Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 4 by J.M. Benjamin Page B

and . . .” Baby paused. “We don’t have any ID on us.”
    Ghetto Governor scratched his head and grimaced. The cash part was cool, but the no ID was a problem. He stared at the young couple long and hard. They each appeared to be twenty-one or older to him. He had pulled strings in the past for others from the hood to famous celebrities, but they were neither of the two, he thought. Ghetto Governor pondered it for a few more seconds and then said, “It’s gonna cost you an extra two hundred each for the no ID.”
    Treacherous let out an insane chuckle. Before he could deliver the words he intended to spew at Ghetto Governor, Baby replied, “No problem.” She had already pulled out the monstrous knot she had in her jeans pocket. “What’s the total?”
    â€œWhoa!” Ghetto Governor’s eyes grew as they zeroed in on the wad of cash. He estimated the money to be $10,000 or more. Maybe they are somebody, he thought. They can’t be from the seven cities and I don’t know them. Seeing the money piqued his interest in wanting to find out about the couple though.
    â€œWe’ll take care of all of that inside,” he explained. “Put your money away. Right now, I just need your names for the list.”
    â€œTreacherous,” Treach was first to announce. Baby followed up with her name, but her words fell on deaf ears. Ghetto Governor was still trying to process the first name given by Treacherous.
    Naw. It can’t be, Ghetto Governor reasoned with himself. It must be a coincidence. Ghetto Governor cleared his throat. “Young brother, I got a question to ask.” He paused. “And I mean no disrespect, but what’s your parents’ names?”
    The question came out of nowhere, surprising both Treacherous and Baby. Treacherous’s first instinct was to grab the club promoter by the throat and choke the life out of him, but something in Ghetto Governor’s tone made him believe that there was no malice behind his question. Baby stood on guard awaiting Treacherous’s reaction so that she could follow suit.
    Treacherous looked Ghetto Governor up and down. “Why you wanna know that?” Treacherous asked. His demeanor was stoic.
    Ghetto Governor could understand Treacherous’s apprehensive and defensive demeanor. If the roles were reversed, he knew he would react the same way. He was convinced there was no coincidence in the names. Nor was it a coincidence that Treacherous acted the same way. “Man, if your mom’s and pop’s names are Treacherous and Teflon then we damn near like family!” Ghetto Governor chimed.
    The mention of his parents’ names woke something up inside of Treacherous. It was the first time he had ever met anyone who knew them. For this stranger to be claiming to know them piqued his interest. The club promoter’s name resonated in Treacherous’s mind. It now dawned on him where he had heard the name Ghetto Governor before. His mother had mentioned the club promoter in her journals. Treacherous knew his mother’s journals practically by heart. Which was why it was easy for him to quickly reflect on why Ghetto Governor’s name was mentioned. Outside of helping his parents out with some valuable information, there was nothing that would indicate that Ghetto Governor was like family, thought Treacherous.
    Still, Treacherous had a newfound respect for Ghetto Governor now that he was familiar with his name. Once upon a time, he had helped his parents and for that Treacherous felt the club promoter deserved to be shown some respect. Treacherous extended his hand. Ghetto Governor embraced it.
    â€œAppreciate what you did for them,” Treacherous offered with a firm grip.
    His words caught Ghetto Governor by surprise. How could he know? he wondered. He knew he wasn’t old enough to have known that. He wasn’t even a thought back then, he continued, realizing