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Authors: Chunichi

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BOOK: California Connection 2 (Califronia Connection)
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Chapter 14
 
“Fucked-up Luck”
 
Calico
I
’d never been so happy to get the fuck off a plane in my life. Hours on a plane from Los Angeles to Atlanta with crying babies, stinking-ass niggas, and no weed was straight fucking torture. As soon as I exited the airport and hopped in the car with Poppo, I sparked up the “kush.” I took in one deep pull and let it marinate then let it out slowly. Almost instantly a nigga was relaxed.
“What up, duke?” Poppo greeted me as soon as I got in the car.
“You, nigga. You fucking slipping. You got a nigga on the road and shit when you know a nigga wanted. I’m trying to fucking lay low.”
“Speaking of wanted, how the fuck you fly anyway?”
“I flew as Thomas Jones, nigga. I used a fake ID. You know you can buy those a dime a dozen in the hood.”
“I knew you had something up your sleeve.”
“Nuff of that shit. Where we headed, nigga? And you got yo’ heat?” I asked right away, never really trusting Poppo.
He was the reason I was forced to take a trip to Atlanta anyway. This nigga had been slipping lately. I couldn’t understand why so many days had passed and this bitch Sasha was still breathing. And when I questioned this nigga about it, he had all kinds of excuses. It wasn’t until I threatened to kick his ass that he started acting like he had some damn sense. He’d heard from one of his boys that Sasha was working for his man, Diablo. On top of that, Diablo was about his paper and was looking for a West Coast connection, so he was definitely a nigga I needed to holla at. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone—befriend this nigga, make some money, and set up an easy kill for Sasha’s snake ass.
“I gotta make a stop. Then after that we headed straight to Diablo’s spot.” Poppo handed me the gun from his waist.
We drove for about fifteen minutes. Then I noticed we were in a rough area. We were obviously in the hood. Niggas were walking around with oversized white tees, jeans to their knees, do-rags and fitted caps. Everybody looked fucking suspect, like they were just looking for trouble. Being that I was on the run, I knew this wasn’t the place for me. I was sure the police lived in areas like this hood.
“Where the fuck we at, nigga?” I asked, not feeling too secure with my surroundings.
“Bankhead. Don’t worry, this shit will be real quick.”
Poppo pulled up to a set of rundown apartments and jumped out the car.
“A’ight, nigga. Just hurry the fuck up.” I pulled out the gun that he had given me earlier from my waist and put one bullet in the head.
I constantly monitored my surroundings as I waited for Poppo to come back. I couldn’t take the chance of being caught up in some bullshit. I pulled out my cell to check the time and noticed I had a missed call from my baby mother.
One complete minute hadn’t passed before the car door opened and I was face to face with a dope fiend carrying a butcher knife.
“Give me your fucking money!” he demanded.
Almost instantaneously, like a reflex, I lifted my gun and pulled the trigger.
Click
!
Nothing. The fucking gun had jammed on me. I knew this was do-or-die, so my mind went straight into survivor mode.
Bam!
I busted the fiend in the head with the butt of the gun, knocking him to the ground.
Just then Poppo walked up. “What the fuck is going on, man?”
“Nothing, nigga. Your piece-of-shit gun almost got me killed. That’s all.”
“What you mean?”
“Just get me the fuck out of here!” I said, pissed the fuck off.
Poppo hit the gas, and we skidded off.
I exhaled and shook my head as I thought about things as we drove toward the interstate.
I knew this neighborhood was bad luck.
Relieved that I’d escaped without injury or jail, I relaxed and unjammed Poppo’s little bullshit gun and placed it snug in my waist.
Minutes later, we pulled up to Crossroads Bar and Grill. Although the club was closed, it was still niggas everywhere, cats in one corner playing Madden on the projector screen, another set of cats gambling in the next corner, and the owner, Diablo, in another spot having what looked like a serious conversation with another cat.
Always willing to take a gamble, I immediately started watching the dice game. It looked like Diablo was gonna be busy for a minute, so I decided to get in on the game.
My luck was running good, and I was killing those country-ass A-town niggas when Poppo came over and interrupted the game.
“Diablo, ready to holla at you, man.”
