Read Coldhearted & Crazy Online
Authors: Michel Moore
Coldhearted & Crazy (9 page)
“Young Foy, my nigga. Man, when did you come home? We missed you in the D.” Zack gave his man a play and a short hug. “You did a real little bid this time around didn't you? Do them crackers up north know they done let a straight-up fool loose?” Zack laughed so loudly that some of the girls were alarmed thinking it was more trouble like what had jumped off earlier.
Young Foy was tall and had the build of most career inmates. With a hood mentality, he was a straight-up troublemaker, no doubt. If anything was being sold on the far west side of town he had a piece of the action, even if he had to strong-arm his way on the ticket. The seasoned criminal's temper was on a hairline trigger much like Kenya's. He would fly hot on that ass at the drop of a dime before you knew it. However, being in and out of prison never seemed to stop him from having his ear to the streets. Young Foy, although 100 percent thug, was always spitting rhymes and singing. He needed to get into show business and stop running in the streets before he got killed like most of the dudes he'd come up with. All he needed was a chance and someone to bankroll his dream.
“Hey, guy, I wanted to stop by and check on you. See what you had popping for a brother. You know a nigga fresh out and trying to come back up.” Young Foy was running his game down. Playas in the hood knew he was a man of his word when it came to getting that money. “Let a nigga get some work! You know I straight need it!”
“I tell you what.” Zack's mind was beginning to work overtime; besides, he knew when it came to Young Foy he'd have to cut him in or cut it out all together. “Stop by in the next few days and I can most def put you on. In the meantime, welcome home!” Zack dug in his pockets, respectfully pulling out two hundred-dollar bills, giving them to Young Foy.
“All right bet, bet, good lookin'.” Young Foy then paused remembering the other reason he'd made a trip to see Zack as soon as he touched down. “Damn, dawg. It almost slipped my mind your boy Stone was locked up with me. He wanted me to make sure to come by and tell you that he needs you to come see him and shit as soon as possible.”
“Yo, why didn't he just call the phone or drop a nigga a few lines? Do he need some dough or something?” Zack quizzed.
“Come on, killer, what I look like, Ms. Cleo?” Young Foy saw one of Zack's phat-ass freaks walk by and that was all she wrote for their conversation. He was on ho patrol. “Man, I'll holler. Just go get with dude! He acted like it was urgent.” And with those words he was out.
Old Skool came over to Zack and put her arms around him. She couldn't wait to get to her house and get her hands on Zack's dick. “Hey, it's almost three, let's have Brother Rasul shut it down.”
Zack agreed, kissing her on the lips. “Yeah, okay. Let's be out. After all, I owe your ass a little something-something and you know I hate owing a nigga.” Old Skool gave him a yard of tongue, while he ran his hand across her thirty-six DDs. “We'll see you in the morning.” Zack patted Brother Rasul on the back as they left for the night. He trusted him with his club and his life.
London
London had been back in school for just a few days when she and Fatima decided to go ahead and really start the organization they'd been discussing for months and months. After plenty of late-night talks they each found out they'd both had drug addicts in their families or, in London's case, Amber. They both came to realize that drugs were tearing down neighborhoods and tearing families apart. They stayed up long nights after studying, coming up with a lot of key points that they wanted to cover in their meetings.
“I think we should make sure to focus on kids who don't get the food they need because their parents are on crack.”
London was writing down both her and Fatima's ideas.
“Girl, I think we should try to shine the light on all the crime that senior citizens are subjected to by addicts trying to get money to cop.” Fatima was on a roll with things to add on also.
London started to think about her friend Amber and came up with the last thing to put on the list. “Why don't we try to make the main focus on the youth, like kids in between nine and nineteen? If we can try to catch them, maybe we can make a difference. Tell them about another way to make it out the hood. Look how many of us are up here in school and can't look out or protect our little brothers and sisters from the dope man.”
Fatima looked at London like she had just invented apple pie. “That's it! For real, for real. I think we just found our hook.” Both girls were hyped up but decided to get some rest and get ready for a busy day.
Morning came quick enough, and the girls hurried to get dressed. “You ready, Fatima?”
“Yeah, almost, give me ten more minutes.” London heard her say that and immediately thought about Kenya. She was always good for telling Gran that same line almost each and every morning.
Fatima grabbed her dorm room keys and the two were off. After a short walk across the campus, they cut across the football field, finally ending up at their destination. The girls made it to the school's media outlook building in what had to be record time. They were going to print out fliers to post all over the campus. London hoped that at least they would get ten or eleven people to show up at the group meeting that would be held on the weekend.
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The day soon arrived and the girls were excited. “It's three o'clock. We have thirty minutes before everyone starts to get here. I'm so nervous.” London was walking back and forth from the window to the door.
