Country Boy 2 (4 page)

As soon as the dread looked into the cold eyes of the woman behind the pistol his mouth began moving like it had a mind of it's own.

"I'm.... I'm sorry," he managed to say, trying not to put anymore pressure on the barrel of the gun, fearing it might go off and blow his own fucking brains out.

"Let 'em live," Mrs. Janie said, worried now that her own words would be a little too late.

Van didn't budge, she waited for the sound of June's Mac to begin spitting death. Instead she heard a voice, it was June.

"You two nigga's just expunged all yo peoples chances to live. If one of you so much as look in the direction of this place, I'll make sure Nelson's Funeral Home across the street be yo permanent home."

Van mumbled in the dread's ear while still gripping one of his thickly matted locks.

"On the strength of her nigga," she said pointing at Mrs. Janie. "You two nigga’s still breathing. This will be the only chance any of you fools have to leave N.C.. The next time you will die nigga, cause we did all the talking here today, you feel me?"

"I don't think you do," she answered for him, and with one quick twist of her wrist she wrapped his dreadlock around her hand.

"Uahhh.... Ouch'!" the dread screamed as Van yanked the large lock.

"Meet my Sista," Van said as she swung the-butt of her .380 knocking several teeth from his mouth. Looking directly in his eyes she spoke again.

"Listen to me, today it was a few teeth, the next time I promise you that it will be yo' life. Now when you walk out of here today make damn sure you ask yo' self this question: Is this game worth dying for?" …..Silence. "Are you finished with these two nigga's June?" she asked.

"Yeah Lil Sis," June answered.

"Make sure yo' peoples get the message bout my family," he continued referring to Mrs. Janie. "Now get the fuck out of here,before I change my mind."

Within seconds both were exiting through the double front doors of the ChillGrill.

"You aight Momma," June turned and asked.

"I'm okay," Mrs. Janie answered. "I wish those people would just go back where they came from baby. They've been nothing but trouble since they came here. It's a damn shame having to be scolded by the kids in Sunday School for dozing off, but I haven't had a decent night’s sleep in a long time."

"Don't worry Momma," said Van. "Pretty soon you're going to be able to sleep with your front door open again."

"That's good to hear," she said. "But I'm getting too old for all the kil...."

"Who said anything bout killing?" Van said quickly cutting her off. "I only said that you're going to be able to leave your door open at night Momma'"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," replied Mrs. Janie. "And that's what I'm afraid of," she continued saying while eyeing Van's blood soaked pistol.



Meanwhile across town, Dame sat on the sofa in the living room of an apartment on Long Drive, it belonged to a chick named Keshia. Keshia was your typical "project star", she had two kids, lived on welfare, but seemed to always come up with enough money to make it to the club every weekend. Her two best friends lived in the same building and all three had the same M.O. when it came to ballers.... You Gotta Pay To Play.

Being from a small town eventually started working against them when most of the local hustlers had either became too use to them, or grew tired of jumping up and down on top of them in bed.

When out of town hustlers started contaminating the streets of Rockingham, the three girls put their heads together and came up with a plan.

"Hey gurl," Keshia said into the receiver. She was talking to her friend Candi on her cordless phone.

Beep.... Beep.... her other line interrupted their conversation.

"Hold on gurl," she said before clicking over to the other line.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Kesh, what up? Put my nigga on the phone, Mami."

"Well, hello to you too, Scar," Keshia said with her own attitude.

"My bad Ma, word up, but I need to holla at Dame on some serious shit."

Keshia could barely make out what Scar was saying with what sounded like someone screaming out in pain.

"Scar, what the hell is going on?" she asked. "We had a run in wit a couple nigga's on the block, Kesh. Is Dame there?"

"Yeah, he's here, but wait a minute. What happened?" she asked. "Them country ass nigga's don started a war, Kesh. That's what's up; now put Dame on the fuckin phone, B."

Keshia smacked her lips in disgust before yelling for Dame to pick up the other phone.

"Yeah son, what up?" Dame said after picking up the phone.

"Problems son! More fuckin problems, yo,"

"Handle that shit then nigga," Dame screamed into the receiver.

"And what the fuck is that noise, son?"

Dame sat and listened as Scar explained what had happened at the Chill-Grill. He was heated, but when he got word about no product being sold he went into a rage. Slamming the phone back on it's receiver causing Keshia to run from the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked for the fourth time.

"Scar and Kwan had some problems on the Block," he answered

"Who was it?" she asked heading back towards the kitchen. "Was it them young nigga's?"

"Nah, some cat named June."

Keshia stopped dead in her tracks.

"Did you say June?" she quickly asked.

"Yeah," Dame answered,

Keshia's heart was pounding hard against her chest. 'June' she thought to herself, 'Maybe it was someone else using the name' she continued thinking. They had had a serious relationship that ended with two broken hearts. Keshia was so hurt that she hid her second pregnancy from him, vowing to never reveal to him that her son, Jarvis was indeed his.

