Chapter 9 #3
I changed clothes, left my phone on the counter, and only took the burner with me to keep in contact with Elijah.
That, along with my pistol and the silencer, to make sure no one heard me take that nigga out.
Behind my building was a pile of cement bricks stacked up, so I grabbed a couple from the back and carried that heavy ass shit around to my trunk, where I had a few extra chains ready for use.
Once I was loaded up and had all my equipment with me, it was 6:30, and time to meet up with that fuck nigga.
I went to the park he wanted to meet at and was almost salivating at the mouth while waiting on this nigga to show up.
This, to me, seemed like it had been a long time coming, and I couldn’t wait to finally get this shit off my plate.
Get a little relief after feeling like I been letting niggas get away with shit for too long.
My head was on a swivel for about twenty minutes until I finally saw the blue Honda, he told me about up ahead.
Elijah: I just pulled up. Where are you at?
A text came to my phone.
Me: I’m here too. I’m about to walk that way now. I’m about a block away.
I replied to his message before sneaking out of the car with my gun at my side.
This area was filled with homeless people, all stretched out trying to stay warm.
Thank God no one was really at the park tonight, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing me pull a sneak attack on this nigga.
When I snuck up to the back window, I saw him sitting nervously in the front seat, not knowing his life was about to end with the pull of my trigger.
I was about to shoot him right there because my anger tried to kick in before my instincts, but I knew I couldn’t be reckless.
I quickly opened the door and hopped in the backseat, making him scramble, before I put the gun up to the back of his neck.
“Long time no see nigga. Don’t you fuckin move.” I pressed the gun into his skin even harder.
He exhaled deeply without saying a word because he knew he had been caught.
“Any last words fuck nigga?”
“Not really.” He replied, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“But I do have one request from you if you do have any kind of heart.”
“I really don’t but let me hear what you've got to say. Humor me, lil nigga.”
“Alright.” He started shaking his head.
“My mama is in the hospital right now, dying, and she doesn’t have insurance. Can you make sure she gets buried the right way? That’s the only reason I’m even back here, and I risked my life to try and make sure she doesn’t get buried like a fuckin dog if she does pass away. Please man.”
I watched as tears started to drop down the nigga face like his eyes were draining.
I don’t know why, but that last statement he said stuck to a nigga tough.
His last request to me, a nigga that was about to take his life, was to make sure his mama was good.
The mama’s boy in me resonated with that shit, because before my kids, my mama would’ve been the only person I wanted good if I were about to die too.
I eased up the pressure of my gun to his neck.
“You the only child?”
“Nah, I got a couple of sisters and shit, but they're not going to make sure shit is straight. It’s just me who would look out for my mama; it’s always been just me.
” He sniffled, crying like a female, but what’s crazy about this shit was that he was somehow drawing sympathy from me.
I guess I can relate, because I’d been the only person carrying my family for years, doing grimy shit and selling drugs, killing people just to make ends meet for my own mother too.
It might sound ironic, but jack boys are enemies to the people they jack, but saviors to the people who’s tables they put food on.
“I tell you what. I’m going to get out of this car tonight nigga, but I’ll never get off your ass. Take care of your mother until she takes her last breath, and don’t ever take shit from anybody else again, you understand.”
“Yeah, yes, yes, I understand.”
“Now, get out there and get it by earning your keep. Robbing niggas won’t end you up anywhere but in the river. I got three bricks in my trunk right now that were waiting on you for taking from my homie, but I’m going to let you live. He's not hurting for that chump change you took anyway.”
I slapped him upside the back of his head with the gun because I had to at least make the nigga bleed.
“Thank you, thank you, Crew. Thank you, man. I appreciate it, and I can pay Hov back however he needs me to. I owe you my life. That’s on everything!”
“Look, don’t worry about that shit, just pay me back by not letting me regret letting you go. Now get the fuck on.”
“Wha, wha about Hov? Will he try to kill me if he sees me?”
“I’ll talk to that nigga, but trust me, he’s not worried about you. He is taking care of his family, something you need to be here to do, and as I said, he is not hurting for that money. He a millionaire.”
He held his bloody ear.
“Thank you, man, thank you.” He wiped the tears off his face with the palm of his hand. I got out of the car and jogged back to mine, watching the nigga I been chasing for months drive away.
It was the first time in my life that I could say I showed someone mercy that may not have completely deserved it in the eyes of my old morals, but this nigga wasn’t an enemy compared to the real ones I had now.
I can see now why Amir did what he did with my baby mama because that sympathy shit can just hit your heart out of no where and make you go against everything that you thought you were all about.