The 2010 hardtop BMW speeds over a speed bump. The hydraulic system of the car absorbed the majority of the impact, yet the body in the trunk still went airborne.

Her hands and feet were tied behind her back leaving her lying on her left side. When the car flew over the speed bump, she came down hard with all her weight onto her left arm. It felt like she’d been stabbed by a thousand needles because of the lack of blood flowing through her arm.

“Shit!” she cursed through clenched teeth as the dull pain shot through her shoulder.

The numb yet sharp tingling told her it was either dislocated or very little if any blood was flowing through it. The side of her face burned from where she was hit and nearly knocked out.

As the car hummed, she wondered how long she had before the car would reach its final destination. She’d been in the trunk for what felt like hours, and willed her mind for what felt like the thousandth time away from what would happen once they reached the end of the road. Although her limbs were losing circulation, her heart was pumping fiercely as the cold sweat she broke out in soaked her shirt.

She had to escape but had no idea how. She could easily get the trunk open by pulling the emergency cord, which she believed was created for those stupid white people who accidentally locked themselves in their trunks; rather than for someone being transported in a trunk against their will. The problem was she had to get her hands free which she doubted would happen since they were numb.

She felt the car slowing and began praying it was for a stop sign. She prayed that they were stopping to pick someone up and she was conveniently forgotten, since she’d been dead silent. But she knew her luck was not that great. The car stopped, and the engine died as she heard the muffled sound of a car door open.

“Fuck!” she mumbled as the beep which accompanies an open car door met her ears.

The door slammed, and she felt the sharp sting in her eyes, but she refused to cry.

Bastard she thought as her throat became dry and cold.

She began hearing voices and then the sound of a key sliding into the trunk. Her mind was wondering who he was talking to. Half his crew was in prison and the other half on the run. She guessed he’d known lots of people, so it could be anyone.

She’d bet her freedom she knew the person. She was thinking of a way out as she stared at the trunk as the key turned and the trunk popped.

Depending on whom it was she might be able to rouse a little sympathy, though she doubted it.

Her heart seem to be somewhere in her throat as the night air assaulted her body and senses. The cold air stung her lungs as the trunk opened.

And if the air didn’t freeze, her what she saw did…

* * *

Yeah, that’s me; Shi.

I know, I know, you wondering what a bitch like me is doing, heart pounding and scared; like a runaway slave, sweating; like five fat bitches in a Dodge Neon with a broken AC in a McDonald’s parking lot eating cheeseburgers in the middle of a Sacramento Summer, and hog tied in the trunk of my own Beemer.

Believe me there is a perfectly logical explanation for this shit.

Okay I’ma start from the beginning, this is what had happened…

Part 1: Back in the Dayz

Chapter 1

Okay for starters and y’all who don’t know me, my name’s Scheyenne Henrietta Iverson AKA Shi.

I grew up for the most part like every otha black kid in East Palo Alto without a daddy. But not for the reason you would think. He wasn’t no dead beat like most of these niggas out here.

He was different; he woulda took care of his seeds; according to momma.

I was two when he died of a massive stroke. I really don’t remember him since I was so young; however with the aid of a picture or two I have a vague memory.

My brothers and I were raised by my mother and grandmother G-dub. We were a normal family I guess, well at least by East Palo Alto standards.

My mother worked at the V.A., she was a registered nurse who didn’t make enough to take care of us.

My grandmother was the one who held down the home front being the house wife she’d been for over thirty years.

My older brother Free ran the streets and sold drugs which he hid from the family very well.

I was a normal little girl who went to school, made good grades, hung out with friends and dreamed about boys, my wedding day and my first child.

My younger brother Poppa, well I don’t know what one year olds do other than shit, eat, sleep and cry.

Life was good; I was a normal kid, until June of 1998...

Chapter 2

I was twelve going on twenty my grandma always said.

It was the day of my graduation at Menlo Oaks Elementary School.

My mom could not get the day off, but she promised she’d be there. She said she was going to take off on her lunch break and didn’t care whether she got fired or not. I knew that was a lie. We needed the money. I’d heard discussions about a second job.

I was in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. I’d got my hair done by Sister Fritzy at her shop next to Kitty’s Cleaners off Willow Road. It was my first perm, and I was so excited, especially since my hair was longer than all the other black girls at my school. They’d been getting perms for years, and their hair was fried and broken off from not taking care of it.

I was studying my makeup-which was a first for me. My momma said only fast ass girls wore makeup at my age. That's when my brother Freemen walked in.

I turned to look at him.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry I was looking for my baby sister,” he said.

“Very funny Free,” I said, with my hand on my hip.

He squinted at me and said, “I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”

I rolled my eyes as I looked my skinny piss yellow brother up and down. “It’s me...” I said turning back to the mirror, “...and ain't you ever heard of knocking?”

“Shi?”

I sighed trying not to smile, “The one and only!”

“Oh damn girl, you look so big. This is bad…”

“What? Why?”

“Because you fine, and I know I'm mah have to kill some nig-”

“Don’t worry Free I’m single. I’m too young for boys,” I said with as much innocence as possible.

“Good. Because what happens if you get pregnant?” Free asked.

Rolling my eyes I sighed and answered, “You die.”

“Good girl!”

I began laughing as he handed me a little box.

My mouth dropped when I saw the jewelry box with ‘TIFFANY & Co.’ written on top in silver lettering. My heart began pounding as I opened the box. Staring me in the face was a pair of silver earrings and a chain. I sat the box down with my mouth going dry and picked up the chain. A large silver pendant was attached to it. I looked at Free smiling his bright, straight smile.

“Read it,” he said.

Heart thumping I looked down at the silver heart and then brought it up close to my face.

‘We will never be far apart, as long as you have my heart,’ I read then looked up at my brother.

He grabbed the chain and stood behind me in the mirror.

“It’s platinum,” he said as he put it on me.

Platinum? I thought. “But-”

He shushed me, and I stop my question.

Freemen always had money. He always gave me twenty dollars here and there. I always got nice gifts from him. He didn’t have a job. He was still in high school, so momma wouldn’t allow him to work. She said we were kids, and we were kids only once. Yet and still, Freemen always had new clothes and nice stuff. So did me and Poppa.

“You keep doing good Shi, and I got you.”

I smiled at his smiling reflection. I wasn’t supposed to tell momma, but for every A I got, I got twenty dollars from Free. And it was hard keeping things-especially clothes and money-from momma. So, I was usually forced to save my money, or every once in a while claim I found it.

I had no idea how exactly I’d explain my new earrings and necklace. I doubted she’d believe the necklace was fake or plain silver. I hated lying to her, besides momma ain’t no fool.

“What do I tell momma?” I asked grabbing my earrings and putting them in my ears.

Free shrugged, “It’s your day Shi. Tell her the truth.” Free winked and left.

I stood looking down at the platinum heart and my simple black cocktail dress.

I could have gotten something else, but I didn’t want my mom taking out another mortgage on my part, so I chose something cheap.

I was skinny with no figure; a flat chest which pissed me off because I seem to be the only one in my class with one. I guess I had ass though, not a lot but some. All black people do. My mom said I’d fill out and that I was just a late bloomer. She said I’d wake up one day and see it. But I had a hard time believing it.

I looked at the toilet paper and seriously thought about stuffing my training bra, but only white girls did that. Hell, it was really tempting, but the door opened, and my mother burst in with an ear to ear smile.

“Mommy! What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” my mom said closing the door behind her and looking me up and down. I was taller than her in my heels.

“I know, but work?”

“Look, wiping some white bitches’ ass ain’t mo' important than watching my baby walk across the stage…” she said raking her hands through my hair. “...I swear Fritzy bet not let yo’ hair fall out,” she sighed.

She’d been against me getting a perm. She said my hair was hers until I turned 18; then I could do whatever I wanted with it. I never complained because my momma always made sure it was done.

The door opened again, and we both looked at G-dub in the door frame. Shaking her head she said, “Lee she looks just like you.”

My mom smiled.

“Look at you girl,” G-dub said reaching out to move a chunk of my hair out of my face. “I wish your daddy and Pappy could see you right now.”

I always stayed quiet at the awkward moments when they brought up either my dad or my grandpa.

“What’s this?” G-dub had her hand around my heart.

I shrugged and tried to sound real casual when I said, “Oh nothing. Something Free found.”

“Oh that’s so nice,” she said. “That boy some lucky, always finding things…”

“Uh huh,” my mother moaned. “I bet he found them earrings with it.”

“We will never be far apart, as long as you have my heart,” G-dub read. “That’s pretty.”

“I wonder if he found the inscription too, or if it cost more,” my mom was becoming angry. I could feel it in my bones.

“Ma don’t worry, it ain’t real,” I said trying to get the situation under control.

“Tiffany's don’t make nothing fake,” my mom said.

Now I know y’all thought y’all mommas could read yo’ mind, but they can’t. I forgot the box was still sitting on the sink.

I didn’t know what to say as my mom said, “Excuse me,” and walked passed G-dub.

“Momma.”

“Lee don’t-”

Me and G-dub followed my momma to the living room where Free was playing with Poppa.

“Freemen!” she said crossing her arms. “Where did you get the money from?”

“Huh?” Free asked looking up.

He saw G-dub and I standing behind my mom.

My heart was racing.

“She’s twelve years old; you got her walking around wearing shit that cost mo' than my house. Where did it come from?”

Free sighed, “Shi here, take Pop back in the room.”

I hesitated. I wanted to hear; I hated when they sent me out when they were talking.

“Freemen please.” My mother took a deep breath as he walked over and handed me our little brother.

“Go,” he whispered as my momma said, “Just tell me you stole it. Tell me you robbed someone. I can’t believe this I found it shit no mo'.”

“Ma!...”

I walked into the kitchen where I could hear everything and sat down in at the kitchen table. I bounced Poppa my knee trying to keep him quiet.

“Freemen please. I told you, I will not allow no drug dealers in my house. Shit, stealing is bad enough but, I’d rather-”

“Momma, I never brought no drugs here, I swear.”

The following silence made my heart pound in my ears. I was scared as hell. “Freemen, I’m-no I’m nrry. Baby I love you, but I-you have to go.”

“Momma!”

“Lee!” I wanted to say something too. My mouth was dry, and I could feel the tears, but I didn’t want to ruin my makeup.

“Momma, I have two little kids to take care of and I can’t. I won’t have drugs in this house. You see what happened to John, and Freemen-I can’t do it again. Drugs killed yo’ father and almost got you, yo’ sister and me. You, you have to go.”

That was strange, we all have the same dad and from what I knew he died of a stroke.

There was more silence and then I heard Free say, “I love you momma, and, I’m sorry.”

There was a long silence in which I held my breath. I wanted so bad to get up and go see what was going on; why everyone was silent.

After a long time the silence broke. “I know you are,” I heard my momma say and then a few seconds later the front door open and slam.

I was frozen to the spot. If I’d known that would be the last time I’d see my brother, I would have went after him, grabbed hold of him and never let go. My mother, if she knew, may have done the same.

Chapter 3

There was a somber mood the rest of the day. We piled into my mom’s old Volkswagen Rabbit and drove to my school in silence. My mom tried to make conversation and cheer everyone up, but even Poppa was feeling the loss of Free from the family. I wanted to talk to my mother about it and try to make things better. I’d even return the necklace and earrings, but I doubted it would matter.

When I got to school, I went to class to change into my cap ‘n’ gown. As soon as I stepped in the door I saw my best friend and partner in crime Vicky. She was Mexican and black and very pretty. Over the years she’s filled out a lot more than I have.

I made my way over to the corner she was in with a few other girls in our crew. She noticed something was wrong from the door. She grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

“What’s wrong?”

“My momma kicked Free out.”

Her eyes got large, “Why?”

“He sellin’ drugs and bought me this.”

She looked at my necklace, “That’s bad, is it real?”

I nodded, “Platinum.”

Her eyes got bigger, “Free sellin’ drugs?”

I nodded again.

“Damn girl!”

Mrs. White clapped her hands for our attention and started yelling something about five minutes. I slipped into my gown and put on my cap.

“Okay, first off, girl you lookin’ bad, I love yo’ hair, weave?”

I shook my head, “All mine.”

“Damn, anyways look Shi, we’ll talk later.”

My special day did not seem so special without Free. I walked across the stage feeling empty; my smile was fake, and the day was depressing.

We all went out to eat at Home Town Buffet; me, Momma, G-dub, Poppa and Vicky. Vicky’s dad Mr. Lopez could not make it and barely showed up to hear Vicky’s name called and see her walk across the stage. By the time the entire class was called he was gone; back to work.

Nothing could cheer me up, not even my best friend; though she tried.

“You wanna spend the night?” she asked as I went through the motions of finishing the meal and getting dessert.

I shook my head, “I just wanna go home and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better.”

Vicky nodded, “If you want I can come spend the night with you.”

I shook my head.

“Come on, your birthday’s on Sunday girl, cheer up.” I rolled my eyes, “Okay.”

We finished up and left. I fell asleep in the car, and when I woke up I was in the car alone with G-dub. “You guys already dropped Vicky off?” I asked wondering who said no to her staying over, my mom or her dad. G-dub smiled as I looked around. “Where are we?”

“San Mateo,” she answered. We were parked in front of a hotel.

“Where’s momma and Pop?” G-dub pointed to the hotel. “Why are they in the Hyatt?”

“You some nosey, come on.”

G-dub and I locked up the car and walked into the hotel. We stopped at the front desk. “This is Scheyenne Iverson; would you let her mother know she’s coming up?” G-dub asked the white lady. “Sure,” she said in a very high pitched, cheery voice.

We rode the elevator to the top floor and when the doors opened I began to remember Free. The sadness was taking me all over again by the time we got to the last door. G-dub knocked, but no one answered. We waited for a few seconds.

“Maybe this the wrong room,” I said.

G-dub reached in the pocket of her skirt and produced a little card.

“I ain’t got my glasses baby,” she said handing it to me.

I took the card. ‘211,’ was stamped on it. Following the instructions I inserted it into the slot in the door. There was a green light; I turned the knob and opened the door.

The room was dark and quiet; I reached for a light. When the light came on I heard a loud roar of voices.

“Surprise!”

I damn near had a heart attack. The large room was filled with all of my friends. As they began singing happy birthday, Vicky came up to me with a tiara and sat it on my head. My mom was holding Poppa by a large cake. There were presents stacked on a table by a window.

I was so excited as the song ended and someone started clapping and singing the so called hip hop version of happy birthday. I looked around for Free, but he wasn’t there. I blew out my candles silently wishing for my brother.

As G-dub cut the cake, I was rushed to the table with the presents.

“Here baby, this one first,” my momma said.

It was a medium sized box.

“Okay everybody shush,” my momma instructed. “Who’s it from?”

I looked down at the top of the bright red wrapping paper and read, “To: Shi… From: Free.” I breathed his name as my heart almost stopped and I looked up. My mom smiled and handed me the card. I tore it open.

“Happy birthday Shi. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation or your party. But I promise I’ll see you on your birthday. Love, Free,” I read aloud then ripped into the present.

“What is it?” I heard my mom ask.

“A cellphone!” I screamed holding the Nokia box up.

I would be the first out of all my friends to have one. My mom was shaking her head, and I moved to the next present.

After the presents, cake and ice cream, I was floating on cloud nine. It was getting late; Poppa was sleep on the bed.

“Okay, Shi we’re gonna go home. I’ll be back at noon to get you and Vicky, and make sure everyone gets home.”

I looked at my momma confused. She winked at me and picked up Poppa. She never left me unsupervised. I guessed I was growing up.

I gave them hugs and kisses and said, “Goodbye.”

Once they were gone, and everyone was settled down either eating more cake and ice cream or watching T.V.; me and Vicky went to the bathroom.

I opened up my new phone and after five minutes of stunned silence powered it on.

“Girl, that shit is clean, you the first one out of all of us who got a cell phone. How much do you think that cost?” I shrugged like I didn’t care though I was wondering the same thing. “Who you gone call first?” Vicky asked.

I handed her the birthday card from Free. Right after, ‘Love, Free’ it said, “Stop reading.”

Free and I have had enough birthdays with my mom to know that she always had us read our cards out loud and present our gifts for the world to see. He left me a private message. “When everything dies down call me,” the message said and then there was a number. I dialed it and listened to the ringing as my heart pounded.

“Hello.” The sound of Free’s voice almost made me cry. “Shi?”

“Thank you for the phone,” I said.

“Always the best for my baby sister.”

“When you comin’ home?” He sighed, and I knew he had no idea. “Shi I’ll be eighteen in a few more months so-”

“What about school?” I just wanted him home. “I’m still gone graduate, momma would kill me…”

“Are you still going to M.A.?”

“Yep, I’ll see you there, so you better be on point.”

I wanted to cry, but I stayed strong, besides Vicky was staring a hole in mah head. The line was silent. It felt like the right time to ask.

“Free, I heard what momma said about dad. What-”

“Look Shi-”

“Dad didn’t die of a stroke; did he? He was killed because of drugs?”

Free sighed loudly. “I’m not gone lie to you… Look Shi I’m with some people and I don’t want all our business out in the streets, so I’ll call you back and tell you everything.”

“You promise?”

“Your old enough Shi.”

“Okay, what time?”

“Um,it might be late…” My heart was pounding in my ears. “I’ll be up. Just call me.” Free sighed again and said, “Okay-”

“I don’t care if it’s two Free; call me; I mean it.”

Free laughed, and I smiled. Vicky was staring at me still.

“Okay, bye Shi.”

“Later Free.”

He hung up. Just like that. I don’t know, I guess I expected a little more than bye and a dead line.

Chapter 4

The place was in the hills of Oakland. Because of its style it looked like a house; however, its size made it a mansion.

