded.
Mitch stood up and nodded his head as if he understood her choosing to be in denial over her boyfriend's true intentions on her life. He kissed the top of her head, even though she moved away from his touch. “I hear you, Halleigh. You're loyal. I know that's your man, but I just wanted to pull your coattail and tell you to be careful. I don't want to see you hurt. My offer still stands too. Whenever you're ready to leave your situation, you have somewhere to go,” he stated before leaving her to her thoughts.
Halleigh thought about what Mitch had just told her, but she refused to believe him.
Malek would never do me like that on purpose
. She dismissed the idea and let the drugs the doctors had given her take her into a mind-numbing sleep.
Chapter Three
M
alek hit the streets with full force. He knew that eventually he would have to let them go. Being a hustler was a full-time job, and although Halleigh was his wifey, the streets of Flint were his side bitch, his retreat, and he needed them almost as much as he needed Halleigh. He knew he couldn't just cut things off cold turkey, or else withdrawal would be a son of a bitch.
His connection to getting money was something Halleigh would never be able to understand. It was the only thing he had to hold on to that would keep him sane. Malek had blown an NBA contract by being stupid, and at one point, Halleigh wasn't around to lessen that pain and disappointment. His focus became his hustle, which led to his reign as second in command underneath Jamaica Joe. It filled up the spot in his heart where Halleigh was meant to be.
Now that she was back, she was asking him to choose. The hood life or Hal? Which one was it going to be? Malek's guilt over the role he played in her injuries made him lean toward her. He just wanted to be with her.
For as long as he could remember, Halleigh had been the girl of his dreams. He remembered seeing her for the first time. In high school, she was a good girl. She was not too flashy, but always stayed fly in the latest teen fashions by Rocawear and Baby Phat. She was pretty without being over the top, and she wasn't into makeup and revealing clothing. She didn't need all the extras; she was what she was, which was perfect in Malek's eyes. They had formed a friendship first before they started kicking it, which explains why their bond was so strong.
When Malek first approached her, she wasn't feeling him. She later told him that she never thought a superstar like him would be interested in a girl like her; but it was her meek and humble qualities that drew him in like a magnet. Malek was used to groupies and hood rats approaching him daily. They all thought he was the one that would fly them out of the hood on a private jet with all of his potential NBA money. They saw him as a meal ticket, and were willing to do whatever it took to be the one he chose. Their efforts were useless because, although he accepted the ass and tricks of his groupies, he had no intention of making any of them his girl. He had never been “captain save-a-ho.”
Malek knew that Halleigh would be his wife before she'd ever agreed to go out with him. He felt that deeply for her, and the fact that she was a virgin was extra special to him. She was saving herself for him, but made it clear that he had to earn it. Halleigh never saw dollar signs when she looked at Malek; she saw love, and that's why he cherished her so much.
Fate just dealt them a different hand and separated them for a while.
A lot of things had changed since his puppy-love days with her. He wasn't the same. She definitely was not the same, yet here they were in the present, trying to make it work. Malek wondered if they could get back all they had lost, because neither of them was innocent anymore. Still, he knew he had to give it a chance. He loved her, and if he had to let the streets go in order to make her happy, he would regretfully do so.
He reached over to his passenger's seat and moved the cocaine-filled duffel bag to the backseat. He'd come to the decision that he'd give up the streets for her, to make sure the two of them would be straight when they started their new life together elsewhere. First, though, he had to get a few ki's off. Even if he was on his way out the game, he wasn't taking any losses.
The doctors said that Halleigh's hospital stay would be around three weeks, which gave him three weeks to get papered up.
Hand-over-fist sales were a thing of the past for Malek. He was a duffel-bag boy, but he was anything but little. In the backseat of his car, he carried a life sentence with him—fifty kilos of cocaine. Jamaica Joe had already left him with a meal ticket, so he didn't have to work another day of his life if he didn't want to, but Malek wanted stupid money.
