with me was straight. A couple of niggas got locked up for possession, and a few niggas had warrants.”
“Damn! That’s fucked up. So what you got for me?” I asked, getting back to business.
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen? You only owe me ten. Did you forget you already paid me five? As much as I would love to take your money, I won’t do that to you.”
“Nah, fifteen hundred.” Murdock handed me the small stack of money.
“Fifteen hundred? What the fuck is really going on, Murdock? You trying to play a nigga or what? I feel like you trying to play me.” My patience was running thin with Murdock. He’d been holding on to my money way too long now.
“Come on, Poppo. Man, you know I would never try to play you. We ain’t never had no problem with money. Trust me, Poppo, I got you, man.”
“You said that same shit the last time we met up. I can’t keep hearing the same bullshit. You got one week, nigga. Rob somebody. Fuck it! Rob a bank! But do what the fuck you gotta do to get me my fucking dough.” I put the little change Murdock gave me in my pocket then walked away.
Days passed and I ain’t hear from Jewel about my little run-in with Touch, so I figured shit was as usual. And I wasn’t about to call her so she could tell me something different, ’cause once I went through with the shit, she couldn’t renege on the deal. Or, in turn, I would have to deal with her and her bitch nigga too.
So Calico was on his way to Atlanta, and like always, I was on my way to the airport to pick him up. But this time I didn’t mind, because I knew this would be the last time. I’d spent years flying here and driving there to deliver packages and pick up money while he sat in California and collected the money off of all my hard work, sweat, and blood. Hell, I had a crib, family, and baby mother in Cali that I wanted to spend time with too. Instead, I was always on the road for that nigga, hopping from telly (hotel) to telly, living out of a fucking suitcase.
I spotted Calico as soon as I bent the corner. Like a proud chauffeur, I pulled up with a smile on my face, trying not to show one sign of deceit on my face.
Chapter 14
“Fucked-up Luck”
Calico
I ’d never been so happy to get the fuck off a plane in my life. Hours on a plane from Los Angeles to Atlanta with crying babies, stinking-ass niggas, and no weed was straight fucking torture. As soon as I exited the airport and hopped in the car with Poppo, I sparked up the “kush.” I took in one deep pull and let it marinate then let it out slowly. Almost instantly a nigga was relaxed.
“What up, duke?” Poppo greeted me as soon as I got in the car.
“You, nigga. You fucking slipping. You got a nigga on the road and shit when you know a nigga wanted. I’m trying to fucking lay low.”
“Speaking of wanted, how the fuck you fly anyway?”
“I flew as Thomas Jones, nigga. I used a fake ID. You know you can buy those a dime a dozen in the hood.”
“I knew you had something up your sleeve.”
“Nuff of that shit. Where we headed, nigga? And you got yo’ heat?” I asked right away, never really trusting Poppo.
He was the reason I was forced to take a trip to Atlanta anyway. This nigga had been slipping lately. I couldn’t understand why so many days had passed and this bitch Sasha was still breathing. And when I questioned this nigga about it, he had all kinds of excuses. It wasn’t until I threatened to kick his ass that he started acting like he had some damn sense. He’d heard from one of his boys that Sasha was working for his man, Diablo. On top of that, Diablo was about his paper and was looking for a West Coast connection, so he was definitely a nigga I needed to holla at. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone—befriend this nigga, make some money, and set up an easy kill for Sasha’s snake ass.
“I gotta make a stop. Then after that we headed straight to Diablo’s spot.” Poppo handed me the gun from his
“Damn! That’s fucked up. So what you got for me?” I asked, getting back to business.
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen? You only owe me ten. Did you forget you already paid me five? As much as I would love to take your money, I won’t do that to you.”
“Nah, fifteen hundred.” Murdock handed me the small stack of money.
“Fifteen hundred? What the fuck is really going on, Murdock? You trying to play a nigga or what? I feel like you trying to play me.” My patience was running thin with Murdock. He’d been holding on to my money way too long now.
“Come on, Poppo. Man, you know I would never try to play you. We ain’t never had no problem with money. Trust me, Poppo, I got you, man.”
“You said that same shit the last time we met up. I can’t keep hearing the same bullshit. You got one week, nigga. Rob somebody. Fuck it! Rob a bank! But do what the fuck you gotta do to get me my fucking dough.” I put the little change Murdock gave me in my pocket then walked away.
Days passed and I ain’t hear from Jewel about my little run-in with Touch, so I figured shit was as usual. And I wasn’t about to call her so she could tell me something different, ’cause once I went through with the shit, she couldn’t renege on the deal. Or, in turn, I would have to deal with her and her bitch nigga too.
So Calico was on his way to Atlanta, and like always, I was on my way to the airport to pick him up. But this time I didn’t mind, because I knew this would be the last time. I’d spent years flying here and driving there to deliver packages and pick up money while he sat in California and collected the money off of all my hard work, sweat, and blood. Hell, I had a crib, family, and baby mother in Cali that I wanted to spend time with too. Instead, I was always on the road for that nigga, hopping from telly (hotel) to telly, living out of a fucking suitcase.
I spotted Calico as soon as I bent the corner. Like a proud chauffeur, I pulled up with a smile on my face, trying not to show one sign of deceit on my face.
Chapter 14
“Fucked-up Luck”
Calico
I ’d never been so happy to get the fuck off a plane in my life. Hours on a plane from Los Angeles to Atlanta with crying babies, stinking-ass niggas, and no weed was straight fucking torture. As soon as I exited the airport and hopped in the car with Poppo, I sparked up the “kush.” I took in one deep pull and let it marinate then let it out slowly. Almost instantly a nigga was relaxed.
“What up, duke?” Poppo greeted me as soon as I got in the car.
“You, nigga. You fucking slipping. You got a nigga on the road and shit when you know a nigga wanted. I’m trying to fucking lay low.”
“Speaking of wanted, how the fuck you fly anyway?”
“I flew as Thomas Jones, nigga. I used a fake ID. You know you can buy those a dime a dozen in the hood.”
“I knew you had something up your sleeve.”
“Nuff of that shit. Where we headed, nigga? And you got yo’ heat?” I asked right away, never really trusting Poppo.
He was the reason I was forced to take a trip to Atlanta anyway. This nigga had been slipping lately. I couldn’t understand why so many days had passed and this bitch Sasha was still breathing. And when I questioned this nigga about it, he had all kinds of excuses. It wasn’t until I threatened to kick his ass that he started acting like he had some damn sense. He’d heard from one of his boys that Sasha was working for his man, Diablo. On top of that, Diablo was about his paper and was looking for a West Coast connection, so he was definitely a nigga I needed to holla at. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone—befriend this nigga, make some money, and set up an easy kill for Sasha’s snake ass.
“I gotta make a stop. Then after that we headed straight to Diablo’s spot.” Poppo handed me the gun from his
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