With that, I grabbed up my money and walked away. I counted my money as I walked toward Diablo. I’d won fifteen hundred dollars in that little bit of time.
Poppo introduced us, and I carried the conversation from there. There was no need for a bunch of talking. It was understood niggas was there to make money.
“Look, my shit is on point. I can get however much coke you need. I get my shit from across the border, so it’s top-notch. I been bringing this shit over from the West Coast to the East Coast for years, and I had VA on lock, so I know can’t nobody else make you a better offer.” I continued by telling my numbers.
After a short negotiation, we had an agreement. The deal was set, and it was time for me to get the fuck out of dodge. I instructed Poppo to get me to my hotel. A nigga was wanted, and I wasn’t trying to spend too much time on the streets.
Minutes later Poppo pulled up to a hotel right off the interstate on La Vista Road. He went in and reserved the room then came back.
“Room one twenty-four,” he said and handed me the card key.
I grabbed my bags and went straight to my room. Once in the room, I kicked off my shoes, laid my piece-of-shit gun on the nightstand, and laid across the bed with remote in one hand and dick in the other as I began to flip through the television channels. Moments later, I began to drift off to sleep.
What seemed like no more than thirty minutes into my nap, a hunger pang hit my belly like a right hook. I woke up, grabbed the guest book, and flipped through the pages to see what nearby restaurants delivered. I chose to go with pizza.
I decided to roll a joint while I was waiting for my pizza. I pulled out my deodorant and rolled it until the bar was completely out. Beneath it was a quarter of kush. Then I searched my bag for Backwoods to roll it with.
“Fuck!” I yelled out loud.
I was experiencing a weed smoker’s worst nightmare. I had weed and no fucking paper to roll it with. For a second I considered ripping a few pages from the Bible to roll up, but something inside of me just wouldn’t let that happen. With the shit I was in, I needed the Lord on my side, so I couldn’t take the risk of disrespecting His Holy Word. I could possibly wait until the pizza arrived to smoke, but I knew after I ate I would definitely have to smoke. It was like dessert after dinner.
I called up Poppo. That nigga had to come back and take me to the store or bring me some Backwoods or something.
“Yo!”
I was relieved Poppo answered his phone right away. “Poppo, where you at?”
“Across town. What’s up?”
“Man, I need some Backwoods bad.”
“A’ight, I got you. Give me about thirty minutes.”
Poppo said exactly what I wanted to hear.
Remembering my baby mother had called earlier, I called Cali to talk to my kids as a way to pass time. And that’s exactly what happened. I was so wrapped up in my conversation with my four kids and two baby mothers, I didn’t even realize forty-five minutes had passed.
As soon as I hung up the phone with them and was about to call Poppo, the pizza arrived. Feeling hungry as a hostage, I decided to eat first and then call Poppo after.
Once my belly was full, I called Poppo, and the phone went straight to voicemail. It didn’t even ring. I hung up and called right back. I got the same thing. I tried two more times, and each time I got straight voicemail.
“Fuck it!”
Fed up, I put on my shoes, and grabbed a few dollars. I was trying to lay low and not show my face too much because I was in Atlanta to do Sasha in. Plus, I had that outstanding warrant. But a nigga would straight lose his mind without weed, so I headed out of the hotel and to a little corner store I saw at the end of the street.
I was excited to see exactly what I needed behind the counter as soon as I walked in. I stood in line at the busy store, anxious to get my papers and get back to my hotel room. For three minutes I’d stood in line, and it hadn’t moved at all. For a minute, I thought about leaving and going to the gas station across the street, but I figured I may as well stay, since I was already here.
I looked down at my vibrating phone. It was Poppo calling. I wasn’t even trying to talk to that fool at this point. I pressed
ignore
, sending him to voicemail. Finally, the line started to move and minutes later I was at the counter paying for my Backwoods to roll up my weed. As I reached for my change and bag, I heard a commotion at the front door.
“Don’t move! Everybody, down. Get on the fucking ground!”
Narcotic police agents had flooded the place.
Muthafuckas
, I thought to myself as I lay on the ground. Running wasn’t even an option. I was surprised when the cops ran right past me and to the back of the store then started bringing out the workers in cuffs, while another officer cuffed each of the customers, searched us, and ran our identification.
