A Sticky Situation (8 page)

“Damn, nigga. You ain’t playing, huh?”

“Hell nah, I ain’t playing! I got too much shit invested out here to be letting a chick come in and fuck everything up because she’s caught up in her feelings. I promise you that I ain’t gon’ have it!”

Once Mike touched on every issue concerning the business venture and how he wanted shit to run around there, I sealed the deal with a handshake. Before I realized what I had done, he reminded me by saying, “Nigga, you are about to be the third richest hustler in the Tidewater area!”

I laughed. “I take it you and Jay got the number one and the number two slots?”

“You sure learn quickly,” he said, patting me on my shoulder before he left.

After Mike left me in Melody’s bedroom, all I could do was stand there with a smile on my face and daydream about that brand new Bentley coupe I was going to be pushing in the next thirty days. I also pictured buying myself a whole new wardrobe and going into a jewelry store to cop a couple of custom-made diamond pieces. I was going to make sure Samantha was all right, too. I couldn’t have her struggling like I did when I first came home. Nah, I couldn’t have that. She was still my shorty, and I loved her to death. I didn’t know what I was going to do for Maxine, other than give her the start-up money for her business, because she seemed to have everything. She was the most independent and controlling chick I’d ever dealt with, and most of the time we butted heads because of it. The shit I went through with her, I never had to go through any of it with Samantha. Sam was a sweetheart and would do anything I asked her to do. She’d been down for me since the first day we met, which was over seven years ago. But for the first two years of our relationship, shit was beautiful. We got money together and we lived together. We practically did everything together, so when the heat fell down on us five years ago, she had no problem going down for the cause. She stayed true to a nigga, so I was going to do the same for her. That was my word!

Mike hung out at the spot with me and Melody for the rest of the night. While he was there, he recruited a handful of thoroughbred cats from around the way. Most of them were young boys around the age of seventeen and eighteen. They were known around Portsmouth for having heart, and that’s what we needed for this mission. They got hired on the spot. After everybody got into position, Mike and I ended up raking in over twenty grand, and were happy because of it.

Before the young boys left, Mike hit them each off with a couple hundred dollars and promised them that he was going to arm a couple of them with burners, just in case they ran into some heat. They got all gassed up about the idea of toting a pistol around the spot, like they were in a little army. The enthusiasm in their faces made Mike’s day. It made my day too, because I knew we had a ruthless set of soldiers in our midst, and it was going to be hard to break them.

As I was about to leave, Mike hit me off with my cut and gave me precise instructions about how we were going to operate our organization. “From now on, I’m gonna have the dope capped up for you before you get over on this side. All you got to do is show up at the spot out on Prentis Park and I’ll have everything ready for you, including the pistols for the young’uns.”

He also said he was going to have his side chick, Trina, come by twice a day to collect the dough if he or Jay weren’t available to do it themselves. Also, if we ran out of product before the end of the day, he was going to have Jay drop off a small package to carry us over. I okayed this arrangement, shook on it, and headed out the door.

When I got into my car, I started to call Maxine, but decided against it. As much as I missed hearing her voice, I knew that if I got her on the phone, we would end up arguing, and I wasn’t in the mood for that. It had been a long day, and the last thing I needed was a headache. Instead, I headed on to my mother’s crib.

On my way there, I made a quick stop by the Chinese place on the corner of Virginia Beach Boulevard and Newtown Road and picked up an order of General Tso Chicken. While I was there, I ran into this nigga named Monty I had beef with back in the day. He shocked me when he didn’t say a word to me when I first walked into the restaurant. The way that nigga came at me when he found out I was fucking his girl, it was a wonder why I didn’t end up killing him. I guess it wasn’t his time to die, and since he acted like he had some sense this go-round, I spared him once more and bounced.

