I Ain't No 50/50 Type Of Chick

29. Cali

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CALI

“ C ali, you think you’ll be able to do my hair later this evening?”

I rolled my eyes in annoyance before turning to face Jayceon.

Ever since that day Draco came to the house, Jayceon and I had been into it daily, so for him to have the audacity to ask me that question was hilarious.

“If I’m not getting paid, no! ” I rudely answered with my hand held out.

“It’s always about money with you now, huh?”

“You’re damn right! When you ruined the fairytale that I had in my head for us, all that doing free and nice shit goes out the window!”

“So, how much that nigga paid you to get his hair done?”

“Really, Jayceon? It’s been four days, and you’re still on that shit!”

Although Jayceon was aware that Draco paid me well above my normal pricing, I damn sure wasn’t about to tell him the exact amount.

Jayceon was about to respond, but the doorbell rang.

“Hold that thought,” he told me.

Nigga, you hold your thought! You were the one about to speak! Dumb ass! I wanted to say.

“Who you niggas?” Jayceon rudely asked, his voice edged with curiosity.

Of course, I crept up front to be nosy and listen in on the conversation.

“Sup, man. So, word around the street is that you’ve got some weight you’re trying to get off you,” one of the men said, leaning against the doorframe with an air of confidence.

The two men, dressed in jeans and hooded sweatshirts, seemed older than Jayceon, suggesting they had been entrenched in the drug lifestyle for quite some time.

Jayceon’s eyes darted around cautiously, scanning the street as if he feared a trap was being laid.

“Weight? Nah, you’ve got the wrong nigga. Get the hell away from my crib with that shit, man,” Jayceon replied as he began to shut the door on them. But the same guy quickly interjected, “Damn, you’re really going to let all this easy money slip away.” He patted the duffel bag slung casually over his shoulder.

Jayceon’s gaze flicked to the bag, a hint of interest igniting in his eyes.

“Shit, I take that as a yes. Alright, let’s go, Durk,” the man said, nodding to his companion, who stood quietly behind him with an inscrutable expression.

For a fleeting moment, Jayceon appeared to contemplate his options, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. Finally, he declared, “Let’s talk!” and gestured for them to step inside. “And y’all better not be wasting my damn time!” he added.

The fuck? I cursed silently due to Jayceon inviting strangers into my house. If I wasn’t trying to be nosy, I would’ve told him to have that conversation outside.

I eased back into the room. From where I stood, I couldn’t really see them, but I could still hear their conversation.

“So how much y’all looking to get?” Jayceon asked them.

I slightly peeked my head out of the room.

“Shid,” the guy whose voice I heard the most glanced at his partner, then diverted his attention to Jayceon, “we want all of what you got left.”

“All of it?” Jayceon asked, verifying that he heard them correctly.

“Hell yeah.”

“Nigga, if you want it all , that’s gon’ cost you right at one-hunnid and twenty Gs, my nigga. So, if you ain’t got that, then y’all niggas need to get the fuck out of my way right now.”

The man who had monopolized the conversation until that moment nodded knowingly and gestured toward his accomplice to unzip the duffle bag. As the bag was opened, the other man poured a cascade of cash onto the surface of my glass table, the bills fanning out like a deck of cards.

“That's one hundred and fifty grand, my guy,” he announced, a smug smile creeping across his face.

Jayceon raised an eyebrow. “What's with the extra?”

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “We brought a little something extra, not knowing how much you had on hand. Consider it a token of appreciation for doing business with us, if you decide to do business, that is. But really, who would turn down an extra thirty grand?”

Jayceon stared at the piles of money, his expression a mix of skepticism and intrigue. Despite the temptation laid before him, he made no move to touch the cash, let alone count it or check if it was legitimate.

Count the money, dummy ! The thought screamed in my mind, a rush of frustration surging through me.

While Jayceon appeared lost in a trance, his gaze fixated on the cash—likely running through imaginary numbers in his head—I turned my attention to the two men. Their smirks seemed to suggest they were up to no good.

“So, do we have a deal?” the man asked Jayceon, his tone loaded with expectation.

Jayceon finally lifted his head. “I think we do,” he replied, nodding in approval.

This dumb muthafucka, I thought, shaking my head.

Granted, I didn’t give a damn what Jayceon called himself doing in the streets, but if he was about to make the stupid, reckless ass move I suspected, I thought it was fair to warn him that it would likely be the dumbest decision of his life.

“I’ll be right back,” he told the men before heading to the back. I positioned myself by the door, making it clear that I was eavesdropping.

“Jayceon, what are you doing? Like for real?”

“What you mean?” he replied, feigning ignorance as he rummaged through the closet and pulled out a sizable duffle bag.

“I know damn well you don’t have any drugs in my house!” I exclaimed, my voice rising with frustration. Jayceon knew I didn’t tolerate that shit. He had permission to keep such things in the garage, but crossing that boundary into my home was a hell no.

“Calm the fuck down, Cali!” he retorted, his voice dropping to a low, defensive growl. Jayceon motioned for me to close the door, clearly worried that his ‘company’ might overhear our exchange.

I shut it, then continued, “Jayceon, I usually don't get involved in your outside business?—”

“Well, you should really try to do that now,” he interrupted with his smart-ass remark. “And stop being so nosy,” he added.

“Fuck that shit you’re talking, nigga! When it involves the safety of me or my kids, I’ma be all up in yo’ fuckin’ business, especially when you’re doing this shit in my house! Now, as a concerned parent, not a concerned girlfriend , I’m worried that someone might come in here and try to rob or kill me and my kids. So, I seriously believe that you should think twice before going through with this exchange!” I muttered frustratedly.

“So, you were eavesdropping, huh?” Jayceon asked as he looked over the product.

