Chapter 18
Gio
For the first time in weeks, I slept better than I did in jail, even though it was on the floor; the bitch didn’t even give me the couch. I sat up, checked my phone; it was still early as hell, but I needed to hit the block.
I had no money, and the last thing I wanted to worry about was giving a nigga his shit back when I was trying to get my girl back.
I got the idea to call Kronic. I knew that nigga would front me some, but then I thought of something else.
I hopped in the shower quick and got myself together, found my Glock, and rushed outta of the house.
I was in a good mood when I left the crib, went through the hood, said wussup to some old heads, then pulled up on Trina.
That bitch owed me.
I parked and walked up to her door; after knocking, I stood to the side a lil’ bit.
“Hello?” she said, as she came to the door, looking out, not seeing anybody.
She then opened the screen door, and I rushed inside, pushing her back. She looked fucked up, her ribs were wrapped, and she had a cane.
“Who fucked you up?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Your girl.”
I nodded with a smile; I was damn proud of Islah.
“That’s what the fuck you get for trying to fuck with a real one, anyway. Tell me this, what the fuck did you think you were gonna get by stepping to my girl?”
“I told you, I always wanted you. You were supposed to need me.
“Girl, the only thing you were good for was crack. Your pussy was never that good… to be honest, it matched your crack.”
She swung and tried to hit me, but I caught it.
“Gio!” she said, eyes wide as hell.
I smiled. I was glad she was scared. “I could never be with a coked-out bitch like you. And then you stepped to my queen?”
“YOU FUCKIN’ STOLE FROM ME, GIO! HOW THE FUCK YOU THINK I’M SUPPOSED TO PAY MY BILLS?”
I laughed, and she stared at me with an attitude.
“If I cared about what you had to take care of, I wouldn’t be here now.”
Trina looked at me, confused.
I pulled out my Glock, cocked it, and pointed it at her head.
“Your daddy gave you your shit?”
She didn’t even respond; tears just ran down her cheeks.
I smiled again, pointing my Glock toward her hallway. “Go get me your shit.”
Trina shook her head.
“No, I need it.”
I put my Glock back in the middle of her head.
“No, bitch, I need it. And to be real, you owe me for fuckin’ up my shit at home. Now you can give me your shit, or…”
I paused and smiled.
“You already know how I’m coming… just give me your shit.”
She stared at me, even folded her arms across her chest like she had all the control.
I sucked my teeth and smacked that bitch across the face with the butt of the Glock.
“Who the fuck do you think you are standing up to? Bitch, you don’t hold no grounds in your own damn house. Now, get your shit like I said.”
Trina held on to her face and walked up the hallway, sniffling. And a few minutes later walked back down with a duffel bag and tossed it to me.
“Here!”
She went and sat on her couch while I checked out the bag.
“This all of it?” I asked.
She nodded, still holding her face.
I zipped it back up and headed to the door.
“If you talk to me, or my girl hear from you again, that’s your ass.”
I walked outta her house and went over Kronic’s way. As I drove down the block, the hood saw that I was home. Everybody started to show me love.
When I got down to Kronic’s house, that nigga was walking outta his door with a smile on his face, clapping his hands.
“Welcome home, nigga!” He lifted his glass in the air.
I walked up on his porch with the duffel bag tight in one hand as I dapped him up.
We sat down on Kronic’s porch, and he fixed me a drink.
“You know your girl was out here.”
I nodded, taking the glass from him. “Yeah, I heard.”
I took a sip, and he stared at me.
“You okay?” he asked. “What the girl did, most wouldn’t, you should appreciate that she held yo ass down.”
“She left me,” I said bluntly, looking up and down the block.
Kronic was about to take a sip of his drink when he stopped.
“Damn, nigga, I’m…” he said, then paused, making me look over at him. “Nigga, what the fuck did you do?”
I tried not to laugh, but the nigga face was twisted up.
“Aye, stop playin’ with me,” I said, trying to play it off.
Kronic wouldn’t let up. “Nah, nigga, what did you do?”
I shook my head. “You know how I would get work for Trina?”
“Yeah…”
“The bitch kept popping up when I was locked, then sent a pic of us to my phone.”
Kronic shook his head. “Nigga, I told you years ago that bitch was gonna haunt you.”
I agreed with him, that nigga said that shit the first time I came to his crib with her daddy crack.
“I know, but crazy part is, I told the bitch I was done.”
