The California Saga (26 page)

 

 

I was at my parents crib in Columbia when I got the word. I kept repeating the words of Detective Tarver in my head,
“We finally got him!”
That was the greatest news I could have ever heard.

Now that I knew Calico was locked up, I could finally move freely. I still wasn't trying to testify against him, but I'd told the detectives any information I could find out about Jewel and her affiliation with TMF. I figured this was my only opportunity to finally get Jewel out the picture for good. And once she was gone, I would move in on her throne, steal her king, and rule her empire. Finally, I would be the queen that I was destined to be.

I'd planned to only give them information that pointed toward Jewel. Hell, as far as I knew, she was the mastermind behind her and Touch's little fortune anyway. She was the one with the TMF connect. Because TMF was one of the biggest organized drug rings in the United States, I knew that saying those words to the detective would be like music to his ears.

I was still on some get-money shit. I had gained so much trust from Diablo, I'd gone from delivering packages to receiving them at my address for him. I was number one on the team. He trusted me more than he did some of his close boys, which worked in my favor. The more jobs I got, the more money I made.

I had an incoming call from Diablo.

“Hello?”

“Yo, when my daughter gets dropped off at your crib, I need you to take her to VA. Can you do that for me?” Diablo spoke in code. He wanted me to take the package I received at my house to Virginia.

I excitedly agreed. “No problem.”

“Cool. Come see me when she arrives.”

The timing couldn't have been better. An all-expenses paid trip to VA was exactly what the doctor ordered. This gave me the opportunity to get at Touch.

I packed my bags as I waited for the package to arrive. By the time I was finished packing, I'd received the delivery. I wasted no time packing it up and getting on the road. I ran by the club and hollered at Diablo then hit the interstate.

 

 

In eight hours flat I was in VA. I grabbed some food and got checked into my hotel and relaxed a little. I thought about calling Touch, but I wasn't sure how I could go about it. I mean, I did bust his girl in the head with a champagne bottle. I hoped he could look past that and focus more on that one night of perfect lovemaking we had shared.

It took a moment, but I finally got up enough courage to scroll through my phone to give him a call.

“Hello,” Touch answered the phone in a fake female voice.

“Touch, stop disguising your voice.”

He continued in his fake voice. “Hello. Who is this?”

“It's Sasha, fool.”

“What the fuck you want?”

“Damn! It's like that? Why so much aggression?”

“What the fuck you want, Sasha?”

“Well, I'm in the area, and I was wondering if I could come check you. But before you answer, I need you to think about the last time you were in this phat pussy.” I paused a minute. “Okay, now that you've had time to think about it, what's up?”

“Bitch, I'm in some phat pussy right now. And I wouldn't fuck your conniving ass with an AIDS-infected dick. Lose my number, bitch!” Touch followed his statement with a click in my ear.

That was the final straw. Touch had dissed me for the last fucking time. I didn't take rejection well. He was definitely going to feel my wrath. If he didn't know, he was about to learn that payback's a bitch. His name had officially been added to the get-back list. I was about to make his life a living hell and benefit from it all at the same time.

I called up Diablo.

“What up?”

“Oh my God, Diablo,” I said, forcing out the words between fake cries.

“What's wrong?” Diablo yelled in a panic.

I purposely didn't answer. I just continued to cry uncontrollably, to add more drama to my act.

“Sasha!” Diablo yelled. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Touch robbed me,” I lied. “He beat me up and robbed me.”

“What the fuck you doing with that nigga?”

“I invited him over to my room to kick it. Once he got here and realized I had the package here, he straight robbed me.”

“What? This nigga can't know that's my shit. Ain't no way he would fuck with my shit like that. Let me give that nigga a call.”

“I'll call him on three-way. He probably won't answer your call, since he don't know the number.”

I dialed Touch's phone.

Touch yelled into the phone as soon as he picked up, “Bitch, didn't I say lose my number?”

“Yo, nigga, this Diablo.”

“Diablo? What the fuck you doing with that broad? What type of games y'all playing?” Touch asked, confused.

“Nah. The question is, what type of games you playing? What the fuck you doing with my shit?”