How bad can a nigga’s luck be? Talk about wrong place at the wrong time. I had, just by chance, walked into a store that was a known drug spot. I felt confident I would be walking out though. Once again the fake ID had come in handy. One by one the officers had begun to release the customers that had no drugs on them and whose names had come back clear.
One of the officers approached me. “Can I get your ID?”
I searched every pocket for my wallet.
Fuck!
I thought to myself in a panic. I had left my wallet in the hotel room.
“No ID?” the officer asked, noticing my frustration.
“Nah, man. I can give you my name, date of birth, and social, though,” I said, knowing I had the information from my fake ID memorized.
I ran off the information to the officer as if it was my own. He jotted it down and went back to his car to run a check. I waited patiently with a few others, as another cop watched over us.
Minutes later, the first officer returned. “Mr. Jones,” he called out to me, while pulling out his handcuffs.
What the fuck
! I wondered what the hell was going on. I didn’t respond, I just looked at him with face of confusion.
“We’re gonna have to take you in, son. You have an outstanding warrant out for nonpayment of child support.”
I be damn! I knew I should have stayed my black ass in Cali. There is no way one man’s luck could be so fucked up!
I already knew what was in store for me. Once I got to the jail, they would run my fingerprints and find out who I really was. From there, I would be extradited to VA. My shit was fucked up. I was going straight to jail without a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Chapter 15
 
“The Wedding’s Off”
 
Touch
W
hen I’d gotten home from the barbershop, I’d planned to let Jewel’s conniving ass have it. But the rational side of me just couldn’t allow that to happen so quickly. It took all I had, but I went on with the days as usual while I decided on the best way to approach things.
I was the type of nigga that liked to have all my ducks in a row, so when I came with it, I came hard. I liked to be confident that it wasn’t shit a bitch or nigga could say to lie their way out of things. I knew I was about to make a hell of an allegation, so I wanted to be sure I had my facts straight when I did it.
After running that day at the barbershop through my head over and over, along with all the other shit that had happened during New Year’s, I was sure that bitch was on some sheisty shit. My fucking blood was boiling as I waited patiently for her to come in from the beauty salon.
When she got home, she rushed up to me all kissy-poo and shit. She was wearing leggings, a fitted sweater dress that grabbed tight to every curve of her perfect body, and was smelling of my favorite perfume, Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb. I had to admit, that shit was quite tempting, but that alone wasn’t gonna work this day. I had to give it to her though. She was a good actress. She could’ve won a fucking Academy Award for the act she put on, and she could have really fooled an amateur, but I wasn’t buying the bullshit she was selling.
Before I could dig into her ass, I noticed she had some broad with her. I rolled my eyes at this woman, but Jewel didn’t seem to pay me any attention. “Who is this?” I grunted, glaring at her new woman friend. I thought Jewel would have learned her lesson with Sasha.
“Oh, baby, this is Misty. Don’t you remember? She’s the nurse who took care of us when we were in the hospital. And, lo and behold, she does freelance wedding planning on the side. I hired her as our wedding planner.”
“We don’t need a wedding planner,” I mumbled.
Misty must have picked up my bad mood, because she grabbed her oversized Chanel bag and stepped toward the door. “Well, I’ll see you, Jewel. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay, Misty.” Jewel walked her to the door and waved to her.
“Bye, Jewel. Talk to you soon.”
Jewel turned back to me like nothing was wrong and said, “Baby, come check out my bridesmaids’ colors. They’re going to wear lavender. I don’t want no loud, ghetto-looking colors. Yeah, baby, this wedding is gonna have class all the way.”
I followed Jewel to her computer room, where she had all the latest bridal magazines spread out on the floor, an indication that she had gone too far. Plus, she’d hired a damn wedding planner. I didn’t even think she knew all this stuff, but obviously, Miss Bourgeois Virginia Beach Bitch knew her shit, when it came to wedding time.
And worse still, she knew money wasn’t coming in like regular. I’d been laid up for a few months now, so I hadn’t been doing no work. And the last count I had, this broad had spent about fifty thousand on the wedding, and we ain’t even walked down the fucking aisle. Just thinking about it made steam come out my ears.