MAXINE

Back To The Drawing Board

I tried to get Seth on the line this morning, but he elected not to answer his phone yet again. I told myself,
whatever,
and blew it off as another one of his immature tactics. All was not lost anyway, because I got all the information I needed yesterday. I wrote down the license plate number to the Hummer Seth’s friend was driving and the address of the house he entered. Now that I was back at work, I was about to find out the name registered to that vehicle and who was leasing that apartment. It was going to take a couple strokes of the computer keys and one phone call, and I was going to have it all. Seth was not going to be able to hide anything from me from this point on.

Click, click, tap, tap, click, tap, tap, click was all you could hear through my silence-filled office. Right after I got into the Department of the Motor Vehicles secured information system, I typed in the license plate number of the Hummer and hit the ENTER key. The name Lacy Carrington appeared. Her address was listed as 1756 Concourse Lane in Virginia Beach. There was also a 2007 Acura RL registered in her name. From the looks of things, this woman had to either be this guy’s wife or girlfriend. Of course, it didn’t matter. I had her information, so it was just a matter of time before I had his.

Next, I logged onto the city of Virginia Beach’s tax assessment website and found out that the residence of 1756 Concourse Lane was a home assessed at $423,000 and it belonged to Michael and Lacy Carrington. Seeing all this information put a huge smile on my face. I jotted all that information down and then called the rental office of Dale Homes and was told to fax over a release form in order for them to release the name of the person leasing the apartment. I did. Ten minutes later, I got my fax back with the lessee’s name written big as day. Melody Powell was her name, and the form also stated that she was a twenty-six-year-old Section Eight applicant and mother of one school-age son. According to this document, she had never been convicted of a felony and she had sworn never to allow any drug activity inside or around the dwelling of her apartment. If she violated this, she would be arrested and evicted immediately. After reading all the content on both pages, I knew right off the bat that I could do some serious blackmailing if I wanted to. However, since I planned to handle this matter a little differently, I put the information away in a safe place.

The first half of my day in the office ended quickly. I chose to spend the second half in the field. I also chose to travel alone, since I didn’t have to collect any urine samples. The first stop on my list was to the city of Chesapeake to pay a visit to my client, Sean Phillips. He was a thirty-eight-year-old, tall, lean, brown-skinned male with long dreadlocks. He was from the rough streets of Philly, which was where he caught his charge. After ten years behind bars, Sean requested to be released in the state of Virginia, where he now resided with his parents. He had been back on the streets now for two years, and so far, he had managed to comply with all the rules of his probation. If he continued to keep this up, I might release him from his probation one year early.

“How you doing today?” I asked. I looked very professional with my hair brushed back into a neat ponytail and dressed in a black Calvin Klein pantsuit and white oxford blouse. My jacket was pushed back just a little to reveal the U.S. Probation Office badge attached to the belt loop of my slacks.

“I’m fine,” Sean replied, opening the front door wide enough for me to walk into the house.

“That’s good to hear,” I said after he closed the door behind me. “Are your parent’s home?”

“No, both of them are out of town visiting relatives.” He escorted me to the living room area.

As soon as I walked halfway down the hallway, a funny smell of Lysol spray mixed with marijuana smoke engulfed me. I stopped in my tracks and asked, “Mr. Phillips, is that marijuana I smell?”

“Oh, nah, you know I don’t mess around with that stuff,” he stuttered.

“Well, why is that smell coming from down this hall?” I pressed the issue, not moving one inch from where I was standing.

“I don’t know,” he said, trying to convince me. I wasn’t going for it. The scent from the marijuana was strong. It didn’t matter how much Lysol he sprayed to cover up the smell, because the chemical from the marijuana was overpowering it.

Irritated by his lies, I gave him a firm look and said, “Come open up this bedroom door over here to my left.”

“Whatchu want to go in there for?” Sean protested. “Ain’t nothing in there.”

“Are you hiding something from me?” My patience was growing thin.

“Nope.”

Realizing that this guy wasn’t about to cooperate with me made me go into think mode. There was no doubt in my mind that I smelled marijuana, and in order for me to confirm this, I was going to have to open that first door to my left. My only problem was that I didn’t think I was going to be ready to deal with what I was about to find.

