Money & Love Don't Mix (8 page)

              “Ey, amigo! You know what that is my homeboy over there doing don’t you!?” he asked pointing over at the guy sharpening the machete, without giving them a chance to reply he said, “He’s preparing to feed you motherfuckers to our Alligators in the back yard limb by limb if you bitches don’t tell us who da’ fuck sent you to rob us!”

              The scare tactic they were using was an attempt to frighten Smoke and Dre so bad that they’d tell them everything they wanted to hear about whoever it was that sent them to rob them. He wanted to use both of them by setting them up and killing all of them in the end, but with Smoke and Dre not saying anything it was gonna be harder that he thought.

Chapter 9

Ms. Jones started becoming more and more agitated everyday that passed from the doctor initially telling her she couldn’t see her son, plus the phone call she received from Mr. Johnson at Kroger telling her to inform Trouble that he had been hired didn’t make her feel any better. It made her feel worse. So she decided to drive down to Grady and demand to see him. When she arrived, she noticed the same receptionist at the front desk from the first attempt she made to see him. The receptionist was on the phone, but the moment the woman looked up and recognized Ms. Jones she smiled, as she nodded her head in the direction of the elevator. Ms. Jones smiled in return and kept walking until she made it to the elevator.

              Five minutes later she made it to his room and told the officer standing closest to her “Hey go check with them Doctors and see if I can see my son, before I start raising hell acting real ghetto in—”

              “Aye, Aye, Aye! Ma’am we’re not having all that up in here! Now, another outburst like that I’m gonna have to escort you out of here! This a hospital, so if you would please control yourself and I’ll go get the doctor.”

              She tried to wait as patiently as she could while he went to get the doctor, but it was almost impossible. Mainly because she felt like everything that happened, was the outcome of her having too much pressure on him to get a job the day she knocked the controller out his hand and made him get off his ass and go look for one. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since, so until she got the chance to see him and address the situation it continued to fuck with her more and more. Despite the fact that he remained in a coma and was in trouble with the law, again, she still wanted to talk to her beloved son, because she believed if she did he’d hear her.

              Oce the doctor approached Ms. Jones, he s
h
ook her hand saying, “Hey how you doing ma’am…Last night after we ran a few more test, we thought it’ll be alright if he receive visits. Everythi—”

              Before he could finish she hurried into the room. She walked over to him and grabbed his hand and began to cry as she watched him lay there helpless.

              “Son, I’m so sorry I treated you the way I did when I told you to get out and go find you somewhere to work. But I was only trying to keep motivated and on the right path…You know it may seem like you’re going through a lot these days, or feeling defeated, wondering how you’re going to cope with all of this but I know somehow you’ll make your way through it. Even if you find that hard to believe right now just remember I know you, I know your strength and determination son. So I know that you are able to pull through this. And I’ll be here with an open mind for you to lean on…no matter what happens son, I’m here to remind you, you’re gonna be okay!” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him. “Fight for your life son…Fight! Trust me everything is gonna be alright!” she whispered wiping her tears away, “ Lord please, give my baby the strength!”

              She grabbed both of his hands, squeezing them tightly and moments later she felt him squeezing her hand back, completely shocked when she saw his eyes come open because witnessing him snap out of his coma had seemed so surreal to her. But before she has a chance to say anything the doctor, along with two nurses came storming into the room, followed by the two officers that stood outside his room. She stood there not able to do anything but shake her head as she thought to herself,
here we go with this shit again!
As the officers quickly uncuffed him from the bed and cuffed both hands together telling him.

              “Daunté Jones, you’re under arrest for armed robbery, felony eluding the police, grand theft auto, aggravated assault, possession of a firearm by a convicted felon, possession of cocaine and a hundred and fifty thousand in cash…You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney to represent you. If you cannot afford an attorney, the court with appoint one to you.”

              After hearing the long list of charges Ms Jone fell to her knees, heart broken and started realizing he was about to leave her all by herself, again.

