Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (19 page)

D
anny returned to the stage and asked the crowd to invite the entertainers back. As everyone made their way around the stage, Bossy kept her eyes on those standing around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ant standing off to the side.
What the hell is he doing here?
She scanned the crowd for Aisha and Terry. By the time she looked back in Ant's direction, Bossy couldn't believe what she was seeing. Ant had his hand inside the donation tin.
This nigga must think I'm bullshittin with him! It's time to lay him the fuck down.

Bossy and Danny, along with the three hired off-duty police officers, cornered Ant. Powell and Meeks, who pretended to take Ant off to jail, made up two-thirds of the off-duty police security.

W
hen Twan returned to his family two hours later, his kids were worn-out and cranky. Twan and Lajetia made their way to the van and loaded the three children inside. On their way home, Twan told Lajetia what had happened with Ant at the block party.

“That reminds me, the other day I saw the police stop Ant, search his ride, and put him in a patrol car, but he wasn't handcuffed. It looked like they found some drugs in his trunk, too.”

“Straight up? They were probably writing out a ticket,” said Twan.

“I don't think so, because he sat in the police car for at least
thirty minutes before he got out empty-handed and walked back to his car.”

“How you know how long he was in there?” inquired Twan.

“ ‘Cause a crowd stood around watching, and I saw someone I knew standing on her porch. So I parked the car at the corner and walked down the street right along with the nosy-ass neighbors,” Lajetia lied.

“Do you remember the numbers that were on the squad car?” Twan prayed it wasn't the officers he was thinking of.

“No, but I recognized their faces. It was them cops that be rob-bin’ everybody. Powell and Meeks is they names. My friend told me a couple of stories about them.”

Twan remained quiet for the rest of the ride home, his mind ascertaining what Powell's and Meeks's crooked asses could possibly want with Ant. Either they were robbing Ant or they were setting him up to be a snitch, and something was telling him it was probably the latter.

B
ack at the block party the crowd was thinning out. Bossy grew angrier and angrier thinking about that bitch-ass Ant. She wanted to pop his ass the moment she witnessed him stealing money she knew he didn't need. She had put off making a crucial phone call long enough, but it was now time to return to her roots—some straight-up survival-of-the-fittest type shit.

Bossy finally made the phone call she'd been putting off for too long. Because of Ant's immature ways of thinking, she had given
him the benefit of the doubt after he disrespected Aisha the way he had. Even after approaching him and warning him not to fuck with her again, he chose to ignore Bossy's warnings. Trying to steal the money from the block party was stupid, even for Ant. He knew who had sponsored the event this year. KAT69 put thousands of dollars into backing the event, so stealing from it was the same thing as stealing from her.

It took about an hour to drive to the Pittsburgh airport. Bossy couldn't help but reflect on old times. The night she had taken a life was something she didn't want to reminisce about, but it was the one thing that kept coming to mind. After leaving baggage claim and finding Bossy's 2006 Chrysler 300, Jalil “Big Black” Perry got right down to business.

It had been about twelve years since they'd seen each other, but Bossy and Big Black kept in touch with monthly phone calls. He'd always promised to be there if she needed him and true to his word, here he was. The only change he'd made in twelve years was his weight. Bossy didn't think it possible, but Big Black had actually gotten bigger. He'd always been a big man, at six feet, six inches and two hundred seventy pounds. He had smooth skin the color of fudge brownies, and eyelashes that most women would kill for.

Unbeknownst to Bossy, about two months ago Big Black had received a call from his lifelong friend C-Lok. In the years that Big Black lived in Raleigh, North Carolina, the lines of communication had stayed open between the men. They never discussed business over the phone, so when C-Lok brought the subject of Bossy up and explained the problems she was having with Ant, Big Black knew shit was serious. He knew how Bossy was getting hers, and it sounded as if this young blood Ant was putting her livelihood in danger.

Big Black knew that if Ant crossed the line, Bossywould need his help, but he'd come only if she reached out to him. So he packed a bag and waited for the call.