It was owned by Tommy Gibbs a.k.a. T-money. T-money was an old school pimp turned drug dealer; with a few kills under his belt and over a hundred people working for him he was somewhat of a drug lord.

All the drugs sold in the Bay Area in one way or another went through him. There was not an ounce sold that he didn’t know about. He was The Man when it came to drugs. He didn’t just sell nickels and dimes, he was not who you went to just too simply re-up. He was the one who the distributors went to. He was a drug lord, a King Pin as he liked to say. And for the last thirteen years he built his empire, for the last thirteen years he was T-money.

It was Friday night, better yet Saturday morning. He stood at the window of his upstairs office looking down at the lone car in the driveway. He had a guest waiting for the last hour; he liked to make people wait.

There was a knock on his office door. He turned as a light skinned, green eyed twenty seven year old woman said, “It’s been an hour Money.”

T-money smiled, “Thank you baby girl, tell one of the girls to bring down refreshments.”

“Will do…”

The door closed, and T-money walked to his desk and pulled out his .357 Magnum. These fools will never catch me slippin’, he thought putting it into its holster and checking the small .22 strapped to his leg.

Slowly he made his way down to his office on the ground floor where a dark skinned thug in a baggy jean outfit was sitting in a chair across from his desk.

He stood, “T-mo, whaz good cuz?”

“Don’t yo’ crab ass cuz me nigga,” T-money snapped.

T-money watched the man’s fist clinch and then turned his back to him daring him to make a move. They were on his turf and the nigga wouldn’t make it out alive. T-money knew his name alone had people spooked.

“Sorry”

“What do you want?” T-money asked sitting at his desk.

“Well, it’s that nigga from P.A. he been movin’ in on my shit and-”

“Watch yo’ mouth young one.”

“Sorry.”

“Check this Spencer-”

“It’s Spin-”

T-money looked at Spencer, and he knew right away that he did something wrong. You do not interrupt T-money. T-money let the silence grow uncomfortable before he spoke slowly.

“Look Spencer, get to the point; I’m a very busy man.”

“I was just trying to get permission from you to move in on this foo’.”

T-money grew silent showing that he was thinking about the request and he was, however, he already had what he would say in mind. Spencer was beating around the bush.

“I’m asking myself why would you be asking me permission to kill a nigga Spencer? I’m sure you done drew down on many a nigga without my blessing and knowledge.”

“Well yeah it’s just—”

“Get yo’ dick out yo’ ass and tell me what you want. Who are we talking about? Why would I care about a nickel and dimer?”

“He go by Free, and he from P.A...”

T-money began laughing, “And he’s not just a nickel and dimer. He’s making me a lot of money, and if I’m correct he’s worth a helluva lot more to me than you Spencer.”

“Yeah, that’s because he movin’ in on-”

T-money started clucking his tongue.

T-money was not concerned about turf wars, nor did he care if someone moved in on anyone. All the money came to him in the end since he monopolized the Bay Area.

“Freemen Iverson; father: Johnny Iverson. We have a lot of history you know?” Spencer remained silent. “More history than young Freemen knows. I’m the one who put his father down and spared him and his family,” T-money said talking more to himself than to Spencer.

He was thinking of his old boss and best friend. Some would think him a cold man, to not give a damn about what he’d done.

But T-money could care less. It needed to be done he thought. In the end, it all boiled down to survival and love.

Focusing his attention back to Spencer he said, “Freemen is a blood, isn’t he?”

Spencer shrugged as if uninterested and T-money knew his gaze was making him sweat.

“Most of them P.A. cats are rogue.” T-money smiled a wicked looking smile. “Isn’t that what they say in P.A.? Rogue?”

Spencer’s nodded, eyes looking everywhere but at T-money.

“Well did I ever tell you, I’m from P.A. rogue?” Spencer’s eyes widened. “Sac Street rogue. And let me tell you, we only rep our streets; the G, the Vill, the Mid. We don’t get into that colored gang shit, but...we are blood sympathizers as you crab-my bad, Crips would say.”

T-money smiled watching Spencer squirm uncomfortably in his seat. Still smiling T-money said, “Now this thing you got with young Johnny wouldn’t be gang related would it?”

“No sir,” Spencer said shaking his head violently from side to side.

T-money nodded then sighed.

“I’m a business man Spencer and the way I see it, killing Free is bad for business...”

Spencer was trying to look interested without actually looking at T-money.

“Check this Spencer; I could care less what you and Freemen do. I don’t care who kills who. But check me out bruh, if I see Free’s death anywhere in my financials...” T-money looked up as if he was thinking. “I will erase you. Starting with your oldest family member down to the youngest and then you. I will kill anyone who remembers you. Do you understand?”

Spencer was breathing fast as he nodded.

“If you feel you can do his job better, then do it. Now I don’t recommend you start anything with him, but if you must-” T-money shrugged. “You may leave.”

Spencer moved with the quickness for the door. Before the door was opened T-money said, “Good luck, hopefully you don’t get yourself killed.”

Spencer was closing the door when he heard T-money yell, “Where is that bitch with my refreshments!”

Chapter 5

Spin drove away from T-money’s house as fast as he could.

When he was on the freeway he called his right hand man D-loc. “What’s up cuz?” D-loc said.

“Green light cuz, where y’all at?”

“Me and Geezy just followed them to Wal-Mart over here on our side.”

Spin nodded to himself, “‘ight stay on um. I’m gone go to the spot. Tell Geezy to go get them thangs and the boys and then we’ll meet up when they get to where they goin’.”

“Coo’, I’ll do it, but what about his people?”

“Have someone stake out his crib, and let me know where he gone be at.”

“‘ight.”

“Gone cuz.”

The line went dead.

Chapter 6

Free was sitting on a bench in Jack Farrell Park when he saw the first car roll by. It seemed to be creeping by.

Free took a hit of the blunt and pointed towards the car as it passed. He spoke while trying to hold the smoke in.

“Who dat?” he asked passing the blunt to his best friend Aj

Aj shrugged, “Probably lost.” He took a hit.

Free shook his head, “Don’t feel right. Let’s bounce.”

Free was moving before Aj could say anything.

Running, Aj caught up with Free. “Where we goin’?”

“Let’s hit Shawna’s.”

“Oh, we gone hit? I been meaning to get mah dick sucked,” Aj said.

“Naw, just get out the streets,” Free responded.

He was crossing the street as a car moved slowly towards him from down the street. It slowed almost to a stop as Free stood directly in front of the car twenty yards away from him.

Though the car was dark, he caught a glimpse of the driver and his heart began pounding. He turned to Aj just as the car burned rubber and accelerated.

“Aj!”

He heard two loud pops and saw Aj fall eyes wide.

He turned and saw bright white as the car hit him, sending him sailing over the top and into the air. When he hit the ground his sight was gone; everything was black. He could hear voices and feel the cold air freezing his limbs.

“Punk bitch!”

He felt someone kick him and then his body jerked around. His body was screaming as he landed hard on something soft.

The car peeled off burning rubber.

Free could see Aj’s face in his mind as the pain shot through his legs. Shortly after it started moving the car stopped. Free was drug out into the cold night air.

“Let me see his face,” he heard a familiar voice say.

Free tried to focus, but the pain kept him blinded.

“Aye Cuz, you remember me?”

Free was silent as he tried to ignore the pain seizing his body and make himself see again. However, he could not see, he saw nothing, he was blinded.

The voice laughed, “Who’s the bitch now Cuz. Caught yo’ slob ass slippin’.”

There was more laughter.

“Aye Cuz I gotta question foe you. Free do you know where yo’ family is rogue,” Spin pistol whipped Free.

“Bitch ass nigga, just like a crab,” Free said putting a face with the voice.

“Hard my nigg, yo’ ass show no fear. I like that. But check it, you gone die tonight nigga.”

“Spin, Geezy and Trey still at his spot what you want them to do?” Spin looked at D-loc, and then smiling he looked down at Free hunched over. “Yah heard that Cuz? What should we do? We got yo’ crib surrounded.”

Free heard, and he understood though the pain was disorienting.

“Come on nigga you got me, yo’ problems with me leave mah blood outta this.”

Spin laughed, “Beggin’ cuz? Wow I thought you was stronger than that. You remember when you fools jacked me? What you say? ‘I’ll burn down yo’ mommas spot? You knew where I lay my head?’ Nigga all you need to worry about is whether I’ma let you live through the funeral.”

“I swear nigga,” Free’s mouth was numb and full of blood. He knew his teeth had been knocked out. Spin looked at D-loc and said, “Burn em.”

“What you punk-” Spin quickly aimed and put a bullet in Free’s head.

Spin looked down at Free’s twitching body. He felt nothing, he looked up at D-loc and said, “Cremate um, I want them all ashes by the time I get home.”

Spin walked to his car and peeled off.

Chapter 7

Lee awoke from her sleep to use the bathroom. Her baby was still sleeping. After flushing the toilet, she washed her hands. She was on her way back to the room when she heard the sound. It was a popping and crackling sound.

“Momma?” she called sniffing the air.

Smoke, she smelled smoke.

“Momma!” she called again as she walked down the hall. She turned the corner into the front room just as the television exploded. Glass flew everywhere. Lee slammed back into the wall scratching at her bloody face.

“Momma!” she screamed. “Momma!” Her heart was pounding as she climbed to her feet.

“Lee, what-OH MY LORD! LEE!”

“Momma the house is on fire, get Poppa!” Lee yelled.

“LEE!”

“Save my baby Momma, save my baby.”

“LEE!” G-dub ran to the room and grabbed the sleeping baby.

She ran to the kitchen with the sleeping boy. The back door was on fire.

“Please lord save this child.” She ran back to her room. The fire was spreading fast; the smoke was thick and burned her throat. She didn’t wonder why the smoke detectors didn’t go off. She unscrewed them because they were nuisances when cooking.

G-dub played with the window; then realizing there were bars on it, she cursed. She grabbed a quilt from her bed and wrapped the baby in it. She couldn’t breathe, her eyes were burning, but she had to save the baby.

“LEE!” she called making her way down the hall. She tripped at the entrance to the living room. She turned to see her daughter’s body slouched against a wall. “LEE!” she said grabbing her daughters arm. Lee moaned; she was still alive.

Lord please she prayed holding the bundled up quilt with the baby in it.

G-dub began crawling through the living room. She made up her mind that she’d run through the fire and out the front door. She knew she wouldn’t make it, but the baby might.

“Lord protect him,” G-dub said as she stood up with the quilted baby. She took her first step into her full sprint and fell...

Chapter 8

I woke up holding the phone close. Vicky was asleep next to me, and we were the only two in the king size bed in the room.

I guessed everyone else was in the living room sleep still because it was silent. The sound of little girls gone.

I looked down on my phone not knowing what I expected to see. It was just the screen with the time and Nokia printed on it. I guess Free didn’t call.

I crawled out of bed careful not to wake Vicky and went to the bathroom.

I called Free and anxiously waited for him to pick up. There was no answer, just a generic voice telling me to leave a message, so I did.

I got off the toilet and walked to the door where I saw Vicky talking to Tianna. Vicky looked up at me, “Shi come on my dad’s here.”

“Huh, your dad? But-”

“Something's wrong-”

Vicky’s dad was the Vice Mayor of East Palo Alto.

He walked into the room followed by hotel staff. He looked as important as he always does. “Scheyenne get your things we have to go now.”

I was more confused than scared. I ran around grabbing my stuff with the other girls. Tianna and Vicky helped me pack and carry my things down to Mr. Lopez’s van.

I watched as Mr. Lopez told an officer in the lobby to make sure he contacted every one's parents and got the rest of the party home safe.

We were both in the back seat of her dad’s van when I asked Vicky in a hushed tone, “What’s going on?”

Vicky’s eyes were big. I’d known her since birth, her mother and my mother were best friends. Her mother died when she was born, and my mother-being her god mom-did all she could to give Vicky a female figure in her life.

Vicky and I were practically sisters. Vicky always over exaggerated things but never lied to me. Her big eyes let me know she had no idea what was going on.

“Dad where are we going?” Vicky asked her dad leaning forward when he got in the van.

“Stanford,” he said and started speeding out of the parking lot. Mr. Lopez was doing over eighty on 101. Vicky looked at me then back to her dad as the awkward silence took over the car.

“Why are we goin’-”

“Vicky there’s been an accident. Give me some time to think.”

He sounded sad, and I knew something was wrong. I just knew it. I knew it had something to do with me.

My eyes fell to my phone sitting in my lap, and my heart began to pound.

I dialed Free’s number again and begged God silently for him to pick up.

Chapter 9

For the next thirty minutes I’d prepared myself for what I’d see at Stanford. I’d already went through the grieving process, and I was coming out of denial and dealing with acceptance as we walked through Stanford Hospital. We found ourselves in the Intensive Care Unit.

“Wait here,” Mr. Lopez said, and I watched him walk to a nurse and began talking.

They both looked at me and then she nodded and walked off. Mr. Lopez waved us over.

“Vicky, let me talk to Scheyenne. Go wait out in the lobby.”

Vicky looked at me, and I knew she was asking, ‘Is it okay?’ I nodded. She didn’t move, just stared at me, and I took it as, ‘Are you sure girl?’ I nodded again, and she was off.

I took a deep breath and looked up at Mr. Lopez.

“Scheyenne, I don’t know how to say this; I mean this is horrible. I, I don’t-” Mr. Lopez was crying, and I felt awkward watching this grown man-I’ve known all my life, and that was something like a father to me-cry.

I decided I’d help. “Mr. Lopez it’s okay, I know... it’s my brother isn’t it.”

He looked at me with red eyes.

He nodded, “How’d you know?”

I shrugged slightly, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d missed it.

“Did you see the news?”

I shook my head the news?

I was trying to keep my cool but losing it fast. I’d thought that if Free was in the hospital and I was going to see him then he was still alive. And hurt and alive beats stone cold dead to me any day.

I looked up at Mr. Lopez and asked, “Is he going to be okay?”

Mr. Lopez looked down at me, and I knew he knew the answer to my question but wouldn’t tell me. I was right instead of answering he said, “I’m not a doctor Scheyenne, but anything is possible as long as you have faith and pray.”

I didn’t wanna hear no G-dub saying, because what he said must have come right out of her mouth. And stuff like that usually meant things ain’t looking too good.

I studied the floor not knowing what else to say. I wanted to ask more questions, the first being what happened? Was it drug related? Did my mom know? Where was momma and G-dub? But the nurse was back at Mr. Lopez’s side. “Dr. Galleria is waiting, you can go in now.”

Mr. Lopez put his arm around my shoulders and moved me down the brightly lit sterile nurse’s station. On one side was the actual nurse’s station and on the other glass walls with curtains drawn. We stopped in front of the last glass wall. The room was dark and with a ghostly glow, we were met by the beeping and whooshing sound of machines.

I’d never really been inside a hospital. Only in the VA every once in a while when momma was working, and G-dub needed the car to go grocery shopping or to take us to a doctor’s appointment. Then we’d have to pick momma up after work.

I braced myself for what I’d see. I held my breath as I walked into the room with my eyes closed.

I opened one eye, and it slowly adjusted to the lighting. In the center of the room was a white tube.

Confused I opened my other eye and slowly made my way over to the clear tube. I was standing on the side looking down trying to comprehend what I was seeing.

This can’t be Free I thought looking down at the small, crumpled, bright, shiny body. I looked up at the Asian woman in the white lab coat on the other side of the room observing me silently. I looked back at the thing with darkened spots and missing skin.

“He’s got third degree burns all over… we… we have him heavily sedated because of pain. It’s a wonder he made it… he’s strong… a fighter.”

I thought there had to be a mistake; that was not Free...not my brother. Then a sudden realization struck me with the force of a Mac truck. I had more than one brother.

“Poppa,” I gasped.

The tears would not come, but my brain reacted as if they did.

“No! Where’s my momma? What happened?” I was screaming, backing into the wall.

Mr. Lopez tried grabbing me, but I started hitting him. I didn’t want him to touch me; I didn’t want anyone to touch me.

I was screaming for my mom. Mr. Lopez’s strong arms clamped around me, holding me tight. In some far distant voice, I could hear him telling me it was okay. I was kicking now, I don’t know why or how but I guess my brain put it together before I realized what was really going on. I was going crazy, I mean if my momma wasn’t there or G-dub wasn’t there then that meant...

But they couldn’t be...

The mind works in mysterious ways. I was biting and kicking and screaming. My eyes were stinging with tears, I couldn’t see but I heard other people running around, screaming and yelling; then I felt more people grabbing, holding me down. All the while I could hear Mr. Lopez’s soothing voice telling me it was okay and to let it all out. I felt a sharp pinch in my left arm. They had my hands and feet pinned down.

Slowly I felt my throat get dry and raw as my arms and legs started getting heavy. I was feeling tired, and my heart was noticeably slowing down from the rapid beating it was doing. It felt like the wind was going out of me and my chest started to burn. It felt like I was flying as the already dark room went completely black.

Chapter 10

I guess I didn’t take the news of my family’s massacre as expected.

After I was tranquilized, I was sent to Stanford Psych. Ward and strapped down to a bed...

I guess I didn’t take being in a strange room strapped down to a bed as expected either because the bitches took me out again.

The next time I awoke in a white room strapped to the bed, I panicked and almost went dumb again, but this time I saw a friendly face.

The fog slowly began to clear, and I began to realize I couldn’t move when I heard the far yet close voice call, “Shi?”

I blinked a few times and realized the familiar face was Vicky’s. She looked somewhere in between worried and happy.

“Shi, you alright?”

My mouth was dry and my tongue thick. I tried to talk, but it was hard. My brain was having a hard time forming words. There was a nasty taste in my mouth.

