Too Salty: Ain't a Damn Thang Changed (Part 6)

My Testimony

     I remember when I was getting on welfare. I had to bring in all this paperwork. I kept my head down because I wanted no one to see me crying ( Lol I'm crying now). The man who helped me was dry and asked a million questions, but he wasn’t nasty and that helped a lot. OMG… I was so depressed!!! The proof of utilities I gave were all red notices (PASTDUE). I was broke and didn’t know what I was going to do. I refused to be around friends or family because I was depressed and hate pity parties or damper on others parade. Anyway, I checked my benefits card a couple of days later. God is something else! I was blessed with $1700 cash and $1200 food stamps. I couldn’t do nothing but scream out Jesus and break down crying because in my storm he showed he was there. #Jesus is God. That wasn't this year but when I think back over the last five years I know Only God… only God! I thank God for allowing my husband to come home to help take care of his family and to be the backbone I need. I am grateful because prayer works; it changes things and I see it in this man. I thank God because he showed me that when the talent he blessed me with was doubted by others it was Favored by him. That's how I know ABL A&A CCE Publications’ will not be forgotten by God!
#Blessed

I Pray God richest blessings over those like Me! Baby Girl/Diva/WOG/MISS LADY and or Mr. Man don't give up!!! God Got you all you have to do is call on him and he will show up and show out.

To All My Readers I Pray God’s Richest Blessings over Your Life!!!!

This book is dedicated to: 

             
My three babies—Por’shay, Anthony Jr., and Miracle: Mommy loves her Henderson’s babies sooo much—and to my wonderful hardworking husband, Anthony, Sr.;

             
To my mother, Virginia Ann Thomas, and Godmother Cherry: I love and miss you angels dearly!

             
To my old man, I love you . . . thanks for everything.

TOO SALTY

Ain’t a Damn Thang Changed

By

Aleta L Williams

Too Salty © 2014

By Aleta L Williams

All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without written permission from the publisher (ABL).

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Idea formed by Aleta Williams

Written by Aleta Williams

Cover Designed by

Trendsetter Publications

Edited by…

Lila Jefferson

Author Aleta Williams on FB

www.alanasbookline.org

[email protected]

Chapter 1-Ken

I got myself into this shit
, was my thought before I walked into the courtroom. Those white folks and that punk bitch, Bolton, tried to stick me with the murder of Diesel. I knew I could beat the case because I didn't do it and they couldn’t prove I did. I was in that courtroom simply on allegations. My relative, Big Man, got me a big shot attorney from down south who was really good. I know of a few high profile cases he has handheld and won.  Because of that bitch Bolton, Kenslow, whatever she went by had clout with the California courts systems, I knew that was the reason I was there. She was determined to pin her son’s murder on me. That shit wasn’t going to work, I already knew, but I didn’t have time to sit it out.   Jail, prison, and trying to prove my innocents were the least of my worries. I was worried about my girl, my forever. Was she alright? Where was she?  When I thought of Jazz and not knowing whether or not she was alright, my heart started to feel like it had been ripped out my chest, thrown on the hard concrete, and shot one thousand times before being ran over by a big ass truck. They shot my girl right in front of me... Now, I was pacing this holding cell.  I was hurt and heated. On my dead mother, I wish I could kill that nigga Peter all over again. I knew that nigga was up to some shady shit, but I underestimated him. That was where I fucked up. If I would have called the nigga out on it when I first noticed his distant, salty, and sneaky behavior… I used my fist to punch the palm of my hand. “This.” I hit my hand again. “Shit…would have been prevented.”  My mind flashed over the last few weeks.

     Hint number one was when I told him that I was handing
Big Man over my position.
"Nigga, Big Man? This was our shit. We spent months and months coming up with this shit."

He was referring to the WC fire. Y'all know
, I was like that's my family and I was putting him on. Either you wit it or not.  It didn’t matter to me, either way I was out. Y'all know Peter was a bitch ass nigga and just like a bitch, he folded and pretended like he was with it. I felt the vibe. The nigga didn’t answer my calls and was short whenever we did talk.

One day, I pulled up to his house and his gate was open. I called him to see where he was. The nigga
acted like he was down the street and he knew he left it open. His scary ass never left that gate open. I sat down the street and waited for him to return, and watched him get dropped off by some niggas in a van. I thought he’d mention it, but he didn't, that was hint number two.  Before the meeting, I sat back and thought about all of that.  I remember the nigga could no longer look me in the eyes.  I didn't trust him, but I hoped that I was just tripping and shinned it on.  I had my own plan, anyway, and that was to get Peter’s part of the formula first. And, then I would present him with what he would think was mine.  That was to see how he would handle my relative when I was out of the game. But, the shit didn't play out like that. Niggas came in demanding everything… The formula, my money, the deed to my business. And, they brought Jazz in on it.  Just like my relative said, Peter was behind it all. That was why that nigga was eating dirt.

