Black & Ugly (16 page)

Triple Crown Publications presents . . .

He fails to understand why she would want to kill his
wife but does know she's a spoiled little bitch. That's
the extent of his familiarity.

"Something ain't right wit' that. I don't want no
guessing wit' this situation, man. I need to know for
sure that she did it. No guessing! I wanna know that
the money I put on whoever's head is money well
spent."

"You got it," Silver says, excited about possibly getting put on. He knows Smokes pays good money for
slinging in the hood, so a hit will be worth way more.

"Now give me the number of that nigga from Texas
you use," Smokes commands as he quiets his baby.

"You hear this shit, right?" Smokes interrupts before he
can get the info. "My son's been crying nonstop since
his mother didn't come home. Yeah ... Yeah ... I need
this shit handled."

"I don't know 'bout using Eclipse, man. I only use
him for out-of-town jobs. I do everything else myself,"
Silver insists, trying to hint around that he's more than
capable of doing the job. "Plus, Eclipse's real expensive
and he moves too slow. He analyze too much shit for
me instead of goin' in a mothafucka blazin'."

"Well, that's what I need. Somebody to do the shit
right."

"I know some niggas that'll find them bitches and
murder them tonight for half the price."

"Who you talking about? Your fuckin' family mem-bas?" Smokes asks, already knowing he's referring to
his people.

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"Naw," Silver replies, lying. "Uh ... they do live in
the Manor, so for real, it ain't nothing but a thing."

"No thank you, nigga. Mothafuckas are already
lookin' at me and if they're from the Manor, that shit's
too close for comfort. They sittin' 'round waiting on me
to do somethin' now. All I need is the feds gettin' a hold
of a local nigga and blowing my spot up. I'll just stick
with the out-of-town cat," Smokes persists with his
mind made up.

"I'm telling you, Smokes. These niggas are -"

"Did you hear what the fuck I said, man?" he interrupts. "My kid is growin' up without his mother. I ain't
tryin' to have him growing up without a father, too!"
He yells so loudly that he wakes up the baby who went
to sleep just minutes ago. "Rosa!" Smokes yells. "Come
get Chandler and put him to sleep."
The nanny takes the baby and leaves the room and
Smokes continues his conversation. "Like I said, I want
this shit done right. Every time I use you and your
brother to take care of somethin', the nigga next to him
ends up dead. I'm not fucking wit' you or any of them
other stupid-ass niggas you run wit'. I want you to get
in contact with that dude, tell him the situation and
have him call me back."

"You got it," Silver reluctantly responds.

"I'm out."

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11

Miss Wayne

"LISTEN, CHILE, I DON'T FUCK around when it comes to my money. And I know you know this!" I say in a high-pitched voice. "It would be ungood. Trust me, honey."

"Bitch, you always think somebody fuckin' with yo'

shit. Now I got you everything you asked me to get and then some."

"I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO RUBBER DICKS, BITCH!

So how you get me everything
I
asked for?"

"You said I could get something once I got what was on the list."

"I said you could get
something
when I got
everything
on the list. Now, you tell me what's wrong with this picture."

"I did cover the list ... damn. Why you actin' like that?"

"Well how come I don't see the Dooney & Bourke purses in the box? Where are those, bitch? I got mothafuckas lookin' for shit I ain't got!" I yell with one
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Black and Ugly

hand on my hip. "I tell you what you're doin'. You making me look bad."

"Oh, guuurl, aren't you blowing things a little out of proportion?" Miss Rick says. "I mean, every other time you asked for something, I got it. So, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, bitch, you are doin' shows. I know you lost your mind. What about the Bratz?"

"What?" Miss Rick asks like he's confused.

"I said what about the Bratz doll, bitch?"

"I don't know. I don't watch that shit."

"You were supposed to get that Bratz, bitch, and bring her back to me. That woman was calling me asking me about that thing for weeks after her daughter's birthday. And what did you do? Forget all about the Bratz doll to get some edible thongs," I rant then pause for a moment to catch my breath. "So, don't tell me this is the first time."

"Okay
,
and that was the only thing I ever forgot," Miss Rick responds.

"It is not. Today you forgot the purses."

"I didn't forget. I couldn't find them wretched purses. You ain't getting no money for 'em no how, 'cuz ain't nobody carrying them ancient bags."

"Sweety, I got customers who ordered them purses.

Everybody don't like the sequins purses you be carrying around. Some people got taste."

"Get over yourself, Miss Wayne."

"I let you hold the credit card to get everything on the list and a few things for you once my list was
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cleared. What I'ma tell them hoes when they come see me and I ain't got their shit? Damn, Miss Rick."

"I'm sorry, girl. I can go back tomorrow," he pleads, finally realizing he is wrong.

"No, you can't go back tomorrow. Once you use a card, it's done wit'. That's all we need is the heat from Judy because you goin' back using hot-ass credit cards.

I'll get another one tomorrow." I shake my head at the thought of the cops being after me for Miss Rick's stupidity.

"Okay, but when you gonna put me on so I can get my own customers?"

"When the fuck you do what I tell you to. That's when."

"Whatever,
pink
bitch."

"Look, girl, I gotta go, but next time I send you to get something, don't run to the counter to buy your toys before my list is complete. Now bye, chile." He gets on my full and complete set of nerves. He knows I need the Dooney and Burke purses for them bitches. They gonna kill me. Damn! I stomp my left foot. They've been hittin' me up ever since I started back fuckin' with this credit card shit again. See, I had to chill out for a while. Somebody hated, and the police's narrow asses were all over me. That was about six months ago, but now I'm back in business.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Who the fuck is that? Oh my word, please don't tell me the cops saw that bitch bring this shit to my house.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

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Oh no! I'm goin' to jail. Oh God, I can't go to jail.

Please don't let me go to jail. Do you know what they'll do to me if I get locked up? Well, that won't be too bad but I still like to come and go as I please. I can visit, but I certainly don't want to make it my home.

Here I am sitting on over twenty-five thousand dollars worth of shit. I mean, I got it all. Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Tiffany jewelry sets and La Perla undies - I mean everything. Calm down, girl. Sometimes I get so worked up, and most of the time it's for nothin'. Let me look through the peephole first.

OH SHIT! It
is
Judy!

God, let me get out of this here and I'm never doing this again. Let them leave me alone and I'm never touching another credit card in my life.

"Mr. Wayne Peterson, we know you're in there."

"One minute please. Just 'cuz I'm in here don't mean I ain't takin' a shit."

"We'll wait."

I know they will. Greasy mothafuckas. I throw the goods in my bedroom and lock it with the deadbolts I had put on for added security. I've been robbed several times and the greedy mothafuckas will want my treasures the moment they find out I'm back in business. They don't wanna pay for shit around here.

So I fixed their asses and had this special metal door put in with an alarm system and deadbolts. The rental office doesn't know shit about that door. If somebody breaks in the living room, they'll be short 'cuz the real shit is in my treasure chest and I now only fucks with
T. Styles