“And baby, we’re gonna have orchids and baby’s breath.” Suddenly, Jewel looked up, as if for the first time she had tuned into my sour mood.
“Baby, what’s the matter?” she asked, her face twisted into a corkscrew of concern.
This made me all the madder, that she could sound so innocent.
Yeah, right, bitch!
“You know what’s the matter.” I grabbed her by the neck and looked her in the eye.
She looked all surprised and shit. “No, I don’t, baby. What is it? I ain’t no mind reader.”
“I can’t believe you’d do me like this, Jewel.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m out at the barbershop and this nigga Poppo talking shit to me, like you and him running game together.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Touch?”
“So you fucking that nigga now?”
“What? I’m with you every day. I sleep with you every single night. So how the hell do I have time to be fucking somebody else?”
“Well, you gon’ tell me something. How is this nigga talking about he gon’ be my savior?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know what that nigga was talking about? You know he ain’t nothing but Calico’s little bitch. You can’t believe nothing he says.”
“Yeah, I should have never fucked with you in the first place. You the one who was Calico’s bitch.”
“How you gon’ throw that in my face, Touch? Did you forget I made us? I’m the reason we have this house, the cars, the lifestyle of the ghetto fabulous. It was my money from ghostwriting and my connect with TMF that got us here! Oh- and who took care of you when you were sick? I even washed your ass for you and wiped it when you had to shit.”
“Oh, just a regular Florence Nightingale. I knew you was gone throw that shit up in my face. But, bitch, you didn’t have to do nothing for me.”
“Nah, I’m much more than a night nurse. Just so that you know, I was hollering at Poppo to save your ass! I promised to put him on if he took care of Calico for you.”
“What the fuck I look like to you? You must take me for some little bitch. You really got me fucked up. Do your thing, Jewel. I’m out.” I grabbed my keys, walked out the front door, and never looked back.
I was fuming as I drove. I didn’t know where I was headed, but I knew I needed to get the fuck away from Jewel. I wondered what type of cat she took me for.
Do I look like some type of weak nigga that need protection?
My weeks of rehab must have fucked her head up. That broad was tripping.
Finally cooling off a little bit I decided to go to one of my old spots, Mo Dean’s Caribbean restaurant and lounge. As soon as I walked in, I felt right at home. The atmosphere hadn’t changed a bit.
My boy Raz spotted me as soon as I walked in. “Touch, what up, nigga!”
“Ain’t shit, nigga.” I headed straight to the bar.
I hadn’t been sitting a whole minute before I felt someone hug me from behind and caress my manhood. Off the jump, I knew exactly who that was. It was only one chick that came on hard like that, Dirty Diana.
“What up, baby girl?” I spun around on the barstool to face her.
“Looks like you,” she said, referencing my standing dick.
“So what you gon’ do about it?” I said, knowing exactly how she got down.
“Oh, you know the deal. I ain’t trying to hurt you though. I heard you got shot. Everything healed up okay? You know I puts it down, and I don’t want to be responsible for no injuries.” She giggled.
“I’m strong and long as a horse.” I pulled Diana between my legs and squeezed her ass tight, all the while reminiscing about the last time I fucked her.
Diana was a jump-off bitch that I’d fucked one night on a whim. I knew her face from the spot, but I never really paid her much attention. Hell, I ain’t even know her name until the night I fucked her. Her body was tight, and the fuck was good, but every nigga with a little dough had ran up in that. I remember when I fucked her. She was on point, but as soon as we were done, that bitch had her fucking hand out for money. Needless to say, I gave it to her, and I would do it again too. Sad to say, but the fuck was definitely worth it.
Damn! Times were good before I hooked up with Jewel and got locked down. What the fuck was I thinking when I asked her to marry me?
I was still gripping Diana’s firm ass tight.
“Well, you know I’m working, so as soon as I get off—”
“Say no more.” I cut her off mid-sentence, noticing my baby mother, Ciara, staring at me from the cut.
Although I missed my kids like crazy and wanted badly to see them, I wasn’t trying to see that bitch. That last time I saw her, I had beat the shit out of her and ended up in jail. She, just like Jewel, just had to fuck Calico.