“Cox
." I stopped pacing when I hear my name being called. It was the bailiff, and that meant it was time for me to go in court .I looked fucked up. I hadn't shaved or had a haircut, so y'all know I looked like wolf man jack, but I didn't give a fuck... I was ready to get the process started because I needed to get out and find Jazz.

*****

When I walked in the courtroom
, I saw Colisa. She was crying like she had lost her best friend, and it pissed me off. I mean, we cool, but we wasn’t like that. And, plus, I don’t even know why she was there.

Big Man
was a Rick Ross looking nigga, but you wouldn’t catch that nigga without a shirt on. He wouldn’t even play his self like that. Sandra, his baby momma, was hot. Real tall, dark as a blueberry with white ass teeth and light brown eyes. They were sitting behind Colisa. The two of them were like your modern day Bonnie and Clyde, and it made me feel a little better because I had them by my side.  I looked on the other side of the courtroom and the bitch Bolton and Laurie were staring at me with so much hatred, I couldn’t help but chuckle. I darted my eyes toward the door when I saw them open. I had to squint to make sure I saw things clearly. I was. Seeing him was like a heavy ass sumo wrestler had been lifted up off me and I could finally breathe. There was Mrs. Brown, willing to hold me and Jazz down no matter what, and my nigga Pastor G. He was like an uncle to me, and I knew for a fact he was about to get me out of there and we were about to find Jazz together. That was, if he hadn’t found her first. I gave him a head nod, and he took his fist and placed it over his chest. “My nigga.”   

"Cox
, you're being charged with the murder of Diesel Kenslow. How do you plea?"

I look
ed up at my attorney, and then at the judge, "Not guilty."  I watched as the judge wrote on the piece of paper in front of him.

Without looking at me
, he said, "You will be held with no bail. Next court appearance is one month from today."

I cut my eyes at Diesel
’s mom.  I knew she had something to do with the judge denying my bail.
Bitch, my nigga home, you better beware.
I hoped she could read my mind.

"Judge," my attorney sa
id, “my client has no record. Can I request a bail?"

"No bail
," his fat ass said. Without further hesitation, he called the next case.
"Find Jazz," I mouthed to Pastor G.

Chapter 2- Pastor G

As always
, Southern California’s weather was right. The sun shined bright, and it was accompanied by a cool breeze and an aroma of smog. You couldn’t help but love it. However, all of the stuff that I had just found out was going on made it feel like a hot, dry day in the desert. A day that had a G thirsty for payback and hungry for answers.  Mrs. Brown told me everything that went down. I never cared for Peter anyway, but I would never think the boy’s heart would be filled with so much malice that he would set his boy up and, in the process, have Jazz hurt.  I shook my head as I drove up Avalon.

After
I dropped Mrs. Brown off at the house, I made a right on Imperial and Avalon. I was about to head to these projects. I needed to talk to Stacy’s girl, Cynthia, and find out where she was. Ken told me she was back on dope and I was probably the last person on earth she wanted see. But, I had to see her, help her, apologize to her, and make peace; I needed my mind right when I went looking for Jazz.

I pull
ed in the projects, and from the kids to the adults, I was being stared at. More than likely they were trying to figure out who I was. If you ain’t from there, nine times out of ten they’d know and you’d better hope you didn’t get sweated.  I approached the lot of Cynthia’s building.  There are a few brothers out there, some shooting dice and some just standing around shooting the breeze. I got out the truck I rented, hit the alarm, and headed for Cynthia’s unit.

"East side bounty hunna Watts
," a young brother with corn rolls banged on me.  I was not tripping, it was normal where I was from.

"That's what's up. I'm G from CCP
,” I told him. “The hood I used to bang is right up the street.”

“
Aye, that's that preacher fool. What up, man? You remember the home boy, Snow Man? You did his funeral," some cat about my age said.

I did a few funerals for those in the hood
, so I didn't know who he was talking about. "How you doing, man? Y'all staying safe?" I replied while thinking the brother was too old to be out there like that.

"Always that,” he replie
d. 

