Still Hood (35 page)

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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Still Hood
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JAH WAS GONE LONGER THAN HE HAD INTENDED
to. After sending Larry Love to the after-life, he had to change his shirt because the one he had on was bloody. He couldn't go home to Yoshi like that, so they had stopped by Tech's crib to get a replacement. The shirt was a little snugger against the vest than Jah would've liked, but it would do. After leaving Tech's house Jah went back to the brownstone.
When he got back there seemed to be twice as many girls there than when he left, if that was possible. Picking his way through the crowd, he literally bumped into the short cat that he always saw with the pimp, Ice. Shorty bounced off Jah without giving a second look. His eyes were fixed on someone or something near the exit. It wasn't Jah's business, so he kept it moving.
It took him almost ten minutes to make it to the third floor and another ten to get back to his table. Soda and True were getting lap dances from two young ladies, while Don B and Stacks were sitting in the corner wearing sleepy grins, but there was no sign of Cooter.
“That must've been one hell of a nut,” True said as Jah sat back down.
“I had a little situation I had to take care of right quick,” Jah told him.
“A situation that needed you to change clothes?” Don B asked suspiciously. “You know what, fam, I don't even wanna know. As long as you don't bring no heat on our heads, I'm good.”
“Damn, that was a good shot,” Cooter said, flopping back into his seat. “Stacks, you wasn't lying about that pussy. Shorty sho nuff got that good!”
“My nigga, I think she was so high she couldn't tell my dick from yours,” Stacks said.
“Man, high or not, a bitch can tell the difference between a snake and a worm,” Cooter teased him.
Don B and Stacks kicked jokes back and forth about how good the young whore's pussy was, and how, though she was high, she loved every minute of it. Jah's mind whirled back to how his own woman had been taken advantage of in a similar, yet more brutal, manner. He wondered if her attackers had told roundtable stories about Yoshi before they died, and it made him furious. Before he even realized he was moving, his hand was on the butt of his gun. Thankfully, he was able to get himself under control before he did something stupid. At that moment he made up his mind that when he caught True's stalker it would be the last job he took from a rapper.
RAHEEM WAS ROARING DRUNK WHEN
he left the locked-door, but that didn't stop him from staggering down the block to his car in an attempt to drive himself home. Shooter and Marcus had left a few hours beforehand, but Raheem decided to stay so he could run up the tab Ice opened for them. He made sure to order the best of everything on the man's dime.
As he stumbled east on 128th he cursed the parking situation in New York City. He had to leave his car all the way on Park Avenue. As he crossed Madison, an eerie feeling crept over him, like he was being watched. Raheem looked around but didn't see anybody but a crackhead shambling down the other side of the street. Shrugging it off, he
continued to his car. Thankfully, he found the Camry just as he'd left it, sitting under a broken streetlight. When he opened the passenger side door to put his jacket in, something looped over his head and tightened about his neck. Raheem struggled, but there was too much weight on his back.
“Talk that shit now,” Shorty whispered into his ear. His legs were wrapped around Raheem's waist, while his hands pulled as tightly as they could on the length of cord. Shorty looked like a deranged midget as he choked Raheem out.
Raheem spun around like a man on fire, trying to shake Shorty, but the man's grip was too strong. Raheem felt his legs trying to buckle on him because of lack of oxygen to his brain. When he went down to one knee, Shorty planted his feet firmly on the ground and pulled with all his might. There was a faint popping sound and Raheem fell over, dead.
Shorty panted heavily from the rush of what he'd just done. There was something so satisfying about killing someone you hated that Shorty felt like he'd just busted a nut. He grabbed Raheem under his limp arms and dragged him to the back of his car. After making sure no one was watching, he stuffed the dead man inside and slammed the trunk shut. After a few days the car would most likely be towed, but by the time anyone found the body in the trunk it wouldn't be his problem anymore. It'd be on the ticket-thirsty NYPD.
