3. Harli
Harli
“Bitch, she really came to yo’ house on some Barbara this is Shirley type of energy?” Ryda chuckled into the phone.
“Ain’t shit funny but the fact that yo’ ass now got three meals and a cot,” I taunted as I rolled my eyes.
“Now that ain’t funny. I’ma need for you to tighten up with the bail money.”
“You must think I can pull money from my ass or some shit. I’m tryna see what you don’t get ‘bout the job went to shit, therefore I’m ‘bout out of funds. Now, you want me to come up with not only bill money but bail money too.”
“Look, Twin, I know I’m askin’ a lot of you, but if anybody can make a way out of no way it’s yo’ ass. Hell, why not hit the racin’ scene? Yo’ ass used to make a nice lil’ piece of a paper doin’ that.”
“Ya know what, that’s not a bad idea. At least it’ll bring in some funds for the time being.”
“See, I’m good for more than makin’ yo’ ass itch.”
“Uh huh. Just ‘cause you have one good idea don’t take away from yo’ ass makin’ my ass itch by bein’ in and out of jail. One of these days I’ma stop bailin’ yo’ ass out,” I chuckled.
“You have one minute left,” the automated voice announced.
“Well, that day damn sure ain’t comin’ no time soon. So, get yo’ ass out there and dust those niggas! I love you, Twin. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“I love you too, Twin.”
The call ended before I could verify her exact bail amount.
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I went online to get the info I needed.
She had a battery charge, and her bond was set at ten thousand dollars, which meant I needed to come up with a thousand to get her out..
I sent a quick message to the bail bondsman we used to let him know that Ryda had been picked up.
If he was feeling like I was, I bet he was like, Damn, that girl always in and out of jail.
My girl truly didn’t play when it came to her respect.
That was the cause of most of her battery charges came from bitches getting disrespectful, and Ryda would then get physical.
Once I got everything squared away with Ryda’s bail, I reached out to my racer contact to see if they had any upcoming races.
With bills piling up along with Ryda’s bail, I needed to get some money flowing in ASAP.
A smile spread across my face when I read the message stating that he actually had one set for tonight and the pot was fifteen hundred.
That would get Ryda out and put a dent into some of these bills.
Getting up from my spot on the sofa, I made my way outside to check on my motorcycle.
Removing the cover off of my 2017 sky blue Harley-Davidson Street Rod, I tossed it behind me as I admired my bike.
It had been a minute since I raced, but standing before my bike, the nervousness hit me like it used to.
Since we started hitting licks, I only rode my bike to clear my mind.
The sound of the engine when I crunk it up was music to my ears.
After locking my apartment door, I hopped on to do a test run.
The wind blew in my hair as I cruised out of the projects.
Once I was on the open road without any cars in my way, I opened it all the way up.
I needed to see if ole girl was still in racing shape.
When I got to a certain speed, I felt a jolt that didn’t sit right with me.
Slowing back down to normal speed, I changed directions to head to my girl, Kruz, who worked at a bike shop with her people.
She was the only one I trusted to work on my bike because when I brought it to her a year ago and told her to tune her up for a quicker acceleration, she did just that.
When I got my bike from Kruz, I was smoking every bike on the racing scene.
When I pulled up, I spotted my girl working on a bike and pulled up next to her.
“And here I was hopin’ you weren’t busy,” I expressed as I walked over to her.
“You almost got this wrench upside yo’ head scarin’ me like that,” Kruz informed as she stood up with a big ass wrench in her hand.
“Well damn. I ain’t come to get beat on all. I need is for you to test ride and see if that jerk I feel at high speed is somethin’ that needs yo’ attention.”
“No problem. I gotcha.”
I tossed the key towards her before I copped a seat on the bench in the garage.
Watching her drive off, I had to admit my girl drove that shit like a damn professional.
I wasn’t surprised because you can’t work on bikes and don’t know how to drive them.
While she was on her test drive, I scrolled Facebook to pass some time.
Soon as I logged on, I instantly regretted it because the first thing I saw was a tagged post of Doughboy from the bitch that came to my house.
The post included a picture of them kissing, and although you couldn’t see his actual face, I could tell by the tattoos that it was him.
“I hope that nigga gotta go down the road,” I huffed before placing my phone back in my pocket.
It had been eight days since the job went sour, and Doughboy called me every day.
I was waiting by the phone for his call before his lil’ side piece popped up.
