Life Without Hope (2 page)

in her mouth, and the other one in her nose. Both were lethal.

So I guess by now you have figured it out, I was in this sleazy

ass hotel room tricking with Kim. She was about to gobble me up,

her vacuum was on my stomach. There was a knock at the door. I

had to wrestle her off of me as I got up, grabbing my gun while

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putting on my pants. I padded over to the door and looked over

my shoulder placing my finger over my lips to quiet Kim. No one

was supposed to know I was here. A large cockroach labored across

the door as I looked through the peephole. Dre’ and some other

dude were standing outside the door. I removed the chair from

underneath the doorknob, and then I remembered to put on my

shoes and shirt. Placing the gun in the spine of my back, I opened

the door. I had not seen Dre’ since I went to the joint, and from

the look on his face, he was not happy to see me. He owed me a

few grand.

“
Wha …What …What’s up L?” he stuttered. “I saw Lil Cal’s

car out front. The lady at the desk said he was in here.”

“
Naw, Lil Cal gone out of town. I’m keeping the car,” I said,

sensing something. I stepped to the side as I invited them in. Dre’

was hesitant. I noticed the big dude nudge him in. He had on

some jewelry, too much for this side of town. Dre’ read my mind

as he fidgeted.

“
This is my cousin, Big Mike, from California.” The platinum

chain on his neck must have cost a fortune. Mike looked like a

dark skinned version of Suge Knight, only taller and with an ath-

letic build like the kind of man that works out a lot. I couldn’t read

his eyes because he was wearing dark shades. That disturbed me.

One thing was for certain, dude had cheddar. He stroked my

curiosity, Kim’s too. She could smell cocaine and money like a

police K-9. From the look in her eyes she was on to his scent. Her

greedy eyes flashed dollar signs as she got up from the bed wear-

ing only the sheet like a sexy toga. Giving them an “I go good with

coke and a smile” pose, she stood, standing back on her legs dis-

playing a lot of peek-a-boo cleavage and the flaming red hair on

her crotch left little doubt in anyone’s mind as to what was what.

As she sashayed to the bathroom, there was a moment of silence,

the way men give homage to a nice round ass.

“
Yo, wuz up,” I said, trying to get a feel for what was going on.

“
Nuttin’. I was lookin for Lil Cal,” Dre’ said. It looked like his

eyes were trying to tell me something. The thought of money

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made me ignore him. Big mistake.

“
Ya’ll trying to get some yae?” I questioned, meaning cocaine.

“
Yes,” the big man replied.

“
No,” Dre’ said simultaneously.

The big dude took the lead with Dre’ looking as uncomfort-

able as a nigga at a Clan demonstration. I was thinking of the five

grand he owed me and now I got his ass trapped in a raggedy ass

hotel room. Wasn’t it Tupac that said, “Revenge is sweet as pussy.”

A lot of nights I used to lay up in my cell in the joint thinking

about all the niggas that had crossed me. Dre’ did not even send

me a dime. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. The

Suge Knight-looking cat fired up a blunt. Between puffs he said,

“
We tr ying to cop a couple ounces of crack.”

“
Crack?” I repeated incredulously because real hustlers never

refer to dope as crack. Dre’ just rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. I

thought I had it figured out; Dre’ was about to take this lame for

his scratch and did not want me in on it. Just then, as if on cue,

Kim strutted out of the bathroom. Her hair and makeup were

immaculately done as if she were ready to pose for one of those

glamour magazines. She was scantily dressed in a black sequined

miniskirt and high heels. She was the poison to the dope game.

Money, whores, cars and clothes are all accentuates that lead a

brotha to prison or worse. Kim’s perfume fumigated–all eyes were

on her as she sat on the bed, crossing her long legs seductively. In

the back of my mind, I was plotting on how to relieve Dre’ and

the big lame of their cash. Kim was working her charm on the

lame like a boa constrictor charming a bird. His eyes were glued

to the meaty exposure of her thighs as she gave him that “pussy for

hire” smile. The whole time Dre’ was looking at me with some-

thing in his eyes, something that later on, I would regret that I did

not recognize.

I walked to the door opening it wide. “Kim, I’ll holla at you

later.”

Her brow frowned at me as if to say,

I know that you can’t pos-

sibly be talking to me

. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought

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better of it. With hands poised on her hips, she just looked at me.

“
I’ll be down in a second, wait for me in the car.”

Her nose was running, she needed a snort. She took one last

look at the big dude, did her mental telepathy thing that whores

do when they are trying to catch a trick. She turned to me, “L,

don’t keep me waiting,” and spun on her heels. I shut the door.

“
How much money you got?” I asked, talking to no one in

particular. The big man shifted his weight uncomfortably. Dre’

knew what was about to go down. I had blood in my eyes.

