The California Saga (46 page)

 

 

After that incident with Lisa, I made a vow to be extra careful about where I stick my dick. Lisa had me shook. The whole time I was thinking one of Jewel's stragglers had beat the hell out of me that night. Come to find out, it was Lisa all along. I couldn't believe I let a bitch do that to me. I felt like a damn fool. I was definitely going to make sure no one on the street found out about that shit.

When I sat and thought about things, I realized Lisa had been stalking Jewel and me for the entire time since I was dismissed from the assault charges on her. She was bitter, angry, and wanted nothing more than to see me die. I should have known it was her. I had a hunch, but I couldn't convince myself that a bitch would be that crazy or clever.

After that incident I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in my hotel room all night. The room was nice enough, but I didn't feel like wasting all my money on some bullshit uptight hotel. I wanted to use it to buy me a nice house. The bed in the hotel was a far cry from my king-sized bed I was used to at home.

After tossing and turning all night, I finally looked at the clock, and it was 8:00
A.M.
I was cranky as hell from a long night and a lack of sleep. I wanted to stay in bed all day and try to get some shut-eye, but my boy Jimmy was getting out of jail today. That was motivation enough for me to get out of bed and get dressed.

I was happy Jimmy was getting released because I felt like there was so much he could teach me about the game. There was only so much he could teach me from the inside. I knew my street IQ was about to get a bump up. I had visions of even more money coming my way and one day running my own international drug ring.

After a quick breakfast, I picked up Deuce, and we headed over to Jimmy's girl's place, so we could straighten out this missing money. On the ride over, Deuce was in a talkative mood, which was surprising. Normally he was a man of few words. When he did open his mouth, it was only about one thing and one thing only–the year of 1973 when he ruled the streets, and now he walks those same streets. I was sick and tired of his same old stories. It was like he stopped living after 1973. At first, I liked hearing the stories, but after hearing them over and over, I wanted to punch him in his mouth. I wanted to scream, “Shut the fuck up, you old fool!” but I would just tune out instead, and continue doing whatever it was I was doing at the time.

This day he was talking about how happy he was Jimmy was getting out but that he wasn't sure if Jimmy would be able to survive on the streets anymore. He kept talking about the missing money and asking me if I knew anything about it.

“If you took it, you can tell me,” he said. “I won't tell Jimmy. You'll just have to split it with me.”

“The fuck kinda snake you think I am? I didn't steal shit. My money was always tight.”

After that, we pretty much rode in silence. Occasionally Deuce would say some stupid shit like, “I can't wait to see Jimmy.”

Deuce started in with his trip down memory lane, but we had gotten to the house before he could really get deep into his 1973 stories. I couldn't get out of the car fast enough. When we walked in the house, Jimmy was sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of Rémy. This old dude was slick. When he saw us, he put the drink down as he stood to greet us.

“'S up, Jimmy! You home, big man,” I said after we walked into the living room of his house.

I started to give him a hug, but he stopped me with a handshake. I guess he didn't like to be touched or some shit. He shook Deuce's hand as well. He was acting real cold toward us. I was expecting a warmer return from him. He was mad cool in the joint, so I just expected even more of it now that he was on the outside. Especially since I had been making so much money for old dude.

Before I knew it, a gun was at the side of Deuce's head. When I moved back to get out of the way, the gun was pointed at me. I had no idea what the reason for this show of aggression was. Had Jimmy been playing me this whole time? He set my ass up. He softened me up in the joint, got me connected on the outside, so I could make him money. Then when he got out and everything was in place, he would off me and take all the profits for himself.

“Yo, man, Jimmy–” I said with my hands in the air, wondering what the hell was going on.

“My money is missing, and one of you have it. I need answers,” he demanded, cutting me off.

“Jim, it's me, man. I took it. Please, man, just put the gun down.” I looked over to see Deuce on his knees, begging for his life, a big wet spot in front of his pants. I shook my head. This nigga was a fucking disgrace. All the talk about how bad-ass he was back in the day, and he punks out like this? At least he could have tried lying for a while, tried blaming it on me, something to save his ass, but to just cop to it so fast, that shit was embarrassing.

“I was shaving ten grand off the money here and there. I have about fifty thousand dollars in the safe. It's all yours. Take it, man. Just don't kill me, Jim. I know it was wrong, and I felt bad about doing it. That's why I told you. I was going to give it back. I promise. You gotta believe me.”

Deuce continued to beg like a little bitch, piss running down his leg. I swear I started to smell shit too. Absolutely disgraceful. I couldn't stand watching his ass beg like a woman.

“Man, have some fuckin' pride!” I yelled, annoyed not only by Deuce robbing Jimmy but by his bitch-ass attitude. “You fucked up. Now be a man about it.”

“How could you do it, Deuce? We've been friends over thirty years, man,” Jimmy said, shaking his head, still with gun in hand.

I looked at Jimmy, and he had a sadness in his eyes. I could tell it hurt him that his good friend had betrayed him.

“You fucked up our bond when you let Touch in. You have never taken to no dude like Touch before, so it was mind-boggling for me. Jealousy kicked in, and I was planning to pin the missing money on Touch. I know I was wrong. Come on, man. Please. Have sympathy on an old friend.”

Only mere seconds passed before Jimmy shot Deuce twice in the head like it was nothing. Good thing he did because if Deuce had walked out that spot alive, I'd have killed him myself for trying to set me up.