"What's up wit you, Kesh?" Dame said interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh.... Oh nothing, I was only listening to you," she lied. "I thought I heard you mention a couple of problems," Keshia said prying for more information.

"I did," he answered. Standing to leave.... Scar said that there was a Bitch backing this nigga.

"Bitch...." Keshia mumbled to herself. 'Had June somehow gotten out of jail.... If so, what was he doing on the Block, he was out of the game.' She also knew if June found out she was fucking with these nigga’s, he was really going to go off.

Before Dame could get out of the door Keshia was on the phone getting the latest gossip.



Cars were at a stand still in the Business section of Uptown Charlotte N.C., noon rush hour. People scrambled everywhere trying to get their lunch before rushing back to their place of work. Desirae "Asia" Ellis strolled leisurely down the cobble stone sidewalks of the "Infamous" Trade Street, located in the center of Downtown Charlotte. A street once recognized as the home of some of the most ruthless and legendary pimps the Carolinas would ever witness. Players and pimps controlled this section of "Charlotte" for years with an iron hand. An area now the corner stone for banking businesses, lavish restaurants and elegant shopping boutiques which lined both sides of the street. Back in the early 70's and 80's city officials along with the Mayor, found themselves engaged in a territorial war with the pimps and prostitutes that left the entire city bloodied. Only after the deaths of several women, most of who were mere teenage girls who'd been forced to leave their nest much too young did this bloody battle gain national attention.

Desirae Ellis gazed through the large windows of the boutique at the life sized mannequins dressed in leather pumps and expensive lingerie.

'Victoria’s Secret.... My favorite,' she thought to herself as her mind momentarily drifted back to her formal life, a life that she'd always hated, but felt that the cards she was dealt at a young age left her with little or no choice if she wanted to acheive her goals and reach her dreams. Desirae still vividly remembered the day she walked into her cousin’s apartment and told her that she wanted to dance.

"Are you crazy Dez?" her cousin who went by the name of "Cream" asked her.

"And what about school? You only have two years left before becoming a member of the bar Dez."

"Look Cream.... if I don't come up wit some money for tuition, there won't be any more school.”

Cream sighed before continuing, "Dez, dancing isn't for everybody..... I mean the money is good but.... but a lotta dem niggas be buggin tha fuck out gurl."

"What about the ones who don't be.... as you say, buggin out?" Desirae asked her.

"Well.... they cool I guess but...."

"But what Cream?"

Cream stared at her cousin Dez while picturing her on a stage

doing tha Booty Clap, she smiled.

"What you laughing at?"

"Oh, nothing.... Have you thought of a stage name?"

"A what?"

"A stage name Dez..... you have to have a name that's unique.... one that best describes your personality."

Desirae thought for a minute then snapped her fingers.

"I got one," she said smiling from ear to ear.

"Well.... let me hear it," Cream said.

"Champagne," she said while twirling herself in a complete circle,

"Champagne it is," her cousin high fived her saying.

"Excuse me miss.... could you point me in the direction where No Grease Hair Salon is located?"

A very pregnant young lady asked Desirae interrupting her thoughts.

"I'm almost certain that I'm on the right street.... This is Trade Street isn't it?"

"Ah.... yes this is Trade Street," Desirae answered. "But I'm afraid that you've already passed the Salon," she continued saying, "I must have missed it, and excuse my rudeness.... my names Tashonda."

"Okay.... well Tashonda, my name is Desirae nice meeting you," she said extending her hand.

"As I was saying, No Grease Hair Salon is behind you, only it is on the other side of the street."

"Well, I guess that explains why I didn't notice it huh?"

"Silly me," she said rubbing her protruding belly.

"What is it going to be?" Desirae asked her.

"Huh?"

"Will it be a boy or a girl?" she asked again.

"Oh.... It's a boy."

"Do you have a name yet?"

"Oh yes.... his name will be Quentel," she said as she turned and wobbled back down the street towards the Salon.

Desirae stood motionless as she watched the woman walk away. Her mind instantly turning to Q whose government name was Quentel.

Desirae had thought long and hard before agreeing to help the feds against Q. She knew the consequences of becoming a government informant and had witnessed the retaliation of the accused first hand. But what was she to do, give up a career that she'd worked night after night sliding up and down poles, sometimes grinding on top of dicks for hours with sweaty hands clawing at her already skimpy clothes. No.... instead she chose with the encouragement of the F.B.I. to use someone as a sacrificial lamb. Someone who'd never raised his voice in her presence unless they were engaged in a session of heated rhythmical sex.

Minutes later Desirae entered her small but modest office,

"Coffee?" her secretary asked.

"No thanks Jill.... Do I have any early appointments?"

"No."

"Good.... I'll be leaving early today, I'm beat and my feet are killing me."

"No problem Miss Ellis, I will schedule all appointments for next week."