“You hungry? Thirsty?” she asked hurriedly.

I nodded and felt a straw go into my mouth.

My eyes were closed again as I sipped feeling myself slip back into the black timelessness. I coughed a little as my weak throat muscles failed to direct the liquid. But, that didn’t stop me; I drank like I’d never drink again.

Once the water was gone I took a deep breath letting the liquid do its job.

I was beginning to realize where I was and why I was there. Vicky was silent as I lay there. I opened my eyes slowly letting the bright light in bit by bit.

Then I tried to speak.

“What happened?” I asked feeling the word dribble out of my mouth.

Maybe it was a nightmare.

“They said you had a break down, and you were out of control,” Vicky told me.

“No! Vick, what happened?” I said again knowing she knew what I meant.

I watched as tears came to her eyes.

She reached down and untied my left hand.

“You ain’t no animal Shi,” she said untying my other arm then moving to my feet.

I closed my eyes waiting for the answer. I was surprisingly calm, which I guess was an effect of the drugs.

“My dad won’t tell me nothing, he won’t even let me see the news.”

There was more silence. I knew Vicky was too nosey to let that stop her and too good a friend-practically family-to not find out what happened.

“Your house caught fire Shi, and Poppa, your mom and G-dub were in there.”

I felt the tears burning through my closed eyelids.

“Poppa was the only one...” she trailed off.

I tried to keep my voice under control as I said, “Is Pop-is Poppa gonna be...” I let it hang there in silence.

Vicky’s voice was choked up when she said, “Shi, Poppa died last night.”

I took a deep, slow, unsteady breath and nodded at her. I could feel the tears on my cheeks. I wanted to try to dry my eyes, but my hands were too heavy. “Free?” I was staring at my best friend; my sister as she clawed the tears away from her eyes.

She was shaking her head. “Nobody knows where Free is, the paper’s saying he...”

The door opened, and a nurse walked in.

“Good afternoon, look who-” her eyes dropped on my restraints and then my tear streaked face.

She hesitated then closed the door. Seconds later Mr. Lopez came in. He looked at his daughter suspiciously and then me.

“Scheyenne,” he said and tried a smile. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

I wasn’t sure; I just wanted to be shot up again and to go to sleep forever. But I managed to nod.

Chapter 11

By the time I got out the hospital, it was almost midnight. I was seen by so many doctors; evaluating and talking to me it was a shame.

When you’re on a forty-eight hour suicide watch, you’re supposed to be awake for those hours. However, Mr. Lopez managed to talk me out of a hospital commitment. He made a case that what I did was normal considering the circumstances. And after prescribing me medication and extracting a promise from Mr. Lopez to bring me back in a week for a checkup and possible therapy or ‘grief consoling’ as they called it. I was in the back of Mr. Lopez’s car with Vicky.

What I was experiencing was a classic case of grief and or shock depending on the doctor.

I forgot all about my birthday seeing as I slept through the actual day.

I felt empty, yet it seemed I didn’t know why. It was all so... unreal. I mean I had no idea what was going to happen to me. I had no family that I knew of, no distant cousins in another state, no play aunty, no, no nothing.

When we got to Vicky’s house, I was ushered into her room where all my things from the party were. I sat on the bed looking at my pink duffel of overnight clothes my mother packed for my party.

I began to realize that if my house was burned down then so were all my things. What I saw in Vicky’s room was all I had to my name, to me... period.

Vicky came into the room talking a mile a minute.

“Okay I got an extra tooth brush in the bath room for you. I washed your clothes so your underwear, and your pajamas is clean in there. You can take a shower if you want...”

Leave it to this bitch to be excited I’m over her house.

I didn’t look up.

She came and sat down next to me on her bed.

“What am I gonna do?”

I wasn’t really asking her just talking out loud. I was trying to arouse some type of feeling in me. The medication? Shock? Grief? Whatever it was had me feeling… nothing; like I wasn’t real. I, hell I don’t know what I was. Empty... that’s the only description I could come up for it. Numb.

“I have nothing Vicky, no one.”

“Girl you got me and my dad, we-” I just looked at her, and she got the message.

I turned back to the floor, and Vicky said, “Hey!”

I watched as she ran to her dresser, pulled out the top drawer and reached in. She grabbed something. I became interested in the floor again when she sat something in my lap.

I looked down, and my mouth went dry. I looked up from my phone to her. I didn’t know a lot about what was going on, but what I did know was that all members of my family were accounted for except one.

I knew Free was dead.

How? I don’t know, but something told me he was though his body hadn’t been found.

Staring down at my phone made me realize, however, small there was a chance he was still alive. I mean his body hadn’t been found.

I knew I was leading myself on as I fumbled with the numbers I’d committed to memory. I looked at Vicky as it rang once... then the answering machine picked up.

I expected at least a few more rings. I listened until I heard a beep. I breathed into the phone.

“Free,” was all that came out before I closed my eyes and hung up.

People don’t know it, but when you have to be grown you grow up fast. Thirteen, I was thirteen. I’d just got my period the year before. I barely had breast, yet I was forced to grow up years before my time.

I took a deep breath and tried to tell myself, they were all gone, and they weren’t coming back. But I couldn’t, it was so unreal.

“What happened?” I opened my eyes speaking before thinking.

What came out shocked me, “I have to go home.”

Vicky’s eyes grew only the way Vicky’s eyes could. We stared at one another.

“But Shi-”

“Vick, I have to see it... that it’s gone,” I was up and moving.

“Shi, we can’t, my dad would kill-” I looked at her again, and Vicky knew she couldn’t stop me. “Do you want me to...I’m coming,” she said. Before I could protest she grabbed my arm and said, “Go turn on the TV and make it look like we’re in bed. I’ll make sure the coast is clear.”

I almost smiled, I felt like it, but it wouldn’t happen. The muscles in my face were paralyzed. Vicky moved to turn, I grabbed her and looked her in her eyes.

“Ah girl don’t you get all soft on me now, you already know.”

I felt a sting but turned so I wouldn’t cry out of fear that I’d never stop. I didn’t think Vick could console me though seeing her helped.

I moved like a seasoned vet, pulling the covers on Vicky’s bed back, and putting stuffed animals here and pillow there until it looked like it had when we’d done it a million times before.

I turned, and Vicky was back waving me to the door and looking down the hall. We went out the back door into the cold morning. Vicky grabbed my arm and held on tight as we walked out of the back yard and through the front yard. We weren’t going far, just around the corner to Kavanaugh. We were silent until we got to the corner of Gloria and Kavanaugh. The street was deserted, and I could hear the movement of cars driving on and off of the Dumbarton Bridge.

“Have you seen it?” I asked as we turned onto Kavanaugh Drive.

I was looking straight ahead but knew she shook her head.

We passed the little blue house that a boy we’d known since forever lived.

The next house was the only two story house on the block, and then there was my house or, what was left of it. We slowed, and I wondered what I’d see. How would my home look?

It was dark, and I couldn’t see anything, even when I stood in front of my house. The garage was still intact, and so was my mom’s car. I’d hoped maybe there was a mistake until I stepped onto the grass. The place was simply gone. I walked up to the porch and stepped into the blackness which was my front door.

I could smell it. The smell made me sick. It wasn’t what you smelled when someone was smoking or when you burned paper. It smelled something like charcoal, it was sickening.

I walked to what was our kitchen; then I visited my room, then G-dubs. I walked into Free’s room and then to my mom and Poppa’s. I could see him, in that tube looking like barbecued chicken. The thought and smell dropped me to my knees where I usually jumped in bed with my momma after a nightmare.

Chapter 12

It wasn’t until the funeral that I looked at the medication I’d been prescribed at the hospital and actually thought about taking it.

Mr. Lopez was adopted and raised by black folk, so I guess he was of the same opinion about psychiatric medication. Black people are not crazy; we do not believe in a lot of stuff that the white folk do and psych. meds was top that list.

So, nothing was said about the medication except when I was asked was it helping during my appointments with the doctors at Stanford. That went something like this...

“How are you feeling Sha'anna?”

No one can butcher a name like a white bitch.

“I’m okay I guess.”

She gave me the poor thing look and then asked, “Is the medication helping?”

I nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. Some people don’t take it, but I believe once you understand that medication does not change the events but help you through them; then it can really help.”

I nodded again.

If she only knew I wasn’t taking it, and hadn’t slept since the last time I was there they’d trip, and try to force me to take the medication. Hell, they’d strap me down again if I ever mentioned the nightmares or the fact that I’ve been calling my brother’s phone every day; sometimes three times a day just to breathe on his answering machine I’d probably never see day.

She smiled at me and said, “Okay Shana, I just wanted to check on you. I’ll want to see you again next week then we can start once a month for a while.”

I gave a nod and moved my mouth hoping it was a smile.

As we were walking out, I realized she not once mentioned what happened to my family. She’d also called me by two different names which she read off the same piece of paper.

“Okay Shineanae.” Three names. “That’s so pretty, am I saying it right?”

Why white hoes butcher yo’ name then-hen it no longer matters-ask if they were pronouncing it right is beyond me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they don’t have top lips. I don’t know, but let’s not even get into that.

By the time of the funeral I was completely exhausted, and I missed the feeling I had when I woke up strapped to that hospital bed. I still felt empty, but at least I was rested.

After laying in my mother’s burned room for Lord knows how long; Vicky literally carried me back to her place where I lay awake night after night listening to her snore.

The times I did have the nerve to drift off my eyes were forced open by the memory of Poppa in that tube. I’d even gotten glimpses of my mom and G-dub in the same condition, thanks to my imagination.

The day of the funeral went by fast until we parked out in front of Jones’. Then it all began moving slow. I waited in the lobby and watched as people came in. It was so many people, and I was sure most had no idea who we were a month ago. As I watched them sign the guest book, and talk, I began to wonder what the news actually said.

I managed to hear bits and pieces of conversations, but once someone saw me all conversation stopped. I guessed either the newspaper ran a picture of the only surviving member of my family or I was not that successful at hiding the look of a child whose family just perished.

Vicky never left my side. She tried-bless her heart-to talk to me, but there wasn’t much you could do to distract or make conversation with a child at her family’s funeral. At one point I felt bad for Vicky; they were as much her family as mine.

We were sitting in a corner, me in the black dress I wore to my graduation and Vicky in black pants and shirt. She’d managed to talk me into letting her do my hair. I was contempt with a ponytail, but she wanted a bun.

Mr. Lopez came over with an old black man. He said he was Mr. Jones and apologized for my loss. He began with how he’d preside over my family’s funeral and started asking me questions.

But before I could answer Mr. Lopez said, “Pastor Paul’s here.”

Mr. Jones awkwardly nodded and then said, “It’s time.”

I was led down a row of benches to the front one on the right. In front were two caskets side by side. One a shiny baby blue which had to be G-dub’s and the other a cherry red which must have been my mom’s. In front of the blue and red casket was a tiny blue casket for Poppa. I didn’t expect to see one for Free, then again I did. It woulda helped me, I think. It would have helped me put him to rest in my heart, helped me finalize it all.

In the front were three pictures, one of my mothers. I remembered when it was taken. It was taken by Mr. Lopez on her birthday. We’d surprised her at work, she turned when we were singing happy birthday and snap.

The second was a picture of G-dub from Mother’s day; again taken by Mr. Lopez at a church function for the mothers.

The third picture was of Poppa. I took it myself. Mr. Lopez was teaching me how to use his camera. I’d sat on his lap last year, and he held the camera while I focused and snapped the picture.

I turned to look at Mr. Lopez, he was sitting next to Vicky who sat next to me. He was not ashamed to cry for these people. They were his family too.

Chapter 13

I made it to the burial site. I was touched and moved at the service. Turned out more than half the people who showed up actually knew me and my family in some way. Most knew G-dub who helped them, and a lot of them grew up with my mom.

The other touching thing was whether they knew us or not everyone got up and spoke. Everyone said something to me, and everyone wanted to help. The church had started a donation for me and a college fund which already had a total of twelve thousand dollars.

The entire time I didn’t cry. The tears were just below the surface but would not break. I was strong, I kept my head up until I saw them being lowered into the ground.

Maybe I was having a white girl moment, I don’t know. I was sitting in a chair while Pastor Paul started speaking. The three caskets were side by side. He started talking something about from dirt we came and from dirt we return, and that’s when they began to sink.

“Wait! What are you doing?” I yelled. I looked at Mr. Lopez pleadingly.

“Scheyenne?” he said it like a question.

I jumped up, “Stop it! What are you doing?” I ran to the caskets. “You can’t. They won’t be able to get out.”

I was yelling at the top of my lungs, and scared as hell. Pastor Paul was silent. I looked at Poppa’s casket still lowering. I swear I heard him cry.

“He can’t get out; they won’t be able to breathe.”

The tears came, and I lost it. I lost my damn mind.

You’ve seen them funerals and made fun of them black people who be actin’ all crazy, and damn near jump in the ground with they loved ones.

Well hell, that was me. I haven’t the faintest idea of what I was thinking. I guess it was the finality of them going in the ground. I don’t know what it was, but I snapped. I was screaming and yelling. Mr. Lopez grabbed me, but I was uncontrollable, inconsolable.

I’d heard stories about people grieving for years. I’d heard about people waking up ten years after a tragedy and realizing it happened. I’d heard stories about people reliving it over and over again in their minds. I can’t tell you when it hit me or if it ever did or where I was when it did. But what I will say is don’t believe what you see on TV with black people acting stupid at funerals, then going home and lying in bed depressed, not eating or sleeping and getting over it gradually.

You can’t just act crazy-well at least not no more.

I guess none of them ever seen the black funerals I’d seen or ever been to, because I’ve been to a few for G-dub’s friends and let me tell you, it was hectic.

Anyways that crazy shit is what got me put into the state hospital.

Chapter 14

T-money left the funeral before the police could arrive.

He’d kept a close eye on the media looking for the mention of a murder in East Palo Alto. He thought it would be marked as gang related or a drug deal gone bad. So that’s what he looked for in the media.

Youngstas were crazy and reckless, and he was sure that if Spencer succeeded and didn’t get killed then he’d be at the least arrested.

He honestly had his money on Free, not because he made him more money than Spencer not even because he did not like Spencer. The reasons were deeper than that.

T-money had a special interest in the Iverson family, which went deeper than anyone could know. He didn’t expect Spencer to kill Free. He knew Free and Free had a good head on his shoulders. Catching Free slippin’ would not be an easy task.

T-money expected at worse to see Free’s picture with a headline over it. Whether he was murdered or murdered someone was the question T-money was looking in the media to be answered. He thought it was tough love. He didn’t know if he could live with himself if Free was killed because of him-though he was headed down that path anyway. He was knocking on deaths door, following in his father’s footsteps.

T-money knew Free had never killed anyone before nor used his gun. He hoped the incident would scare him, and he’d go back crying to his mother and be back home where he was safe.

No one could imagine the emotions, which ran through T-money when he turned on the morning news. He watched in stunned silence as the news of the house fire unfolded. He knew the fire was set before it was reported. He knew it was no accident. Hearing of the bodies of the child and the two women nearly sent him into a rage. When they were later identified he sat on the edge of his seat already knowing their identities. The only thing which stopped him from shooting the next person he saw, was the fact that there were five members of the Iverson family.

One who later was presumed to have set the fire and was missing, who T-money knew was more than likely dead. Especially since he had not shown up at T-money’s doorstep after the fire. He only wondered when and where the body would be found and in what condition.

T-money’s heart leapt when he heard that the little girl Scheyenne was still alive and staying with friends. T-money had long since got rid of his hot-headed trait and was now known for being cool, calm and collected. He was known for being meticulous and thinking things through. The news of the safety of one of the Iverson’s gave him pause.

T-money picked up his cell and pressed the number two. He let it ring once and then hung up. A second later his phone rang.

He snatched it up.

“My bad boss.”

T-money ignored the apology.

“Spencer.”

“Spencer?”

“Yes,” T-money said. “Where is he?”

“I’ll find um,” was the man’s response.

“Did you see the news?”

“I’m watching it now, why?” T-money did not respond. “Wait, you mean the fire is? Spin...I didn’t think he had it in um.”

T-money did not like the approval in the man’s voice.

“I want him in front of me like yesterday!”

“I—” T-money hung up.

Chapter 15

The next few days more details were added. T-money watched the media very closely, soaking up all he could and filling in the blanks. He thought it was ridiculous for anyone to suspect Free of doing anything to his family no matter how mysterious his disappearance.

T-money picked up his cell phone like he had two days before, and pressed the number three. He did not have best friends in this world. He’d only had one and said friend was now dead. He kept his enemies close and his so-called-friends closer.

He used numbers to signify his relationships, and he always only dictated to number two. But when number two failed, there was always someone to replace him. Which he was going to do to his second in command as the phone rang.

T-money was ready to end the call after the first ring, however, a voice boomed, “Hello! Hello! Yes, I’m here boss.”

“I asked for Spencer, and I’ve yet to see him,” T-money said. “When you find him make sure you take the proper steps to become number two.” T-money hung up.

It should not have been that hard to locate Spencer, once word was out that T-money wanted you, you came running. He could only guess Spencer was hiding.

From what? He wondered.

He’d given him the okay to kill Free. T-money did not want to think further than that because that would imply Spencer knew he did something to anger T-money and for him to have that knowledge made him a dangerous man.

T-money took a deep breath and decided to keep his cool.

Patience he thought.

Something he learned years ago.

Chapter 16

The display by the young woman he did not know was touching.

It almost brought a tear to his eye, but for too long T-money had seen too many horrible things.

He’d even done worse.

He was now callous and cold.