Kronic laughed, a lil’ too hard for the way I was feeling.
“You thought that bird bitch was going to listen to you? That’s the same bitch that daddy only gave her that shit to keep her away from him.”
“I took the easy way out. Islah wanted a family, marriage, babies, and all that. And nigga, I was ready to give it to her until that bitch fucked it up.”
“You thought that poppin’ up was gonna keep Islah around? Nigga, you dumb as hell.”
I stood up and walked to the steps, watching cars go by.
“I can’t let her go… not like that.”
“Then what the fuck are you gonna do, nigga? Have you talked to her?”
I nodded. “I’ve tried, she’s not tryin’ to hear it. She told Bully she’s moving but wouldn’t say where.”
“Damn, nigga, you might have just let her move on and see if she ever comes back.”
I raised an eyebrow as I looked at him.
“Did you hear what the fuck I just said, nigga? I got a new plug, I bought her ass a ring, a crib, then she gonna up and leave a nigga when we are at the finish line—”
“And you fucked up, nigga!” Kronic added, cutting me off.
“You went to jail, lost control, and that bitch took advantage to get back at you. And on top of all of that, the way Islah has been down for you through the years… outta all our niggas, you’re the only one that has the longest relationship.
She respected your hustle, hit the block with you, looked good, and took care of home. ”
“I know, nigga, I know,” I shot back.
“Then you should have did right by her, nigga.”
I stared off in the distance, letting what he said sink in. He was right, so was Bully. I needed to leave her alone and see if love would bring us back together, like the old folks used to say.
But for some reason, that thought didn’t sit right with me.
I turned around, and Kronic was handing me a lit blunt. I took it from him, inhaled, and exhaled, feeling like I was blowing all the doubt outta me.
“Man, fuck that waiting shit,” I said as I picked up my duffel bag. “I can’t wait; the longer I wait, the faster she’s slipping away.”
I opened my duffel bag and showed it to Kronic. “I saw that bitch one more time.”
He laughed and shook his head. “What’s ya plan nigga?”
“Nigga, I’ma light this block up, then get my house ready for her.”
“Okay, nigga,” Kronic said, rollin’ another blunt. “And then what?”
“I’ma get my girl back, what the fuck you mean?” I shot back.
He laughed. “I guess you just met Islah. Go ahead nigga, do your big one.”
I stepped off the porch, clapped my hands like I was doing a bird call, and them fiends stared flockin’.
I sat on my nigga step, cut up work, bagged it up, and made my money like a nigga was sellin’ cookies. Kronic watched in amazement as my shit moved so fast.
The crackhead made calls and sent people to me, and by the end of the day, I was out.
Kronic made a call to his people so I could re-up, and while we waited for them. I went and showed some people some love. I got into a dice game with niggas, taking even more money from them when I heard my name being called from a car.
I stared at the car before I walked over to it, not knowing who it was until they hopped out and I saw that it was Loc.
I stared at him, and he motioned for me to come over. I grabbed my money from the ground and walked over to that nigga.
“Wussup with you?” he asked.
“Not shit, trying to get back in the mix of things.”
He nodded. “I heard you got popped. They be doing niggas dirty.”
I raised my eyebrows and watched his body language, hearing Islah’s voice in my head softly.
“You might have got set up.”
I nodded. “Yeahhh, they tried to keep a real nigga down—”
“They did,” he said, cutting me off. “Did they find what they needed from your crib?”
I backed up from him; the nigga had a smirk on his face.
I smirked right back at him. “Let me tell you this, nigga,” I said low. “Let me find out—”
“Let you find out what? What are you already thinking?”
I didn’t say shit else.
Loc laughed and turned to get in his car. “Pop said to tell you that you are never bigger than the program.”
I looked at him, confused, but not givin a fuck.
“Nigga, fuck you and your daddy, y’all ain’t bigger than me!”
Loc looked me up and down, like he was clockin’ a nigga.
“We’ll be seeing you.”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, nigga, yes you will.”
Loc pulled off, and Kronic walked over to me.
“What the fuck was that about?”
I shrugged. “I don’t even know for real, but I think that nigga Loc and his pops set me up.”
“Nigga, leave that shit alone. You know OG mind ain’t straight, all the damn crack that nigga has smoked.”
“Yeahhh, that might be true, but that nigga is going to see me.”
Kronic turned my attention back to the block. What started as me making money turned into a whole block party.
When my re-up came, I went back to work.