I turned back around to the bar, pretending to not even see her. If it wasn’t for my pending case and the temporary restraining order she had on me, I would have gone over there and beat her ass again. There was no amount of beating that could be punishment enough for the line that bitch had crossed.
“Let me get a Grey Goose on the rocks.”
“That’s on me,” one of my boys told the bartender. “Put all his drinks on my tab.”
I spent the next hour, kicking it with my niggas and drinking Grey Goose like it was water. Before I knew it, I was fucked up.
“Yo, I’m out, niggas,” I said to my boys as I scrambled to get off of my barstool.
“Hold on, nigga. We can’t let you drive like that. You just got out the hospital from one injury. We can’t send you right back.”
“Oh, he straight,” I heard a familiar female voice say.
I looked up to see my ex-girlfriend, Lisa. Ghetto spots like Mo Dean’s wasn’t her thing. “What you doing here?”
“Don’t you worry about it. Just be happy I’m here and willing to help your drunk ass,” she said, escorting me out the door.
I looked back to see Diana giving me a dirty look. Sure, I wanted to fuck that, but Lisa had taken over. Besides, I knew Diana was guaranteed pussy. I could hit that at any day any time. I was lucky to get an opportunity to get up in Lisa’s stuff again because we’d broken up on bad terms. I was even surprised she had approached a nigga.
“Where did you park?”
“That way.” I pointed.
Minutes later we were in my car.
“Where to?” Lisa asked.
“To my crib. Don’t act like you don’t know the way. You used to live there, remember?” I said, thinking back to the times Lisa and I used to kick it.
“Yeah, until you kicked me out for your ignorant-ass baby mother!”
“Yo, I ain’t trying to hear that shit.” My mind was on one thing and one thing only—pussy.
It was times like this that I was grateful I didn’t sell or rent out my old crib out Bayside area, off of Newtown Road. We pulled up to my spot, and I stumbled out the car to the front door. Once inside I fell across the couch, lit up a cigarette, and called out to Lisa, who was heading up the stairs, apparently to my bedroom.
“What you doing, girl? Get naked. You know you giving me some ass tonight.”
There was no way she was staying the night at my crib and not fuck, especially since she’d fucked up my plans of getting with Diana.
“I’m going to freshen up. Meanwhile, can you pour me some wine or something to help me relax, please?” she asked while walking upstairs.
“Nah, I ain’t got nothing,” I replied, shaking my head.
Just then my phone rang. I noticed I had three missed calls from Jewel already. At the time, I wasn’t even trying to hear nothing her ass had to say.
Minutes later Lisa had come back downstairs with one of my T-shirts on. I lifted it up, only to see her neatly shaven pussy underneath.
“Excuse you.” She pulled the shirt back down then straddled me.
She tried to kiss me, but I quickly turned my head.
“What? I can’t get a kiss?”
I threw her on the couch and ripped her T-shirt and underwear off.
“Why you got to be so rough?” She rolled her eyes at me.
“Shut the fuck up!”
My phone rang another four times back to back. I knew it was Jewel blowing me up.
“Touch, you just tore my bra. This is a La Perla bra and panty set. Do you know how much this cost?”
“Of course, I do. Wasn’t I the one buying you that shit when we were together? I probably bought this shit you got on now,” I replied, cramming my dick into her dry pussy.
I figured she wasn’t in the mood yet, but I was sure it wasn’t anything the “king cobra” couldn’t fix. And, just as I figured, a few minutes later, I was hearing those sweet moans and groans.
“Ride this dick,” I ordered after turning her over to switch positions.
I had to admit, this bitch did have some good pussy. After we had finished fucking, she quickly fell asleep.
I tried to, but Jewel kept calling. Knowing her, she was probably trying to hunt my ass down. I was never the nigga to turn my phone off, because I always figured that the one time I turned it off would be the day something happened to my mom or kids and they couldn’t reach me.
But Jewel was leaving a nigga with no choice. Once phone call number fifteen had come through, I was forced to turn off my phone to get some rest.
What a day!
I thought, drifting off to sleep.
BOOK: California Connection 2 (Califronia Connection)
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