He sat in the back of his Rolls Royce and waited for news of Spencer as he stared out the window and watched the world pass him by.

Chapter 17

Spin was one car behind the Rolls Royce in a throw away scraper. He didn’t know why but he felt something was wrong. That’s why after the murders of Free and his family he packed up, and decided to disappear.

Then he was summoned by T-money.

He’d thought it was because of what he’d done. That, T-money was going to congratulate him.

He was wrong.

He had no idea what was going on and why T-money wanted to see him all of a sudden. He’d just killed Free. T-money could not have possibly felt the financial loss yet.

However, his source said it was not to commend him.

T-money gave him permission to take Free out, yet, he obviously had a problem with him killing Free. Free’s body had not been found so there was no proof of his death. Spin thought maybe his source was wrong, and T-money’s interest in the media surrounding the death of Free’s family was him marveling at what he could not do.

It had been done, and no suspects had been named other than the dead Free. Spin was happy to believe that until now.

T-money’s appearance at the funeral did not sit right with Spin.

T-money did not do funerals. He barely went out in public and never did his own dirty work. T-money’s hands were clean, and he was living large off of other people’s work and fear.

T-money-in Spin’s eyes-was still pretty much the pimp he’d started out as. Except now they were all his hoes.

Spin hit the steering wheel and decided to head to the only person he could trust. D-loc.

He knew T-money would soon grow restless from him not appearing when summoned and soon the invitation would no longer have the appearance of being voluntary. He’d have to move his family first because that’s who’d get it. They’d feel T-money’s rath before he would.

T-money’s appearance at the funeral meant he had a lot to hide and or he was getting soft. Either way Spin decided he’d get to the bottom of it. His life depended on it, and when the question was him or you, he always chose himself.

He was a survivor and now he was going into survival mode.

Besides, he’d said it more than once. T-money was getting too old for the game. The game needed some new blood, some fresh blood. And he’d give the game what it was missing.

The proper Spin.

Part 2: Movin’ Forward

Chapter 18

“Scheyenne,” Dr. Felter said looking around the empty hall like I wasn’t the only bitch sitting there.

The white hoe only had my name right because during my last case conference once I knew I’d been denied release I dropped my white girl act and became every bit of black. And when I walked out I turned and said before I slammed the door, “Oh and my name is Shy-anne, get it right.”

I walked into the same room I’d been in so many times before and sat in the same chair surrounded by the same white people.

But this time I got a little surprise. A bitch saw a little splash of color in the sea of white.

Yes, at the end of the table acting like she’d been there for ages sat a fat black woman. She had on a white jacket like the other doctors and small golden glasses.

Something told me, she was a bitch, especially since she was around these hoes.

I sat up straight and waited for Dr. Felter to start the case conference.

“Scheyenne how are you?”

“Fine and yourself doctor?”

“Pretty good thank you. I believe you know doctors Richie and Melda.”

I nodded and gave a slight smile to white hoe number 2 and white hoe number 3.

“And this is Dr. Richards; she’s sitting in for Dr. Childers.”

I smiled at the black lady thinking so she is a doctor. She smiled back, and I felt a little tug on my heart. Her smile was the first real smile I’d seen in here over the past two years. Yes, a bitch said two years. Anyways, other than the smile I saw from Mr. Lopez and Vicky that is.

“Okay as you remember this is your case conference which we’ve decided to have every other month rather than every two years or six months for others. As you know we see promise, and we want you to succeed.”

I nodded and tried my hardest to keep the smile plastered on my face.

“Scheyenne we all know your story very well, now please tell us what you’ve learned and accomplished over the past two years.”

“Certainly ma’am,” I said and went into the spew I’d committed to memory. The same bullshit I’d been saying over the past two years.

I told them what they wanted to hear. How I am learning and coping, how I have problems with depression but with therapy I can learn to overcome it. I explained my exercises and my triggers and danger zones. I went through all I learned, and I was wrapping up strong with my relapse prevention plan and explaining how I’d talk and not bottle things in when Mrs. Oh-sorry-ass-Dr. Richards had to open her big ass mouth. I mean I had these white bitches eating it up as usual.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Scheyenne, but I’ve heard you skate around the subject multiple times. You talk about preventing your relapse, hints relapse prevention. But tell me this, what happens when you actually relapse? What then?”

I didn’t know, my mouth was hanging open. I got so use to these ole silly white hoes and their questions that I never entertained any other ones.

What do I do if I feel like relapsing? That was usually the question, not what happened when I did. I was supposed to prevent it.

“My next question is what are you preventing yourself from relapsing to? What happens when you relapse? How does that look to you?”

‘You bitch,’ I wanted to cry. This bitch was for real too.

“Scheyenne,” I looked up at Dr. Felter. “You’re still not taking your medication are you?”

The tears were replaced with anger. No, I wasn’t, and she knew that before I sat down.

“Scheyenne, I believe in you, we all do. You can get through this rough time, but I don’t think any of us here feel comfortable releasing you-”

I stood up.

There was nothing else I could do; nothing else to say, she’d made her decision. In order to keep from crying and or flashing on them, I had to get out of there.

For the first time, I thought of the relapse prevention. These hoes just didn’t know.

“Scheyenne, you see this is why I don’t feel your-”

I didn’t hear the rest. It was gone be some bullshit about not coping well and always running away from my problems. Face your problems, you can’t run from everything.

Bullshit!

I managed to close the door without slamming it and started down the hall. I was numb to this shit, numb to it all. Being forced to get over something like the massacre of your family does that.

“Scheyenne!”

I wouldn’t have looked, but the voice was firm. It reminded me of my mother’s.

I didn’t even have time to question whether these bitches was following me. If they was, I didn’t know if I could be civil anymore.

I turned to see Dr. Richards.

My nostrils flared, and I rolled my eyes. As she rolled up on me-and yeah fat bitches roll. She lifted an eyebrow. Both hands went to her hips, and we began staring at one another. Soon her gaze became too much, too... motherly.

I rolled my eyes again and turned around. I wasn’t 'bout to keep looking at her fat face. Especially since she was the reason I wasn’t going home.

“Uh, uh,” she said grabbing my arm and spinning me around.

I was shocked and registered it too late. I snatched my arm back though she’d already let it go.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Little girl, I know yo’ momma done raised you better.”

Her words stung.

“Don’t talk about my momma.”

That was all I had. I saw a smirk cross her face.

“Or else what?”

I didn’t know, I wanted to slap the bitch, but if she hit me back; one swipe with them paws and I was done foe.

I turned again, she grabbed my arm again and this time I pulled free.

“Look lady, I swear if you touch me one mo'e time I’m-”

“Gonna what? Run?” Dr. Richards got closer to me. “Cry? Hold it all inside?”

I screamed and felt the tears in my eyes.

“Oh! You mad?”

Hell fucking yeah I was mad.

“Just leave me alone, you...you, you fat bitch!”

I know childish and white girl to the max. My momma would kick my ass if she could hear me.

“That’s the best you can do little girl? Huh? You sit around here thinking life is a game, like it’s easy. Please! You ain’t got it hard, we taking care of you, you oughta be happy, and you are. You don’t wanna leave.”

“Fuck you! You don’t know shit about me.” I was shaking, I was fuckin’ heated. This fat bitch had no idea what I was going through.

“Yes, I do Scheyenne. You’re a stuck up little girl who always got her way. Now that shit ain’t goin’ yo’ way you fuss and cuss and get yo’self put in here, so you don’t have to grow up.”

“Grow up?” I yelled. I was breathing fast. “Grow up?”

I didn’t know what to do or say, she was pissing me off.

“I’m not a grown up! I’m a kid!” I yelled, and the tears came out. “I’m a kid.”

I turned around trying to hide and stop the flow.

“Yes you are baby.” She grabbed my arm again, this time I didn’t pull back.

She turned me around and surrounded me. I melted into her ole fat ass and cried. I hated her but I cried my ass off and let her comfort me. We stood there, and I cried until my eyes were sore and I could cry no more.

I found myself dry sobbing, not wanting her to let me go.

Not wanting to let go.

Chapter 19

I cried, she lay me down on my bed and sat there. Then she managed to squeeze in with me and held me. I settled into her fat and fell asleep.

When I woke up it was dark.

I looked up at the ceiling, I was hungry; my stomach was empty, but it didn’t matter. I felt so empty and believe me the physical pain had nothing on the way I felt inside.

I looked to my left and saw that the bed was empty. I sat up fast. It had to be lights out, and I know my roommate hadn’t got released. She was an old white lady whose family didn’t want her. I didn’t speak to her too often, but I wasn’t a total bitch. I mean what does a black fifteen-year-old girl have in common with a seventy-year-old white bitch?

Okay, she was probably thirty; but she looked every bit of seventy.

I began wondering if maybe she started wandering again when a voice scared the day lights out of me.

“How do you feel?”

In the corner of my room sat a little table and two chairs. It was our makeshift desk and dining table for those times we didn’t wanna eat with everyone else and wanted some me time.

I could not see who it was, but the voice was familiar.

“Okay,” I said exaggerating.

I actually felt good, I felt a little lighter; like a large weight was lifted off my shoulders. I can’t really explain it. Maybe it was relief. I don’t know, but it felt like I could actually breathe, you know like my sinuses were clear.

Still, I said okay because that’s the customary answer, it leaves room for improvement.

“I arranged for Charlotte to spend the night down the hall,” the voice said.

I stretched, and it felt good. “You hungry?”

I wanted to say no but said, “Yeah.”

“Come on.”

I got up.

The light by the table switched on, and sitting there in all her bulk oozing out was Dr. Richards. I was surprised.

I slowly walked to the table.

“I brought you something from home because this shit ain’t good enough foe dogs.”

I smiled and looked down.

I was still angry at this bitch, she was the reason I couldn’t leave. I blanked out the thought of her comforting me as I wondered why she was being so nice.

The silence grew awkward, so I said, “Is that tripe?”

Her eyes got big.

“Girl what you know ‘bout tripe?” She smiled, “I knew I liked you.”

I laughed a little, and it felt good.

“We gone have dinner. It’s passed twelve, but hell, people need to eat.”

I sat down with a smile as I realized she’d stole the first laugh I’d had in years from me.

“Okay we got some fried chicken; you know we love that. I got catfish, I didn’t know what you’d like, but I knew from your chart that you was raised by one of us, so one of these would hit the spot.”

I felt a sharp pain, a longing as I watched her happily explain each dish. We were really in her element. I’d thought it was left overs, but she done went home and worked her ass off. It was all just prepared and just for me.

I was gettin’ hungrier by the second. My mouth was literally watering.

Then I saw the last dish. It was in a pie tin and covered with foil.

She lifted the foil and said, “And for dessert-”

“Sweet potato pie,” I said, and the pain took over.

G-dub was the sweet potato pie queen.

My eyes were stinging right before the dam broke.

Dr. Richards sighed and said, “We have a lot of work to do.”

Chapter 20

Dr. Richards did not force me to eat. She climbed into bed with me again, she held me and hummed every song she knew. I thought of my momma and cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up, I was shocked to see this bitch was still there. Not once did I wonder why she was devoting herself to me, I mean I liked it.

I was being selfish and didn’t care if she had a family.

I knew this was beyond the scope of her job.

Not only was she there when I woke up, but she had an opened suitcase on the old white lady Charlotte’s bed. She was grabbing things and moving around the room with surprising ease.

“Morning,” She said as she put a picture on the nightstand.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Keep in mind I still didn’t like this hoe, though she was growing on me.

“What does it look like?”

I knew what it looked like, but, it couldn’t be true.

Still I answered, “Like you’re moving in.”

I tried to laugh to show I knew my answer was ridiculous.

She stopped her moving about, looked at me, and smiled, “You’re getting a new roomie.”

“Who?”

“Me!”

My mouth dropped open.

I must have heard wrong.

I knew I didn’t because she was seriously organizing her space.

Chapter 21

She really moved in. And it didn’t take long for me to realize it was not normal.

Mrs. Tailor a skinny orderly/nurse came in once Dr. Richards was done unpacking.

“McNeil said you moved her in with Swanson. Why? That is not the order of things; I match and pair people based on-”

With a smile Dr. Richards cut her off, “I’m sorry Christina I should have informed you. This is part of Ms. Iverson’s therapy and—”

“Was it approved by her doctor? Was it approved by anyone but you?”

Dr. Richards kept her smile pleasant as she turned and pulled out a note pad. “Would you like it in a prescription form Chris?”

Mrs. Tailor was furious. She turned and left.

“It’s not over,” Dr. Richard said smiling at me.

Within five minutes, Dr. Felter was standing in the doorway.

“Hello,” she said. “I was just dropping by...”

Yeah like, she was in the neighborhood.

“Jean I have taken up residence in here with Ms. Iverson to oversee her therapy and routines. I’d like to get in the belly of the beast in order to make a sound judgment on her wellbeing.”

Dr. Felter nodded and said, “Dr. Richards this is highly unorthodox. Not only is Ms. Iverson not your patient but your presence on the board for her release was only temporary while another doctor was out.”

Dr. Richards never stopped smiling. “Jean it is very unprofessional to discuss these matters regarding unorthodox treatments and regulations in front of the patient. Now if you would please, let’s step outside.”

I watched the two walk into the hall and Dr. Richards was back within two minutes with a smile.

This bitch is crazy I thought looking over what she personally prepared for breakfast.

Chapter 22

Dr. Richards is a bad bitch.

By lunch she’d had her final say.

After being summoned to the administration office. The higher ups grew angry or impatient with her not responding and appeared in full force at my room door, Dr. Felter, Dr. Childers, Dr. Richie, Dr. Melda, and Dr. Old-white-man-I’d-never-met-before-but-took-it-he-was-in-charge.

After explaining that she was moving in with me like it was the most logical thing to do, she let them all talk and have their say.

When she grew tired she put up her hand and said, “Well fire me,” then closed the door in their faces. After that she turned to me and said, “You ready for some lunch?”

Dr. Richards is a bad bitch.

Chapter 23

Dr. Richards sat down with me for a dinner she prepared. I was tearing that shit up. We made some small talk, and I slept some more.

Two years of rough nights really takes a toll on ya.

We were sitting down eating and let me tell you Dr. Richards could throw down. We spoke occasionally, but most of the meal was silent.

“Thank you.”

It just came out of nowhere. I felt something needed to be said and so I said it.

Dr. Richards stopped eating her piece of catfish and smiled, “You’re welcome Scheyenne and thank you.”

I looked at her not blinking. I was lost, I didn’t know why she was thanking me and I so wanted to ask. But I let it go, hearing it somehow made me feel good.

The meal was great until we had her sweet potato pie. It made me cry from the first bite to the last. It was just like G-dubs. I’d be lying if I said I could taste the difference. Dr. Richards bless her clogged heart acted just like there was nothing wrong with a child breaking down after the first bite of her sweet potato pie.

It was our first night as roommates. After we finished eating, we cleaned up and got ready for bed. It seemed to me like she was waiting for something.

What?

I didn’t know.

I changed into a new pair of hospital pajamas and began getting my bed ready. I wasn’t really sleepy.

Dr. Richards vanished to the bathroom and I sat on my bed waiting for her, I guess so she could say something to me. I honestly wanted her to tuck me in, but yah know I couldn’t say that.

On her bedside table was a picture of a little girl. She had her hair slicked down, and her eyes closed. I smiled as I realize the baby looked just like I did in my baby pictures. As a matter of fact, I had the same baby picture, pink frame and all. Next to the picture was a small photo album.

I felt like I was betraying Dr. Richards’ trust; like I was snooping. But hell every now and then we all have our white girl moments.

I touched the album and then sat down on her bed. The first page was a picture of the same little girl and Dr. Richards-a much thinner Dr. Richard-was sitting in a room holding the baby and smiling for the camera. She looked so happy. I flipped the page and saw a picture of a little boy and a big, tall, thick boned man with a thin Dr. Richards.

As I flipped through the album, I absorbed their memories. Weddings, birthdays, Christmases, Easters, Thanksgivings and family outings. I began visualizing myself in the pictures with the family, which steadily grew to three boys, a dad, and the thick Dr. Richards.

I remembered the few pictures I had with my father. I remembered my family: Free, Poppa, G-dub, and momma in the living room opening presents. I was crying and didn’t realize it until I looked up and saw Dr. Richards staring at me from the door. I didn’t wipe my tears nor did I feel ashamed for them or for snooping.

“You have a nice family,” I said realizing she did have someone to go home to.

People she was neglecting for me. Me: the girl who couldn’t stand her ass.

“Dr. Richards,” I sighed feeling like an adult.

“You need to be with your family, they need you; I’m not-”

“You need me Scheyenne,” she said from the door.

I shook my head, “You need—”

“I need you. That’s why I’m here. I’m here for me more than I am for you.”

I looked up at her shocked. I didn’t understand.

She gave me a smile and came to the bed where she closed the album.

She looked in my eyes and said, “Not tonight, rest and I promise we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

I let her lead me to my bed and tuck me in just like I wanted-something that hadn’t happened in years.

I thought I wasn’t sleepy, and that sleep would be impossible. But with Dr. Richards humming and playing with my hair, I silently cried drifting off as I thought of my mother.

The same mother who had not haunted my dreams since I met Dr. Richards.

Chapter 24

When I awoke to breakfast in bed I wondered if she ever slept.

I woke up at twelve and ate scrambled eggs and toast.

Dr. Richards was chipper just a smiling away.

She asked me how I slept and I said, “Fine.”

It was strange to see her so energize, so nervous. We’d sat long times without a word, but now she seemed to not be able to shut up. Twice I felt like she was trying to distract me, but I didn’t know why.

I’d been confined to my room the majority of the last two days. I was going to go and watch some TV when she said something.