I look
ed at the young dude who banged on me. He lifted his shirt to show me that he was strapped. Been there, done that. That dumb mess didn’t faze me. I had my fair share of nonsense, killings, and shootings. "Stay up," I said as I walked toward Cynthia’s door. "How y'all ladies doing?" There were two girls on the porch. One sat in a chair that looked like it belonged at a kitchen table while the other girl, who I thought was Cynthia’s twin daughter, braided her hair.

"We fine
," they replied.

"Is Cynthia here?" I asked
, looking at the braider.

"Yeah. How's Stacy doing?"
she asked.

"I haven't talked to her
," I said as I walk in the house.
Gotdamn.
I coughed. The house was smoky as hell. Fanning my hand, I ask, “Are you burning something?"

"Those damn kids
.” Cynthia looked back at me. "Is that who I think it is?" She walked my way. "Oh, hell no. It is you.” She placed her hands on her hips. “When you get out? You know I'm mad at your ass? You know Stacy is in the hospital, right?"

“Stacy in the hospital? For what?”

“Yeah. Been in there for a couple of months, I believe. It’s been a good minute.”

"Let's go outside and talk.
” I couldn't stand the smoke and it was hot up in there.

"Let me get me a cigarette." She walked toward her coffee table and I walked outside to wait for her.

"You cute to be a pastor,” the girl getting her hair braided complimented. I started to tell her that I no longer considered myself a pastor and I doubt God did, either, but I left it alone.

"Shut your hot ass up," said Cynthia. She
had walked outside. “But, he is fine, though, with his sexy ass. I see you been working out," she flirted with that cancer stick hanging from her mouth.

"What's up with Stacy?" I folded my arms as I waited for an answer.

"Oh, shit. Man, you won’t believe this shit." She shook her head. "Where you park? I wanna talk about this in private."

“Follow me
.” I lead her to the truck. Before I allowed her in, I made her toss that cigarette.

"Let's drive somewhere. As a matter of fact,
” she said, "let’s go up to the hospital to see her."

I started the truck
. "What hospital she at?"

"Harbor
General."

As I pull
ed out of the parking lot, I asked her what happened to Stacy, why was she in the hospital. She told me that Stacy had been hit by a car a couple of weeks ago and that she was in a full body cast. "Did they find the person who hit her?”

"Yeah. The police had a high speed chase. Stacy and a friend of ours were
walking across the street. She was hit by the police. Everybody say it was an accident." She shifted in her seat and turned her entire body toward me. “That ain't nothing. She’s doing alright.” She rolled down her window.

“I got the air on.”

“I need fresh air, but you know one of the reasons why she got back on dope." I took my eyes of the road and looked at her. She shook her head with her hands in the air. “You ain't going to believe this shit. Honey, that nigga Calvin did my girl dirty." Cars honked at me because I had ran a red light. I quickly pulled over into the gas station. I parked, jumped out the truck, and walked on her side of the car. When I opened her door, she had her hand over her chest. "Nigga, you're trying to kill me."

"What did you just say?" I wanted to make sure she said what I thought I heard.

"You're trying to kill me," she repeated.

"Cynthia
!" I yelled. "What the hell happened to Stacy?"

"Calvin.
Jazz’s daddy. The nigga that was after you. He kidnapped her. Well, held her hostage at your place in Arizona. He did my girl dirty." She shook her head.

Listening to her
, it took all my might not to tear some shit up in the gas station.
"Did he rape her?" My nose flared and I bit on my jaw as I waited for an answer I didn't want to hear.

"No, she said he didn't rape her. The nigga just tied her up and fed her drugs for days. He said he was coming after you."  I walked off
from her and walked around the gas station. I needed to calm down. "Let's go see her!" she yelled.

I was going
, no doubt, but I had to calm down first. How in the hell did I let that happen? Why in the hell did I leave her? I knew she was still weak, and the only thing that kept her strong was the love she had for me and Jazz. I knew all that shit. I shook my head as I continued to walk up and down the gas station parking lot. It messed with me deep to know that I was the reason the lady that I could honestly see myself falling in love with was hurt. It was my fault. I stood in place and took a deep breath. At that second, I promised myself that if she allowed me, I was going to do right by Stacy, and, I swear, I was going to make that nigga Calvin die a slow death.

Chapter 3- The Nun

"How are you today
, sister?" one of the nurses sitting at the nurses’ station spoke with a smile.

I smiled back and waved. It
had been a few days since I saw her, and I was worried and excited. I hoped she was ok. She had to be because I prayed. Detective F didn't know that I had snuck out to go see Jazz. He told me because of the way I acted the last time I was at the hospital, I was banned from going back until everything was over.  What in the hell did he expect? How would he act if his daughter was shot and laid up in the hospital? Bump that that was my baby. In midstride. I turned around and walked back over to the nurses’ station.

