Chapter 8
Amir
Jasmine was never ugly to me, but it was something about her today that really had me look at her in another way.
The fabric on those leggings hugged her curves every time she moved.
Jasmine was thick, smelled good, and she had the prettiest brown skin I think I ever saw the more I paid attention to her.
Before today, I always looked at her as a victim of mine, but now I was looking at her as a woman I wanted to give that pressure to.
I turned to look at her one more time before I got in my car to leave.
I sat there for a moment trying to find the perfect song to play before I drove off.
Once I decided to play that old school Jay Z, Imaginary Players, I noticed the guys' attention go down the street, halting all of their conversations. Within seconds, that’s when gunfire started to crack through the air, whipping past every car out here.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Everybody dropped to the ground, and my first thought was the women out here.
I knew Crew would grab his wife since she was already in his arms, so I was concerned about Jasmine.
I crawled out of my car, going straight for her, who was crawling with no real direction on where to go.
I tackled her body, then drug her behind the car next to us.
“You good?”
“My brother. P!” She could only get out a few words.
“They are good. Stay right here!”
Concrete scraped my palms as I got back up to join Crew and the other guys who were already up firing, their guns back at the cars at the end of the street. Car alarms blared, adding to the chaos in the streets, and the sound of glass shattering echoed around us.
“Fuck!” Crew and me dropped back to the ground when we ran out of ammunition.
“Bruh, we have to roll, my family with me!” Crew yelled.
“Understood! Let’s get them in the car.”
“Yo, everybody, pull the fuck out!” Crew yelled to everyone else around us.
Gunfire kept raining over us as we rushed the girls to Crew’s car, shoving them inside and forcing them low across the backseat. They curled up, covering their heads, while we crawled into the front seats, still firing back.
We peeled off from the shop’s parking lot, tires screeching as we shot down the street. When I looked in the rearview mirror, two cars blew through the intersection coming after us, ignoring the red light.
“They following us, Crew. We need to get them up off us. You got something in here?” I asked Crew who was driving like a muh fuckin racecar driver.
“Yeah, I have an AR under your seat.”
“Crew! I told you no guns like that in the car my baby’s ride in!” Pernelle fussed at Crew through the chaos.
“P, you really going to argue during a shoot out? Stay your ass low so we can get back to our kids!”
I reached down under the seat and pulled the AR-15 out, while Crew swerved around slow traffic, jumping the curb and cutting onto the sidewalk.
Pedestrians scattered, diving out of the way, and the cars shooting at us, followed with the same urgency, tires bouncing over the curb like they didn’t care who was in the way either.
They had their eyes on us and were trying to catch us, just as much as we were trying to escape them.
I rolled the window down, and strong wind whipped into the car, blowing my Kufi completely off my head. Good, my hair was fuckin braided because it would be in my fuckin eyes right now if it wasn’t.
When the street cleared for a split second, I pushed up onto the windowsill and started firing the AR off, and the punch back into my shoulder almost made me lose my balance.
The gun was fully loaded, so I was letting that shit go, then I felt a sharp pain ripping through my arm.
It burned like hell, but I kept shooting until one of the cars behind us jerked to the left when a tire blew, sending it swerving into the car behind it, and both cars spun out, crashing into parked vehicles with more cars piling up behind them.
“Good fuckin shooting, nigga!” Crew yelled because I’m sure his adrenaline was just as high as mine.
I dropped back inside the car, breathing hard with my heart pounding in my ears as we flew through intersections, cutting between rows of buildings, Crew still driving like we were being chased.
My adrenaline was so high that I didn’t even know I had been shot in the arm until I felt the blood trickling down my arm.
“Fuck, I got hit,” I said under my breath because I didn’t want to scare the girls.
“Alright, you're going to be straight. We just need to get to my crib. P you good back there?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, are you, baby?’
“I’m straight, what about you, Jas?”
“I’m okay.”
Crew took his phone from his pocket and put it up to his ear after dialing a number.
“Nigga, we just got in a shootout.”
I’m sure he was talking to Hov as I took the bandana that was wrapped around the rifle and put it around my arm until I can get some help for this shit.
When we pulled up to Crew’s house, I spotted Hov sitting on his porch with a rifle in his arms.
He jogged across the street, looking in each direction, and Pernelle and Jasmine climbed from out of the backseat, still shaken up from the shootout.
“Baby, are you going to come inside?” Pernelle asked Crew.
“In a minute. Let me talk to Hov right quick.”
“Okay, but hurry up. Please. I don’t want you just standing out here.”
“We lost them, baby, don't worry. I’ll be inside in a minute.” He replied, and her and Jasmine filed into the house, arms linked up.
“So, we have no clue who those niggas were? No word of threats on the streets?”
“The only word I’ve gotten is that nigga Marcus putting a hit out on Crew. Other than that, I haven’t heard shit about niggas wanting war with us. Especially on that level.”
“Yeah, that’s a whole other level they're on. Them niggas shot at me with my fuckin wife and baby sister with me. I’m not playing fair at all after this shit. They done woke that nigga up inside of me, everybody wanted to die.”
“Overstood. I would feel the same way.” Hov replied, before looking over to me.
“You got hit?”
“Yeah, once in the arm. It's burning like shit but not as bad as the last time. I’ll be straight.”
“Alright nigga but go in the house and sit tight. Can you get Aunt Tracy on the line?” Crew asked Hov.
“Already on it.” Hov put his phone up to his ear, and we all walked into Crew’s house into just the quiet you need after a shootout.