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              Three hour later the doctors cleared Trouble to leave the hospital, and thirty minutes afterward he arrived at Clayton County’s interrogation building with the two officers. They escorted him upstairs and placed him in a room to be interrogated. Shortly after, the door came open and a 6’4 black guy dressed in a black suit and tie drinking a cup of coffee came walking in. He took a seat at the table directly in front of Trouble. He looked at Trouble with a mean mug the whole time in an attempt to intimidate him. They both remained speechless until he fired up a cigarette, blew out the smoke in Trouble’s face and told him.

              “Listen up Daunté, I’m Detective Sims, and I have a long list of charges on you that I know you committed with a group of friends but I’m willing to work a deal with you…If you tell me their names, where to find them, and how everything went down the day you got into that high-speed chase, I can see to it that your charges get thrown out.” he paused to hit his cigarette again, and take a sip of his coffee and said.

              “But I need to know step-by-step how everything went down, so I can help you!”

              “Fuck I look like tellin’ on a muhfucka first of all, and second, you ain’t gone help me wit shit. I ain’t no fuckin’ snitch…matter fact gone and take me over to da’ jail.” Trouble demanded, but Detective Sims wasn’t trying to hear him. He took on last drag of his cigarette, then put it out as he blew smoke in Trouble’s face again telling him.

              “Naw…I’m not gonna let you throw your life away like that, now I’ma give you awhile to think about everything you have to lose by trying to look out for some niggaz that don’t give a shit about you.” Detective Sims got up from the table and was on his way out the door, then turned around and said, “Think about what you doing Daunté, think about who you're hurting…In case you didn’t know that mother of yours, she loves you dearly! She came to the hospital every chance she got to see yo’ black ass, and made sure you were okay. Now, imagine what kinda pain you’ll be putting her through. Mama’sonly son gone—again! But this time you might not be making it back!” He then shut the door, leaving Trouble all by his lonesome.

              When Detective Sims left the room, Trouble began to think about Maniac, Smoke and Dre’s whereabouts. He knew they didn’t get arrested cause the Detective was pressuring him to snitch on them. Then he thought to himself,
Dem niggaz had to get away wit da’ shit we got dem migos fo.
But the thought exited his mind as fast as it entered when he reflected back on all the charges the officer told him he was charged with the moment he came out of the coma.

              “Mann, what da fuck!” he yelled out as he slammed his hand on the table thinking,
Why da’ fuck I ain’t keep tryna find me a job I started to.
He then put his head down on the table as Detective Sims words kept playing over and over in his head—
“Mama’s only son gone—again! But this time you might not be making it back! Now Imagine what kinda pain you’ll be putting her through.”
As he remained at the table with his head down and his mind racing a hundred miles an hour, Detective Sims who was outside the door the whole time watching him and his body language through the door’s tinted window came back in the room. Feeling as if Trouble was in a vulnerable enough state of mind or him to trick him into telling him all he needed to know about what happened. He patted Trouble on his back telling him.

              “It’s gone be alright Daunté, I promise!” before taking his seat saying, “But you gotta let me know what’s going on so we can get this mess worked out, and you can get on home to that woman who loves you.”

              Trouble raised his head from the table with a mean mug from not taking kindly to the watered down game Detective Sims tried to run on him, saying.

              “Da hell I look like, Frank Lucas nigga?! I ain’t no fuckin’ snitch…Shit, you wanna know wat happened call crime stoppers or some shit, but you can take me on to intake I ain’t got shit fo’ ya’.”

              Detective Simms was pissed with the fact that Trouble wouldn’t break and snitch on his friends as he was hoping he would to make his job a lot easier, because of that he snatched him out his seat aggressively and rushed him out of interrogation room to escort him to jail.

$ $ $ $ $ $ $ $

              “Yo wats going on wit you Slick? You been kinda quiet da’ past few days you a’ight my nigga?” Slick’s roommate curiously inquired.

              “Hell naw, I ain’t a’ight, I been tryna call my partna Maniac since last week but his phone keep going straight to voicemail!” He angrily stressed to his roommate, after he hung the wall phone up viciously, “Then I just tried to call my other partna Smoke four times and his shit just keep ringing and ringing…Sum ain’t right my nigga!”