“Fuck you talking 'bout, man?”

“Sasha told me you robbed her. That's my shit, Touch.”

“Man, you believe that lying-ass bitch if you want to. Fuck her! And as a matter of fact, fuck you too for calling me with that bullshit. I'm rich, nigga. I don't need your little-ass shit.” Touch disconnected the call.

“Don't worry about shit,” Diablo said to me. “I'll handle this shit with him. You all right though?”

“I'm banged up a little, but I'll be okay.”

I was happy as hell that Diablo had played right into my little plan. I must say, Touch was right about one thing—I was very conniving and believable.

“Cool. Call me if you need anything.”

 

 

“Y
ou have reached the voice mail box of—”
I hung up before the recording could finish. Not hearing Touch's voice and wondering what the fuck he was doing and where the hell he was at was driving me crazy. It had been an entire day since our argument, and I hadn't heard from him. I had called his phone nonstop for a whole hour straight, and all I got was straight voice mail. It had gotten to the point that I was starting to worry. I even called his mother, and she hadn't heard from him.

I didn't know what to think. I wondered if he was with another bitch. It was insulting to me, to keep being sent directly to his voice mail. I was starting to feel as if he didn't give a fuck about me or my feelings.
Was he just ignoring me because of the argument, or had he run into one of Calico's boys and was hurt or, even worse, dead?
My brain was racing.

I'd spent the past day sitting in the house, depressed and crying. I hadn't eaten anything or even bothered to wash my ass or brush my teeth. I picked up the phone to call Misty because she'd called several times earlier in the day and I didn't even bother to answer. I just wasn't in the mood for conversation.

“Hey, girl,” I said, trying to sound a little upbeat.

“Jewel?” Misty asked, not even recognizing my voice.

“Yeah, it's me. What's up?”

“What's wrong, momma?”

“Girl, I'm down in the dumps. Sad as hell.”

“Awwww. What's wrong, boo?” Misty asked, sounding concerned.

I explained to her the drama I had with Touch from beginning to end.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'm coming over. Get up and get yourself together. We're gonna go out and have some dinner and drinks. Then we're gonna strategize on how to get your boo back.”

“Okay. I'm getting up now. Give me about an hour.”

“Cool. See you then.”

I got off the phone with Misty then drug myself out of bed. I ran myself a hot bath, turned on Keyshia Cole's CD,
A
Different Me, and turned on the jets in the tub and soaked.

Thirty minutes later I was clean as a whistle and actually felt a little revived. I threw on some clothes, pulled my hair into a messy ponytail, and straightened up the house a little bit as I waited for Misty.

Misty had arrived right on time. She gave me a hug as soon as I opened the door. “Hey, hon. You ready?”

I wanted to just cry in her arms, but I took a deep breath, sucked it up, and put on a smile. “Yeah, I'm ready.”

Misty tried to share words of inspiration as we headed to her truck. “This isn't a pity party,” she said. “We're preparing for a victory. You're gonna get your boo back.”

We ended up at a bar not far from my house called Pandemonium, which was the perfect atmosphere. We walked in and headed straight to the bar. Misty ordered our drinks as I got comfortable. Still a little shook from the New Year's incident, I skimmed the restaurant, just to get a feel of my surroundings.

“Oh my God!”

“What is it?” Misty asked, startled.

I stood up from my barstool and walked away immediately, totally ignoring her. It was like I was in a zone and no one or anything around existed as I headed toward the table in front of me.

“Well, I'm glad to know you're okay,” I said in my most sarcastic tone, my heart racing. This moment, and what I would do and say, had crossed my mind many times, but now that I was faced with it, I didn't know if I was ready for it.

Touch didn't respond. He just looked up at me, disgust on his face.

“Hello? I'm talking to you. I was worried sick calling all over the place for you. I even called your mother.”

“I ain't have shit to say to you,” Touch said, looking down at his plate.

“You didn't have shit to say? I texted your ass nearly twenty times today. The least you could have done was let me know you were okay. Is that too much to fucking ask for, Touch?”

“I ain't have shit to say to you then, and I still don't have shit to say to you right now.”