It’s funny how one thing; one word triggers a whole barrage of memories.

“I need you to go to...”

I had no idea what else she said.

‘I need you,’ and a desperate look stayed with me. I was curious about what she meant, and she’d promised the next day we’d talk.

“Scheyenne? Hello!”

“Dr. Richards?”

“Hmm,” she said. I was at the door and she was bent over making my bed. “What did you mean you need me?”

Her back was to me. She stopped and slowly stood. I looked at the photo and then the album on her little bed side table, and more questions came.

“And who is that baby girl and why isn’t she in any of your pictures with your sons?”

I don’t know, I was doing the white girl just throwing questions out there.

My heart was pounding. I turned to leave feeling uncomfortable and guessing that I’d said too much.

I was slowly easing out the door when she said, “Close the door Scheyenne.”

Her voice was hollow, and everything in my body told me Run Girl! Run! Yeah, she sounded like a fucking killer. But hey, the white girl got me in this, she’d probably get me out. The question was dead or alive.

I closed the door, and I tell you that bitch moved fast to be obese. She was at her bed sitting down and patting a spot next to her. I slowly walked over to the bed as she picked up the picture and the album. She handed me the picture.

“Her name was Nevaeh Diamond Richards. Born: 12/13/85.” She was smiling as she touched the picture with a finger. “She died 12/24/85.”

I looked up at her. She was still smiling, but it didn’t look like a normal smile. I could sense she wasn’t happy, she was sad.

“She was less than two weeks old when she was murdered... she’d be your age right now I believe.”

I was staring up at her. Did she say murdered?

“Christmas Eve, I’d just been allowed to take her home. She got very sick after she was born... we lived in Los Angeles, Eric and me. That’s my husband.” She opened the album and pointed to the thick man. She was taking her time and admiring the picture.

Then she sighed, “Nevaeh was a twin and she was not supposed to make it. She shouldn’t have been alive. I delivered my first child... a stillborn and I can’t tell you how that feels to hear you’ve been caring a dead child, your dead baby for nine and a half months...” I looked at her, and she had such a straight face.

I admired her strength her courage.

“I was in hell,” she smiled. “Then my placenta came out, some people call it the after birth... No one was there to catch it because they were all tending to Leah, that was my first baby’s name.”

My heart was pounding. She had me hooked, and there was a part of me that went out to her. I felt I could relate to her. She knew pain, she lived pain, and I was pain.

“Well when the nurse went to clean up the after birth, wouldn’t you know the shock when she found a baby,” her voice was excited, and I could tell she was reliving her story. “She was unconscious, and half dead from the fall, but she pulled through... Anyway Christmas Eve, we pulled up to our apartment and a car pulled up next to us...” she was shaking her head. “The window rolled down and all I remember is the driver window shattering, exploding out at me. Blood was everywhere.

“They put seven holes in our car,” she was smiling again. “The blood was from Eric cutting his arm on glass. He was untouched by the bullets. I was untouched. I checked on my baby and thank God she slept through it all.”

My mouth was dry as hell as I began to breathe easier now that they were okay. I smiled when Dr. Richards smiled, they were safe.

“We went up to our apartment, and Eric called the police. I went to make Nevaeh a bottle and change her.

“I did a little baby talk to wake her, I was still shaken up, and then I saw blood. I thought it was Eric’s, I thought she needed to be cleaned…

“The bullet went straight through her head.”

Dr. Richards’ eyes were wet.

My heart was beating so slow I thought it stopped. I was shocked that I could feel anything since I’ve felt so empty, for so long.

“Eric came in when he heard me screaming. I was so scared, she was dead, but I kept saying, telling him I needed to clean the blood. I kept telling him, she was okay, I kept telling him… I begged him to just let me clean her up and she’d be okay.

“I really felt if I could just clean up the blood my baby would be okay.” Dr. Richards was crying now. “When I saw you… I thought how sad. When I saw you… I saw my baby; I look at you and I see her… there isn’t a day that goes by. Sure, I have other children, but that’s-” she was staring straight ahead. “I was hospitalized you know” she said, and my mouth dropped. “Don’t look so surprised. I only became a psychologist because I felt no one understood me and I need to understand me before I expected anyone else to.” She grabbed my hand.

“But you made me stay.”

She shook her head, and I was amazed at how calm she was.

“Scheyenne them bitches chose to delay your release a week ago when you cursed out Dr. Manning. I was trying to get you out of here.”

I was so confused.

“But I see how you can misunderstand my intentions. I mean, the question I asked you wasn’t really aimed at you. I’m sorry, I was merely asking it in general. I mean you seemed to have it all down, and I honestly wanted to know the answer… It’s been fifteen years and when I saw you I knew I’d relapsed…”

I was stuck.

“Yes, I’ve been doing my relapse prevention and the sight of you brought back years of hurt... I realized after you left that you were hurting; I could see it. They were doing what they did to me; forcing you to get over something that's not in the medical books. Something medication can't fix.

“You cannot diagnose life, and let me tell you... you did nothing wrong. Scheyenne, don’t you let them tell you how to grieve, you do it, but be smart about it.”

The tears were there in her eyes, and I felt overwhelmed. I couldn’t think to cry or do anything.

Dr. Richards flipped through the album telling me about her three boys. She was cheering herself up and in the process cheering me up too.

After we closed the album she said, “Session one complete.”

With one wipe of her hand, she was back to normal from what I could tell.

“You tell me when you’re ready for part two.”

I knew she wanted to hear my story, but I wasn’t ready.

Chapter 25

We were eating dinner when she finally spoke about our first session.

“I know you think that maybe people will think you’re crazy Scheyenne-”

“Shi,” she looked at me, and I smiled. “My friends call me Shi.”

She smiled back, “Shi? Nice, but baby you ain’t no shy. I done seen some of the reports on you over the years.”

I laughed.

“Ebony, my friends call me Ebony,” she told me and then, “Look girl.... let me tell you when my child died, after the depression and all I became fascinated with death. I looked it up, I studied it. I looked at pictures of miscarriages, still births, abortions; I collected newspaper clippings on drive-bys... I did it all and underneath I prayed for retribution; revenge on the people who killed my baby.”

I felt bad because no one was ever brought to justice.

“They said it’s shock, when did you-”

“Realize that my baby was dead?”

I nodded wondering if she could help me.

“Honestly I still don’t think it fully hit me,” she laughed. “I know after my last baby George was born, I was headed back to the hospital. I couldn’t touch him, I was having nightmares. All I did was stay in a dark room not eating. A few times I almost hurt them...” she said nodding at the disbelief on my face. “I’d give them a bath and damn near scrub they skin off trying to get at blood that wasn’t there.”

I nodded.

“I don’t think it hit me either,” I said thinking that’s what I was supposed to say.

A long silence fell over us and wasn’t broken until Dr. Richards said, “Shi. I was happy when I saw you yelling and screaming. It’s your story, you tell it how you want and I can appreciate any way someone tells their story. Share Shi, you never know, you may help someone.”

I nodded; my heart was pounding. I’d damn near swallowed it all, and I felt great trying to not feel.

“Shi, will you show me?”

I looked at her wide eyed.

“Will you share it all with me?”

I was shaking my head, so I wouldn’t cry.

“I need you to. You may save a life.”

I saw the pleading desperation in her eyes, and I couldn’t take it.

I had to do something.

I nodded and without thinking I stood and walked to my closet. In the corner on the floor was a pile of dirty clothes that would never be cleaned. I looked up to a shelf, and I pulled down two spiral notebooks and a stack of mail. The mail was all the letters from Vicky. I got none of the mail I got from strangers, weirdos, the newspapers interested in my story and sending well wishes. Those were screened up front.

I took the notebooks to the table wondering why I was showing her.

I’d been forbidden by my treatment team to read about the incident. They said I wasn’t ready.

But still I knew, and I had everything ever printed about the accident. I absorbed it all, and I knew it all. I sat it on the table and stared down at my memories; at my emotions; at my pain; my life, which stood a little over six inches on the table.

Dr. Richards smiled and then put her hand on mine. “Shi look, before you start I want us to come to an understanding.”

I nodded; the mere touch of her hand; her warmth brought the longing for my mom and I felt like crying.

“I have never lost a parent or any member of my family the way you have.”

I tried to avoid her gaze, but I was being pulled in.

“I will not even pretend to understand or know how you feel. I will not tell you I understand because I don’t! Now, you have never lost a child. I don’t want to debate the degrees of loss. I just want to establish that and that we are two grieving souls left behind. Our hurt unites us but is different. We need to establish that hurt is the only thing we have in common and still, we can’t understand each other’s pain. We can only see how it affects us...”

I nodded and tried to swallow the dry lump in my throat as I exposed my life to her.

Chapter 26

Over the last two years I’ve had regular visits from Vicky and Mr. Lopez. Every week I received regular mail from them. And since the day I got to the hospital I’ve been obsessed with what happened.

I stole newspapers and clipped them and pasted them according to date in a notebook. I got Vicky to send me articles from the Internet. I read it all and clipped and organized it in two notebooks where I wrote my thoughts on the twists and turns the investigation took.

I showed Dr. Richards pictures of each of my family members and I spent an eternity describing them and talking about them. If I was on another member and remembered something I forgot I’d go back. My mouth was dry, but my tears kept me in one continuous hydrated cycle.

Dr. Richards and I laughed, talked and cried. We mostly cried, and we talked a lot. She only gave compliments and asked questions. I felt like I was losing weight and fast by the time I finished describing my family. When I felt there was nothing left to tell about my family I went into that day.

I told her everything, and she just listened. When I got to me thinking Free was dead and going into that hospital room seeing Poppa in that incubator all burned up she was the first to break down... then I did. She apologized and kept on listening.

I told her about my cell phone and calling Free; I told her about how I know he’s dead, but I have no proof. I told her my theories, even my frustrations about finding out that they suspected Free of the fire. I told her I agreed with the initial reports that said it was no accident, and I told her how I felt when I thought about them burning alive.

The last report was something about it being an accident and I expressed my feelings towards that.

Then I got dark. I told her how I dreamed of finding who was responsible for killing my family and watching them burn.

When I was through I was in tears breathing heavily and crying.

I was so relieved to get all that out to someone other than Vicky.

I looked around, and it was dark outside.

“What time is it?”

Dr. Richards smiled and said, “A little pass midnight.”

I stared at her in disbelief. She had to be joking. That’d mean I’d been talking for over six hours.

“How do you feel?” I smiled and then began crying.

“It’s okay to feel better, they wouldn’t want you to hurt.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“Heal; time does not heal all wounds. Time cannot heal a heart baby.”

I nodded and realized that I still hadn’t said goodbye. I couldn’t and I wouldn’t.

“Are you ready to heal?”

I told myself and decided Free was dead a long time ago, but it still hurt, and I couldn’t let him go, and I didn’t want to.

Instead of answering her question I said, “I still call his number even though it’s been disconnected for over two years.”

Chapter 27

“Boss...”

T-money was sitting at the dining room table. He sat his fork down and looked up at number 2. They were all eating.

He hosted the little get-togethers for his operation. In attendance were numbers 2-9.

His empire was based on numbers. He was number 1, the only one he truly trusted. Out of everyone at the table, he trusted Easy or number 2 the most.

Easy was a fat, light-skinned nigga. He was only number two because T-money trusted him above the others.

Keep your enemies close, and your friends closer.

Number 3 was Blue; a midnight blue Jamaican who’d been rolling with T-money for the last 13 years.

Number 4 was Brains, a nerdy black man whose sole function was to come up with ways to make things look legit in case the police came around. Brains was a mastermind and a cold-blooded killer. He was small, but size did not matter; he was dangerous... though not as dangerous as your best friend.

The next five were something like managers.

Though he’d have their names and blood type with the snap of a finger, it was never really on the top of his head.

To him they were territories, they were the Bay.

Number 5: was Oakland, number 6: Richmond, number 7: San Francisco, number 8: San Jose and number 9: Vallejo.

They were his Bay Boys and took care of everything from San Jose to Vallejo and in-between.

“They hit again.”

T-money shook his head.

They had no idea who ‘they’ were, however, T-money could make a very accurate guess.

All over the Bay, his safe houses were being hit. To date he’d lost three point seven million dollars’ worth of drugs and four million dollars in cash.

“Where?” He’d known when he saw number 7’s head fall and he begin to sweat, but he let the question be answered.

“The Sco.”

“How much?”

“A quarter.”

T-money nodded realizing why Sco put his head down. T-money ordered pickups for anything over a hundred thousand and or whenever business got slow.

He’d shot Vallejo when a spot was hit which cost him over half a million dollars. It was an example.

Then they were eating at the table as usual when he was told, “Boss, they hit again.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Valley ho,” he was told.

“How much?”

“Half.”

T-money nodded at the amount and then slowly reached for his gun in his shoulder holster. He pulled it out quickly, shot Vallejo, re-holstered his gun and then continued eating. When the meal was over the mess was cleaned and number 9 was sitting where he should.

That was the thing about the game; everyone was waiting to come up.

T-money looked around the table and then at number 8.

It started off slow, a few jackings of the small timers. Then they got bold and began hitting houses and killing.

Deciding not to shoot T-money said, “Sco?”

T-money knew the young man had no idea who did the hits.

Instead of waiting for number 8’s response T-money nodded and pushed away from the table. Numbers 2, 3 and 4 did the same and followed him out of the dining room.

T-money opened the door to his study and stopped with his crew behind him. One of the beautiful women who lived in his mansion was in there cleaning. She had on headphones a tight baby tee and a G-string. She was holding a trash bag and a broom singing out loud.

“I wanna run... to you...” she belted.

She was making Whitney Houston in her prime look bad. She sung the last part of the song, highs and lows included. T-money stood patiently at his office door with his goons behind him waiting for her to realize he was there. With every second, he was becoming more and more annoyed and angry.

Not only was his study supposed to be clean and ready for his after dinner talk with his entourage; she was not supposed to be singing and goofing off.

What does this bitch got to sing for? He asked himself working himself up even more.

He guessed she was listening to a mix of Whitney Houston because she started singing, ‘I Will Always Love You.’

She turned around before the first verse ended and saw T-money and his crew. She quickly snatched the headphones off her ears.

T-money knew her heart was beating out of her chest. T-money walked to his desk and sat down without a word. He motioned for his men to do the same as they stared at the young woman’s full figure in her half naked uniform.

They got comfortable, and T-money noticed her trying to ease out.

He cleared his throat, and she stopped.

“Bitch, you are to be seen not heard,” T-money’s voice was cold. “Go stand in the corner until I’m done.”

He watched as she tried to sit the trash and broom down.

“Hold them.”

She swallowed hard and walked to the corner holding the trash and broom.

Numbers 2 and 3 were laughing while number 4 sat back looking at the ceiling.

“Spencer,” T-money said.

The smiles left all faces, “Nothing still.”

T-money nodded and looked at number 2 and then number three before he asked, “Why is yesterday taking two years to get here?”

Everything grew silent as numbers 2 and 3 looked around at each other.

“Brain, what is the average worth of a human life?”

“‘Bout a mill or two give or take and that’s if they graduate high school. The numbers differ.”

T-money nodded and then said, “Statistically, for an African American male from the streets of Oakland...”

“Different factors. The numbers vary. If we talking drug dealer, baller, rapper...” Brain shrugged. “Thing is the crackers don’t count that type of earning potential. Besides, not a lot make it through those avenues and you know the life expectancy is somewhere in the mid-twenties.”

“So a million a life would be generous?”

Brain shrugged and then nodded a little.

“How many members are in his family?”

“We don’t really know, we sure he got cousins and auntie-”

T-money was shaking his head at number 2.

“Immediate; brothers, sisters, mother, father...”

“Mom, three brothers, a sister... sister just had a baby, she’s 14.”

T-money nodded, “Give Spencer another mill and then call K.J. and tell him to make it clean. I’d like him to have the choice of open or close.” T-money’s voice was still and cool, calm, cold.

Number 2 nodded, “We don’t know that it’s Spencer boss.”

“And that’s why I’m the boss... Call it a hunch.”

No one argued with T-money’s hunches. It’d saved his life many times.

T-money turned around in his chair, and the meeting was over. Numbers 2, 3, and 4 got up to leave.

“Look for him at the funeral,” T-money said as they left.

He hoped they’d find Spencer sooner. He already had a lot of blood on his hands. If they didn’t find him after the deaths of his family, they’d slowly start taking out anyone who claimed relation to him-even through marriage. Then when those bodies ran out friends and acquaintances were next.

T-money wanted Spencer. He knew no one was that good at hiding, the nigga wasn’t Bin Laden.

Five minutes passed, and he turned back around in his chair.

“Come here.”

The girl came from her corner. He looked her pretty dark face and smooth body over. He had not touched one of them in 13 years, despite what people thought.

“Name?” T-money asked though he knew.

He knew all of their names but didn’t let them know.

“Adrianna.”

“Age?” Though she looked under aged T-money knew she was twenty-one; just had a birthday.

“21.”

She’d finished school, and she was working for him because she needed the money. Her mother was sick and could not keep up with her medical bills or her children.

“Why are you working for me?”

Her eyes got big.

“Do you like being called a bitch?”

Her head dropped.

“They are not rhetorical questions,” T-money snapped.

“No sir.”

T-money turned his head and lifted his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, yes daddy. No daddy.”

T-money smiled.

“I mean yes daddy I’m your bitch.”

T-money lifted his hand to silence her.

“Why are you working here?”

“I...” she looked over his head, not at him, and he knew she was terrified. “I have nowhere to go, and I need the money, and I like working for you.”

“You’re a bad liar,” T-money said. “And Adrianna you’re fired.”