“You’re damn right I was!”

“Cali, it doesn’t matter what you say, I’m doing this!” he insisted. “Damn! It’s not every day that you get someone who wants to buy all your product!”

“All the fuckin’ reason why you shouldn’t go through with it! They’re fuckin’ strangers!” I tried to instill some sense of caution and common sense in him.

“Most customers are,” he replied dismissively, brushing off my concern.

I scoffed incredulously, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Cali, look, I understand yo’ concern, but I’m trying to get to some real fuckin’ money, and getting rid of this,” he pointed at the bag, “is the key. So, unless you have one hundred and twenty Gs lying around that you can spare, I’ma take the risk and just hope that God is on a nigga’s side,” he concluded then picked the bag up and strode out of the room with his mind clearly made up.

Nigga, you don’t read the bible, pray, or go to church, yet you’re hoping that God is on your side.

Jayceon was the kind of man who stubbornly refused to listen to anyone’s warnings, no matter how dire the situation seemed. Even when evidence was presented to him in the clearest terms, he would dismiss it outright, as if reality itself was a mere suggestion. It was as if you could tell him shit stank and—despite the unmistakable odor—you could bring it right to his nose, yet he would insist it was the sweet scent of a fresh bouquet of flowers.

A couple of minutes later, Jayceon strutted back into the room, all happy-go-lucky, carrying the same duffle bag. However, instead of it being filled with drugs, it was replaced with money, the green bills peeking out tantalizingly from the zipper.

“I guess you’re satisfied.” I sucked my teeth with my arms folded across my chest.

“Chill, Cali. I’m not just doing this shit for me. I’m doing it for us. Me, you, and the twins. This right here is a game changer. Just look at it as the beginning of a new life for us. You’ll see.”

“Hmph! I just hope I won’t be the one saying ‘I told you so’ when this all comes crashing down.”

“For some reason, I feel that would bring you great joy, Cali,” he countered.

Jayceon went inside the bag, peeled off a couple hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them onto the bed.

“That right there is the payment for my hair, plus a little extra, so be ready to work your magic when I get back. I love you,” he said with a fond smile, then came over and planted a quick kiss on my cheek before heading out.

Jayceon had mentioned that he hoped God was on his side that day, but deep down, I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that the devil was lurking in the shadows and had sent two of his soldiers to teach ol' hard-headed and money-hungry Jayceon's ass a lesson he desperately needed to learn.

"Your total is $355.98,” the cashier informed me after ringing up my last item.

“Mommy! I want!” Zuri exclaimed, her big brown eyes wide with excitement as she pointed at the colorful cotton candy displayed near the checkout.

The cashier flashed a smile at Zuri, clearly entertained by her enthusiasm. I couldn’t help but shake my head with a mix of affection and defeat. I found it nearly impossible to deny their sweet requests; the innocent expressions on their faces always tugged at my heartstrings.

After a moment’s hesitation, I picked up a fluffy blue and pink cotton candy. Even though Zion hadn’t voiced any desire for a treat, I decided to grab one for him as well. I knew better than to risk a squabble over who got the cotton candy first. When it came to those two, it was always better to keep the peace.

“Can you add this, please?” I asked the cashier.

“Sure,” she replied.

I had walked into the store with a simple goal of picking up something for dinner, but with the twins tugging at my sleeves and pointing to every colorful snack on the shelves, my plans quickly spiraled into a full shopping excursion.

“That brings your new total to 377.26,” the cashier said.

“$377? How much were those cotton candies?” I inquired, my brow furrowing in disbelief.

“Um, they were $10 each,” the girl answered, her eyes flicking to the register screen.

“$10 for some damn cotton candy!” I muttered in frustration as I fished through my purse for the money.

They say that when you have a little extra cash, you tend to shop without a care, picking up items without glancing at the prices. That was me that day.

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating asking her to put that shit back, but the thought of disappointing my kids was unbearable. Their faces were already filled with excitement and anticipation for those fluffy, colorful treats. Besides, I had a little extra money to spare, so it was cool. Still, charging $10 for cotton candy in a store was outrageous. At a fair, where vendors often charge more for the experience, I could understand. But there, in an everyday shop, it felt downright ridiculous.

Since I had the money Jayceon had given me clearly visible in my purse, I thought it was a good opportunity to use it to cover the grocery bill; better his money than mine anyway. I smiled at the cashier and handed her four hundred-dollar bills. As she ran a bill-checking pen over the money, her expression shifted to one of concern.

“Is everything okay?” I inquired, sensing something was off.

“Um, ma’am, I don’t know how to tell you this, but this money is counterfeit,” she replied in a low tone, glancing around cautiously as if to ensure no one else was within earshot. Thankfully, the line behind me was empty.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She held up the bills for me to see. The pen had left a black mark on it, which was different from the yellow mark that legitimate currency should display.

A grin spread across my face, growing wider and more mischievous, reminiscent of the Grinch’s signature smirk. I couldn’t suppress a chuckle that bubbled up from my chest, amused by the irony of what I was witnessing. It was clear that my suspicions about those men who had done the exchange with Jayceon were confirmed―they played his ass.

Thankfully, I had a portion of the cash on me that Draco had given me. That time, the cashier scrutinized each bill with meticulous care. After marking them, she flashed me a knowing smile. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. Based on her demeanor, those were indeed the real deal . In that moment, a realization struck me: that Draco was a real ass nigga, while Jayceon was nothing but a facade as fake as the bills he'd tried to pass off. But it wasn’t me who Jayceon would have to worry about explaining that shit to; it was whoever he intended to deliver that money to. The thought of the trouble that awaited him should've sent a chill down my spine. Instead, an odd exhilaration coursed through me as I anxiously awaited the outcome.