AFTER THE LAST TRICK LEFT
Lexi breathed a sigh of relief. Her pussy throbbed and her jaws felt like they were about to fall off their hinges. She had taken multiple dicks in a night before, but never this many.
On the bed, Dena lay on her stomach sound asleep. Compared to how she looked when she came in, you could hardly recognize her. Her hair was everywhere and stuck together in certain areas with leftover semen. Her honey brown ass was bruised and discolored from being slapped and pounded against for the last two hours. There were still traces of blood on the bed from when Don B hit Dena in the ass.
After seeing the size of his cock, Lexi half admired Dena for letting him go there.
Not that she was sober enough to do anything about it,
Lexi mused.
“Let's go, fresh fish!” Lexi slapped Dena playfully on the ass. When Dena didn't respond Lexi slapped her a bit harder. “Bitch get off your ass, its time to punch out for the night.” There was still no response. Nervously, Lexi rolled Dena onto her back and saw that she had thrown up at some point. She shook Dena as hard as she could, but the girl remained still.
“Oh, shit!” Lexi grabbed her stuff and bolted into the other room to get Black Ice.
FROM THE WAY ICE AND
his minions were darting nervously in and out of the bedroom, Jah knew something was wrong. Lexi was in the corner crying while Ice chain-smoked cigarettes. He whispered something to the short man, who had only recently come back from wherever he was, and disappeared back into the room. With his curiosity getting the best of him, Jah went to investigate.
Creeping along the wall, he tried to get a peak inside the room, but the door was shut. The short brown-skinned girl had her back to him, trying to console Lexi. When the tall white girl came out of the bedroom, also in tears, Jah got a glimpse of what had everyone so uptight. The girl Don B and his people had gang-banged lay on the bed, not moving. From where he stood, Jah could see blood on the sheet, but didn't know where it was coming from. He didn't know if she was alive or dead, but the expression on Black Ice's face made him think the latter. Having seen enough, he made hurried steps back to the table.
“Yo, I think its time for us to boogie,” Jah told True.
“Son, its only like three o'clock,” True protested.
“Jah, sit ya ass down and get a drink,” Don B tried to coax him.
“Man, if we don't get the fuck outta here the only thing we'll be drinking is watery-ass Kool Aid in the bullpens.” Jah recounted to the group what he had seen in the other room, which was all the prodding they needed to do as he told them. They almost caused a stampede
getting out of the joint. For, as ignorant as Stacks and his crew were, they all knew that being at the scene of a murder, with guns no less, wouldn't be good for any of them.
“Say, baby, what's the big rush? You guys ain't enjoying ya selves?” Black Ice asked, coming out of the bedroom.
“It was a blast, but we gotta dip, my nigga,” Don B told him, slapping Ice five and continuing on his way.
Dumfounded, Black Ice watched the men leaving. A minute ago they were spending bread and getting twisted, but now they were running out like all the bitches in the joint were burning. Ice didn't know exactly what had gotten into them, but the look the boy called Jah was giving him meant that they knew something they weren't telling.
Ice shrugged it off as nothing. If they wanted to bounce, then that was on them, they had already blown a few grand with Ice on the bitches, so they had served their purposes for the night. Now Ice was free to focus on a bigger problem, which was what to do with Dena.
NORMALLY, MICHELLE WOULD'VE BEEN OPPOSED
to working the night shift on a Saturday, because that was usually her hangout night, but this particular Saturday night she needed something to focus on other than her anger at Lazy. When she'd broken the news to Lazy about her being pregnant he'd been less than pleased.
Until that night, she thought that Lazy was the man for her and that he had forsaken all others for her. But he came at her like a common street nigga. “Old and worn-out pussy” was a phrase that he kept throwing around in reference to her. In the end, there was a lot of furniture breaking, harsh words, and drama, which resulted in Lazy storming out of the apartment in a rage. Lazy was really showing signs of his age, but it was Michelle's own fault for not treating him like what he was, a piece of young dick.
