Read Online Unruly by Ja Rule - Free Book Online

Aisha, we would speak to each other and every time she walked away, I would think how much I wished I could’ve talked to her a little longer. But we were moving in different directions—or so I thought.
    She was a sweet girl and I was a drug dealer. The truth is, all of the chicks around my way had a man who sold drugs. We were the only kind of guys around and some of the big-time hustlers even had cars. Aisha was no fool. She wanted what all the other girls had, so her new boyfriend at her new school hustled, too.
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    CHUCK, MIKE AND I had gotten into the habit of cutting school in high school. We would go for a few periods, lounge in the lunchroom and then we’d bounce. Lucky for us, the security guard, Luther, who guarded the side door smoked crack. Luther had a Jheri curl and a bad lisp. We used to see that fiend after school at Rochdale Village. After we saw him once, we had the dirt on him. We made an agreement that we would sell him crack at a discounted rate in exchange for easy access in and out of the school’s side door. Luther was happy to go along. Sometimes ten of us would leave school at the same time to go chill at the park, roll some dice and then go back to school. Or, we would get something to eat and then come back through that door.
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    â€œWHAT’S UP WITH CHERYL? Have you seen her recently?” Mike asked me one day.
    â€œNah. Let’s call them and see what they up to?” I said to Mike. Aisha and I were still friends and I knew that Mike was really feeling Aisha’s cousin, Cheryl.
    â€œHey, Jeff. What are you guys doing for New Year’s Eve?”
    â€œNothing, what’s up, girl?” I said.
    â€œI’m having a party. Wanna come?”
    â€œWho’s going to be there?” I asked for Mike.
    â€œAre you with Mike?” Aisha didn’t pull no punches.
    â€œWho wants to know?”
    â€œTell him that Cheryl will be there. Bring him.”
    â€œBet.”
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    AT THE PARTY, Aisha and I talked a lot. We realized that we should not have broken up at the beginning of ninth grade. We were in the eleventh grade at that point and the time seemed right for us to try again.
    Things with Aisha fell right back into place. We saw each other as often as we could. I was a hustler also trying to do music. We’d hang out at the park, go out to eat and talk on the phone. One day when we were walking, I got my nerve up. “Listen to my new verse. It’s called ‘Story to Tell.’ ” Aisha sat on the park bench and I stood away from her and closed my eyes so I could imagine the beat. Then, I spit the verse that I was working on:
    Listen up, I got a story to tell
    On the streets we got guns and drugs for sale
    Cause you hos know the game that we play is real
    Keep your mind on the money and your weapons concealed
    â€œSounds dope. When can I hear the rest?” she said.
    That was the most positive thing I’d heard about my music from anyone besides my homies. Cherry used to call it “bippity bop” music and he always said it was not real work and it never would be. Aisha believed in me more than I believed in myself.
    â€œIt’s not finished yet, but when I do, I’ll let you check it out,” I promised.
    My lyrics didn’t scare Aisha. She knew the deal. Aisha was no stranger to the streets and that’s why she was the girl for me. No matter what happened, or what I would eventually share with Aisha about my life, she could relate.
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    WHEN I MET AISHA’S MOMS, I recognized her. She used to see me on the block. Her moms used to mess with one of the guys that I hustled for. Sometimes she spoke to me and sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes, neither one of us wanted to be recognized, being where we were and doing what we were doing.
    â€œYou know, I worry about you, baby,” Aisha said to me often. I hadn’t heard that from anyone except from my Moms and Grandma Cherry, years