Before the night was over, my coke was gone, and my duffel bag was hardly able to zip as it sat between my legs.
I held the block up all night, on a mission, and when the gray sky turned orange and that Cali sun was rising, my body was tired, my eyes were bloodshot red, but my mind, my mind was already making plans for the forever thing I had on my plate.
I stood up and stretched one good time, while Kronic walked out with two cups of coffee and handed me one.
“Nigga, you did your big one out here.”
I nodded. “I damn sure did.”
I dapped Kronic one last time, the smell of weed clinging to our clothes. “Go handle your shit nigga; I hope the shit works out for you. Call me if you need me.”
“I appreciate that nigga.” I turned to walk to the car and heard Kronic call my name, and I turned back around.
“Don’t burn out over this girl.”
I didn’t answer. I just hopped in my car and pulled off, my engine growling low, just like the storm in my chest.
The streets were still dead, that early morning calm settling in, but my mind was on my mission.
I pulled up to my house, grabbed the duffel bag, and went inside.
I shut the door behind me, and I felt the silence immediately; not even jail was this damn quiet.
I rubbed my face and let out a slow breath. I honestly didn’t think she would leave me. Islah was the noise, the life, the reason I never felt the walls closing in. Now it was just me… and a feelin’ I couldn’t let go.
I started unpacking, throwing things around like my anger needed a physical outlet.
Boxes cracked, papers flew as I looked through everything and got madder the more I searched.
Things I bought for her over the years, all of our pictures, shit that mattered to her at one point, were all with me like she didn’t want any memories of a nigga.
I stepped back from the boxes and leaned against the window, trying to get my thoughts together; they weren’t clear, and I didn’t give a fuck; I needed to feel the control I used to have back.
So a nigga had to get to work.
The next few days were step one of my plan: getting my house straight.
I went out and bought up everything I could—everything I thought Islah would like and had it delivered to the house.
I stayed up for three nights putting shit together and moving them around the way I think she would like it.
After I hung all our pictures, I smiled, thinking about the times we had.
Then I shook my head. I was building a palace for a ghost. The kingdom that my queen wanted, but no longer wanted to be there—this was the start to fixing it.
Once the house was done, I then went out and got my girls some clothes, shoes, handbags, and even slid in a new necklace to have something waiting for her in her walk-in closet. I sent her some pictures of the house when I was done, leaving her closet as a surprise.
She didn’t respond.
I tried to call—it went straight to voicemail. My stomach twisted, my chest tightened with that heat that I felt building inside of me. I let out a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, grabbed something to drink, and tried to call her again.
And again, it went straight to voicemail. I slammed my phone down and banged my fist on the counter.
“What the fuck,” I said to myself.
I walked around the kitchen with my cup in my hand and stared out the window, listening to the quietness in the house, waiting for a call from her, but she didn’t.
I clenched my fist and whispered her name low, almost like I was promising something.
“You gonna see me soon, Islah, I promise.”
I needed to focus on something else. I let out a deep breath, walked out of the kitchen, grabbed the money I had left, and walked out of the house.
I went back to my block, out Crenshaw, and chopped it up with Bully and them niggas. Kronic came through and blessed me, and I went back to feeding the streets.
We were out there just about all day, each of us making money with our own work, when I saw a car creeping up slow.
I looked around at my niggas, none of them were peepin’ what I was.
The car stopped across the street from us, and that’s when niggas wanted to get on alert, grabbin’ at their waist and shit. I laughed, niggas were lookin’ at me like I needed to get ready, but I stayed ready.
The driver’s door opened, and OG hopped out with his son.
Bully and Kronic looked at me.
“What he want?” Bully asked me, passing me a blunt.
I smirked as I took a puff. “To speak his case.”
I walked over to them, laughing to myself the whole time.
“My son said y’all had words a few nights ago.”
I shrugged as I got closer. “If you want to call it that.”
OG didn’t respond right away; he stared at me for a second, watching some cars pass by.
“You know, I thought we could do business together; I thought you were a real one until I found out you think you are bigger than the program.”
I smirked. “Nigga, on these streets, I’m the program. I’m what your son thinks he is.”
OG looked at his son, then looked back at me.
“You need to be careful who you fuck with. You never know who they are tied to.”
I laughed at them niggas and walked back to my people while they stood there staring.
“Everything cool?” Kronic asked.
I nodded, still laughing. “Yeahhh, everything straight. That bitch Trina just gonna have to see me one last time.”