Michelle noticed something odd going on over in a far corner of the emergency room. There were two girls, one white and one black, sitting another young lady on a chair. At first, Michelle took it as
them bringing a drunken girlfriend in for treatment, but when the black and the white girl hightailed it out of the emergency room, Michelle knew something was up. Placing her clipboard on the counter, she walked over to investigate.
As she drew closer to the girl something about her was familiar. It wasn't until she got right up on the girl that it dawned on Michelle where she had seen her before, and that was in a picture she had seen in Lazy's wallet. This was her rival, Dena. The girl was unresponsive, and there were traces of dried blood on her legs. Regardless of her personal feelings towards Dena, she was a nurse first, and the young girl needed help.
“I need a doctor over here!” Michelle called out, while checking Dena for vital signs.
MO ALMOST JUMPED OUT OF HER SKIN WHEN
the phone rang. The young boy she had been with sexed her for over two hours before finally calling it quits. She had only been home for about twenty minutes and was too tired to talk to anyone. Looking at her digital clock, she saw that it was almost five in the morning, and nothing good ever came from a five a.m. call, so she decided not to answer. Before she dropped off to sleep she thought of Dena. She knew this was the night of Ice's party and was worried that something might've gone wrong.
“Hello?” Monique answered nervously.
“Is this Mo?” a very professional-sounding voice asked.
“This is she,” Mo said with her heart pounding in her chest.
“This is Michelle White. I'm a nurse at Harlem Hospital. I'm calling you about a Miss Dena Jones. Yours was the last number dialed in her cell phone, do you know her?”
“Yes, that's my cousin. What's wrong?” Mo asked nervously.
“Well, she was brought into the emergency room about an hour ago and—”
“That's obvious. Just tell me what happened!” Mo snapped.
Michelle ignored her indignant tone and kept it professional. “If you'd calm down I could tell you. She's alive, but in a bad way. She had several different types of drugs in her system, including heroin. Would it be possible for you to contact her family and have them come to the hospital as soon as possible? We're located on—” Mo hung up before she could finish her sentence.
Mo almost collapsed but managed to steady herself against her bedroom wall. She had just spoken to Dena and nothing seemed unusual, so the fact that she was in the hospital from a drug overdose, from heroin no less, seemed unreal. She knew Black Ice spelled trouble and was tight with herself for not doing more to come between him and Dena. Mo paced her bedroom for a minute trying to figure out what to do, but her nerves were too bad to think straight. She had to warn Dena's mother, but she didn't want to panic her until she knew more, and she was damn sure going to the hospital to find out.
Monique moved toward the window and saw Shannon sitting on a crate across the street. He was pouring liquor in front of a mural of Spooky, Nate, and Yvette that he had erected after the shoot-out. People warned him to stay off the block, but after losing his whole circle of people he didn't much give a fuck about the police catching him. Shannon was in a bad way and the news Mo was about to drop on him wouldn't make it any easier.
AFTER LEAVING THE CLUB, DON B
and Stacks decided that they wanted to hit another spot and keep the party going, but True wasn't up for it. He had a long day ahead of him and needed to be well rested. In addition to a guest radio appearance at 9 a.m the next morning, he was supposed to be performing at halftime during the celebrity game. Don B protested and tried to keep him hanging, but True told him that he and Jah would hop in a cab. He'd had enough drama for the day and wanted to turn it in.
The ride to True's building was a short one, but gave both of the
men time to think. Jah was glad to have gotten through another night of Hollywood bullshit and anxious to get back to Yoshi. He licked his lips at the thought of slipping between those thick yellow thighs and getting one off before going to sleep.
“How was that?” True asked, bringing Jah out of his thoughts.
“Huh, how was what?” Jah asked.
“That pussy? Didn't you say you had a joint downstairs?” True reminded him.