“What?” I wondered if this nigga had lost his fucking mind. Feeling disrespected, I began to get loud. “What you mean, you ain't got shit to say to me, Touch? After all the shit we've been through, you really don't have shit to say to me?”

The chick that sat beside Touch finally chimed in full of attitude. “Excuse me,” she said. “I don't know if you noticed, but we're trying to have dinner here.”

“Excuse me? No, excuse
you
,” I responded, totally thrown off by this chick's comment. “I noticed, but I just don't give a fuck. Who the fuck are you anyway? I don't know if you noticed, but I'm wearing a ring. I'm trying to have a conversation with my fiancé. Let me repeat that—
fiancé
,” I spat back, feeling like I was about to explode.

“Fiancé? Well, he wasn't your fiancé when he was all up in me last night.” The chick then directed her attention toward Touch. “I see nothing has changed with you, Touch.”

Dazed, I stood motionless as the bitch's words registered in my head. This whole ordeal was hitting me like a fucking freight train, head-on and with no time to run for cover. I had to wonder how we went from getting married one day to my man fucking another chick the next day. The realization sank in that my world was crumbling before my eyes.

It wasn't until I heard the chick say, “Fuck this! I'm out,” that I snapped back to the moment.

“Yeah, bitch, that's the best thing for you. Be out.”

The chick stopped dead in her tracks, turned around, and staring me in the face. “Or what?”

She was so close, I could feel the heat from her breath. For a moment I thought about getting out the pepper spray I carried in my handbag, but before I could do anything, I felt someone come between the chick and me.

“Or this!” Misty tossed her drink all up in the chick's face.

“We'll cross paths again,” the skinny, shapeless chick with weave to her ass said, knowing she was no match for Misty and me.

I wondered how we hadn't crossed paths before. I knew Touch had a steady girlfriend before me, but the only girl I'd actually seen from his past was his baby mother. If I had to guess, this bitch probably was his ex.

“What was that about?” Misty asked.

“Nothing at all. The bitch just got a little heated because I told her to step.”

“Oh, okay. I was watching from the bar the entire time. Everything looked cool, so I didn't intervene, but when I saw that bitch come in your face, I rushed over. I would have given her a beatdown if necessary.”

We both laughed.

I directed my attention back toward Touch, who was pulling out money from his wallet to pay for his meal.

“Oh, so you just gonna leave, Touch? We not gonna talk about this? You don't feel like you owe me an explanation or nothing?”

“I don't owe you shit. I just want to be by myself right now. I need some space. I'll be coming over to the house to get my things.” Touch dropped a hundred dollars on the table then walked away, leaving me hanging.

 

 

I opened my eyes and looked around at the bricks and bars surrounding me. “I can't believe this shit.” I was hoping this whole shit was a nightmare, but come to find out, I wasn't dreaming at all. My dick ached, my stomach was growling, and I needed a fucking spliff. I hopped off my bunk and headed to the phone. I hit up one of my jump-off bitches from Norfolk.

She accepted the collect call right away. “What's up, baby?”

“Fucked up, shortie. Thanks for taking the call. You know I got you.”

“You know I got your back, boo.”

“Look, I need you to make a call for me on three-way.” “Not a problem.”

I then called out Poppo's number to her.

Poppo answered right away, “Yo.”

“What up, nigga?”

“Calico. What the fuck is good, man? I heard you got snatched, nigga.”

“Man, it's a long story. I'll fill you in on that shit later. Right now I need you to call my people back home and let them know what's up, so they can get shit lined up to get me out this bitch. Then I need you to handle things with your boy in A-town for me. You gonna have to hold down the fort until I get this shit straight. You feel me?”

“Nuff said, nigga. Say no more. You know I got you. I'ma jump on shit right now. Gone.” Poppo hung up the phone.

A few minutes later, the recording came on, warning us we had one minute left on the phone, so we wrapped things up and ended the call.

I returned to my bunk and tried to map something out. I knew I needed to get in touch with my moms and baby mother. They were the only ones I could really depend on to handle my money and make sure the lawyer was paid.

