Authors: Tranay Adams
Me and My Hittas (14 page)
little homie.
“All day, O.G,” Pavielle responded, breaking their
embrace. He took a step back to get a good look at his big
homie. Besides the forty or so pounds of muscle he had
packed on and the salt & pepper stubble of his chin and
shaved head, Bully still looked the same as he did before he
went in. “Damn, Blood, you done got big than a
mothafucka, what’re you benching?”
“About two
-fifty,” Bully told him before flexing his
20 inch arms. “These are the only guns Binem will let me
walk around with without locking my black ass up again.”
chu out?
you shopping and shit; gotchu some pussy.”
“Had to get settled in and shit. Make a couple of
phone calls. Go see my P.O. You know how it is when a
nigga first get out of the pen.”
Pavielle nodded his head in agreement. He had never
been to the pen himself, but he had plenty of homeboys who
had. So he knew the program when first touching down.
“Where you holed up at?”
th
and
Jefferson.”
Bully and Thangz had hooked up about two years
before he went to prison. It was the perfect marriage, he was
slinging for Gangsta and she was crack’s latest victim. One
night Thangz had tried to get him to get high with her. He’d
turned her down several times but eventually his curiocity
got the best of him and he decided to give it a try. From
there on he’d gotten hooked and there was no turning back.
He seemingly lost everything overnight. Broke and unable
to support his habit, Bully picked up his gun and linked
back up with his first love, jacking. He was robbing
everything moving, even his
own homeboys. Niggaz
wanted to take his head, but it was Gangsta’s influence that
stayed them.
One particular night, Bully got it in his head to rob a
taxicab driver. It was Thangz job to distract him on one side,
while he approached
from
the other with his
gun.
Everything had seemed to be going as planned until the
Indian cab driver swung around with a snub-nose .38,
instead of a handful of cash. He shot Bully in the gut and
sent him sailing back into the street. Bully took the wrap for
him and his lady and winded up doing a nickel for armed
robbery.
“My bad, playa, you got them chips we sent chu,
right?” he took in Bully’s gear. He was in a Platinum Fubu
Jersey, Jordache Jeans and scuffed British Knights.
“Yeah, but after a couple of nights at the mo’ with
Thangz, a few bottles, and some weed, you know all of that
shit gone.” He chuckled and gave Pavielle pound.
Bully was full of shit; he saved every nickel that was
put on his books. He had plans on using that money to cop
himself some work and strong arming someone’s block
when he came home. At forty-six years old, he still had that
goon mentality. He was going to get it how he lived, like he
always had. Right there in The Bottoms.
“I ain’t tripping, though, it was well spent. My girl set
a nigga straight. If you know what I mean.” He nudged
Pavielle. Pavielle reached into his sock, pulled out the
bankroll of bills and handed it to his big homie.
“Good looking, my
nigga, I really appreciate this.”
Bully gave his little homie a pound before shoving the
bankroll into his pocket. “Listen, you know I’m not really
one to be having a brother feeding me. I’d like to get mine
like a man, on my own two, you Griff me? I was hoping
that chu put a nigga down with the team.”
dumb.
“Come on now, this O.G. I always keep my
ear to the
streets. Your name is hot up in them pens. Everybody
knows about O.G Booby Loc; niggaz say you’re the black
Scarface.”
Pavielle shot Bully a funny look and patted his chest
down for a wire. Bully laughed and shook his head. “Fuck
you wearing a wire or something?” he asked. “I don’t know
nothing about nothing, homeboy.”
“Man, it ain’t never like that this way. I’d off myself
before I turned snitch,” Bully told him. “All a nigga tryna
do is eat, that’s all. And I’m a do that regardless of whether
you put a nigga on or not. I just thought since we’re peoples
I’d come to you first.”
life.”
“Come on,” Pavielle motioned for him to follow.
“Momma just finished cooking a big ass breakfast and shit.
You can fix yourself a plate and we can finish chopping it
up.”
the gate.
Hours later
“Man, the O.G homie is really a booty
-bandit?”
Gouch asked Bully. The two of them were sitting at the
kitchen table inside the trap house on the corner of 28
th
and
Compton Avenue.
“Hell yeah, that nigga running around Folsom fucking
with them queens and shit.” Bully shook his head. “Saying
he ain’t gay ‘causehe’s not the one taking it in the ass.”
if a nigga is giving or receiving.”
“That’s what I said, but when I was locked up a lotta
niggaz on the yard thought they weren’t gay ‘cause they
weren’t the ones getting fucked.”
run across him in there?”
Bully nodded his head. “I bumped into Birdman when
I was in San Quentin. And let me tell you, the Birdman is
as crazy as bird shit now. They were given out them flushots up there and wasn’t none of us fucking with it. But
this mothafucka went and got one. Now, at first shit was all
good, blood was the model prisoner and shit. He got extra
yard time and the warden gave him a coop to raise pigeons
in. But as soon as them folks pushed that old bullshit into
his veins, Birdman went coo-coo for Coco Puffs. Fool ate
three of his own pigeons, stripped butt naked, and ran
through the mess hall giving niggaz buckfifties” he swung
around an imaginary shank “I mean, this nigga was giving
it to everybody; Mexicans, white boys, Asian mothafuckaz,
C.Os, even some of thehomies got cut. It took six of them
C.Os to restrain the nigga.”
off.”
“Shit, you think they didn’t?”
Bullyasked. “They
whooped Birdman’s ass for four days and four nights. And
all that shit did was made blood even more brazy.”
“What happened after that?” Gouch asked as he sat up
in his chair.“Shit, last I heard before I left he was in solitary
confinement. He wouldn’t eat none of the prison food they
were trying to give’em. He had acquired a taste for his own
piss and shit.” Gouch’s face soured and his jaws swelled as
if he was going to vomit. “Yep, they had him evaluated and
the state declared him insane. Now he’s at one of them
asylums for the criminally insane.”
