Money & Love Don't Mix (4 page)

“Man, fuck them bitches. I heard enough ‘bout they asses for one day. Now I’m tryna figure how the fuck this hundred thousand dollar bond gonna get paid before I get indicted and go to court. If I don’t get a paid attorney to file for a bond reduction, they’re gonna try to give me some time when I go back.”

Chapter 4

A little after 7:00 am Trouble’s mom came into his room and woke him up.

“Get yourself together, take a shower, freshen up and find something that’s presentable to put on so we can go up there and check on your job application. You wanna always make a good impression, son.”

‘A’ight, I’m getting’ up now,” he said as she headed back out of his room. “Aye, ma?” he yelled.

“What?” she replied.

“Thanks for being so determined to help me find a job.”

“No problem, but you're my son, my only son. If I don’t help you, who will?”

“You right, I can’t argue with that,” he replied.

“Exactly, now get yourself together so we can get up outta here.”

When they arrived at the UPS Human Resources Department the woman at the front desk smiled at them.

“Welcome to United Parcel Service, how may I help you?”

“Uh, I’m here to see if my application been received.”

“Okay, I can help you with that, what’s your name, sir?”

“Daunté Jones.”

“Alright, Mr. Jones, give me one second to look up your name and I’ll be able to let you know something.” When she entered his name into the computer she read the screen for a moment before getting out of her seat saying, “Would you hold on for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay ma’am!” he replied smiling at his mother as the woman headed to the back.

“See, I told you, son. Dedication  and ambition you gotta show ‘em you wanna work.”

“I see. If I knew getting’ a job was this easy I probably woulda never went to prison.”

They both laughed and before they knew it, the woman returned to her desk.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but we don’t hire ex-felons that have been convicted of one of these particular crimes.”

She handed him a sheet of paper that said, ‘Effective immediately, applicant seeking employment that has been convicted of any Serious Violent Felonies such as, Murder, Aggravated Child Molestation, Rape, Aggravated Sexual Battery, and Armed Robbery, will not be eligible for employment.”

“Thanks ma’am,” he told the woman as soon as he finished reading.

“I’m so sorry; I Wish there was something I could do to help...” she sadly replied as she observed him exiting the building.

When they got back in the car his mother started preaching.

“Son, don’t let it get to you, I heard on the radio this morning Macy’s warehouse accepting applications, so let’s swing by there before we go home. You just gotta keep searching son, the worst thing you can be without now is hope. Hell, you’re already doing better than your friends by even trying. I bet you they never even touched a job application since they been out here.”

“I feel ya’, ma, I’m really just trippin’ off this paper that lady gave me.”

“What did it say? You never said anything, you just left, so I gave you a minute to get yourself together.”

“Basically, all its saying is they don’t hire anybody that’s been convicted of one of the seven deadly sins and by armed robbery being one of them, it made me ineligible. I hate that I caught that charge cause that’s gone be the main reason any job won’t hire me.”

“Wow, that’s deep, I always thought a felony was a felony,” she replied as she pulled into the parking lot of Macy’s warehouse.

They made their way inside, and he filled out the application, turned it back in and the front desk personnel said, “Check back with us Friday, and be prepared to stay for orientation.”

“Okay ma’am,” he replied smiling from ear to ear on his way out the door.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

              The moment Slick made his entrance into the visitation booth and noticed Maniac was the only one there to see him, he quickly grabbed the receiver and sat down.

              “What’s up with ya’, playboy, where everybody else at?”

              Maniac was straightforward with him since his main purpose in coming to visit his solo was because he felt like if he let him know what’s been going on with Smoke and Dre. Maybe he’d talk them into hittin’ the lick on the migos with him; he was one of the few people that they listened to, so he gave him a bitter response.

              “I don’t know where them niggas at, cuzzo, fuck them niggas!”

              “Damn, it’s like that, what y’all boys got going on now?”

              “I’m just tired of them niggas acting scary, cuz. I have been watching these two migos that stay in the neighborhood across from me and I damn near got their schedule down packed. They come in with two nice sized duffel bags every time they come, shit you know me and what kinda shit I’m on, but the act like they won’t bout that life.”

              “Hold on, those two migos you talking ‘bout, do they drive an Altima?”

              “Yeah why?”

              “Yo, playboy, I know them. They’re part of the cartel and they been gettin’ money in Atlanta for years.”

              “Damn! How the fuck am I just noticing them?”

              “Probably cause they don’t be at that spot too tough. Really that ain’t shit but one of their stash spots.”

              “How much money you think in there, cuzzo?”

              “Shit, it’s really hard to say, I don’t know but if I had to guess, I’d say at least six figures. Now, look them muthafuckers some goons, renegades so don’t come at them unless you come correct.”

              “I’m not, that’s why I need you to get at Dre and Smoke. Together the three of us can get in, get whatever the fuck they got, and get the fuck on, ya’ feel me?” 

              “Yeah, I feel ya’, playboy. I’ma call and get at them niggas ASAP, but you’re gonna have to take a hundred racks and get somebody to come bond be out, though.”

              “Come on, cuzzo, what’s understood ain’t gotta be explained.”

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

              Early Friday morning, Trouble’s mom had to work a little overtime so she was unable to take him back to Macy’s warehouse for orientation. So, therefore, he got out of bed, did his normal routine of 500 pushups and crunches before showering. As soon as he finished, he got dressed and headed to the bus stop. While standing at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to come, he couldn’t help but notice how bad his hood had changed. When he left the street, it was calm, laid back and low-key environment, but it had transformed into a well-known drug area.
Damn, I pray I ain’t gotta go back to sellin’ dope out here like everybody else…If Slick wasn’t locked up, my back wouldn’t be against the wall. Damn, my nigga, locked up.

