Chapter 8 #2
“Halfway across the Atlantic. I’m good. Also, according to one of the fools who ran up on me talking about their blo—”
“You know I was making her plate. Why did you bring her spoiled ass out here?”
I turned around and Liora’s little short ass was walking down the driveway. When she saw me, she smiled. “Hi, Posydiann.” She had lowkey warmed up a little since everything went down at the warehouse a while back.
I nodded, giving her a half hug before she snatched her baby from Iso.
“Baby, I’m about to make a run with Psy,” Iso said before she could turn to leave.
She looked from me to Iso, then nodded. “You know my motto, so please be smart.”
“I need at least an hour, Killa,” he responded.
I chuckled immediately, remembering what she told his ass that night in the warehouse. Thirty minutes and she’d have the spot cleaned up.
“Is it that easy?” I asked, cutting my eyes between him and the road.
“What do you mean?”
“To leave the streets alone and go on to greener pastures.”
He laughed. “Easy, hell nah, but think about it. I took bullets for the peace I have right now, so if we’re just considering that, then hell yeah it was easier to turn my back. I almost died in these streets, Psy. There was no coming back from that for me.”
I nodded.
“What, you thinking about leaving them in your rearview?”
I shrugged. “Not fully but I feel like there isn’t anything out there for me anymore.
Feels like I’m always looking over the transgressions of others.
Niggas coming out of the woodworks trying to claim territory that doesn’t belong to them.
Shit is getting aggy, because I don’t have the energy for all of this.
Been in the streets too long, I’m tryna see a way out to raise my fucking son, man. ”
“Then leave. You did your time. You don’t owe them young niggas shit and you can’t save them all.”
“I ain’t really trying to, but it’s like I feel guilty.”
“Ain’t nothing to feel guilty about. You made your name and carried this shit on your shoulder long enough. Think about what’s next for you, bro?”
When I pulled up to the little hangout spot, I glanced over at Iso. “You got it on you?”
He sucked his teeth. “Nigga, I don’t even take rides with my wife without it on me. You think I’ma hop in the car with you without it?”
I chuckled.
We got out of the car headed toward the small group near the picnic tables. I walked up to the group and stood there for a moment.
“Which one of y’all is Dwight?” I asked, eyes traveling between the bodies and bikes.
“Who’s asking?” a tall lanky form leaned against the truck with a cigar to his lips asked.
I shook my head. This was how we always got off on the wrong fucking foot.
“You know who's asking. Same nigga you sent your boys to come see to let off a message right?”
Ol’ boy laughed. “You right, God. Lemme spit with you right quick, if that’s aight. Y’all bail right quick.” As soon as he said that, everybody who wasn’t him was on their feet moving toward anywhere but here.
Iso stayed at my side, never moving.
When his posse was clear and out of earshot, he moved from where he was standing against the food truck and walked over to the picnic table. A quick glance around and he was seated, eyes moving from Iso to me.
“I never wanted your blocks nor did I need them. It’s always been enough money out here for all of us and I still believe it is.”
“So what was sending niggas to my spot gonna do?”
“Draw you out. Have you or your boys do some young, reckless shit. I got paid to send them there. Expendable bodies that don’t make or break my collective.”
“So, I was supposed to kill them?”
“In theory. Your problem ain’t with me. I’ll admit that was some bitch shit, but it was too much money to pass up. Had I not, some other fool would have done it, but on some dirty shit. I don’t know who killed your uncle, but I know you have problems in Uptown, not with me.”
“And that means?”
“Talk to Mayor Winston. After all, he came to me representing somebody with big pockets and problems with you. He was standing in the very spot you’re standing in, God. Clutching that briefcase for dear life.”
I nodded, then turned to leave.
“All money ain’t good money.” Iso’s voice filled the space as I passed him to go back to the car.
“Maybe it ain’t. But everybody ain’t eating as well as you or able to walk away from this shithole like you did, God.” His tone held bitterness. Not to mention he had just contradicted himself. How was it enough money out here for everybody, yet his latter words said differently.
We were back in my car within seconds, no more words said to homeboy's weird ass. Regardless of his reasoning, this was the part of the game I had begun side eying. What part of it was this? Niggas allowing themselves to be used as puppets just for a couple dollars, believing it wasn’t that bad because it wasn’t dirty… Newsflash: all this shit was dirty.
We were on the way back to his people’s house for me to drop him off when Iso’s voice filled the car. “You got an idea who did this?”
I shrugged. “Charles Curr, the same old motherfucker who put a hit out on Unc. My guess is because in some sick twisted way he believes getting rid of me will grant him Watertown.”
Iso shook his head. “Damn that is a lot. But fuck, rest in peace to Unc. When was the funeral? Why didn’t you call me?”
I laughed. “Old nigga didn’t want a funeral. He wanted to be cremated and for us to go on like it was a normal fucking day. He didn’t even want Grams to keep the fucking ashes. Killah is gonna spread them in the water wherever the fuck he is.”
Iso shook his head. “Unc was a cold motherfucker, bro. I looked up to your uncle when we were coming up.”
“Shit, me too,” I mused, eyes focused on the road.
“How are you gonna end this?”
“I got too much to lose shooting in the dark. I’ma see Winston soon, confirm it was Curr.
Then I’ma have his ass hit and them fucking NorthPark niggas…
I don’t respect anything I just heard back there regardless of reasoning, but that wasn’t for me or you to handle.
I have people for that.. Young niggas who like making messes and seeing their work on the news by nine. ”
Iso laughed. “Only way to do it. When you do things too clean, that comes back to bite you.”
“I bought a restaurant. Been working on it back and forth for the last few months. It’s on the cusp between Watertown and Lower Briar,” I revealed, eyes on the road.
“That’s good shit. I got free meals when you open up, right?”
I chuckled.
“But on some real shit, I’m proud of you. You sound uneasy about the idea of change, but to me it seems like you’re moving toward it.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about all of that, but I know I got a son looking up to me and the last thing I want him to see me as is just some street nigga who couldn’t let it go.
Tryna give him more than just a legacy of guns and turf wars.
Especially since I don’t want his lil ass anywhere near the streets. ”
“I feel that. You’re hard as fuck on yourself, brother. But at the end of the day you know what you want and what you’re doing. That has to count for something, right?”
After I dropped Iso off, I took it in. I had done enough moving today and lowkey enough thinking about all the things I couldn’t change.
Tomorrow has to come around better… right?