I'd learned my lesson about letting jump-off bitches hold money. That situation I had in the past when I was fucking with Jewel had taught me well. I had got locked up and had her collect my money. When it came time for her to pay my lawyer, no money was to be found. I had to straight threaten the bitch to get my shit back.

But, to be honest, this time it was that nigga Poppo I was a little worried about. I swear, lately that nigga had been on some bullshit. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was just something about him that I just wasn't feeling.

After a few days had passed, I went for my first bond hearing, and was denied. I kinda expected that shit though. These muthafuckers wasn't trying to let a nigga out. Hell, I was a major fucking flight risk. My primary residence was “across the fucking U.S.” Plus, I had a number of aliases. There was no way these niggas was gonna take a chance with me.

Even with all those odds against me, Natalia, my lawyer, was still talking some good shit. She was confident that I would eventually get a bond, and was telling me it may take more than a couple of tries. One thing about her though, her word was bond. She didn't sell a nigga dreams. She was always on her shit, and never let a nigga down.

It was visiting day, and cats were getting fresh cuts and edge-ups and shit, trying to look fresh for their chicks. I wasn't fucking with none of that shit though. For one, I couldn't see myself sitting between another nigga's legs while he braided my fucking hair. Next thing I know, I ain't getting no fucking visit.

I hopped on my bunk, grabbed my dick and rubbed on it until I fell asleep.

“Burroughs!” the CO called out my last name, waking me.

“Yo!” I yelled back.

“Visit.”

Damn! Who the fuck is that?
I wondered who the hell had come down to check a nigga. I hadn't even bothered telling no one my visiting day.

I followed the CO to the visiting room. I was surprised to see my mother and baby mother, Corrin, when I walked out. I wondered what the fuck they were doing there and how the hell they knew my visiting day. A nigga was actually glad to see a familiar face. I was grinning from ear to ear as I sat on the steel stool across from them.

“What y'all doing here?”

“What you mean? There is no way I was gonna leave my baby alone in jail all the way across the country.”

“Ma, y'all ain't have to come out here.”

“Well, we wanted to make sure everything was squared away,” Corrin chimed in. “We going to see Natalia and straighten her out tomorrow.”

“Yeah, go 'head and pay her. That's the most important thing. Everything else can wait. You talked to Poppo?”

“Nope. That's one reason I wanted to come here. I don't know what's up with your boy. Baby, I know you ain't gonna wanna hear this, but that nigga made a pass at me.”

“What the fuck you say? Corrin, don't fuck with me.” I felt immediate anger come over me.

“When he came to the house to collect the things to send down South, he kept making little comments about how my ass was so phat and what he'll do to me. And some shit about you ain't gon' be around to satisfy me, so I may as well give it up to him. He was talking so crazy, I had to ask this nigga if he was drunk or on that shit. Then the next thing I know, he grabs my ass. I was sure he'd lost his fucking mind. I had to smack some sense back into his ass.

“After that I gave him the things and rushed him out of the house. I haven't heard from him since. I even called him a couple of times and left messages about the paper, but he ain't called back. He acting like he dodging niggas or something. Then I hear niggas on the streets saying Poppo talking like you ain't never getting out, and he's the new boss. This nigga can't be trusted, baby.”

“What?” It was almost like I could literally feel my blood boiling inside as I listened to the words Corrin spoke.

It felt as though my back was up against the wall. I was ready to kill a nigga, but I knew beating another nigga's ass in jail to blow off steam wasn't going to do nothing but add more charges to my rap sheet. One of the worst feelings in the world was knowing a bitch-ass nigga was tripping on the streets and it ain't shit you can do about it.

After my visit with my moms and baby mother, I wondered how the fuck I was going to make it through.

Five days had passed, which felt more like months, and the two special ladies in my life had already paid my lawyer in full. As usual, she was on her grind. I knew the time would soon arrive when I would be released from Virginia Beach hell, AKA Virginia Beach jail. And I knew when I was released I'd be on an unstoppable mission to get my fucking money. The first stop on the road would be a visit to check Poppo. I wondered if he was going to like having a gun in his damn mouth, or a knife clinging to his throat.