The pain I felt from the betrayal wouldn’t allow me to give him anymore of my time.
I damn sure wasn’t gonna be no dummy and bail him out just to share him with another bitch.
The thought of it all had my blood boiling as my leg shook involuntarily.
I was pissed off the most at the fact that I was loyal to his ass when I could’ve been on my dawg ass shit with him.
“I felt what you were talkin’ ‘bout, and I think I know what it is,” Kruz explained when she returned to the garage. “Give me a few minutes and another test drive, and I should have it fixed.”
“Bet. Take ya time. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
It took her all of forty minutes to have me squared away.
When I paid her for her services, I only had enough to put in my tank to make it to the location of the race, do one race, and make it back home.
That made the stakes higher as I went back home to get ready for the evening.
The race wasn’t set to start until midnight, so I was able to get some cleaning done along with taking a little nap.
When my alarm went off for me to get up, I became excited.
Pulling up to the location, bikes of all different makes and models lined both sides of the road.
I made my way over to my contact to let them know that I was there, and to get my racing order.
There were two ahead of the race I was a part of, so I was able to watch those.
While toying with my pendant, I observed the races which were for the beginners.
Some of them had potential, and others needed to hang it up.
“Yo, H, head towards the starting line,” my contact announced, causing heads to turn towards me. I hadn’t been on the scene in a minute, so my return piqued a lot of people’s interest.
“Got it,” I acknowledged before placing my sky blue helmet on my head.
When I got to the starting line, there were two other racers there with me.
As we waited for a flag girl to step out, I noticed it was taking longer than it used to.
Looking around, I noticed some commotion coming from where my contact and his associates were sitting.
They were talking to somebody before one final rider came and pulled up next to me.
He was buff, but his helmet covered his face.
As the flag girl stepped out, I focused my attention on the race.
I waited in anticipation for her to drop her arms. When she finally did, I took off like a thief in the night.
With my eyes trained ahead, I pushed my bike to the limit.
I noticed none of the riders to the left of me in my peripheral vision, but I was gagged when I looked to the right, and the buff nigga was keeping up with me.
With the finish line approaching, I gave the bike more gas, but it didn’t do much since I was damn near doing ninety.
I was still in the lead until he started gaining on me and crossed the finish line before I did.
Shocked would be an understatement of what I felt as I stopped next to him.
Thankful that my contact was footing this race for me as a way to get me back on the scene, I was having second thoughts on returning after getting beat.
Granted, it was a very close race; it still was a loss, and that’s something I couldn’t afford at that moment.
Still not wanting to be a sore loser, I pulled up next to broad shoulders to congratulate him.
“You must be the famous H. I guess I took your undefeated title from you, my boy,” the dude with the broad shoulders bragged, instantly rubbing me the wrong way. “Now I really am king of these streets.”
“Excuse me,” I sassed as I removed my helmet and got off my bike. “And to think I was coming over here to congratulate you, but yo’ sore winner attitude shut that shit down real quick.”
“Damn. Yo’ you ain’t a nigga.”
“No, shit, Sherlock. Thank God I ain’t no airhead ass nigga like you,” I sassed as I sized his fine buff ass before going back to my bike.
“Yo, yo, yo! I ain’t mean to piss you off; I was just shit talkin. I ain’t mean no harm by it. This was the best race I’ve had with anybody out here, H. I’m Trench by the way.”
“I mean it was a good ass race. I guess I can give you your props. And the name is Harli.”
“Harli on Harley, I like that,” he smirked as he stared at me. I noticed he pulled out his wallet while his eyes stayed on me. “Look, since I was an airhead ass nigga tonight, I’ma give you the pot as a way to apologize.”
“Really?” I questioned with squinted eyes as he counted out fifteen hundred and handed it to me. “Ok then, Trench. Let me find out you a real ass nigga.”
“One of the realest. Plus, I can’t let you go home with a bad taste in yo’ mouth ‘bout me.”
“Uh huh. Well, I’ma take yo’ winnings, and I’ma get the fuck ASAP before the airhead version of you return.”
“I swea’ he ain’t comin’ back, but I hope you do come back so I can beat you again.”
“We’ll see. And trust this was a fluke, the jitters gone, so you maybe eatin’ my dust next time.”
“I’ll happily do that too, as long as I get to see you again, Harli.”
“Ehh, maybe. See ya around, Trench,” I smiled before putting on my helmet and driving away with an array of emotions consuming my body as I headed to Golden Shores.