“Oh, it was cool,” Jah told him, before going back to looking out the window. He could tell by the look on True's face that he didn't believe him, but he didn't press the issue.
“Jah, can I ask you a personal question?” True asked seriously.
“Depends on how personal it is.”
“It's about Yoshi,” True said. Jah raised his eyebrow. “Not like that,” True assured him. “I mean, I see what you and her got, and I know its love … or at least, what I believe it to be, but how did you love her?”
“True, either I'm as high as you are, or your words ain't making no sense,” Jah told him.
True searched for the right words. “I mean … Look, when you met Yoshi, she sort of had a reputation, right? But what I wanna know is how you were able to get past people trying to judge you?”
Jah wasn't going to answer the question, but seeing the sincerity in True's eyes he decided to let him in a bit. “Honestly, it's just something that happened,” Jah confessed. “Every nigga in the hood knew who Yoshi was and every nigga wanted a piece of that, but that isn't what moved me. I dug who she was beneath ‘China,' feel me?”
“Yeah,” True said.
“What's with the funny-ass questions anyhow?” Jah asked suspiciously.
True turned his head towards the window when he spoke. “I was just asking. A long time ago I had a chick that I saw something in, but I never pressed it cause I knew niggaz was gonna look at me funny.”
Jah had an idea who he was talking about, but didn't say. Instead, he just shrugged. “Sometimes you just gotta say fuck what people think and go with what you wanna do.”
Before True could respond the taxi slammed on its breaks. A car had run the red light and came to a stop directly in front of them. The taxi driver blared the horn, but the violating car didn't move. Jah was about to say something to the driver when his window shattered. Jah didn't look to see who had attacked them or even reason why, he just snatched one of his pistols from the holster and started popping.
Charlie Rock managed to move out of the line of fire just as the bullets came whizzing through the shattered window. He backpedaled, returning fire with his good hand, managing to hit Jah low in the body. He heard the man scream, but had no way to tell how serious the injury was.
Fire shot up through Jah's gut where the bullet pierced flesh and muscle. He was wearing the vest, but the bullet had him just below the strap, where the skin was unprotected. Jah managed to sit up enough to try to go out the door, but as soon as he opened it the driver of the car that had cut them off started shooting. He lit up the whole front of the cab, killing the driver instantly.
Jah found himself in a bad way. He was pinned in the back of a cab, with bullets coming from two different directions. Though he had two guns on him, he was laying on the second one, trying not to get shot again or bleed to death from the first bullet. He looked to True, but the man seemed too stunned to do much more than curl up and pray he didn't take one. He was on his own. In a last attempt at survival, Jah kicked with his good leg, sending the door flying outward. Charlie raised his gun to fire, but Jah hit him twice in the stomach. Charlie dropped, but there was still Sha Boogie to deal with.
A bullet slamming into the seat cushion just above where True was crouching snapped him back to the here and now. Bullets and glass where flying everywhere, but his survival instincts kicked in. Using his free hand to open the door, True rolled out of the cab, blasting away with his P89. Firing more out of fear than intent to kill, he disabled the car, but Sha Boogie was still standing.
SHA BOOGIE SAW HIS MAN
go down and tried to take Jah's head off. He was about to move in, when he saw True trying to get busy on the other side. Seeing the object of his desire, he abandoned Jah and went around to the other side.
True was using his arm to cover his head, firing blind as he came spilling out of the back of the cab. Bullets struck the car at least three feet from where Sha Boogie was standing. Knowing that True was afraid only excited him more, as he advanced on the man, firing his pistol.
True saw Sha Boogie coming his way and felt his heart quicken. He had been a street cat all his life, but had never been in a real, live gunfight. Jah seemed to be faring well on his end, but it wasn't True's cup of tea. If he got out of it he was going to let Big Dawg provide whatever security they deemed necessary. He tried to bolt from behind the door to the safety of a parked car, but took one in the side, sending him skidding against the curb and his gun skidding into the bushes. Seeing that his enemy was unarmed, Sha Boogie moved in for kill.