Malek wasn't trying to ball out for himself. He was trying to build generational wealth that he could pass down to his children and his children's children. He wanted security and was willing to put his life on the line to ensure that his family would be able to eat without struggling. He had watched his own mother fret over money for years. She was always robbing Peter to pay Paul, and that was something he refused to make Halleigh do. Now that she was pregnant with his baby, he felt obligated to take care of her forever.
Malek didn't have time to distribute the bricks on the streets. He couldn't hit anyone with consignment. He only had three weeks to get the dope off, and if he gave a nigga anything on credit and didn't get the return on his money, he would have to kill him, and that wasn't no front. That was on the real. He couldn't risk it. He couldn't jeopardize himself like that, because he had a girl and a baby on the way, and they were depending on him. Halleigh had given him an ultimatum, and he knew she meant what she'd said. In so many words, if Malek didn't retire from the dope game, then Halleigh would leave him and take his seed with her. He couldn't have that.
He spun through the city streets, acknowledging his street fame, giving head nods to the corner hustlers who noticed him and showed love. He would miss the game, but not the treachery that came along with it. He had seen a lot of people murdered, trying to be boss, and he himself had taken a lot of lives on his way to the top. Now it was time to pass the crown, which he knew Mitch would be more than willing to accept—that is, after he helped Malek get off those fifty ki's.
“What's on your mind, Mitch? I've been trying to throw this pussy at you all morning, and you been brushing me off, acting all brand-new. What's up wit' you anyway?” Keesha fussed as she sat up on the bed in frustration and hit a strawberry blunt.
“Halleigh was in the rehab center when it got sh—”
Keesha didn't even let Mitch finish his sentence. She smacked her lips in disgust. “Halleigh? Why are you so concerned about Halleigh? I'm tired of every nigga in the city acting like that bitch pussy can't get funky. Let me remind you of something, baby boy: Halleigh is Malek's girl, and you work for Malek. You're like his little bitch almost,” she said with a patronizing smirk. “That mu'fucka say jump, and you and the rest of these small-time-ass niggas asking how high.” Keesha choked on her words because of the weed smoke. As she held her head back to let the smoke ease slowly from her lips, she closed her eyes.
SLAP!
Mitch slapped the shit out of her, causing her to fall off the bed, the blunt falling on top of her and burning the side of her face.
“Let me tell you something, ma.” Mitch got on top of her and gripped his hand around her throat. “I don't know how you talk to Manolo or that faggot-ass nigga, Sweets, but you better bite your tongue when you with me. You hear me?” Mitch said, spit flying in Keesha's face with every syllable. All Keesha could do was nod as the fear of death filled her eyes. Mitch released her with a jerk and got off her.
Keesha humbled up real quick, picking herself up from the floor timidly and holding her burning cheek. “I didn't mean nothing by it, boo,” she said. “I'm just frustrated because I hate to see somebody in a spot they don't deserve. You know Malek wouldn't be where he is if it wasn't for Jamaica Joe. After Joe died, it was supposed to be you. You're not a right-hand man, baby. You're a star.”
She walked over to Mitch and rubbed his back as she continued to blow his head up. “You've got to take your hood back. Sweets don't care if you run the North Side, because you're about your business. It's something in it for everybody; but Malek is still on that North versus South bullshit, and Sweets needs that nigga done.
“After you take out Malek, you'll be boss. Everybody in the city will be on your coattail, and just to show his gratitude, Sweets will cop all of the dope he sells to the South Side from you. It's a win-win situation. All you have to do is get Malek out of the picture.” Keesha went and picked up the smoldering blunt from the floor, took a puff, then passed it to Mitch.
As Mitch took a hit, Keesha added, “And you need to forget about Halleigh. If Malek goes, then she needs to go. She'll get suspicious, and she'll become a problem if you don't get rid of her up front, so forget about them wet dreams you been having about her.”
Keesha walked around and stood in front of Mitch. Her red thong and bra didn't even distract Mitch as he absorbed what she had just said. Keesha walked into the bathroom and out of sight as Mitch continued to get blazed.
Mitch didn't realize it, but the same way he'd attempted to manipulate Halleigh, Keesha had just manipulated him. The only difference was when a woman does things, she does it right.