              “Sum ain’t right like what?” his roommate asked.

              “Hold on right quick,” Slick stated before going to get his mail from the officer after hearing her call his name for mail call. He watched Slick open the envelope, take out a paper and begin reading as he slowly made his was back over to him. Slick was devastated from reading, and finding out he was about to be going to pre-trial on his case in the next three days. He took a seat next to his roommate, and went into a daze wondering what was going to happen in court.

              “Yo, you good my nigga?!” he curiously wanted to know after catching glimpse of Slicks reaction to his mail.

              “Hell naw I ain’t good my nigga, I already to you dat.” He bitterly replied, before shaking his head and taking a deep breath, “I was worried bout my partnaz and if dey was a’ight or not at first, but now I gotta figure out what I’mma do when these folks take me to court in three days.”

              “Oh, dat’s w
a
t dat was, wat dey talkin’ bout my nigga?” Slick shook his head again and said. “Dey having my pre-trail Friday, dat’s three days from now…Dat’s da main reason I been walking round here lookin’ crazy da past few days, cause my homies ‘posed to came and bonded me out. But now I can’t get in touch wit em’ all of a sudden.”

              “Damn you gotta have some helluva boys if dey ready to pay a hundred some thousand cash bond fo’ you!” He commented being sarcastic as he patted Slick on the back saying, “My nigga I hate to say it, but you already know how dis shit go, nigga’s a tell you anythang on da phone to make dat shit sound good,when dey know damn well dey can’t produce shit…Shit, I’m willing to bet you dats why ain’t none of em’ picking up da phone!”

              Slick sat and meditated, letting what his roommate said go in one ear and out the other as he left and headed to rec call. He didn’t entertain his negative comments or thoughts since he never discussed his business with him about how they all planned on getting him out, so he just let it be.

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              “Hey…Hey
P
unta! Get up holmes!” The Hispanics demanded as he poured the majority of his bottled water in Dre’s face to wake him up, and the rest in Smoke’s. But neither of them budged, in fact their bodies were so exhausted and weak from being tied up in the dark and cold basement all alone with nothing to eat or drink in the past three days that the splash of water he threw didn’t awake them.

              After kicking Dre in the gut a few times and  Smoke  in the groin they both woke up to a rude awakening as the Hispanic that Maniac shot in the back stood hovering over them with his machete, while two of his goons stood behind him. One with a uzi aimed at Smoke and the other with a carbon-15 on Dre. The three of them laughed for a moment as they observed Smoke and Dre’s body shake ad shiver with fear they became fully awake. The guy standing before them bent down saying, “You motherfuckers ready to tell me who da’ fuck sent y’all!” as he ripped the duct tape from their mouths for them to respond. But nevertheless they both were feeling as it they had finally met their fate so neither said a word.

              “Oh, you motherfuckers gonna play pussy and not say anything holmes?! When ya’ll bitches robbed me you wouldn’t stop talking, now that the shoe is on the the other foot ya’ll acting like pussies!” he furiously stated as he became angrier and angrier that they wouldn’t say anything, and noticing the ways he was trying to terrify them weren’t working. So he became a lot more aggressive figuring if he took a different approach, making a lil’ blood  shed they’d get their mind right. So with both hands he raised the machete over his head, getting ready to take aim at Dre’s neck but suddenly Future’s song ‘Magic’ started playing as Smoke’s ringtone. He then paused as he and his two goons patted them both down to see which one of them the music was coming from. They stopped once the found it in Smoke’s right pocket and snatched it out displaying a devious expression as he glanced at it, thinking he was about to finally get to the bottom of everything but the moment he answered hearing “You have a collect call from—” he hung up up without giving the recording a chance to finish. And before he slung the phone across the room, it rung again. He then answered and listened as the voice on the other end told him “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—” This time he accepted and snapped his fingers twice at his goons signaling them to get on point as he quickly told them.