“Girl, we got this. I been hearing a few people talk about the fliers in class and in the computer lab.” Fatima seemed to always know how to calm her friend down. “Just get up there and do the damn thang! Your ass is good at talking shit!” Fatima smiled as she hugged her roommate.
The meeting was about to start and, to the girls' surprise, it was standing room only. They had the dorm conference room packed to capacity with students. Some of their faces they knew on sight, and some of the people London and Fatima didn't even know attended the university.
“That flier must have been all kinds of powerful!” Fatima whispered to her soon-to-be partner in raising some hell.
London shook her head, agreeing. “I know, but I really think it just hit home with a lot of us. Let's get it started.”
Fatima looked at London and knew her girl was gonna be definitely on point.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Amia London Roberts. I'm a freshman here and I have a few issues that trouble my mind at night. Hell, sometimes during the day.” London had sparked some of the crowd's interest in what could be bothering such a pretty and well-spoken young lady. “It's my neighborhood at home. It's my little cousins and their friends, the ones who used to look up to me for guidance and even sometimes protection. Let me clarify: not protection from the physical side of the street, but the mental. The seemingly never-ending cycle of being hungry because Mom sold all of the food stamps for the month. The embarrassment of having to wear dirty or worn-out clothes to school, that is, if you ever had the encouragement to go.” London was truly on top of her game and the entire room was hyped. “Look, I know many of you come from what we call âthe hood.' I bet you have brothers and sisters you worry about while attending school. We were lucky. Most of us had somebody in our lives. That one person who unconditionally cared about us and helped us, sometimes made us, make it through the tough times. All I'm saying is that just like we had that one shining beacon to guide us, it's time we stood up and let them pass the torch to us.”
The crowd was on its feet. Fatima looked over to London and decided that she would not even speak. She knew that London would be the group's number one spokesperson from here on out.
The meeting went on for nearly two hours as each and every person gave their own story and personal account of what their issue was. Each one seemed to be worse than the last. At the conclusion of the first meeting, they decided on a name for the newly formed organization. It would be called People Against Illegal Drugs.
In short, PAID was formed and was officially ready to raise some hell for the youth. In London's words, it was time for change and the time was now!
“Life is good as hell!” Tastey was feeling herself as she fell back on the bed in her hotel room surrounded by stacks and stacks of dough. Sure, most of it belonged to Zack, but a small cut of it was hers. She'd been stashing dope in the bottom of her dance bag for a little over a month now and getting paid. That meeting in Zack's office that night was paying off big time for her. Tastey had been stacking her loot from hustlin' and living off the tips she made from dancing. Her girl Raven went on the road with her from time to time whenever she could get a babysitter, so it was double the fun. The two of them would fall up in whatever strip club in the circuit they had to make a delivery to and practically take over that bitch. New girls, fresh meat as they were called, always made much more money than any of the regular girls on the roster. Tastey and Raven both were sexy as hell so snatching all the money wherever they went was never a problem. They knew how to give a nigga his money's worth. They were true showstoppers.
Zack, on the other hand, was starting to get nervous. Things were soon going to come to a screeching halt when his used-to-be longtime friend Stone got released and came home from prison, and he knew it. Stone stayed deep in Zack's pockets on an old debt Stone would never let him forget. As Zack sat down behind his desk, he looked at the pictures on the wall. One in particular stood out. It just so happened to be the same one that had jumped out at Tastey months earlier. It was like it was somehow calling out to him. Zack had had no idea whatsoever what Stone had wanted was so important that he had to send word by Young Foy to come see him in person. He often thought back to that day he fucked up, causing Stone to want to kill him dead. It would come to haunt him daily.
It was close to a three-hour ride up north to the penitentiary where Stone was housed. Zack went through all the normal procedures that it took to visit a friend or loved one. “Damn, this is some degrading bullshit!” he said out loud.
The guards just went on with their jobs. They were used to every type of verbal assault known to man or beast. Finally he got in and took a seat at a table. He then waited for what seemed like hours. The gate at the prisoner entrance finally cracked and Zack saw his old friend Stone bend the corner. Stone was looking hard faced, but that wasn't anything new to Zack; matter of fact that was how he originally had gotten that nickname: being stone-faced. They had grown up together in the same neighborhood and Stone barely smiled then either so Zack really made nothing of it at that point. As Stone got close to the table, he sat down. Obviously having something serious on his mind, he didn't bother or waste time even giving his boy any love.
“What dude, no dap, no love, what's up?” Zack was confused by this time. Each and every time his boy would do a bid, which was often, he would always accept his calls or send him some money on his books. He'd constantly looked out for him and his woman no matter what.
“Man, I ain't gonna even front with you or spend no time with all that yang, yang. Dig this here! You know a young cat named Ty, a small-time car-thieving motherfucker from DLA area? He 'bout twenty or twenty-one.” Stone's face, being as it was, showed no signs of emotion as he spoke.