T-money saw the dam break and the tears come. He shook his head, and the tears just about went back into her eyes. He grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled a number down as he spoke.

“You don’t need this job, it ain’t for you. You’re intelligent, and you have talent.” He handed her the paper and said, “This is my friend Tim. Tomorrow, you need to wake up early, and I want you down at some college enrolling... I want a copy of your enrollment papers. Adrianna.”

She nodded her head still holding back tears. He knew a million questions especially cost was running through her mind.

“After and only, after you enroll I want you to call that number. It’s my friend Tim, I want you to tell him I said you have talent, and I want him to listen to you... Tell him to call me when he’s done.”

The number was from Los Angeles, and she nodded.

“Goodbye Adrianna, Baby Girl will have something for you when you’re done packing so see her before you leave.”

She nodded and then left.

“Don’t forget to say, ‘bye'.”

She was nodding as she walked out.

“Drop the trash, you don’t work here anymore, and tell one of them bitches to come and get it will you?”

When the door closed, T-money sighed. He knew he just crushed her world, and she probably hated him right then. But T-money would take care of her, he’d make sure her mother’s bills were paid off. He’d be in the shadows, and she wouldn’t know. She’d hate him but do what he said out of fear. He knew she’d understand once she called his friend Tim. Once she learned that Tim is what he called the record producer Timbaland.

Chapter 28

Spin was sitting in a Days Inn in Hayward off Mission Blvd. He’d been restless as usual waiting for a phone call. He hated the fact that he had to hide out in places like a Days Inn; especially when he was technically a millionaire.

After sending his family away Spin was broke. He hid out and then took a grey hound to spend time with his family and plan his get back.

Being wanted by T-money was just about as bad as being wanted by the cops.

He was smoking a blunt on the porch with one of his cousins in Atlanta-where his family was-when his source first contacted him.

“What’s good cuz?” Spin said into the phone.

“How’s the dirty south Spencer?”

His heart stopped. He had not changed his name, but no one called him Spencer except his mother and some other older people in his family.

“How’d you get my number cuz?” he asked.

“Don’t trip, check me out...”

Once Spin was done with the call he went to the airport where he met D-loc. They flew to Reno and then drove back to the Bay.

Spin explained the plan to D-loc which slightly differed from the one he and his source agreed upon. He and D-loc started recruiting and then they began robbing nickel and dimers just for fun until his source made contact. Spin was given an address and told to be careful.

The first few were sloppy, but they got better. Over the past year they cost T-money over seven million dollars. The cash they put a large amount of the money up after getting cuts. The drugs were in a storage facility in Oakland stacking up.

Spin thought about the time he’d be able to come out of hiding when his cell phone rang.

“You’re not sleep?” the voice said.

“Naw cuz I been waiting on you to call.”

The voice laughed, “Well I called.”

Spin did not know who his source was; just that he was someone close to T-money. He had to be in-order to set up the hits. There was a time when Spin thought T-money was involved in the hits as a way to find him because it was too easy.

“So... when do we hit this fool?”

“Patience Spence... Spin.”

He’d already established that he’d be called Spin a while ago. He didn’t like Spencer.

“It’s not that easy, Tommy is a very guarded man and if this is going to work we have to make sure the transition is smooth...”

Spin heard it all before. They had to have all the contacts that T-money had so they’d be able to get their drugs. His source was dealing with all that so they’d be able to take over T-money’s empire and run the Bay; while Spin and his crew grew and robbed T-money blind.

“Well, what’s up?”

“The next million will cost you your family.”

Spin nodded, “does he know where they are?”

“Florida,” he heard the voice say, and he felt the relief instantly.

His source had informed him that he’d told T-money that his family was in Florida and that T-money had people there watching them. Spin didn’t know what poor family was being watched and could care less.

“Well I guess I need to make arrangements,” Spin laughed.

“He gave you the choice of open or closed.”

“See, he’s getting soft, he need to be removed.”

“In due time, why don’t you and yo’ crew take a trip to San Jo’.”

Spin smiled, it was time to hit T-money where it hurt.

Chapter 29

“I’m too old for this shit,” T-money said leaning back in his big leather chair.

He was forty three but feeling the fifty years T-money was. He was sitting in his upstairs office looking at the picture of the open sea on the far wall across from his desk. The waters were clear, and there was a small boat.

He sighed.

He’d been confined to his mansion; his fortress for years.

The last time he left was for the Iverson funeral, and the time before that he couldn’t remember. There he was safe.

There were over fifty men watching him and protecting him.

There were two houses at either corner of the same block his fortress sits on. Each house was owned by him and living in the two homes rent free were small families of three and four. The parents were paid to watch the streets. There was always someone home, and whenever a car came onto the street it was reported and on video. A small camera was affixed to the top of each house focused on the street and monitored around the clock.

He had a man who stayed just out of sight behind the walls of his compound and a man up the way obscured by bushes watching him.

Next some odd forty men were positioned around his estate. Most out of sight, some appearing to merely hang out. There were eight men in the house guarding doors and doing rounds.

T-money would have felt uneasy trusting his life to these men. They could turn on him at any moment. But he used a tactic that Willy Lynch made famous during slavery. The same thing slave masters did to keep their slaves in check. Willy Lynch is the father of gangs, his speech regarding how to control your slaves in the 1712 is the reason there is so much interracial hate and violence. Willy Lynch played on jealousy and human hate. Human insecurity and differences; he took what usually made a person unique, special or different and turned it against them.

He told the slave masters to put the lights against the darks, and make the house slaves hate the ones that work in the fields; the young against the old; boys against girls. By doing that if one acted up the other would tell. T-money was surprised at how simple and stupid it was and very surprised at how effective it was. It worked.

He doubted if any of his guards liked one another. They damn sure didn't trust one another enough to start a mutiny. And for added insurance T-money had a big role in their family’s finances. He paid for a daughter’s college, a mother’s mortgage, and a grandma’s hospital bills.

The thing which really kept them in line other than the fact that without him the money stopped was that he knew their families. And to make sure it was never forgotten he sent birthday and Christmas gifts to the closes relatives of all fifty of his guards.

There was a knock on his office door.

“It’s open,” he called and Janell; the light skinned green eyed woman he occasionally called Baby Girl and who managed all the other girls came in.

She was wearing a short skirt with a tight tee shirt. She sat down across from him, and he looked up at her.

No one would have thought she was a doctor.

T-money met her when she was seventeen. She was a prostitute stripping at a club. She was invited over for his birthday and she knew where the money was. She ignored all the other guys and spent the entire night near him, dancing and not leaving his side or letting any of the other girls near. She finally got enough courage to ask him if he wanted to go somewhere private. They went into another room locking the party out. She began taking off her clothes and was ready to give him head when he asked, “How old are you?”

She lied, and he began asking her about her job and if she liked it.

“It’s a job,” she said.

T-money pulled out a knot of cash, “For five hundred dollars; how old are you?”

She was smart, she told the truth.

For every question she answered truthfully he gave her a hundred dollars, and for every time she lied he took five hundred. She caught on fast and told her life story.

After she’d made ten grand T-money asked her if she wanted to always make that kind of money plus more. She did. He told her he knew a legal way, and she was his.

Two weeks later she gave him her enrollment papers for Merritt College, and he gave her ten thousand dollars.

Seven and a half years later she gave T-money a copy of her doctorate degree from Stanford University. She was a licensed Psychologist.

For her degree T-money handed her a bank statement. It was a CD account with over a million dollars in it.

For every A she got he gave her a thousand dollars and then he put aside a thousand in the CD account. And after seven years of school and good grades she was a millionaire.

Janell did not know how to thank him.

She was not his first success story. He’d made lawyers and doctors and FBI agents and cops. The majority were woman, some were men who were small timers he met trying to pay off college and dreams of school. He made that possible.

T-money tried to better his community and help others, but he did it on the under and like an asshole.

Janell was one of many who came back. All the girls who worked for him had at least one degree. The majority of them chose to work for him and come back out of love, and T-money let them as long as they were enrolled in school at least part time.

Janell was different though, she was trying to become something and put her degree to use, however, her looks limited her. No one could see pass her beauty and always tried to game her up.

Eventually she got a job working at a nonprofit helping endangered youth.

She dropped by to tell T-money and celebrate. On her visit she saw something in his eyes, and began picking his brain. She was good, she had street smarts and book smarts. She spun him up, and T-money told her his life story, along with every secret.

T-money soon grew use to talking to Janell and offered her a job.

She became his shrink; whom he told everything and trusted completely. Because he trusted her he asked her to quit her nonprofit job and move in and work with him fulltime. Mainly so he could keep an eye on her. He trusted her.

Soon she became the official house manager. She took care of the girls who worked in his house. She made sure they were in school and paid, and all their worries were taken care of.

“What’s up?” he said as she looked him over.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

T-money sighed, “Nelly it’s getting harder and harder to be T-money.”

She nodded. She knew what he meant.

He was supposed to be T-money; a cold-hearted-murdering-no-bullshit-pimp-turned-drug-lord. He was supposed to be a killer, but he wasn’t. Sure he’d killed people; but he was no killer, that wasn’t him. Not anymore at least.

“Well Johnny boy I don’t know what to say, you know how I feel about it. I love you and think you should just leave. You’re doing a lot of good.”

“I’m also flooding the streets with crack. For every doctor I make I’m creating a hundred addicts.”

Janell shook her head, “They’d get it with or without you. If you were not here then someone else would be. You’re the only drug cartel I know who cares about its buyers… you understand more than anyone that no matter what; with or without you they’re gonna use. You can’t save the world.”

T-money nodded.

He knew he could not save the world or stop drug addiction single handedly. That was why he made sure the ones who shot up had fresh needles-as many as they wanted. He drilled his people on the importance of giving them fresh shit.

T-money sighed.

“I’d rather get mines from you than anyone else.”

“Janell, that ain’t comforting.”

“You’re doing good baby, you’re helping a lot of people believe it or not. I don’t know how many people you’ve helped get out of this life, and find happiness… or at least be contempt.”

“This life cost me my family, and, I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.”

Janell nodded, she could see he was hurting and seeing him like that hurt her. He was a father to her; always had been.

“Your drugs are clean… at least I know when I want weed that’s what I’ll get… Now, you need to get out. Go somewhere—"

T-money was shaking his head, and Janell sighed.

“Well you didn’t come up here just for a session, so what’s up?” T-money said breaking the silence that was spreading between them.

“Well,” Janell looked like she didn’t want to say what she was going to say but pressed on. “Remember you wanted to hear about any new ballaz around here?”

T-money nodded as he stared at the open sea thinking one day.

“Well one just came in. A youngsta named Jason Grimer; calls himself Jay-Jay. That’s what he’s goin’ by now…”

T-money continued nodding as he asked, “Where’s he from?”

“Claims he’s from Mississippi.”

“Claims?”

“You know how I love me some down-south-niggaz?”

T-money smiled leaning back in his chair as Janell continued.

“Well apparently Jay-Jay lacks the southern drawl I so much love.”

“He ain’t got an accent?”

Janell pouted out her lips shaking her head.

“The strangest thing, he sounds exactly like these ole whack ass bay niggaz…”

“Hey! I’m a whack ass bay nigga.”

“Yes, you are,” Janell smiled at T-money.

“So Jay-Jay ain’t from Mississippi?”

Shrugging Janell replied, “Jay-Jay may be, but Jason Grimer ain’t.”

T-money loved Janell; she knew how to tell a story and keep him entertained. She knew how to hold his attention and keep him engaged.

“Well, I had Sandy do a little digging.”

Sandra was another one of T-money’s success stories. She majored in Criminal Justice and worked for the Office of The District Attorney in Fremont. She lived in San Mateo with her husband and their new born baby.

“What did she find out?”

“Jason Grimmer: born 8/17/82 at Highland Hospital right here in Oakland to Josephine Grimes and Mitchell Washington. Family: dirt poor, momma on welfare ‘til this day and still getting Section 8 although Jay-Jay just bought a new house for moms deuce about a year ago. It’s in his name and Section 8 pays half the mortgage for the rent moms claims to be paying her son.”

“Nice,” T-money said. “He’s remembering where he came from and still pinching pennies.”

Janell lifted her eyebrows smiling.

“So why am I interested? Bring it home Janell.”

“Well hell, they livin’ in yo’ house, and he ballin’ with yo’ money.”

T-money turned his head to the side and squinted as if to get a better look at Janell.

“Jason or Jay-Jay was once a nickel and dimer working for you and up until he I’m guessing moved to Mississippi went by the name of Geezy.” T-money’s throat went dry as Janell finished, “Geezy ran with two other nickel and dimers that worked for you. Daniel Loca and-”

“Spencer Washington.”

Janell nodded as she studied T-money’s face. T-money told her he thought that it was Spencer who was robbing him. She had no opinion on the matter however what she just revealed to him prove T-money was correct.

“How’s he doing it?”

“Don’t know,” Janell shrugged.

“Find out.”

“Jay-Jay’s having a little party tonight at the Embassy, I guess he’s celebrating,” she smiled as T-money nodded.

T-money was wondering exactly how to proceed. This was a big break, and he knew that Jay-Jay would lead him to Spencer. This was the closest he’d been in two years, and he was not going to mess up his chance of finding Spencer by making any rash decisions. He had to play it just right.

T-money looked at Janell and then said, “Send in the girls.”

Janell lifted an eye brow, “Operation B.I.T.C.H?”

She kept her expression neutral as she asked, “Anything else?”

Before T-money could respond Janell was getting up and leaving.

“Tell them don’t get carried away and to remember their goal. I want to know everything and if they can, find me Spencer.”

Janell was nodding as she walked out the room. She was closing the door when T-money called her.

She looked up at him.

“You can go mind fuck him too if you want.”

She smiled as she closed the door leaving T-money in his office with his greatest foe… his mind.

She doesn’t get out enough T-money thought laughing to himself.

Chapter 30

B.I.T.C.H.

Brittany, I’esha, Tamekia, Charika, and Helen.

Brittany was twenty-nine years old but looked twenty. She graduated from Harvard Medical with honors. She was legally Dr. Brittany Samantha Rodriguez. She was now going to Stanford Medical to study surgery.

When T-money met Brittany she was fifteen and being raped by her father. She was traded by her father several times for a hit. Once T-money caught word of the trade weeks later he disapproved. He found Brittany’s home and had a talk with her. He put her in a study group and when she turned sixteen she took her GED. After passing she began college at the age of seventeen and worked to get a high school diploma.

She earned a scholarship to Harvard.

T-money put up what he would have spent on her education and when she graduated she saw the money and decided to go back to school.

Brittany’s father was a disgraced police officer because which made T-money put her in a self-defense class in case he tried anything.

Brittany hated men and was a proud lesbian.

She was 5’8 and weighed 145 pounds. She had light brown hair and blue eyes with a killer body. She was white and Mexican, spoke both Spanish and English though you’d never know. Brittany looked innocent, but she was a stone cold killer.

I’esha was twenty-six, her mother was black, and her father was African. She was dark with short black hair. Her body was over-developed for her tall skinny frame.

Thanks to T-money, she was a lawyer.

After graduating, she quit school and lived off the money she made working for T-money and what was saved for her while she was in college.

The first time she killed, it was a man who attempted to rape her. After almost going away for life and studying the law around murder she found something, she liked. She decided to study law mainly because she knew she liked killing.

Tamekia was twenty-four, black and Pilipino. And it only took one look to realize what she was mixed with. She was a language major and she’d been in the army; she joined after she received her B.A. in world communications.

She let her school money gain interest while she was in the service. When she returned home from the service, she decided on a quiet life as an interpreter for the courts. But she loved the feel of a gun and using it.

Tamekia was a bad bitch and could pull of either straight black or Pilipino.

At twenty-two, Charika was the baby of the bunch. She was a black girl from East Palo Alto.

After barely graduating high school, she moved in with an abusive boyfriend turned pimp. After sometime time in a drug addicted haze, she met T-money and sobered up enough to enroll in college.

She earned an A.A. in science, and she loved chemistry.

At twenty-two, she was trying to be a pharmacist, or a chemist depending on the next boy she met.

She watched her brother kill himself and her parents overdose.

Her heart froze over years ago.

And then there was Helen.

Helen was just plain crazy, she was anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five. No one knew, and she wasn’t telling.

Helen was your average white girl with big breast. She was very likeable, and you’d think she’d liked you, but she could flip in a matter of seconds. Her brown eyes would turn red, and she’d snap.

Helen was fascinated with death and dead bodies. She aspired to be a pathologist but could not get the school front together. She’d been in and out of school for at least eight years, yet she only had her B.S., according to her.

She was also a pathological liar.

And that was B.I.T.C.H.

T-money stole the idea from Charlie’s Angels. He had men who’d kill for him, some that were specialist. Assassins if you will. T-money was an equal opportunity employer and decided many of his enemies would never suspect he’d send a woman to do a man’s job.

It took him a few years, and several million before B.I.T.C.H. was born.

He sent them on their first mission four years ago. They took out a Columbian drug lord who was trying to get over on T-money. T-money sent them as a ‘thank you.’ After B.I.T.C.H. was through, what happened to them was never known.

B.I.T.C.H. was a success, they were his babies, and he loved them. Women were loyal, not men. T-money sometimes wondered where the comparison of men and dogs came from.

T-money only used B.I.T.C.H. when it was important, and he wanted secrecy on top of success.

Them hoes were spies if there ever were any.

They never failed him and could get the president if they had to. T-money knew with them he’d have success, his only problem this time was he’d sent Janell with them.

He made sure he’d told B.I.T.C.H. to bring her home safe at all cost. He knew they would, they were B.I.T.C.H.

Chapter 31

A few hours after contacting B.I.T.C.H. Janell stood in the lobby of the Embassy with the five beautiful women.

