Chapter 4
Crew
I sit in my barber Diego’s chair once every week, and I never have to make an appointment for it.
People would be surprised how fast my hair grows with them deep Trinidadian roots in my blood from my mother.
If I didn’t come visit this nigga regularly, I would look homeless as hell.
I would never be okay with looking like a bum.
That shit is for niggas with no fuckin hustle.
“Alright, bruh, I’m done with you.” Diego took the cape from around my shoulders.
“Appreciate you. Oh, and appreciate you for giving me the drop on them Hernandez niggas. I wiped they hoe assess out that same day like markers on a white board.”
“I heard nigga, and you know it was no problem for me on my end. I still owe you times a million for handling that little situation in Harlem for me back in 2017. I’ll never forget that shit.” Diego brushed my shoulders off with the neck duster brush.
“You don’t owe me for that shit, Muddy; he deserved to die. Any nigga that touches little girls is always free of charge for me.”
“And that’s why you forever my nigga. On Allah we locked in for life.”
Diego felt indebted to me for shooting a nigga in between his eyes after he molested his niece for years.
I remember I noticed one day that he looked shook as a mutha fucka while clipping me up, and I asked what was on his mind and the nigga told me that a nigga who had touched his niece had just been bonded out of jail.
I told the nigga to say no more and give me his name so I could handle it.
Let’s just say the dude Tony probably wished he had stayed in jail until trial because I did enough research to find out where he was hiding and laid his ass down.
One of the very few hits I did for free.
Diego and I slapped hands, and I placed five hundred-dollar bills in his hand. Diego often jokes that he can spot a broke nigga by how much they tip him after a cut. If a nigga rounds up to $300, then he's just trying to cap, and cheap as a mutha fucka.
When I left the barber shop, I stepped out onto the sidewalk, catching the eye of a car passing by so slow that they caught my attention. I grabbed my gun from my waist, and by the time I was ready to up it, the car sped off.
“Fuck ass niggas must want to die today?” I watched as they hit the corner down the street and made sure their asses were completely gone before I put my gun back on my side.
When I turned back the other way to go back to my car, I heard my name being called, and I shook my head and squinted my eyes, confused as to why Cashmier of all people was standing in front of me with a baby strapped to her chest.
“Hey Crew, I was hoping to catch you here.”
She walked up to me.
“My name is not Crew. I’m Greg Hollis.” I walked off from her, yet she was still on my heels.
“Don’t you want to at least see him, Crew?
He has your big ass hands and feet. When he was up all night last night, I told him that he most likely gets that night owl stuff from you.
I know how you like to stay up all night snacking and listening to music.
” She rambled on, chuckling like the conversation between us was mutual.
“If this little nigga has all those similarities to me, then why the fuck did you do a DNA test with Hov?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Because I thought there was a chance that he was Hov’s child. I mean, that was my boyfriend, Crew. We were together and having sex often at one point. I slept with you both during the time of conception.”
I shook my head and opened my car door. I could see that she regretted how she put that last sentence. She knew that shit made her sound like a hoe. I mean, I was no better morally, but at least I wasn’t getting nutted in by two different niggas.
“So you are just going to leave Crew? You are not going to try and resolve this?”
“Cashmier, this is why I wanted you to get rid of him. I didn’t want a kid with you. I don’t want any connections with you at all, to be honest. This part of my life is over with.”
She shook her head while holding her baby’s head up with her right hand.
“Crew, you got some fuckin nerve, alright! That part of your life isn’t over with because King is here, and he needs his father. Look, I made a mistake messing with you, and yes, I regret it as much as you do.”
I laughed because I felt this bitch was lying.
“It’s true, Crew. No matter how good your dick may be, you are not the ideal father for a child.”
“Oh, and I’m guessing Hov was though? The nigga who does exactly what I do any time he has to. Look, Cash, everybody knows that your idea of a good father is a rich one. That’s why you thought your fuck ass daddy was a good man.”
She took her hand from her baby's head and raised it to slap me. I stood up in her face, mixing the humid air from my mouth with hers as I stared down into her eyes.
“Put your fuckin hand down. That shit is not flying with me anymore, so don’t ever again raise your hand to hit me. I’ll slang you around this parking lot by your ponytail until it rips from your scalp if you touch me.”