“Isn’t that your bedroom?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, open it up.”

“I can’t,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Why not?” I snapped.

“Because it’s locked.”

“Why is it locked?”

“Because I locked it.”

My face turned red. “Well, unlock it,” I demanded.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Shaw, but I can’t do that.”

Getting more and more frustrated with his lack of cooperation, I stormed toward the bedroom door, but before I could get within ten feet of it, Sean grabbed me by my arms and shoved me up against the wall, face first. The shit caught me off guard and I didn’t know if I was coming or going. “What the hell are you doing?” I grunted, trying to wiggle my way from his grip.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Shaw, but I can’t let you go in there.”

“Sean, you better let me go right now,” I screeched. “Do you know I can violate you for this?”

Instead of Sean responding to my question, he said, “Ay yo, Gee, you and Duke come on.”

Less than five seconds later, the bedroom door opened and out came two men. Both of them had fair complexions and bald heads. They looked like they could be brothers, but one was short and skinny, while the other was of a medium height and medium build. The short, skinny guy was dressed in a throwback jersey, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, and looked to be in his early thirties, while the other guy was dressed in a black hoodie with the sweats to match. He looked like he was every bit of forty. As they walked by me, I noticed that they were carrying two large compressed slabs of marijuana between pieces of folded newspapers. The bottom half of the plastic bag was sticking out from underneath the newspaper. You could see the seeds from the marijuana dangling in the bottom of the bag, clear as day.

“You can hide it all you want, but I know that’s got to be every bit of four pounds of marijuana y’all are carrying.”

The taller guy stopped in his tracks. “Yo, Sean, whatchu gon’ do with her?”

“I’m gon’ tie her ass up,” Sean told him.

“Sean, if you tie me up, I am going to send you flying back to prison. And by the time you come home, you’re gonna be in a fucking rocking chair!” I screamed, trying to break loose from his grip.

“You heard what she said, dawg! So, you’d be better off getting rid of her ass!” the shorter guy said.

“You shut up! Because believe it or not, I’m gonna have both of y’all asses locked up for a very long time, too!” I shouted.

“Bitch, you ain’t gon’ do shit to me! Because trust me, you ain’t gon’ ever see my face again,” the short guy said.

“Mine either,” the taller guy assured me.

“That’s what y’all think,” I snapped back.

“Ay yo, Sean, get rid of that bitch now!”

“Nah, man, let’s just tie her up and gag her and stuff her in the trunk of her car.”

“That’s stupid. And besides, that’s too much work, so just off her,” the older guy insisted.

“Nah, dawg, I ain’t trying to wear a murder beef,” Sean protested, but it seemed like the other two guys had a little more authority. After a few more words were exchanged between the three of them, the older guy said, “Well, it’s your ass, nigga, ’cause she ain’t gon’ ever see me and Duke’s face again!”

Hearing them deliberate about whether or not to kill me sent me into panic mode. I started twisting and turning and kicking like crazy. Shit, I didn’t want to die. Of course, my little antics didn’t work because the older guy pulled a gun from the waist of his sweatpants and before I could figure out what was about to happen, he struck me in the back of my head with the butt of this gun. I fell out cold.

SETH

100% Raw & Uncut

Mike had just hit me off with one thousand pills of dope, which was going to bring five grand in profit. I was on my way to the spot to grind these joints out. Right when I was pulling up in front of Melody’s apartment, my cell phone rang. When I looked at the CallerID and noticed that it was Samantha, I quickly answered it. Before the line was connected, I had to wait for the automated system to give me the spiel about how
an inmate was calling me from an institution and if I wanted to accept the call, I needed to press five now,
so I did.

“Hello,” Samantha said, her voice sounding like a little girl.

The sound of her voice made me smile. “What’s up, baby?” I asked.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing much. Just doing what I got to do to come up!”

“Well, I got the money you sent through Western Union last night.”

“That’s good.”

“So, how long you gon’ be out today?”