"Jazz Lewis, how is she?
” I asked the light skinned sister who seemed not to be busy.

"Oh
, hi, sister. She's doing a lot better. The baby is still hanging on."

"Has she woke up yet?”

"She's in and out, but that is because we have her heavily sedated." She got up from her seat and walked around to where I stood. She touched my shoulder. "Take a walk with me, sister." She walked and so did I.  "I'm not sure if you're allowed, but maybe you should talk to the father and grandmother.""Why?" I asked, a little alarmed. The nurse looked both ways, and then in a hush tone, she said,

“The father is questioning how to terminate the bab
y. He thinks because she's para–”

"Paralyzed?" I cut her off. "She's paralyzed
?" I put my hand over the black scarf that covered my mouth.

"Yes, but the doctors said that she has an
eighty percent chance at getting her feeling back and walking again." She looked me in the eyes. “I’m not catholic, but like you, I am a firm believer. I know that she will pull through this and that child she's carrying is going to be the strength she needs.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now, the father thinks she shouldn't have the baby. The grandmother…"

Old bitch
, was my thought as I listened to her finish saying what she had to say.
 

“The grandmother seems like she don't wanna terminate
, but she's scared to tell her son. You think you can talk to them?"  

At that moment
, I couldn't do anything but nod my head. My heart ached. I wanted to run in there, grab my baby, and tell her that everything was going to be alright. That mommy was here and I would never leave her again unless God Himself came for me.  I took a few seconds to try to pull myself together. I then cleared my throat. Just as I was about to speak, I saw him walk in. I was frozen and couldn’t move. After I found out about him and Stacy, I knew it may sound selfish, but I grew hate toward him. But, looking at him with his sexy self, the love I once thought was gone came rushing back. Butterflies were having a party in my stomach and my head felt like it was spinning. I touch my forehand.

"Sister
, is everything ok?" The nurse looked at me strange.

I quickly nod
ded my head and hurried to Jazz’s room. “Oh, my God, he is here. I wonder who he came to see?”

"Slow down
," Cynthia called behind me.

I didn’t mean to leave her
, but I needed to get to Stacy. I needed to assure her that I would make my wrong a right. I had to let her know that, that punk would not get away with hurting her. I knew some heartless muthafuckas, but that right there took the cake. That coward came after my woman not once, but twice. First, Pam. Y'all remember when that punk left that note on my car inside of an envelope with a
Welcome to Hell
written across it in dark blue marker? And, underneath was a picture of two caskets. One casket was red and the other was pink; the first thing that came to mind was Pam, she was buried in a pink casket. When I opened the envelope, there was a note that read,
Yeah, nigga, it ain't over until the preacher stop breathing...
He was fucking with the wrong one. I was going to dead that nigga if I got a chance. I’d repent for it all.

"How you doing
, sir?" a nurse standing in the hallway spoke.

I t
ook note of the nun walking in 17B. It looked like she had saw a ghost when I walked in. I guess I looked that evil.  Stacy was in 18A. I gave the nurse a head nod. By the time I make it to Stacy’s room Cynthia had caught up with me.

"Look." Cynthia pulled me by the shoulder. "Don't tell her I told you about Calvin. Let her tell you." I stared at her like she
spoke a foreign language. “Just let her tell you. And, whatever you do, do not take her words to heart. She may not show it, but she is really hurting behind this. And, you leaving," she said somberly.

I pull
ed my arm from her grip, took a deep breath, and walked into the room.
Damn
, was my thought when I lay eyes on her. She was lying up in a full body cast and her eyes had black rings around them as if she hadn’t slept in months. Her lips were dry and chapped, and her hair was braided to the back. It hurt me to see such a beautiful lady look so bad.

~ Stacy ~

I know the fuck this ain't who I think it is in front of me looking like a sad and confused puppy. Ain’t this
a bitch!
  I looked at Cynthia’s albino looking ass. She had her nerve to bring him up here. She knew how I felt about his sorry ass. Since she wanna play matchmaker, I was going to give her ugly ass a piece of my mind, too.  They both could get the hell on.

"Stacy," he sa
id in a soft whisper, sounding like a bitch.

"Make my name taste like shit in your mouth. Get the fuck out
!" I snapped. If I wasn't in that fucking body cast, I swear I would be beating his ass upside the head. I hated him.

"Stacy," he repeat
ed, and it pissed me even more the fuck off.