“You told me about this punk, but you never said how you, of all people, got mixed up with him.”

Bossy filled Big Black in on Twan's relationship with Teddy Bear and his current status in the streets.

“How does his punk-ass boy play into this?” asked Big Black.

“They've been best friends for years, and Ant was in the game, too. So naturally Twan made Ant his right-hand man.”

“Let me guess. Ant either got greedy, jealous, or both, right?”

“You know you right. They got bigheaded and started slangin’ money around like they were millionaires. I couldn't believe how often Twan was bringing me kilo after kilo to store, chop, mix, and bag. At one point he even got into messing with prescription drugs and that white-boy drug, meth.”

“So what changed?”

“Ah, you know me, Black. I let him know he had to slow the fuck down or I wasn't gon’ fuck wit’ him no more.”

“I bet his boy didn't like that.” Big Black laughed.

“No, he didn't, and he had the nerve to attempt to threaten Aisha. You know the project girl surfaced in her.”

Big Black and Bossy laughed and joked about how Aisha could go from a prissy woman to a ghetto bitch quicker than a crack-head could make a fifty-dollar rock of cooked cocaine disappear on a hot pipe.

“Girl, you still crazy. But back to the matter at hand. I'd like to meet this Twan and get a feel for him. Tell me this—where do you think his head is at?” inquired Big Black.

“I think Twan is a good guy, but still in his twenties—he's impressionable. His loyalty to his best friend made him blind to
Ant's greed and jealousy. In everything that's gone down, Twan has never disrespected me and has never lied to me, even when the truth put him in an unfavorable light.”

“We should have a meeting with him once we hit the Yo\ right after I get settled in. Besides Aisha and Terry, the fewer people who know I'm in town, the better it will be for all of us. Especially if I end up doing what I think I'll have to do.”

Twan stood in line at the liquor store when the barmaid from the Southern Tavern walked up behind him.

“Hey, Twan, I haven't seen you at the bar lately,” said Brianna.

“What up wit’ you, girl? I just been lying low for a minute. Spending a little time with the family.”

“From what I'm told, it's not enough time.”

Twan paid the store clerk for the fifth of Absolut and returned his attention to Brianna. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Brianna paid for her purchase and walked outside with Twan. “About two weeks ago I got a phone call from some chick advising me to stay away from you.”

Twan wasn't surprised, because he'd heard this same thing from other female friends of his.

“Damn, Twan, I've known you forever, and never knew you could put it down like that. Got that girl acting all ghettofied to keep you?”

“Man, I'm sorry she did that shit and put you all up in my business like that.”

“Don't sweat it. We been cool since we met, and you know I got much respect for you. But on the real, you need to check ya
girl. She's also called a few other girls we both know, and you're now the topic of gossip because of it.”

“Damn, it's like that?” Twan was getting angrier by the minute.

“Yeah, you know how small this city is. Those with nothing to do feed on shit like this. It'll die out soon, though, and another bailer will take your place.” Brianna tried to make the situation seem like it wasn't so bad.

Twan and Brianna made small talk for a few minutes before he left to sit in his Escalade and gathered himself before driving off. When he left the liquor store parking lot, he made a right onto Southern Boulevard, headed for the lower east side to check on his drug house. Careful to maintain the posted speed limit, Twan coasted down the hill. When he switched lanes, he noticed a familiar ride two cars behind him. Brushing it off as a coincidence, Twan shook his head and put on some classic DJ Quik. Relaxing in his leather seat, he checked the traffic surrounding him and again spotted the familiar car that appeared to be following him.
This has to be some kind of fluke,
thought Twan. He slowed down as he approached a traffic light. As the light changed from green to yellow, he sped through it in an attempt to get away from the Lexus.
If this car runs the light, it's following me.

Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw that the Lexus was right behind him. Twan immediately picked up his Nextel and paged Lajetia. She responded immediately.

“Hey, Twan, what's up?” Lajetia asked innocently.

“Nothing, I'm just checking on you and the kids. Where are you?” He hoped she wouldn't lie to him.