“
Yo, L, man I stopped by your mama’s crib and wasn’t no one

home. In fact, I did not even know you were out until just now.”

He tried to smile, but all his face unveiled was a mask of fear.

There was an adrenaline like raw energy, it started with the heart-

beat, sweaty palms and it completely seized control of a man as

well as his victims. The kind of power that only a gun can bring.

Power, I was feeling it. I reached into the small of my back

pulling out Jesus, the savior. For the first time, big man removed

his shades. He was severely cockeyed. I couldn’t tell what the fuck

he was looking at. Dre’ mumbled something about he thought we

were tight. I star ted to smack his ass upside the head with the bar-

rel of the gun.

“
Just let me get them chips you owe me, it should be about

five grand with interest,” I said with a menacing scowl on my face.

Dre’ dug into his pockets removing a large wad of cash.

“
Where is the rest of it?” I asked, pointing the gun in his face.

“
Swear to God, that’s all I got.”

“
Nigga get flat on the floor,” I barked. Dre’ did a belly flop. If

there had been any water I would have given him a ten. I turned

to the big man. I still don’t know if he was looking at me, the floor,

or what. Beads of sweat were cascading off of his forehead. “Let

me get that up off of ya big man.”

“
Noooo!” Dre’ screamed. I thought he was more worried

about the big lame than he was about himself. I thought that was

strange. Everything was moving fast and this big nigga looked like

he was thinking about bucking, so I cocked the gun.

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He flinched, then slowly he reached into his pants and

removed a pouch. Casually, I took a step back as he tossed it to me

just in case this Suge Knight-looking nigga got any bright ideas

and I had to bust a cap in his fat ass. I looked inside the pouch,

bingo! Nothing but hundred dollar bills.

Dre’ was still on the floor whimpering, “No, no, L! Cal, not

you! Cal, not you!” His jabbering was inaudible to me because I

was focused on the lame with the fat chain on his neck.

“
Big man, let me get that ice off of ya,” I insisted, pointing

with the gun. His eyes shot daggers at me.

“
I’d beat your little ass if it wasn’t for that gun.”

He took a step forward.

“
Yeah, and my aunt would be my uncle if she had balls. Save

the rap and un-ass that ice.”

He took the chain off, a little too slow for my liking, but I

stripped his ass like a stolen Chevy and made him lie on his stom-

ach on the dirty-ass carpet. I heard tales where dudes got killed

doing robberies for failure to search the victims during a hasty get-

away. While I was patting big man down, I found a loaded .380

pistol in a holster strapped to his leg. The last thing I needed was

to get shot in the back. While I was searching Dre’ he was shak-

ing like a leaf on a tree. I felt something taped to his body; it ran

from his back, around his stomach and taped to his chest. A police

wire. Dre’ turned informant and I was being set up. My heart

skipped a beat. Alarmed, I panicked as Dre’ began pleading.

“
L, it wasn’t meant for you, they want Lil Cal … Lil Cal …”

My life flashed before my eyes. I was going back to prison, big

time. I could visualize cell doors slamming. I had just robbed an

undercover Narc Agent. Shit! In a fit of rage I kicked Dre’ in the

face, threw the wire across the room and ran over to the window

and looked out. Sure as hell the police were everywhere. I felt like

a trapped animal. With only one way in and one way out, my

mind raced in a million different directions. Quickly, I grabbed

the old oak dresser and dragged it in front of the door creating a

barricade between my destiny and me. As soon as I turned around

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the cop was getting off the floor in an attempt to tackle me. I

pointed the gun at him. “Don’t make me kill you!” He got back

down on the floor. There was a thunderous noise at the door. A

battering ram.

“
POLICE!” came the shout from behind the door.

Wood was flying from the door like sharp metal. I ducked

down and suddenly remembered the bathroom. I ran in there and

kicked the door behind me. There was a small window over the

toilet. I could hear footsteps as the front door came crashing

down. Police were screaming, “Stay on the floor, stay on the

floor!” to Dre’ and the Narc Agent. I broke the window, and cut

my hand in the process. The police were at the bathroom door. I

was moving fast. It was a two-story drop in a small gangway with

a spiked fence at the bottom. Just as I got out of the window the

bathroom door burst open. I jumped, descending downward. I

fell inches from the fence and injured my ankle, as shots rang out,

ricocheting above my head. As soon as I cleared the gangway I saw

an elderly white man cleaning the windshield of his car. A platoon

of cops turned the corner heading straight for me. I bum rushed

the old man and knocked him down. I dipped into the car, which

was an old Caddy, but in mint condition. The tires screeched a

complaint as I pulled out, pedal to the metal. In the rear view mir-

ror I could see a cloud of smoke and angry cops running behind

me as I distanced myself, heading for Highway 301, doing a hun-

dred miles an hour.

It was Friday, about 8 o’clock in the morning and the traffic