“Yeah, muthafucka, you thought I wasn't gonna get you back for that shit,” Sha Boogie moved towards True, who was looking around frantically for his lost weapon. “At long last we get to settle an age-old debt.”
“Muthafucka, I ain't never seen you a day in my life!” True spat. His whole body was on fire, but he was trying to buy enough time for help to come.
Sha's eyes took on a maddening glaze. “What? You changed the course of my whole fucking life and you got the nerve to say you don't know me.” Sha leveled his gun at True's face. “Ten years ago you killed my father and now you're gonna die.”
Through True's haze of pain he took a good look at the man. As Sha's features came into focus it all dawned on him. Though Sha Boogie was a little darker, he bore a striking resemblance to the man who had testified against True's mother. That man's death was the only blood that True had on his hands, and it was now coming back to bite him in the ass. Though he was in a great deal of pain, seeing the son of his mother's accuser drove him.
True tried to crawl towards Sha, but the pain was too intense. “Fuck ya snitching-ass pops, that nigga sent my mother to the joint. If I could've killed his bitch ass twice I would've!” True said, knowing he was going to die anyway, so he might as well get it off his chest.
“I'm glad you know it, so I ain't gotta tell you,” Sha Boogie said, taking aim at True's face.
JAH GOT OUT OF THE
car, gun dangling at his side. He had lost a lot of blood and knew it wouldn't be long before he fell out. He raised his gun and tried to draw a bead on Sha, but had trouble holding his arms steady. Pushing off the car he fired on True's assailant.
Just as Sha Boogie had fired on True, a bullet hit him in the neck, spinning him so he could catch the one to his stomach. Sha Boogie danced around for a minute trying to figure out what had just happened, before hitting the ground. As Sha Boogie's life drained away into the cracks of the pavement he croaked, “I got that nigga, Daddy!”
Though Sha Boogie had taken a fatal hit, so did True. A hole stuffed with what looked like ground beef decorated his shirt, where the Enyce emblem once was. He clutched at the hole as if his hands could stop the massive amounts of blood running out, but in the end it was a fight he couldn't win.
Jah limped around the side of the car to where True and Sha Boogie were laid out, trying his best to stay awake. Both men were sprawled out in pools of their own blood. Jah didn't know much about Sha Boogie, but he knew True was a kid that deserved to live. Yet the sad fact was that, in life, everything we do affects the grand scheme of things. Jah would make sure that people knew that True had gone out like a warrior, but other than that there was nothing he could do for him.
“Rest in peace, my dude,” Jah said over True's body before limping away from the scene. He had gotten only a few feet when a bullet hit him in the back. He staggered, but didn't fall, spinning around to return fire, but only ended up getting hit three more times. Jah dropped to his knees and looked into the face of the man who had shot him.
“Dum-dums are nasty as hell, ain't they?” Charlie Rock limped over to Jah. He was bleeding heavily from his gut, but that didn't seem to affect his shooting arm. “You know, these are the only things Sha Boogie planned for that didn't go to shit.” Charlie looked at his murdered friend, then to Jah. “Say goodnight, muthafucka!”
Jah saw the muzzle flash, followed by an intense pain in his cheek. He saw himself as ten years old again, riding the train with his brother Paul. “Never be like me, Jahlil, always be better,” Paul said to him. For as much as his brother used to preach to him about not following in the family's footsteps, it seemed dying young was in their blood.
Charlie Rock limped off to the cab and tossed the driver out onto the curb, then he took the wheel. He looked at his man, Sha Boogie, and felt sad at his passing, but it was the very same thing in life that carried him over into death. As Charlie Rock pulled the cab out into traffic he thought about how he would miss his friend, but more importantly, he was free from Sha Boogie's insane quest.

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