The Streets Keep Calling (6 page)

“Oh shit, oh shit! Breezy…baby! Oh shit, stop! I'ma come, baby, don't stop! Stop! Oh shit,” she screamed as my fingers got soaked with her cum dripping down them. I don't think I ever heard a girl get that confused from busting a nut. I turned her over and started pounding her from behind. Her lips were swolled from her orgasm so she felt even tighter than the last time I hit it. That shit felt like I was getting head at the same time I was stroking it. Damn, this girl had some good-ass pussy. The harder I went in, the more I could feel my nut coming on. I pulled out just as I was about to cum and busted all over her ass. We both flopped on the couch sweaty, sticky, and exhausted. I can't lie, sex with Trixy always wore a nigga out.

 

“Damn!” I got up and looked at the time. It was eight
P.M
. I'd been sleeping for two hours.

I went to the bathroom, pissed, brushed my teeth, washed my face, then headed to the living room where Trixy was on the computer, checking her Facebook account.

“What up, babe!” I greeted her

“Oh, you finally rose from the dead,” Trixy joked.

“I'm saying, you got that knockout pussy, ma. I'll give it to you, you the champ.” I laughed.

Not wanting to interrupt Trixy any further, I decided to watch a little TV. I picked up the remote and started flipping though channels. It didn't take long for me to realize something wasn't right.

“Babes, you ain't got no HBO, Cinemax, Showtime, none of that stuff?”

“Nope. I can't afford it. All I have is basic cable. Feel free to upgrade if you like,” Trixy said, full of attitude.

With nothing to watch on TV, I figured, fuck it, I'd just grab a beer and watch some old-school DVDs.

“Babes, you got some Heineken in the fridge?” I asked as I headed toward the kitchen.

“I don't think so. But you can go look.”

I opened the fridge to see no beer, not even a bottle of water or a pitcher of Kool-Aid. Her shit was empty.

“Babes, you need some groceries. You ain't got shit in here,” I announced.

“Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You plan on staying here so plan on fixing that problem. As you can see, I need a sponsor.”

As Trixy was talking, shit was marinating. I couldn't even get mad at her.
The shit she is saying is true,
I thought.
The fucked up thing is I can't do nothing to help her. My next paycheck isn't coming in until two weeks from now. I've always been that nigga who get shit done. I was a go-getter. This broke shit ain't even me. I can't be this nigga. I can't even afford to pay a hundred-dollar light bill!
The more I thought, the more I began stressing. I rubbed the cross on my necklace as I thought about my next move. I wondered when God was gonna hold up His end of the bargain and help me deal with all this stuff that was happening. Everything began to replay in my head: the vow I'd taken, Maria and my kids, Ma and her bills and now this situation with Trixy. It was as though the walls were coming in on me. I had to get out of the house.

“I'll be back in a few, shorty,” I yelled at Trixy on my way out.

I hit the block heading toward Park Place. I knew I would run into some cats at the barber shop. Ten minutes later I was there, and, just like I figured, Mannie was up there rolling dice.

“Breezy Breeze!” he announced as I walked up.

“What up, Breeze? We ain't seen you since you been out. What, you don't fuck with us no more?” Cats started dapping me left and right.

“Nah, man. It ain't like that. I just had to lay low for a minute before I come out fucking with y'all crazy niggas. You know y'all some troublemakers. Y'all will have a nigga back in prison,” I joked around.

“Yeah, nigga, you ain't lying, 'cause the block is hot.”

It felt good to be on the streets again, and it felt even better to know I still had my respect on the streets. I sat and watched as my niggas rolled dice. With one roll, Mannie had won $500. I wasn't even making that from a week's worth of work. Minutes later, I saw this little young dude who used to run for me roll past in a big-body Benz.

“Is that Li'l D who just passed by?” I asked Mannie, to confirm my thoughts.

“Yeah, that's little homie.”

“What's that he riding on, twenty-twos?” I asked while checking out his rims. They reminded me of some I had on my Lexus GS before I got locked up.

“Nah, twenty-fours. Those rims set him back at least ten grand.”