They dressed Janell up like a professional, she looked like the shrink she was. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore wire framed glasses. With the tight skirt and blazer, she felt like a naughty librarian.

Brittany's skin was tan and she was dressed in a tight denim jumpsuit with black knee high boots. Her hair hung straight down passed her shoulders.

I’esha had on couchie cutters and knee high Chucks with a halter-top. Somehow, her breasts were up and perky.

Tamekia was the only one who looked like she was going to a costume party. She was dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl and looked every bit of fifteen.

Charika had on a simple black cocktail dress and black heels. Her hair was down stopping at her shoulders.

Helen wore a bright white and yellow sundress with white flip-flops. She had her hair brushed back into a high ponytail.

“What room?” Brittany asked.

Janell shrugged.

“Follow the hoes,” Charika said with a head jerk towards the elevators where three women stood.

They could not be anything else other than strippers.

“We have to get rid of them.”

“Kill them!” Helen smiled.

“No! I’esha,” Brittany said.

With a smile, I’esha walked up to the women.

The remaining members of B.I.T.C.H. and Janell watched as she spoke casually with them and laughed a bit. I’esha pulled a wad of cash out of her top and handed each of them money. After tucking the money away, I’esha and the strippers began walking towards Janell and the remaining members of B.I.T.C.H.

The strippers waved with smiles as they passed to leave and I’esha rejoined them.

“You get they triflin’ asses,” one said before they walked out of the sliding doors.

“What did you tell them?” Janell asked.

“Room 437 4th floor,” I’esha smiled. They walked to the elevator in a tight group. “I said our husbands were up there, and we wanted to surprise them; we were planning to be their strippers. I gave them each two g’s and 437 4th floor.”

The elevator ride was silent.

Helen lifted up her sundress; she had on a thong and strapped to her leg was an assortment of knives and razors. Charika opened her little black clutch, which had vials and needles in it. Tamekia cracked her neck and knuckles. I’esha was staring straight as she played with the thin golden wire, which was wrapped around her wrist and appeared to be a necklace turned bracelet. Brittany pulled a large gun out of her jumpsuit, checked the chamber then put it back into her jumpsuit.

Janell felt naked.

They found the room and knocked.

The door opened, and they walked in to cat calls and whistling.

“The stripper’s here!” someone yelled, and Janell’s heart was pounding.

“Stay here,” Brittany said closing the door on Janell.

Janell paste the hall for almost two hours.

When the door opened Brittany who was clearly angry said, “Come on.”

Janell’s heart was pounding as she walked into the room clouded with cigar smoke and alcohol.

“Things got…” Brittany rolled her eyes.

Geezy was naked and tied to a chair along with three others. Janell smiled and went to work. She made sure to assure him they were only looking for the truth and that he would not die, she would not hurt him. Though she had no idea what would happen to him once she got what she needed out of him. However, she was pretty sure he was not going to live.

Janell smiled a lot and even touched his hand.

Within ten minutes, she had what she needed.

“Wait in the hall,” Brittany told her once she was done.

When Janell was safely, outside the room Brittany walked to the back room where blood was all over, and Helen was dressing. She’d cut the man’s throat right before climaxing.

“I’ll clean it up.”

Brittany rolled her eyes and pulled out her gun.

I’esha had put a sock in a man’s mouth and was strangling him with a thin gold wire.

Charika had a needle in a man’s arm.

Brittany watched as Tamekia snapped a man’s neck.

Geezy was the only one still alive.

B.I.T.C.H. regrouped and began talking about what was next. Brittany debated keeping Geezy alive just in case they needed him later on.

“Where you gone put him?” Charika asked.

Brittany shrugged, “The trunk.”

“Okay, how we gone get him outta here?” Tamekia asked.

“Emergency exit?” Brittany asked.

“The window,” Helen suggested.

“Alive Helen,” Brittany said.

“You said you wouldn’t kill me,” Geezy began whining.

“Oh look he’s crying,” Tamekia said.

“Such a turn off,” Brittany turned and put one between his eyes from across the room.

Ten minutes later the bodies were arranged and Helen was done cleaning the room.

B.I.T.C.H. left the Embassy without leaving a trace of themselves behind.

They dropped Janell off at T-money’s doorstep. They did not leave until the door closed behind her.

Chapter 32

“Shi!” I slowly opened my eyes. Dr. Richards was standing over me with breakfast. “Hurry up and eat,” she said sitting the tray down on my lap as I sat up in bed.

“What… what’s going on?” I asked eating the toast.

“Case conference.”

My heart stopped, “But…”

“Oh I forgot to tell you, when you left that day I talked them into bringing you back in a month instead of making you wait.”

I blinked, I could not believe it. I was suddenly excited, scared, and nervous all at the same time.

I was not ready, and I was so use to being with Dr. Richards. She reminded me so much of my mom and G-dub all rolled into one.

“You’re ready,” she told me.

I ate, brushed my teeth and showered in a state of fear. I was sitting outside the case conference room at eight.

Dr. Felter stuck her head out the door and looked around.

“Scheyenne,” she said, and I got up and followed her inside.

When I sat down I was shocked to see Dr. Childers was back and the old white man that came to my room to talk Dr. Richards out of moving in were there.

Fuck I thought.

I’d spent a month with Dr. Richards and I felt better than I had in two years. I was feeling intimidated and debated saying ‘fuck it,’ and just leaving, but I guess that’d be a slap in Dr. Richard’s face.

She’d put her job on the line for me; the least I could do was try.

The meeting was the same. We went over my progress, my ups, my downs, my highs, and my lows. Then I went into my relapse prevention, and I finished strong.

I mean my head was clear, and I was in a place where I understood my anger and hurt. It was normal, and I wouldn’t let no one tell me any different.

“What happens when you relapse?” I heard Dr. Felter ask.

Oh, I was ready for the bitch, she tried to get me again.

“Then I relapse,” I stated plainly and let it hang. “All I can do is pick myself back up and start again.” Then I swallowed and said something I did not believe. But I was playing the game, as Dr. Richards would say. “Look, I’m always going to have to struggle with what happened. It wasn’t fair, but that’s life, I mean there are people worse off than me.”

I knew the last part was bull.

“I will never know what happens when I relapse if I never get the chance to. Sitting in here with people around to talk to and run to is not letting me grow. I can talk about relapse all day, but this, here, this case conference is not the test. Out there is…”

Dr. Richards taught me the last part.

“Is that all?”

I nodded at the stupid bitch. She spoke briefly with the others. I knew they denied me, but hell I didn’t care. Okay I did, I wanted to slap the bitch.

But I contained myself as my heart pounded.

“How do we know you’ve grown Scheyenne?” Dr. Felter asked.

“You won’t know until I get out and show you,” I said.

“What if I told you we don’t think it’s time?” she asked.

I’d most likely tap into my black side I thought but I said, “Then you do and I’ll see you in another month.”

I was biting my lip and then my tongue.

I almost bit it off when she said, “Well Scheyenne I’m sorry. I feel and the others concur that if Dr. Richards had not done you the disservice of holding your hand, and you got through the last month alone then you’d be ready, however… not now.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I smiled and stood up.

There is a time when you are so angry that’s all you can do. Smile. I’d vent to Dr. Richards later.

I turned to leave, then I turned back towards them. I dropped all the bullshit and decided to be real. I didn’t know what I’d say, but I had to say something, so I started talking.

“First off, Dr. Richards is a very kind, loving soul who can relate to me. She is the first and the only person in this place that has done anything to help me. I am not a robot, I have feelings okay? I am a child forced with something most adults don’t have to go through…”

There were some tears in my eyes.

“I was robbed. Somebody stole my family, and I’ve yet to see any type of justice. Any retribution. I never got to say goodbye.”

My face was soaked.

“You cannot fix this. It happened, and I, not you, but I, I have to live with this. You think I should take pills…

“But will that bring my family back?”

Dr. Felter opened her mouth, but I kept going. I had one more thing to say, something I hoped would shut her up.

“You usually give medication for a chemical imbalance. Grief is not a chemical imbalance. Neither is life or death… so if that is why you’re gonna keep me here then so be it. But until you can give me a pill that can make me forget or take the hurt away, even for a little bit; then I say, ‘hell no.’ I don’t want it, thank you for nothing.”

I took a deep breath, turned to the door and opened it to leave. I felt good; hell, it felt better than I think going bad on them bitches would’ve.

“Scheyenne!” I turned, and the old white man stood, “Wait.”

He turned and whispered to the doctors. Whatever he said made Dr. Felter angry.

He looked at me and said, “If you were released, seeing as you have no family where would you go?”

I looked him in his faded blue eyes.

“My blood family maybe gone,” I said. I still couldn’t say dead, it was too permanent. “But I have people who love me. My best friend Vicky and her dad Mr. Carlos Lopez.”

He nodded, and I knew he was thinking. I didn’t care I just wanted to leave. I still needed to cry.

He nodded; then said, “When can I meet them?”

Part 3: New Life

Chapter 33

I will always remember my first breath of fresh air.

Of course we got to go outside in the hospital, we were not prisoners. But to know I was free and could leave was the best feeling ever.

I called Mr. Lopez from Dr. Baker’s office.

Dr. Baker was the head doctor that released me. Mr. Lopez pulled Vicky out of school and drove none-stop to Bakersfield. He was there in four hours. When they walked through the door, I almost cried. The tears were there they just never came out.

We all had a meeting and Dr. Baker asked his questions of Mr. Lopez, I was set up with therapy at Stanford and gone.

I said, ‘bye’ to Dr. Richards and that was hard. I cried and didn’t wanna let her go. She gave me her number and told me to call anytime.

On the way home, I silently watched the sights until we were back at the Lopez’s.

I heard a lot had happened in the two years I been gone. Vicky wrote me all the time. Mr. Lopez ran for Mayor and won. But a week into his Mayor-ship there were questions about missing money and then drugs.

It turned out Mayor Lopez’s Vice Mayor; an old man named Joe Backard had sticky fingers and a drug addiction. He was going down and tried to shift the blame. He began telling the papers that all the misappropriated funds transactions slips were signed by Mayor Lopez, and he was right.

But Mr. Lopez had no reason to suspect his right hand of shady dealings, so when Mr. Backard came with documents, and little time, a busy mayor Lopez signed and went about his work. Vicky said he took it hard and hadn’t been working because he was embarrassed and depressed. He didn’t want to show his face. He’d almost sold the house and moved, but Vicky begged him not to. Not until she finished school and so, they stayed.

Mr. Lopez became a recluse and spent his time in the front room drinking and living off the life insurance from his dead wife.

If he developed a drinking problem, he hid it well. He was still good looking and in shape. No beer-belly. I was led to Vicky’s room, which had changed a bit. Her bed was bigger, and the walls were covered with posters of B2K.

“Oh my God Shi, I’m so happy you home. Look at you.”

We looked each other over. Vicky had definitely grown up. She was still the color of white people. Her hair was layered and straight. She wore a pair of acid washed tight jeans, which made her ass look huge. Her breast had grown quite a bit also. She was a woman. My friend was fine.

I’m not a lesbian, but I can give a bitch hers.

I looked around the room to take my mind off appearances. I guess I looked like hell. I had on some baggy jeans and a shirt, which I was comfortable in. My hair, which needed a touch up two years ago, was in cornrows thanks to Dr. Richards.

Vicky told me I could wear her clothes, she said we’d share. She thought we were the same size, but I doubted it although we were the same height.

“Okay let me tell you about school…” she said and then went into a long confusing monologue about life in high school and boys. When she finished she called Mr. Lopez and asked when I’d start school.

I hadn’t thought of it, and the idea scared me.

Of course, I went to school in the hospital, but that was talking to an old lady for five hours. An old lady who taught all subjects. I had no idea if I was still in the same grade as Vicky and I could not fathom having a teacher for each subject.

Mr. Lopez promised to have me ready and in school by Monday.

That left Vicky four days to get me ready, and she wanted me to shadow for the next two days.

Chapter 34

Thanks to Mr. Lopez, I didn’t have to shadow Vicky. We went to get me enrolled and after a full day in the office, starting Monday, I was a student at Menlo Atherton High School.

I spent two days at home with Mr. Lopez, and it was okay. He stayed in the front room in an easy chair in front of the TV drinking.

When Vicky came home, we toured the city I’d grown up in. It’d changed a lot.

Vicky tried to steer me away from my old house, but I’d already been there. There was a new house there with Mexicans in it. Oddly, I had no emotional ties to the place.

Saturday morning Vicky woke her dad up-which was something that did not happen before three. She came back in the room.

“Shi? Why aren’t you ready?”

Not fully prepared for the rest of the day, I got up.

Vicky drug me shopping, she dressed me and picked out this and that. We argued and disagreed on just about everything. Seeing myself in the outfits Vicky picked out made me realize I actually had a nice body. Very nice.

My mother was right; you wake up one morning and… BAM! There it is…

My bra size was almost double D. Vicky’s looked bigger, way bigger.

After a day of arguing, Vicky got to dress me, but I got to pick the size. She told me, no girl wore big clothes, and that I’d look like a Tomboy.

I shrugged starting to really fear high school.

We made it home by dinner. Mr. Lopez bought us Jack in the Box, and we ate in the car on the way home. I think I would have died thinking about my first meal out and being so excited to be out. But after eating Dr. Richards’ cooking my first meal out didn’t compare.

We barely got back to the house, and all my bags in Vicky’s room before she was ready to go again.

She came in the room, “My dad said we could go to the movies.” I was kinda excited until she said, “Now you can meet my friends, well our friends.”

“Vick, I’m tired, and my stomach hurts.”

She nodded, “We don’t have to go.”

“No, go. I'ma be okay. I’m just gone chill and get all my stuff together.”

Vicky nodded and started grabbing clothes. An hour later, she was dressed and gone. Mr. Lopez dropped her off, so I had the house to myself for the first time. I was alone for the first time since I got out.

I started unpacking. I opened the closet and looked around for hangers. On the floor was a pink duffle bag, and my heart stopped. I hadn’t seen that bag in two years.

I dragged it out, sat on the bed and opened it. The first thing I found was my old cell phone, which I knew, was off. I tossed it aside and kept going through my old clothes and gifts. When I got to the bottom, I felt better. I thought I’d cry or… I don’t know…

I heard something make a soft thud on the carpet. I picked up my duffle and looked around. On the floor was something shiny. I bent over and picked up the silver chain with the small heart on it. I held the heart in the palm of my hand and then brought it up to my face to read the inscription.

‘We’ll never be far apart, as long as you have my heart.’

And then I relapsed.

Chapter 35

I found out what I’ve always known, I started school early.

The school wanted to put me in the tenth grade because of my age. But after a few phone calls to the state hospital and a talk with my tutor, I was placed in my junior year with Vicky-whose birthday was months before mine. She was already sixteen and would be seventeen a little bit after I reached my sixteenth birthday.

Vicky picked out my clothes and tried to put make up on me but, no. I only allowed her to press my hair after she talked me out of my corn rolls.

I was so nervous.

I called Dr. Richards and her voice soothed me.

I caught the bus to school with Vicky.

We sat in the back. It was my first time taking public transportation. We rode down East Bayshore with the bus to ourselves. We were in the Vill when other students began to get on. Most came to the back, and most knew Vicky. After they chatted, she introduced me as her sister to everyone. I met four people who seemed nice.

Alexandra was a light skinned, chubby girl with a warm smile.

Sherone was a high forehead girl with bitch written all over her.

Amekia was a thick, dark skinned girl with an infectious laugh and a beautiful smile.

And Mark was gay and very attractive; he was black and Mexican.

We rode down Willow Road, through Menlo Park and into Atherton. The school came into view, and my heart started pounding. I had no idea where my classes were or what classes I was in.

Amekia and Vicky went with me to the guidance office while the other three vanished.

“You must be excited,” Amekia said to me. “Or did you like your last school?”

I smiled and said, “No. This is my first time in high school.”

She raised her eyebrow, which were nicely arched. I could tell it was natural. My bushy eyebrows which I wouldn’t let Vicky touch made me, feel a little insecure.

“I was sort of tutored.”

“You mean like home schooled?”

“I guess,’ I said just as Vicky appeared with a sheet of paper.

“Girl, we only got one class together.”

She handed me my schedule. I looked at it, and I was lost.

“We got Econ. together with Mr. Welsh. He ‘ight I guess but…” Vicky rolled her eyes and Amekia and I followed her out. She waved and said, “Hi,” to people. Vicky was popular, she was in her own element. I was so out of place.

“Okay,” Amekia said grabbing my schedule as we followed Vicky down the main hall.

I don’t know why but Amekia reminded me of Dr. Richards.

“Your first class is Algebra two with Mr. Marza, that’s in the E-wing, but most math classes are in the G-wing-” Amekia stopped and looked at me. “Okay, this is the main hall,” she pointed down the hall. “All the halls on the side are wings. Up there is A, then B, then C…” she pointed around, and I followed her finger trying to make sense of it all. “Now your second period is Art in the E-wing. Then you got science in the C-wing, English-Hey! We in the same English class, that’s in C-wing. Then you got Spanish with me again in the E-wing, Econ with me and Vicky in B-wing and then P.E. That’s on the quad.”

“Shi! Come here,” I heard Vicky say. She was standing with a few girls at the end of the main hall. I walked over to her and bumped into a girl, “Sorr—” I stopped and looked into the girl’s brown eyes. “Don’t I know you?”

She rolled her eyes and then was gone.

“Bitch!” I heard Vicky say next to me.

“Don’t we know her?” I asked.

Vicky rolled her eyes, “Uh huh. That’s Tianna.”

The last time I saw her was at my family’s funeral two years ago.