“Really? So, you would do that to me with your son strapped to my chest?”
Cashmier wanted me to feel bad for her, but I didn’t.
I couldn’t because her ass had schemed a wedge in between me and my homie as well as my business.
I have to start over on a lot of connections I made if Hov and I don’t move completely past this shit.
Rebuilding an empire won’t be easy when Hov has most of the streets locked up as it is.
“Cashmier, get him out of this cold ass weather, go home, and decide whether you want to raise him yourself or not.”
“What does that mean, Crew?”
“It means that if he is my son, then I am going to hire the best lawyer in New York to take him from yo crazy ass. Now get back with me when you make the decision on whether you want to be a mother or not.”
“Taking my baby is not an option, but finding out that he is your child is. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to do what I have to. Now move.”
I moved her out my way and closed my door before burning out as she watched. I for sure don't want to keep doing this shit with her ass for years and it will probably be best to put the nail in this coffin early.
I got on my phone and found a place I could solve my wonder for both of these kids that got put on me recently. Where I wanted to believe Pernelle it was just hard because I really didn't know her like that.
I dialed the number and followed prompts until I was able to set up a double appointment for an opening they had for today. After getting off the phone with them, I dialed Pernelle’s number.
“Hey, Crew.” She answered the phone on the second ring.
“Yo, you busy?”
“No, I was just thinking about you. Your daughter is kicking me like a UFC fighter, and I know she gets that feistiness from your ass,” Pernelle giggled into the phone.
“Oh, word?”
“Yeah, but I’m not doing anything. Just lying down on the couch. Eating some fruit as you suggested.”
“That’s what’s up. Listen though. I need you to put on some clothes so that I can take you somewhere in about an hour.”
“Wait, are you for real?”
“Nah, this is artificial intelligence calling you.”
Her dumb ass question made me give an ignorant response.
“Crew, stop being rude.”
“I'm not. Look I will be outside in about forty minutes if traffic stays cool. Make sure you're ready for me, Pretty P.”
“Okay, I'm getting ready now.” I could hear her smiling through the phone before she hung up.
I headed toward Castle Hill and text Cashmier where I needed her to come. She sent back the thumbs up emoji so I wasn't sure if she would show up or not but if she doesn't, I don't want to hear shit else about him being my son.
When I pulled up to Castle Hill, Pernelle was already outside, sitting on the bench with a puffer jacket zipped up to her chin.
I blew the horn, and it took her ten seconds to stand but once she did. She got to my car pretty quickly.
“So, where are we going? Out to eat? Shopping for the baby?” She almost couldn’t stay still in her seat from the excitement.
“Nah, none of those places. We're going to the clinic to get a test ran.”
“Test? What kind of test?” The smile left her face.
“A DNA test. They are going to draw some blood from you or some shit, and that’s how we will find out if the baby is mine before she is born.”
Pernelle smacked her lips and crossed her arms, readjusting herself in her seat.
“You still on that shit, Crew? How many times do I have to tell you that you are the only man I’ve slept with in years?
You know what, fuck this shit. I knew I shouldn’t have told you about her anyway.
I’m out of this bitch.” Traffic around us had slowed to a crawl, and Pernelle popped the door open and hopped right out in the middle of the street, splashing her boots through the dirty ass snow.
“Yo, P. Why the fuck you tripping? It’s just a fuckin test. I just want to be sure she mine!” I yelled out the door, my voice cutting through the noise of engines and impatient drivers.
When I saw she wasn’t turning around, I threw the car in park and hopped out. A yellow cab behind me started honking like shit, and the driver jumped out, running his mouth.
“Why are you leaving your car here in the street, you idiot?”
He fussed in his foreign accent.
Between Cashmier getting on my nerves and Pernelle hopping out of my car, my blood was already boiling, so this fool picked the wrong day to fuck with me.
I stormed up on him, grabbed him by his collar, and before he could get another word out, I laid him out with a clean right to the jaw.
The sound cracked through the air. He tried to swing, and I slammed him up against his cab, gave him a couple more shots to his nose, and made sure he felt that lesson deep.
Don’t fuck with a nigga like me. I don’t give a fuck what my consequences are when I’m mad. Fuck a consequence.