“Just chillin’ in the park with the kids.”

“Liar! I'm looking at you in my mirror. What the fuck you doin’ following me?”

“You trippin', Twan. …”

“Take ya connivin’ ass home and quit following me. You ain't got shit else to do but run up behind my ass?” For weeks now he had felt someone was following him, and he thought it was the police. He never considered that it might be his own woman. Twan hung up his cell, exited the highway, and made a sharp right onto Himrod Avenue while Lajetia turned left to circle back onto the highway.

Her eyes blurred with tears; Lajetia knew she'd been caught and that Twan would demand answers the second he got home. If he came home at all. She may have just lost everything she had.

Deciding to put his rounds on hold, Twan headed home to confront Lajetia. She'd crossed the line by making those junior high school type phone calls, and now she was following him. He didn't know how much more he could take. Ignoring the fact that the babysitter, Auntell, was still there, Twan let Lajetia have it before he got both feet through the doorway.

“So, what is it? Have you lost your mind or are you that damn bored?”

“Twan, calm down, please. Auntell is still here and you're embarrassing me,” Lajetia responded calmly.

“I don't give a fuck if ex-President Clinton was sitting up in this bitch with you. You should have thought about that shit before you copied those numbers out of my phone. And you really should have considered the consequences of following my ass like you the fucking police or some shit.”

Lajetia had no idea he knew about her making those phone calls. The only way for him to find out was for one of those bitches to run her mouth. “Please calm down; you know the kids don't like to hear us arguing.” She was sure that mentioning the kids would make him at least lower his tone.

“Quit talking about every- and anything besides your fucked-up actions. Why, Lajetia? Are you that insecure that you got to
put my personal business on the street like that? Do you think that if I was fuckin’ one of them bitches she'd tell you the truth? You need to grow the fuck up! I ain't down for this at all.”

“When a man don't come home until the wee hours of the morn—”

“How many times do I have to explain to you that the streets never close down?” Twan cut her off “Don't answer that, because you obviously will never get it. You've fucked with me for the last time, Lajetia. I'm out of here!” Twan marched off to the bedroom to pack a few things with Lajetia on his heels.

“No, Twan, please don't leave me. I'm sorry; just tell me what I can do to make it up to you. I can make this right.”

“How can you make this right when you haven't done shit right since I got with ya ass?”

Those words cut her to the bone, but Lajetia was determined not to let Twan leave her. “You can't leave us now, Twan. I'm pregnant!” Lajetia froze as Twan faced her with a look of hatred in his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“I'm pregnant, Twan. I'm going to give you another child, and then we can get married and you'll be able to adopt Kiara and Tyler, like you said. We'll be a real family. So now you know why I did what I did. When I found out I was pregnant, I had to hold on to you.”

“You are stupid if you think that lying to me will hold on to me. Did you getting pregnant hold on to any of them other nig-gas?” Twan reached into the closet and grabbed his duffel bag to throw a couple of outfits into it.

Lajetia sat on the corner of the bed crying and trying to convince Twan of her love and that she'd never lie about being pregnant. Twan walked into the private bathroom and returned with his toothbrush and deodorant. As he walked out of the room, he
turned to look at Lajetia and told her, “You should have realized a long time ago that the one and only thing you had to do to hold on to me was just trust me.”

The oversize duffel bag landed in the trunk with a thud. His cell phone rang and the caller ID read, KAT69-1. It was Bossy calling.

“Hey, girl, you all right?”

“Yeah, I need for you to get over here to my apartment as soon as you can. We have some things to talk about.”

“I'll be there in fifteen,” replied Twan.

As he drove away from his lavish house, he wondered if he'd ever call it home again. His Escalade took him away, and he never looked back to see the three kids looking out the bay window, just as their mother had told them to do.

W
ell, Bossy brought me up to speed on ya boy,” Big Black said to Twan.

“I can't believe he flipped on me the way he did. Money has really changed him,” said Twan.

“Correction, young blood: Money didn't change him; it just brought out who he really is.”