“Man, O.G, if Birdman would have never stuck up
that pet-store for the bird food that shit would have never
happened to him.” Gouch shook his head; he hated to hear
about his big homie’s misfortune.
“Nah, if he would have
never
gotten caught that shit
would have never happened to him,” Bully corrected his
little homie. “But what are you going to do, my nigga?” he
shrugged his shoulders. “This is God’s plan.” A sharp
whistle came
from Bully’s right;
he
looked over his
shoulder and found Pavielle tossing him a Saran Wrapped
kilo of coke from the doorway. He caught the kilo and
balanced it on his hand to measure its weight. He then took
a look at it; it was stamped with the image of a Black Jesus
Christ.
“Black Jesus, huh?”
Bully said, staring at the holy
image. “My little homies done graduated to the big leagues.
I’m proud of y’all niggaz, fam.” He looked from Gouch to
Pavielle.
“That’s right there, my friend, is a key of the purest
coke to ever touch the twenties; The Bottoms period.”
Pavielle said, as he ate out of a 35 cent bag of Flaming Hot
Cheetos. “Ain’t no cut on that blonde haired, blue eyed
bitch either.”
“You ain’t gotta tell me, this is the same Spanish
mothafucka your uncle used to cop hiswork from.” Bully
told him.
“Peep game,” Pavielle began. “Cook that bitch up and
break her down into twenties. That’s how we’re going to
rock with that. Smokers start bitching about why they can’t
get dimes or nickels, then you send their asses over to the
crabs‘cause from what I hear the work they got over that
way is boo-boo. Bully,” Pavielle leaned in closer to his big
homie. “That monkey isn’t still riding your back is it?”
Bullyproclaimed. “Five years now.”
in his eyes. “that itch?”
spoke
with
confidence.
she’s still on the pipe.”
me?” Bully said, glaring at him.
“You know, recovering alcoholics stay away from
loved ones that still indulge in the bottle,” Pavielle told him.
“So I would think with you being a recovering addict and
all, you’d wanna stay as far away from users and crack as
you can. I’m not knocking how a nigga eat and shit. I’m just
saying, Blood.”
the blood gang sign to his heart. “I got this, trust me.”
Pavielle nodded his head. “Alright, O.G, no
disrespect, but you should know that if you fuck up I’ll do
you just like I’ll do any other fool; big homie or not.”
“But like I told you, ‘I got this’.”
“Alright, follow me to the back.” Pavielle motioned
for Bully to follow him. He gave him a quick tour of the
small three bedroom house and showed him the weapons he
had stashed around the place in case any jackers pulled AKick-Door.
Pavielle flipped on a light-switch and gave life to the
mother of all shitty bathrooms. The once eggshell white
walls and tiled floor were so filthy that they appeared to be
gray. The commode was grimy and had green mole and the
bowl was clogged with shit-water. The bathtub was just as
filthy, only it was filled with a brown liquid.
Bully
’s nose wrinkled at the wretched stench coming
from the shit-water inhabiting the commode. Pavielle was
unfazed though, he had grown use to the foul odor and the
disgusting bathroom. It was the second bathroom of the
house and it was kept this way to keep mothafuckaz from
using it. Pavielle had a damn good reason as to why.
referring to the brown liquid occupying the tub.
“What’s the first thing the boys do before they raid?”
“Ri
ght, and why? Soa nigga can’t flush his shit.” He
answered his own question. “If the boys should happen to
run up in this bitch, you grab whatever product you have
left and dump it off in here. It should dissolve in a minute
or so.”
Pavielle nodded
his head, agreeing
with his
big
homie. He was use to people giving him compliments like
that. He had always been street smart and book smart.
“At the end of your shift you’ll report to Gouch. He’ll
swing by here every night after shop is closed, so have that
scratch ready. I’ll break you off at the end of the week;
that’s every Friday; seven hundred dollars. You do right.
You handle your business. And I’ll promote your ass.
You’ll move up to a bigger slice of the pie, bool?”
touched fists with Pavielle.
Chapter Ten
Nightmare sat on the living room couch before his 50
inch flat-screen, watching
The Boondocks
animated series
on cartoon network. He had the remote control in one hand
while his other was shoved down the front of his sweats,
like he was Al Bundy or some shit. He was laughing his ass
off at Riley Freeman’s crazy antics when he heard his pit
bull, Karma, barking. He pressed the mute button and
silenced the flat-screen. He then snatched his chrome and
his
gold
Desert Eagle
.44 from the
coffee
table and
ascended on the front door with caution. He wasn’t sure
who was at the door so he approached it from the side.
There had been many incidents where an enemy would
knock on a rival’s door, wait for him to answer, and then
open fire. The gangsta crip had lost three homies to that
little war strategy and he wasn’t about to become a statistic.
“Who is it?” he
asked over Karma’s barking,
expecting slugs to shred the front door, but they never came.
Instead a voice responded.
“It’s Supacrip and Nike,
Cuz, open up!” a voice
boomed from the opposite side of the door. Recognizing it,
Nightmare tucked both of his head bussas in his waistband.
He then undid the locks on the door and pulled it open. He
stood to the side to allow Nike and Supacrip inside. The
blue rags greeted their big homie as they crossed the
threshold.
and locked the door.
“Who? Taco?
Cuzstill in the trap,” Supacrip told him
as he rummaged through the refrigerator. He produced two
chocolate pudding cups; he kept one for himself and tossed
the other to Nike. Right after, he retrieved two spoons from
the kitchen drawer. “You know my nigga stay tryna run a
check up.” He tossed Nike one of the spoons and hopped up
on the counter.