As Mitch stood there blazing on the blunt, his jealousy for Malek turned to animosity, and he began to formulate a plan to knock him off his throne. It was a tricky situation, trying to get rid of Malek, who had inherited a lot of love and respect off Jamaica Joe's strength. He couldn't just kill him and then expect the city to pledge their allegiance behind him. There would be uproar, and Malek's loyal soldiers and allies would always have revenge in their hearts. He had to do it quietly and make it look like the work of an outsider. That way, when Malek was out of the picture, everyone would follow Mitch, no questions asked.
DING-DONG!
Keesha came out of the bathroom with a bandage on her face after hearing the doorbell ring. She was still unclothed, but that didn't seem to matter. She rolled her eyes and said, “I'll get it.” Her “fatty” swallowed the thong as she left the room.
Mitch put on a pair of Sean John jeans over the boxers he'd been sporting as he continued to smoke, his chiseled and tattooed upper body still showing.
Keesha appeared in the doorway just as Mitch was about to exit. “Your daddy's here,” she said with a condescending look, referring to Malek.
Mitch stroked her burnt cheek and whispered, “You don't learn well, do you?” He gave her a hard pat, making her flinch in pain. “Don't worry. I'll teach you as soon as my company leaves.” He smiled as he thought about the foot he would put up her ass later.
Mitch and Keesha had a love-hate relationship at best. They weren't a couple by any means. Sweets had put Keesha on Mitch to make sure that he remembered why Malek had to get “got.” They both knew their relationship was about business, but as soon as Mitch saw Keesha's small waist and fat onion-shaped behind, he pictured himself hitting it. It wasn't long before he actually did. So now they fucked and plotted, plotted and schemed, fucked, plotted, and schemed all day.
Mitch knew she was seeking the grand prize. After he took over, she wanted to be wifey.
Never that,
he thought as he entered his living room and found Malek standing in the doorway. He forced himself to turn his frown into a friendly smile. “Bro, what's good?” he asked, approaching Malek and giving him some dap.
“I've got to talk to you about something,” Malek said seriously. He nodded toward the back of the house and added, “In private.”
“Yeah, a'ight. Let me grab a shirt and we'll go grab some food or something.” Mitch walked away and disappeared into the bedroom.
Malek decided to go wait out in the car for Mitch. He didn't know if it was just his nerves, but Mitch seemed to be taking extra long to come outside. He looked at the time on his cell phone and realized Mitch had kept him waiting for more than fifteen minutes.
When Mitch finally got inside the car, Malek cut him a look but decided against speaking on it. He just started up his ride and pulled away from the curb in silence as soon as Mitch closed his door.
Malek's focus was straight ahead, and he seemed distant, causing Mitch to be a little uneasy.
I hope he ain't heard nothing about the deal I made with Sweets,
Mitch thought as he shifted in his seat.
All of a sudden, the leather interior of Malek's car felt like hot coals on Mitch's ass, and he began to sweat as the silent seconds ticked by. As Mitch was sweating bullets, Malek was lost in his own thoughts.
Malek knew he couldn't get fifty joints off on his own in three weeks. He would need Mitch's help. Once he made his money, he planned on stepping down and giving it all to Mitch, but he would wait to tell him that news until after his work was already moved. Malek didn't need Mitch thinking for self while pushing his product.
“The duffel bag in the back got fifty in it,” Malek stated.
Mitch finally let out a sigh of relief when he realized he wasn't busted. “Fifty? Why so many?” he asked.
“We got some moves we need to make,” Malek replied vaguely. “We need to get 'em off in three weeks. You think you can make that happen?” Malek kept his eyes on the road and never even looked over at Mitch.
“I don't see why not,” Mitch answered with a shrug. Inside, he couldn't help but wonder what the time frame was all about, why Malek was set on moving the dope so fast.
“Make sure all the spots get hit with double. All of them niggas need to be on post twenty-four hours. For the next three weeks, ain't no such thing as sleeping. Nobody gets work on consignment. For the loyal niggas that cop from us, lower the price. Tell 'em they can get the bricks for eighteen each, or two for thirty. Make it so they can't tell you no. Get 'em off however you can.

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