“Oh, that's how he doing it?” I asked, thinking back to how, before I got locked up, Li'l D was fifteen and running around begging niggas for a few dollars or some work. He was willing to do anything to make a few bucks. Now this little dude was driving a Benz on twenty-four-inch rims.

“Yeah. That nigga doing good now. He Mr. Biggs's right-hand man,” Mannie explained.

I had only spent an hour on the block and I'd seen Mannie collect over five grand. These cats were getting it in. These were the same dudes who used to ask me for an eight ball, and now they flying birds. Although I hate to say it, being around all this again really made a nigga feel at home. I felt my hands start to itch from thinking about how things were five years ago. I had the night off, so I decided to go home before I made any fast descisions. I had to get my shit out from Mom's house anyway.

On my walk home, I kept thinking about everything I had accomplished since I dropped out of school. I went from having nothing to being on top of the game. I had the best cars, a beautiful house, a happy wife with my princess and my li'l man standing proud by my side. I was taking care of moms and grandma. Life was good. Most important though, I was respected by all the cats in the streets. Everybody knew who Breezy was and they knew you couldn't fuck with me. I had an army of loyal soldiers and money ran through me like water through my hands. My shit was on point.

When I came home, my moms was passed out on the couch with a cigarette hanging from her hand, and Grandma was already fast asleep in her bedroom. I took the cigarette from her and put it out in the ashtray. I looked down at her. She looked tired and worn out from years of working long hours.
Damn, I can't even help her with a fucking light bill
, I thought as I walked into my room. I started to grab my stuff to take over to Trixy's. As I looked around, I realized I didn't have much to take but three pairs of jeans, some T-shirts, and a pair of sneakers. I couldn't believe what had become of my life.

I went back to thinking about all the things I had lost, then, seeing all that I could gain, I said, “Fuck it.” I popped off the necklace Moses had given me and put it in my pocket. Right then I knew this was me. There was no way I could escape the streets. My mind was made up. I was going back in.

“God forgive me for what I'm about to do.”
I said a silent prayer, then threw my pile of clothes, along with the rest of my shit, in the garbage near the back door. Then I began my walk and headed back toward Park Place. I saw Mannie still rolling dice and I signaled for him. “Yo, Mannie, let me holla at you for a minute.”

“What up, B? You look tight. Everything all right?” Mannie said, noticing the change in my demeanor.

“I'm good, man. I was thinking about taking you up on your offer,” I said.

“You sure? 'Cause two weeks ago, nigga, you said you wasn't trying to do nothing.” Mannie questioned my intentions.

“I know what I said. A couple of weeks ago shit was different.”

“Say no more, my nigga. Hop in the car. We can take care of this right now,” Mannie said, full of excitement.

Although a nigga would like to believe Mannie was genuinely excited to help me out because he was trying to look out for me, I knew that ain't how it was at all. One, that nigga knew I could push some weight with no problem. He saw me build my empire from nothing. Next, it made that nigga feel good to be able to say that he put Breeze back on. Before I got locked up, nothing moved through the seven cities unless it went through me first. So when I got put away, it gave a lot of other niggas like Mannie a chance to move up. The sad thing was, after all these years, that nigga was still in the same place. Instead of stepping up and filling my shoes, these niggas let some old head nigga, Mr. Biggs, come in and run shit. I couldn't understand how the fuck they let that happen.

“We here. Follow me.” I followed Mannie into a decent little crib out by the Lafayette area in Norfolk.

We walked in, and Mannie tried to kick me a whole fucking brick. “Hold on, slow it down, my nig. I ain't trying to rush it. Let me start with a little something and work my way up.” I let Mannie know what was up.

“Breeze, what you planning to do? You gon' break this shit down and stand up on the block and compete with all those little nickel and dimebag niggas? That's not even what you do. I know you know people and you can move shit, and we can make a whole lot of fucking paper. I suggest you move around and holla at your people, and let them know you're holding again,” Mannie said as he packaged up the cocaine.

