Monk did it; Justice was down with it too. That’s how they got down. I swore on everything I loved that if that bitch had something to do with that shit or even knew anything about Monk doing it, I was gonna make sure her and her snake ass brother had double closed-casket funerals. All at my expense! Then I’d ship their punk ass daddy some flowers to Chicago to show my condolences. They just didn’t know—they’d fucked with the right one this time!
While I was lost in thought about Justice and her brother, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller’s number and saw that it was Face.
“Yo, lemme hit you back,” I said as soon as I answered the phone. When I ended the call I looked over at Ali and asked, “You know how I always say to watch the crease between a nigga’s brows when he talkin’ to you?”
I was pointing to the crease between my own eyebrows for emphasis.
I added, “And remember how I always tell you to watch his facial expression when he shakes your hand?”
“Yeah, what of it?” Ali replied while bobbing his head and keeping his eyes on the road.
I told Ali, “Well, Monk and D.C.’s handshakes don’t match their smiles.” He looked over at me with knowing eyes. I was letting him know that those two niggas were playing the game sideways.
“You gots to be kidding,” he stated. He looked like he was hoping I was joking.
“Nah, I’m dead serious.”
“So that’s what Sabrina said, huh?”
“Yeah, but this ain’t nothin’ but a reality check for a nigga though. I’on’ put nothin’ past a thirsty ass nigga like Monk anyway. So a nigga should’ve halfway expected that shit from him. And I’d already told that nigga that if he was to ever try me I’d send his lil’ ass to hell.”
I sighed deeply as I leaned back against the headrest and listened to the music that was playing just above a whisper. I was thinking about what had to be done.
True enough, this situation was a reality check for a nigga but deep down inside I was halfway hoping that check would bounce. Me and Monk had our minor disputes in the past, but I had stayed off his ass on the strength of his sister. I’d been good to him and Justice for as long as I could remember and this is how they’d chosen to repay me?
Fuck being Mr. Nice Nigga, I thought.
I’d always known that certain muthafuckas had a tendency of mistaking kindness for weakness. But an old head once told me to, “ Pick up a bee out of ‘kindness’ and learn its limitations. It won’t be long before that bitch turns her ass to you and releases that stinger!”
As I sat back and pondered over this I realized that it was time for a certain clique to get stung.
CHAPTER EIGHT MONK
D
ressed in all black, D.C., Cross, and I were riding down 1-77 in the Chevy Caprice that D.C.’s little cousin had stolen for us. We were headed to Rock Hill, South Carolina, which was only twenty minutes outside of Charlotte. Me and D.C. had finally hooked up with the girls from the park who were driving the BMW. The girls’ names were Tandora and To’Wanda. Tandora was the one who had been driving and To’Wanda was the passenger.
D.C. and I had met the girls out on dates twice since that day we’d met them, both times at expensive restaurants. They had never invited us over to their place because I figured they were trying to be discreet about where they lived. But what they failed to realize was the fact that they were dealing with habitual stick-up kids, and it was our job to find out things like that!
We’d followed them home on several occasions to try and find out who their men were. But as it turned out, the two women were roommates and didn’t even have men. The mini-mansion, the BMW, and even the two matching Range Rovers were theirs. These bitches were PAID!
From my observation, I determined that Tan was more than likely the one who was handling most of the business because we’d witnessed two Hispanic-looking dudes whom I presumed to be Dominican also
While I was lost in thought about Justice and her brother, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller’s number and saw that it was Face.
“Yo, lemme hit you back,” I said as soon as I answered the phone. When I ended the call I looked over at Ali and asked, “You know how I always say to watch the crease between a nigga’s brows when he talkin’ to you?”
I was pointing to the crease between my own eyebrows for emphasis.
I added, “And remember how I always tell you to watch his facial expression when he shakes your hand?”
“Yeah, what of it?” Ali replied while bobbing his head and keeping his eyes on the road.
I told Ali, “Well, Monk and D.C.’s handshakes don’t match their smiles.” He looked over at me with knowing eyes. I was letting him know that those two niggas were playing the game sideways.
“You gots to be kidding,” he stated. He looked like he was hoping I was joking.
“Nah, I’m dead serious.”
“So that’s what Sabrina said, huh?”
“Yeah, but this ain’t nothin’ but a reality check for a nigga though. I’on’ put nothin’ past a thirsty ass nigga like Monk anyway. So a nigga should’ve halfway expected that shit from him. And I’d already told that nigga that if he was to ever try me I’d send his lil’ ass to hell.”
I sighed deeply as I leaned back against the headrest and listened to the music that was playing just above a whisper. I was thinking about what had to be done.
True enough, this situation was a reality check for a nigga but deep down inside I was halfway hoping that check would bounce. Me and Monk had our minor disputes in the past, but I had stayed off his ass on the strength of his sister. I’d been good to him and Justice for as long as I could remember and this is how they’d chosen to repay me?
Fuck being Mr. Nice Nigga, I thought.
I’d always known that certain muthafuckas had a tendency of mistaking kindness for weakness. But an old head once told me to, “ Pick up a bee out of ‘kindness’ and learn its limitations. It won’t be long before that bitch turns her ass to you and releases that stinger!”
As I sat back and pondered over this I realized that it was time for a certain clique to get stung.
CHAPTER EIGHT MONK
D
ressed in all black, D.C., Cross, and I were riding down 1-77 in the Chevy Caprice that D.C.’s little cousin had stolen for us. We were headed to Rock Hill, South Carolina, which was only twenty minutes outside of Charlotte. Me and D.C. had finally hooked up with the girls from the park who were driving the BMW. The girls’ names were Tandora and To’Wanda. Tandora was the one who had been driving and To’Wanda was the passenger.
D.C. and I had met the girls out on dates twice since that day we’d met them, both times at expensive restaurants. They had never invited us over to their place because I figured they were trying to be discreet about where they lived. But what they failed to realize was the fact that they were dealing with habitual stick-up kids, and it was our job to find out things like that!
We’d followed them home on several occasions to try and find out who their men were. But as it turned out, the two women were roommates and didn’t even have men. The mini-mansion, the BMW, and even the two matching Range Rovers were theirs. These bitches were PAID!
From my observation, I determined that Tan was more than likely the one who was handling most of the business because we’d witnessed two Hispanic-looking dudes whom I presumed to be Dominican also
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