“Yeah, I know him. He ain't 'bout shit,” Zack eagerly chimed in. “I know his bitch-ass wasn't showing no form of disrespect to you, was he? Because we stumped his ho-ass out awhile back for some bullshit.”
“Naw, not him! It's you, playa! You the one violating!” Stone was mean mugging Zack like a motherfucker by this time, wanting to damn near smack the fire out his mouth. “See that little punk was locked up here for a minute, doing a short stay. Ol' boy was talking mad shit about you: your boy Brother Rasul and that rotten cat house your slimy-ass run with Old Skool.”
Zack was fucked up at the reckless way his boy was talking to him. Matter of fact he was straight-up offended. “Damn, man, it was all good when you wanted to hang in the bitch. It keeps the bills paid on that phone you blow the fuck up and the money on your account. Where's all this hate from, dawg? I thought we was better than that.”
Stone was boiling over with anger and could hardly stay in his seat. “You right, flat out, guy! I thought we was better than that too. That's why I'm all fucked up. Please tell me that the ho-ass little nigga was lying and just trying to keep me from chin stumping his ass.”
“Come on, Stone, what you talking about? I'm lost.” Zack was looking his longtime comrade in the face and waiting for some sort of explanation for his explosive anger.
Stone swallowed hard as hell and finally let it out. “Dude, dig this here, I know you ain't got my little niece working in that joint, swing from no fucking pole?” You could almost see blood in Stone's eyes. Infuriated and enraged, his jaw was locked tight as he waited for a response to his question, or more like an accusation.
“Niece! What niece?” Zack was stunned not knowing who or what he was talking about. “What the fuck are you talking about, man, and who the fuck?” The entire visiting room was starting to look over at the two of them as their voices rose.
“Ty told me you had my little niece Kenya up on stage showing her ass like some common tramp from around the way!” Out of his seat yelling at this point, Stone was ready to kill. “That's some foul-ass shit, nigga!” You could see the veins in his muscular arms start to swell, resulting in the guards quickly rushing over, trying to contain the commotion.
Zack was busy trying to explain to Stone that he had no idea that Kenya was his niece. “Oh shit! Damn, nigga! I didn't know that she was your family, I swear! I put that on everything! I'm sorry!”
Stone wasn't buying it and the guards had to drag him out the visiting room shouting the entire time. “I'll be out soon and on my brother Johnnie's grave, it's on, you feel me? You got his baby girl up there like that? You don't wanna see me, nigga, you don't want that!” The door slammed on Stone as he was still yelling, making a scene. Zack was left sitting at the table in shock over what he had just heard.
The phone started ringing, waking Zack up out of his trance. Daydreaming about that visit to the prison consumed most of his time. Haunting him, Zack also reminisced to back in the day when Stone had come to him needing some information about some young cats he'd turned his brother Johnnie on to. Zack didn't know that the guys he had just met that night were into sticking people up. They were flashing money around, claiming they were looking for some dope. How was he to know their true intentions? Even though Stone never came out and said it, Zack knew that a small part of him blamed him for his brother Johnnie's and his sister-in-law Melinda's heinous murders. After all, he did introduce them all. Whenever Stone would come around and bring up his deceased family members, Zack would automatically go in his pocket.
The guilt of what Stone had told him was killing his spirit. And now not only did he have his niece shaking her ass on stage, she was running dope, too. Zack prayed nightly that Stone would not make parole anytime soon. He knew that his now-former friend would be on a rampage and show little or no mercy.
“Hello.” Zack had gotten in the habit of looking at the caller ID before answering the phone. Stone had him spooked. He was looking over his shoulder every moment, not knowing what to expect.
“Hey, Zack, it's me. It's all good my way.” Tastey was still looking at the money that was thrown across the bed. She wished that all that cheddar belonged to her, but she had made her ends and was satisfied.
“Come on home, baby girl. I need to talk to you about something.”
“About what?” she quizzed Zack, sensing a weird tone in his usually chipper voice.
Zack immediately cut her off. “You know I don't head bust about important shit on the phone. I'll just see you sooner rather than later.”
“Okay, bet. No worries. I'll be home sometime in the early afternoon.”
Zack had never mentioned his trip to the prison to visit Kenya's uncle. Vying for time, the money-hungry opportunist was trying to find another drug mule with as much street game as Kenya had, who could be trusted. He was putting together a big deal that could bring him a huge payoff and then he could cut Tastey off and maybe pay Stone some major bread to stay off his ass. He would hate to see her go. It would be hard, but for his own personal safety there was no other way. Greedy, he knew he was already pushing his luck. But, the girl could hustle in the club and make shit happen in the streets. Realizing she was Johnnie Roberts's daughter, he knew she had that “get money or kill a nigga dead” DNA flowing in her bloodline. However, like it or not, the clock was ticking to let her go, and time was definitely not on his side.