I still ended up leaving with a brick, but I couldn't figure out why this nigga would throw me a whole key. It wasn't until I reached Trixy's crib that I figured it out. Mannie had the connect for the coke, but he couldn't move the weight. So this nigga was trying to use me to move it, but he would make almost all the profit money. I wasn't about to do that. I had better plans. Why sell the whole key and make pennies when I could break it down and take it across town? Shit was finally about to change.

As soon as I got settled I planned to call up my nigga Borne. I had met him in prison while he was doing a four-year bid on a crack cocaine distribution charge. On the real, me and that nigga became close after he saved my ass from getting jumped by two big niggas. When I say that nigga saved my ass, I mean that nigga literally saved my ass. I felt like I owed that dude my life. From that day forth, Borne was the only cat I trusted in the pen. He used to always brag about how he had the streets locked before he came in. Unlike me, that nigga was on a mission to lock the streets again as soon as he hit the bricks. He had gotten released six months before me and I hadn't spoken to him since then.

The funny thing is that, when we were locked up, me and Moses used to always talk about making life changes and never going back to the things we did before we got locked up. While I was swearing to change, Borne always vowed he was going back to the streets. He even told me I was talking jail talk and there was no way I was gonna live the straight and narrow. Guess that nigga was right. Borne's only complaint about coming back to the streets was that he'd lost his connect when he got locked up. He knew he would have a problem finding a new connect. Now I was about to be that nigga.

“Borne! What up, nigga?” I yelled into the phone as soon as he picked up.

“Who dis?” he replied, not yet recognizing my voice.

“Your motherfucking lifesaver, nigga,” I said, knowing that what I was about to tell him would be music to his ears.

“Oh shit! Breezy Breeze hit the goddamn bricks! How long you been out, nigga?” Borne asked, excited to hear my voice.

“About two weeks.”

“Two weeks! And you just hitting a nigga up?”

“Yeah, man. I had to straighten some shit out. You know what I mean. Matter of fact, that's what I'm calling you about right now.” I was ready to talk business. “What you been doing out here in the world,” I spoke in code to ask Borne if he was hustling.

“Shit, nigga. I'm doing a little something, but not like how it could be. I can't get it how I want it, and when it do come through, cats trying to bust a nigga head open with these prices. I got whole lot of clientele, but not enough merchandise.”

“Like I said, nigga, I'm your lifesaver. I got you. I'll hit you tomorrow so we can meet,” I said before hanging up the phone. I must say, that night I went to bed with ease. Within minutes I was off to sleep. I had an eight
A.M
. appointment with my P.O. and I didn't want to be late.

 

My visit with my P.O. was gravy, like always. Piss clean and still on the job. Mr. Hicks had no complaints with me. Now that that was out the way, it was time for business. I called up Borne.

“Borne! Give the GPS. I'm trying to come see you,” I shouted.

“Damn, nigga, I'm on the move right now. How about I come see you in an hour. Cool?” Borne suggested. You remember where you brought the money to my moms when I was locked up?” Borne suggested.

“Yeah, yeah. You remember where you brought that letter to my moms after you got out?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” Borne replied.

“All right, well, come to the green house next door. That's where I'm at.” Being that moving around without a whip was hard for me, I was glad he had offered to come to me. It was a relief because I was gonna have to throw on a backpack, jump on the HRT, and make three fucking transfers just to get to the other side of town where that nigga be at. I wasn't really feeling doing all that, but I knew a nigga gotta do what a nigga gotta do. I made my way back to Trixy's crib to wait for Borne. After an hour and a half that nigga still wasn't there, and I ended up falling asleep.

I awoke to the sound of a horn. I looked out the window to see Borne at the gate. I jumped up and headed out the door. “Goddamn, nigga, you was supposed to be here two hours ago.”

“That's how you greet a nigga? You ain't seen me in half a year! I shoulda let them two big niggas kick your ass in the showers when we were in the pen! Then maybe you wouldn't be acting so hard.” Borne laughed.

I wanted to laugh with him, but thinking back to that day was much too painful. I couldn't see any humor in that shit at all. I came off the porch and gave my homie some dapps.

“I ain't need your help. I was handling things. Nigga, I had that,” I lied, knowing I was losing the fight. I gave my best macho talk in an attempt to cover the terror I felt when reminiscing about that day.