We silently stood there watching the blood ooze from Deuce's skull. His eyes were still open, and I felt like he was staring at me. I thought,
Good riddance, you thieving bastard!

Jimmy's face was tight. He looked pained at the sight of his long-time friend lying dead in front of him.

“Come on, let's take care of this,” Jimmy said, signaling in the direction of Deuce's dead body.

I took his shoulders, and Jimmy took his feet, and we moved Deuce's body into the bathtub. Jimmy left the bathroom and returned with two saws and a couple of butcher knives. We began the process of chopping Deuce's body into pieces. We wrapped the parts up in garbage bags and placed them into storage bins. We threw them into the trunk, and Jimmy and I drove to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in silence. I knew this must have been hard for Jimmy, but we both knew the business, so there was no need to talk about it.

Seeing things like this made me never want to get close to nobody. I would hate to have to kill my best friend over some shit like this. In my opinion, there is no room for friendship in this game. I would learn everything I could from Jimmy, but I wasn't going to get too attached to liking this dude. If the day ever came where I had to take him out, I didn't want it to be hard on me mentally or emotionally.

We stopped at the bridge and emptied the trunk, being careful that no one saw what we were doing. It seemed like each splash echoed for miles, it was so quiet.

“That was hard,” Jimmy said when all the bins had been dumped.

I didn't say anything. I just shook my head. I didn't know if he meant killing his best friend and chopping him up or throwing those heavy-ass bins into the water.

For the next few weeks, Jimmy and I worked the streets ourselves, never once mentioning what had happened. It was an understanding that we had. It seemed to take Jimmy a few days to get out of the funk he was in after killing Deuce.

Soon, it came out that Deuce wasn't paying people their agreed-upon cuts. People on the street were pissed. Deuce would short them and just keep stalling when they came to get the rest of their money. Word of mouth about Jimmy's operation was not good. He was blacklisted; no one wanted anything to do with his business. Jimmy's empire was fucked up, but I knew he had every intention of putting it back together, and I planned on being by his side the entire way.

“Deuce was right about me taking to you so well,” Jimmy commented one day while we were on the road collecting money.

“Feeling's mutual, man,” I told him. “From day one I looked up to you. You always gonna be cool with me. You picked me up in a big way when I was down.”

“It's more to it than that. I'm just gon' be straightforward with you, man.” Jimmy paused for a minute and looked out the window at the passing buildings. He continued to look away from me. “Touch, I'm your grandfather. I'm your father's father.”

“What?” I said, shocked and in disbelief. I almost ran off the fucking road. “My mother told me my father had passed. I never knew the man.”

“Boy, I know. He is alive and well in Connecticut.”

I couldn't believe my ears. I had mixed emotions inside. How could I have gone so long thinking my dad was dead and this entire time he was living in another state? Why did my moms lie to me? I couldn't understand why she would do that. Why didn't Jimmy come to me sooner and tell me who he was? I wanted to hug him and punch him all at the same time. My mind was going in a million directions. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to fight. I was crazy confused.

I slammed on the brakes and made a U-turn.

“Where you going, boy?” Jimmy asked.

“I've gotta talk to my moms about this shit, man. I'm all fucked up in the head right now.”

We went back and forth for a second about whether that was a good idea, but in the end Jimmy agreed to come with me to my mom's house. I had to know the truth. Growing up without a father because my mother purposely wanted it that way was fucked up.

I raced over to my mom's house, not caring that I was breaking the speed limit and in danger of getting pulled over by the cops.

Jimmy and I walked into my mother's living room. I called out to her. “Mom!”

“Touch, is that you? I cooked some lunch. Do you want”–The bowl of grits in her hands fell to the carpet when she saw Jimmy's face.

“Why? Why would you lie to me about my father?” I asked with tears in my eyes.

“I knew this day would come but not so soon.” My mom turned toward Jimmy. She looked defeated. “What did you tell him, Jim?”

“Not much. I'll leave the explaining up to you.” “Trayvon, sit down, baby.” My mom pointed to a bar stool that sat at the breakfast bar to the kitchen. “Your uncles, my brothers, used to work for Jimmy back in the day. That's how I met your father. We both were very young when I got pregnant, and I knew my mother would never approve of the baby or him. Momma forced me to live with my aunt in Alabama 'til I gave birth to you, and then I could move back. She was ashamed and didn't want her beloved church members to know I had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. When I returned I learned that your father and my cousin were in a relationship. That tore me apart, Trayvon. You don't understand. I loved that man. When he cheated on me, it killed me. I couldn't bear the pain. From that day forth, I vowed I would never speak to him again.”

I felt her pain and definitely understood where she was coming from, but I still didn't agree with her decision. I felt like she had deprived me of a relationship with my father my entire life. So many nights I would lie in my bed and wish I had a dad to talk to, to ask for advice. I may never have gotten into the drug game if he had been around. I should have been allowed to make my own decisions about my father.

“Mom, you should have told me. You just can't make decisions on my life like that,” I screamed at her and walked out. I needed time to process everything that was just said to me. I didn't know how to handle all of the emotions I was feeling, so I just jetted.

I dropped Jimmy off back at his house. On the way back to his place, I didn't say a word to him. I was angry with him and didn't want to hear his bullshit at the moment. I told him that I needed a few days off to clear my head. He agreed that it was a good idea. We said a sorrowful good-bye, and I drove back to the hotel, my head pounding from all the emotions and stress I was feeling.