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Authors: Wahida Clark
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to his Benz. We jumped in the car and drove around in an attempt to backtrack. I had to go find that plate.
SHARIA
“You mean to tell me, you left my shit and my money in the truck?” I overheard him say to the poor soul on the other end of the line.
My head was underneath the sheet, but I peeked out, trying to see Cisco’s facial expression. He looked as if he wanted to cry. I could hardly contain myself. For this nigga to be ballin’ the way he was, turning out to be too easy of a mark. I was able, in just two nights, to bed this nigga, make him fall hard and was positive I was about to get him to start giving upvaluable info. It had to be all that soaking wet, slip and slide I was giving the nigga. They kill me. They get a few connections, stack some dough, get a little bit of muscle and immediately begin to believe that they are invincible. Puhleeze, Negro. Every man’s downfall is pussy. I put that nigga to the back of my throat, and his punk ass damn near gave up his momma. Now look at him, over there about to cry. After talking a few more minutes, he hurled the phone at the wall.
I snatched the covers off my head and acted as if I just woke up. “Is everything okay?” I asked him as I stretched.
“Yeah. Get dressed. You gotta go,” he snapped. I tried to look disappointed, but this nigga didn’t know that he did me a favor because I definitely didn’t feel like fucking him again. Because from what I could gather, and from those few minutes of ear hustlin’, I figured that he just lost some workers, dope, and some cash, which would definitely be in our favor. This nigga was gonna need some muscle, and that is where Dark would come in. That’s when the whole plan would begin to unfold. I couldn’t wait to spill this shit to Dark.
“Are you sure, Daddy? Is there anything I can do before I leave?” I asked, already up putting on my panties and bra.
“Nah, I gotta make a run,” he said, sounding all depressed.
“Okay,” I said as I hurried and got dressed. I was ready to follow his ass to wherever it was he was going.
CHAPTER SIX
SHAN
Here I was at the house, on the phone, not wanting to believe or hear what Briggen was telling me. This nigga was a professional liar. What he didn’t know was that I had already talked to the lawyer and knew the jam he was in. He had been locked up now, going on a week. I thought he would have been home by now, but he had some old warrants, and therefore, the judge thought he was a flight risk and denied him bail.
“So when can I see you?” I asked.
“Just hold up. The old warrants should be taken care of in a few days, and I’ll be out of here.”
“Why don’t you want me to come see you?” I wanted to know. After all, we did miss him.
“Shan, there’s no need for you to come down here. Stay home with my son.”
I couldn’t believe I had to beg this nigga to come and see him. God forbid he had to go away and do a bid, he’d thenbe on the phone crying like a bitch, begging and pleading with me to come visit him.
“Stay home? That’s all you ever say is I should stay home. Stay home? I’m sure you ain’t tell that bitch Mia to stay home. You want me to stay home so I won’t know all the shit you into. You—”
“Shan!” he shouted, interrupting my rant.
“Briggen, it’s not fair. I don’t even know why you’re in there. Plus, I need to talk to you.” I needed him to sense the urgency in my words, and I needed to tell him about the dope and cash I found. Something I couldn’t do over the phone. I needed a face to face. But more important, I needed to tell him about my missing license plate. If the niggas whose stash I took had my tag, I was in deep shit.
“I’ll get back to you later,” he told me.
“When, Briggen?”
“Later,” was the last word he said to me.
He hung up. I couldn’t believe it. I looked at the phone, thinking, “I know he didn’t just hang up on me.” Who was this nigga? He had done a full 180 on
SHARIA
“You mean to tell me, you left my shit and my money in the truck?” I overheard him say to the poor soul on the other end of the line.
My head was underneath the sheet, but I peeked out, trying to see Cisco’s facial expression. He looked as if he wanted to cry. I could hardly contain myself. For this nigga to be ballin’ the way he was, turning out to be too easy of a mark. I was able, in just two nights, to bed this nigga, make him fall hard and was positive I was about to get him to start giving upvaluable info. It had to be all that soaking wet, slip and slide I was giving the nigga. They kill me. They get a few connections, stack some dough, get a little bit of muscle and immediately begin to believe that they are invincible. Puhleeze, Negro. Every man’s downfall is pussy. I put that nigga to the back of my throat, and his punk ass damn near gave up his momma. Now look at him, over there about to cry. After talking a few more minutes, he hurled the phone at the wall.
I snatched the covers off my head and acted as if I just woke up. “Is everything okay?” I asked him as I stretched.
“Yeah. Get dressed. You gotta go,” he snapped. I tried to look disappointed, but this nigga didn’t know that he did me a favor because I definitely didn’t feel like fucking him again. Because from what I could gather, and from those few minutes of ear hustlin’, I figured that he just lost some workers, dope, and some cash, which would definitely be in our favor. This nigga was gonna need some muscle, and that is where Dark would come in. That’s when the whole plan would begin to unfold. I couldn’t wait to spill this shit to Dark.
“Are you sure, Daddy? Is there anything I can do before I leave?” I asked, already up putting on my panties and bra.
“Nah, I gotta make a run,” he said, sounding all depressed.
“Okay,” I said as I hurried and got dressed. I was ready to follow his ass to wherever it was he was going.
CHAPTER SIX
SHAN
Here I was at the house, on the phone, not wanting to believe or hear what Briggen was telling me. This nigga was a professional liar. What he didn’t know was that I had already talked to the lawyer and knew the jam he was in. He had been locked up now, going on a week. I thought he would have been home by now, but he had some old warrants, and therefore, the judge thought he was a flight risk and denied him bail.
“So when can I see you?” I asked.
“Just hold up. The old warrants should be taken care of in a few days, and I’ll be out of here.”
“Why don’t you want me to come see you?” I wanted to know. After all, we did miss him.
“Shan, there’s no need for you to come down here. Stay home with my son.”
I couldn’t believe I had to beg this nigga to come and see him. God forbid he had to go away and do a bid, he’d thenbe on the phone crying like a bitch, begging and pleading with me to come visit him.
“Stay home? That’s all you ever say is I should stay home. Stay home? I’m sure you ain’t tell that bitch Mia to stay home. You want me to stay home so I won’t know all the shit you into. You—”
“Shan!” he shouted, interrupting my rant.
“Briggen, it’s not fair. I don’t even know why you’re in there. Plus, I need to talk to you.” I needed him to sense the urgency in my words, and I needed to tell him about the dope and cash I found. Something I couldn’t do over the phone. I needed a face to face. But more important, I needed to tell him about my missing license plate. If the niggas whose stash I took had my tag, I was in deep shit.
“I’ll get back to you later,” he told me.
“When, Briggen?”
“Later,” was the last word he said to me.
He hung up. I couldn’t believe it. I looked at the phone, thinking, “I know he didn’t just hang up on me.” Who was this nigga? He had done a full 180 on
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