              When he arrived at Macy’s warehouse and stepped inside, the front desk personnel woman greeted him and asked how she could assist him.

              “Umm, ma’am, I filled out an application the other day, and I was told to come back Friday for orientation--”

              “Okay, what’s your name, please?”

              “Daunté Jones.”

              “Okay, have a seat and someone will be to see you shortly.”

              “Alright. Thanks ma’am.”

              “You’re welcome.”

              He waited patiently in the lobby with several others who applied and thirty minutes later he heard a deep voice shout out his name.

              “Yes sir! Here I am.” He said, instantly getting up.

              “Okay, follow me.” The man stated, escorting Trouble to his office.

              When they made it to his office, he took a seat at his desk and began typing on his computer. Moments later he paused, looked at the screen, and then spoke to Trouble.

              “If hired, when will you be ready to start?”

              “I can start immediately, sir…Now, if I can.” They both laughed at his reply.

              “Good answer. Well do you have transportation?”

              “Yes sir?”

              “Okay good…Oh, and one more thing I need to know before you go to orientation. Have you ever been convicted of a felony, if so, what were you charged with?”

              He contemplated a second, saying to himself,
Ain’t no way they did a background check that fast, I put the app in three days ago,
and he replied, “No sir!”

              “Well, it says here you were convicted of armed robbery on June 5, 2003…I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but at the moment we’re only looking to hire individuals with clean backgrounds. If you get this removed--,” before the guy could finish speaking, Trouble stormed out of his office.

              On his way to the bus stop, he said to himself,
I’m startin’ to get fed up with tryna find a job, that shit ain’t me no way and living from check to check, struggling, when all the big time dope boys pushing hundred thousand dollar cars, living life stress free.

              When the bus arrived, he got on continuing to think,
Damn, if I do go back to sellin’ dope like everybody else, I’ma have to start from the bottom with nicks and dimes like we did in the 90s, that shit ain’t me…I should get up with my niggas…but ain’t no tellin’ what them niggas go goin’ on, probably tryna scheme on somebody right now! I can’t go out like that…why in the fuck the only nigga in my circle getting’ some real money had to get snatched up? Now shit seems like it’s set up for me to fail out here.
The bus came to a stop at a red light, a few passengers got off, as he looked around peeping the scenery he spotted a Kroger grocery store with a ‘Now Hiring’ sign and said to himself;
shit, it won’t hurt!
As he hurried and exited before the light turned green.

              Once inside, he applied for the overnight stock position stocking shelves, cashier, and bagging groceries. As he waited at the bus stop, he said to himself,
fuck all that getting dressed up, coming up here to check on my application shit. If they wanna hire me, they can get the number off the app and call me.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

              Slick and his girl were riding down Old National Highway in his 2014 Rolls Royce Phantom Ghost with the top down on their way to Lennox mall to do a lil’ mid-day shopping when he passed her the bottle of peach Ciroc they been sippin’ on. She turned up the volume as her favorite song ‘Drunk in Love’ by Beyoncé came on the radio. She sung the verse, placing her hand on his leg and slowed eased in on up to his belt buckle.

              “What the hell you got goin’ on?” he asked, being sarcastic, but already knew what was about to go down. Turning up to her favorit
e
song, she unbuckle his belt, unbuttoned his pants and let down his zipper. He then leaned towards him, licked him in the ear, before going down, kissing and licking all around the tip of his dick prior to sticking it in her mouth. His body shook from the feeling of her warm mouth wrap around him. He grabbed the back of her head

              “Slick! Slick!!” his roommate yelled standing over him shaking the bed attempting to wake him up. “What? What, my nigga, damn?!”

              “Time to eat breakfast, homie,” his roommate said, but he continue laying there as his roommate left the room saying to himself out loud, “Somehow, someway I’ve gotta get the fuck up outta here!”

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

              It was the first of the month and about 80% of the people who smoked were guaranteed to get a check of some type. So all the local dope boys got up at the crack of dawn to hit the block, including Smoke and Dre. The moment they saw the two Hispanic guys turn into the complex driving the Altima, and turn again at the first intersection that they came to, Smoke said,

“Maniac must gotta attitude; we ain’t heard from that nigga in a few days, dawg.”

“He mad we won’t rob those migos with him, but he keep telling us they’re a sweet lick, if they’re that sweet, he shoulda been laid they’re asses down the first day he saw them. Ya’ feel me, homie?” said Dre and they both laughed as Smoke replied.

“Come on, homie, you know I feel ya. I just wish--,” and then he was interrupted when his phone began to ring from a number he didn’t recognize. “This gotta be money!” He answered and heard an automated voice.

“Hello. You have a collect call from
Sean Bradley,
an inmate at the Clayton County jail. To accept this call press one, to reject this call press--,” instantly, he pressed one and they were connected. Slick didn’t waste a second snapping on Smoke.

“What the hell you and Dre broke ass got goin’ on?”

“We on the block tryna get it up; it’s the first of the month…and who the fuck you calling broke, dawg?” Smoke replied angrily as Slick’s statement got to him.

“Both of y’all niggas, as a matter of fact, put me on speakerphone so he can hear this too.” Smoke put the phone on speaker and he continued. “Like I said, both of y’all niggas broke and broke minded. Y’all muthafuckers rather hit the block with nicks and dimes instead of tryna get some real money. I bet if both of y’all put y’all money together that shit won’t add up to thousand dollars, and y’all stay talkin’ about-”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” Dre uttered rudely butting in on Slick. “Fuck you got an attitude with us fo’?”