“Why is she—”

“Don’t even get me started girl,” Vicky said grabbing my hand.

She introduced me to a group of girls. I caught not one name because I was beginning to think that maybe Vicky was right about what I should wear. They all looked grown; like models with their tight clothes and makeup. There was one girl that I saw looked a lot like Vicky, same color and all but, she was straight Mexican.

We all began to walk in a group to God only knew where. I was in the back just trying to blend in.

“So, you’re Vicky’s friend?”

I looked over at the Mexican girl and nodded.

“I’m her best friend,” she said, and I nodded again just trying to be nice and talk to someone. Yah know, shake a hand make a friend type of stuff? I mean I was Vicky’s best friend too, and I doubted anyone could be bestier than me. We done known each other fo’ever. “She say y’all sisters.”

I nodded, we were.

“You’re not very pretty.”

Now this bitch was working my last. I decided to speed up. I had no idea she was jealous, and I didn’t know what for.

The bell rung, and I wandered to my math class where I fell in love.

I sat in the back closest to the door.

Everyone who walked in disregarded me after a curious glance.

He walked in with not one book or a backpack for that matter. His hair was down to his shoulders in dreads. He had a pencil behind his ear. His brown skin glowed because of his black hair. He looked at me and I damn near fainted. He had green eyes. His baggy shirt and pants made him all the more sexier. He sat in front of me, and I smelled a familiar musk that I couldn’t place off the top of my head.

The second bell rung and Mr. Marza; a skinny old white man began calling roll. His name was King Smith…

“Shinena Iverson,” Mr. Marza butchered the hell outta my name. “Shinena Iverson; did I get that right?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know if I could speak. He was looking at me.

“It’s Shy-Anne,” I managed.

Mr. Marza nodded. “Nice to have you,” he said in a dull ass voice-that would give the Dry Eyes, Clear Eyes guy a run for his money-and then was off calling more names.

“Oh cracker ass always gettin’ people’s names wrong,” He said smiling at me.

His teeth were solid gold. I felt a tingle down there and then I started to feel hot.

Now I ain’t had much contact with a boy in the last two years unless you count those nuttz at the hospital. I don’t. I mean I knew what sex was, but I was a virgin and believe it or not, I ain’t never even masturbated. I always felt like I was being watched, plus I was going through some shit.

I managed a smile.

“You new?”

“King.”

“What?” He yelled, and the class laughed.

Mr. Marza began his lesson, and I stared at the back of his head feeling hot all over until class ended. He got up and left. I went to my next class and thought about him until break. I was supposed to meet Vicky in the front of the school.

I was walking down the main hall when I heard my name. I turned, and it was my love.

“Where you from?” he asked taking stride with me.

“The mid,” I said.

“Oh shit rogue you from P.A. Mah?” I smiled. “When you move there?”

“I been there all my life.”

He smiled, “Your parents must keep you locked away. How old are you?”

I couldn’t help but smile, “Fifteen.”

His eyes grew, “Damn! You young, you a sophomore?”

I shook my head, “Junior.”

He was making me sweat.

“Damn and you only fifteen?”

I nodded, “How old are you?”

I wondered if what we were doing was flirting. I liked him, and I was hoping he liked me. He had to, in order to keep on talking to me. Right?

“I’m a senior, and I’m eighteen rogue.”

Damn! I thought.

Someone called his name, and he yelled to them and threw up the peace sign.

“‘ight then lil’ mah you stay up.”

He was gone, and Vicky was rushing over to me.

“Girl what was you doing talking to King?”

I shrugged trying to act nonchalant, “He in my math class.”

I was hoping I wasn’t blushing.

“Damn, you watch out foe him,” she said. “That nigga a hoe.”

I walked with Vicky over to her crew sitting at a table, and that’s when I began to realize I didn’t know my best friend anymore. I began wondering if she was a virgin still and made a mental note to inquire. I sat next to her after she told-the Mexican bitch who’s name I relearned was-Carmen to move over. And she was not happy with that at all.

I sat and listened to the conversations. All about boys and clothes. Wow! This was what we girls talked about. I felt so out of place.

“She been here a few hours and got niggas all up on her,” I heard Vicky say way too loud. “That’s my bitch, yeah we bad,” she yelled, and I smiled hoping she shut her ass up.

The bell rung, and I started to my next class. I was in the main hall when Carmen appeared next to me. “What was you doing with King?” I looked at her not really understanding the question. “Look bitch you new so you don’t know but that’s my man.”

She tried to walk off, but I kept up with her.

“If he was yo’ man then why was he talking to me?”

And now I walked off. Yeah, I was feeling bold, and I was tired of the bitch and ready to beat her ass.

“Check this bitch-”

“I ain’t gone be too many bitches,” I said.

We were now standing in the hallway.

“You gone be whatever I say yo’ ugly pendejo is.”

I realized people were watching.

“Call me out my name again,” I said not knowing what she said in Spanish but knowing it was something bad. I was shaking and didn’t know what I was going to do if she did.

“Bitch,” She said and then the bitch slapped me.

I was stunned. She took a step back.

Okay, maybe I shoulda thought of this before I went into this shit halfcocked. But I never been in a fight; never had to, I mean, everyone use to like me, but I thought I knew how. I done seen fights before, and it didn’t look that hard or anything. But as I stood there with my face burning, I wasn’t sure if I could, especially with all these people watching.

She dropped her books and got ready to hit me again, my heart was pounding. My hand was holding the side of my face. I was shocked. I saw the punch coming and closed my eyes waiting for the hit. But it never came.

I heard someone say, “Bitch you lucky I stopped you, because if you woulda hit her-it would be all bad.”

Vicky was holding Carmen’s arm. I felt relieved and embarrassed at the same time. I rubbed my face.

“You-hold on. Did this tramp hit you?”

I didn’t answer, and I didn’t want Vicky to fight my battles.

“Bitch you hit my sister?” Vicky’s voice echoed off the walls, and I was wondering where the hell the teachers were.

I heard the last bell, but no one moved.

“She slapped her,” someone yelled.

Carmen looked scared as she said, “Vicky it-”

The rest never came out. Vicky slapped the dog shit outta Carmen. The side of her face was red, and her hair was everywhere.

Vicky looked shocked as she said, “Mah bad girl. It was reflex, I’m sorry I shouldn’t of did that, you shoulda” Vicky was looking at me. “Hit her back!”

I was lost, what did she mean?

“Shi!”

I looked at Vicky and then Carmen who was holding her face and looking evil as fuck.

“Hit this bitch back, don’t let her hit you.”

I took a small step forward, and Carmen backed up.

“She ain’t gone let you, and trick you bet not fight dirty.”

Fight? Vicky wanted me to fight this chick? Oh no.

“Hey! Why y’all just standing there? The bell rang, get to class…”

I felt so fucking relieved to see a teacher.

“Come on,” Vicky said and pulled me through the crowd.

“But my…” she wasn’t listening.

She marched me through the school.

“What happened?” she asked me as we walked through the back of the school.

I didn’t realize it ‘til later, but that was my first time cutting class. I told her what happened from when me and Carmen first met.

“Jealous bitch,” she said rolling her eyes then, “Shi, why didn’t you tell me?” I shrugged.

I mean Vicky could have other friends other than me if she wanted.

“If she gone treat you like that then she ain’t no friend of mine,” she smiled at me. “Oh and if you like King, go for it. That hoe only mad because he fucked her freshmen year and ain’t called her since… I warned her ass.”

This seemed as good a time as any to ask.

“Vicky you a virgin still?”

She smiled, “Yeah, but don’t tell people though. We a dying breed and we’ll have all sorts of niggas sniffing around.”

I nodded and we kept walking.

“Shi, don’t eva let no hoe slap you again.”

That was all she said about that.

Chapter 36

My first day of school was the worse, but it got better as time went on. I started to relax a little and become a little more social. King and I talked a lot, and he made it his duty to walk me to the front for breaks.

Carmen was not with us anymore and steered clear of Vicky.

It was all strange, but I guess I was living life. I called Dr. Richards every day, then every other day and then every week.

It was coming to the end of the year, the first month since King walked into my life. I was popular, everyone knew me, and I’d successfully run away from my past and became integrated into society. Surprisingly no one brought up what happened to my family, and I didn’t feel it was because they were trying to be nice.

Vicky started dating a boy around Christmas, and she spent most of her time on the phone with him at home and hanging on his arm at school.

Amekia and I became very tight. She knew, I mean I knew she knew about my past, all of it because every little bit I’d tell her she didn’t look at all surprised. She didn’t judge me, she just nodded and listened and asked questions at the right time.

It was Valentine’s Day when IT happened.

Now, I told you before I was in love with King.

I always talked about him and listened when someone was telling me something about him. He’s a hoe, he sells drugs yadda yadda yah.

I didn’t care.

Hell, why do good girls like bad guys?

I mean come on we all have our faults. Look at me for example, I was crazy. Certified. I’d been institutionalized.

Anyways, I was sitting at my desk by the door when He stumbled into class late.

“Nice of you to join us Mr. Smith”

“Shut up Marza!” he said, and I laughed like I usually did at everything he says.

The butterflies in my stomach never left after a month. I was taking notes when he turned around and wrote a large ‘Hi’ on my paper. I rolled my eyes and began erasing it.

Ten minutes later, he slipped me a note.

‘Do you like me?’ it read and he put a ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ I circled the, ‘yes.’ I tapped him on the shoulder and handed it to him. He took it and turned around.

“Well forget you I don’t-oh you said ‘yes.’”

I laughed, and he wrote me another note.

‘I like you too. Can we go out?’

Okay long story short, he asked me on our first date and I was juiced. I mean this was my first date. I thought I was ugly.

At brunch, I played it cool.

I waited until Amekia asked, “So what’s up?”

I shrugged, “King asked me out.”

Her eyes got big, “No!”

I smiled.

“What’d you say?”

I nodded trying to contain myself.

Amekia screamed.

“Carmen is gonna be heated,” Amekia said smiling.

“Fuck that bitch!” I said.

“Yeah, fuck her,” Amekia agreed and I laughed.

That was the first time I done ever heard her curse.

I decided I’d wait to tell Vicky, and it was hard. But I managed.

As soon as we got into her room and the door closed I asked, “What am I supposed to wear on a date?”

She looked at me scratching her head.

“What you mean?” she pulled out her Metro and checked her texts. I still didn’t have a phone and told her I didn’t need one because she was going to make sure I had one.

I smiled.

She looked up at me as if noticing me for the first time in weeks.

“Scheyenne Henrietta Iverson? Who?”

She jumped up on her bed.

I jumped up on her bed too and said, “King.”

“No!” she yelled and then we both screamed.

Mr. Lopez came in and asked what was going on. Vicky told him, and he lifted his eyebrow and told me I had a phone call. It was Dr. Richards. I told her about my date and she screamed.

For the rest of the night me, King and our date was all that was talked about. Soon Vicky set it up as a double date for Saturday, we were going to the movies, and I couldn’t wait.

Chapter 37

The rest of the week drug by so slow it was a damn shame. The only good part was King, and I spent more time together. He walked me to all my classes, and every day after the day he asked me out, he began driving me home.

He had a nice car. It was an '86 Chevy Nova. I mean it was loud and old, but I guess he liked it, and it did what it was supposed to. It was lime green and had big chrome rims. The inside was cream colored and smooth.

As the week passed, we learned so much about one another. I learned that he stayed in the Vill which ain’t that far from the Mid where I stayed.

Surprisingly he was on track to graduate and showed me his name on the honor roll and principal’s list in the main hall.

“Don’t tell anybody though,” he smiled and I had a feeling he was serious.

It was Wednesday the sixteenth of February. That was the day he began holding my hand.

I had all the dates down. I was fucking juiced; I was in love. Dr. Richards said it was probably puppy love or infatuation, yet she didn’t necessarily down play my feelings. She just made sure I understood he was the first boy I had contact with in over two years.

The last boy I had a crush on was Terry from my old elementary school. Terry went to M.A., and I don’t know what I was thinking. Terry seemed to have gotten uglier as time went on.

By Friday I felt so comfortable with King. I could say or ask him anything. But I didn’t, I kept my family a secret. I put them to rest deep in my heart. I busied myself, so I wouldn’t have to think about them.

After my relapse when I saw the necklace, I called Dr. Richards. When she heard my voice, she snapped into mother mode.

She comforted me and then helped me look at it spiritually. My brother and family would always live through me. They’d still be alive as long as I kept breathing. They were alive in my heart. I still cried myself to sleep, and each time I woke up, I’d feel a little better.

By Friday the word was out, everyone knew King, and I were talking.

I was sitting in my Econ. class talking to Amekia and Vicky and totally ignoring Mr. Welsh when nature called. I asked to go to the bathroom.

Vicky was up and ready to join me and Amekia was debating it. She never missed a class. Amekia was too worried about college and didn’t want not one blemish on her record. Vicky said she would just walk out, but I told her it was cool, I just needed to pee, and I’d be back. I don’t know why girls make the restroom a social event. Maybe it’s because there are no boys and we can stare at ourselves all day in the mirror. Yes, girls are so self-conscious and conceded, even the ugly ones, especially the ugly ones.

I walked to the bathroom as slow as I could just looking around. I wasn’t in no rush. We were supposed to be doing some group project that only Amekia seemed to be worried about and working on.

I went and peed. While I was peeing, the door opened, and someone came in and went to the stall next to me. I finished up and went to the sink.

I was washing my hands and looking at myself in the mirror. I’d been stressing off what I was gonna do with my hair. I still had nappy roots, but thanks to the flat iron Vicky had, you couldn’t tell unless you got real close or I started sweating or something. My hair was a little bit passed my shoulders and was full and healthy.

After Amekia was sure it wasn’t a weave, she went crazy, talking about how lucky, I was and how she wished her hair was that long.

I soon realized that not a lot of black girls had long hair. Most of them wore braids and weaves.

I silently thanked my momma.

Amekia had decided that I should wear it down with a curl depending on the outfit I’d yet to pick out. I sighed and turned off the water just as a stall door slammed.

I turned around, and my heart flipped as me and Carmen’s eyes met.

I’d seen her around, but she said nothing to me and I didn’t say anything to her.

This was our first time alone, and I was fucking scared. I tried to be easy. She stared at me as I went to get paper towels to dry my hands.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi,” I responded without looking at her.

“So, you and King are dating?”

Her voice sounded light and casual. I didn’t respond. My heart was doing a number, and I was trying not to be scared. I did not want to get my ass whooped, and I was scared that was exactly what was gonna happened.

Yes, a bitch was scared.

She began washing her hands, and I decided to make my exit.

“Did you tell him that you’re crazy?”

I stopped with my heart.

There was a lump in my throat.

Carmen was in dangerous water.

“Oh, how’d I know? You didn’t think you could keep that a secret, did you?”

“That’s none of yo’ business,” I shot at her.

“Well it’s King’s business if he’s dating a psycho. Did they ever find your dope head brother chicka? Tianna says he was cute too.”

And now I knew how she knew.

My heart moved slow as I said, “Don’t talk about my brother.”

“Oh and your mom and abuela trapped in that house burning alive.”

I turned around, the tears were there.

“How sad,” she smiled drying her hands.

“I said watch yo’ self bitch.”

“Or what?”

I didn’t know what.

“You gone run to Vicky and cry again? She ain’t here now; it’s just me and you.”

She was in my face now and yes, a bitch was so scared my knees were damn near knocking. I wanted to hit her but… hell, she’d beat my ass. I mean our last encounter didn’t really turn out that cool for me. I was starting to shake.

“Or is yo’ crazy ass gone bite me or something?” she let the something drag out like Mexicans sometimes do with some words. “I should just beat yo’ ass right here.”

“Do it!” I yelled acting brave though my legs were shaking.

She laughed and turned her head. When she looked back at me, she brought her fist with her. She hit me in my forehead, and I saw white. She hit me again, and I saw more white. Then I heard something.

“Duck Shi!” Right then and there, I had a flash back.

I was in the front yard with Free. He had on boxing gloves and was teaching me how to box even though he’d never boxed a day in his life. My vision cleared as I held onto the wall for support.

The bitch was coming with a left in what seemed like slow motion, and I heard it again, “Duck Shi!”

I did, and Carmen clipped the wall.

“Aye!” she screamed.

“Good, now get up on your tippy toes… yeah… come on, keep your guard up.”

As she shook her hand and somehow cursed in both English and Spanish at the same time.

I felt ridiculous, but I stood on my toes, teetering like I saw Free show me back when I was seven. I put my left hand out a little and my right hand close in front of my face. I remembered I was supposed to keep the hand I wrote with by my face. I didn’t have a lot of room and thought about just tackling the hoe. But, instead, like a fool fist balled I listened to my dead brother’s memory.

Carmen looked up.

“Jab with the left Shi.”

I felt funny, but I pushed my left fist out and caught her in the chin.

“Hijo de puta,” she said grabbing her chin. “Oh, you think you can fight?”

She cracked her neck, and I was fucking terrified. She put her fist up.

“Jab!”

I swung again and hit her in her small chest.

She stepped back.

“Jab, jab, punch Shi,” I heard Free say.

Punch with the right I thought.

“Jab, jab, punch. Keep moving…”

I moved a little, saw an opening, and jabbed. My heart was somewhere in my stomach as I connected. It felt good. I felt three years of built up rage released in that one little hit.

“Punch Shi!” I heard.

Hold on Free I thought and I jabbed hitting her in her chest again.

Carmen grabbed at her breast with both hands and yelled, “Fuck!”

And that was it. I punched with my right as hard as I could. My fist connected with her nose and all I saw was red. My wrist snapped back with the force of my punch, and it hurt. I yelled a long with her. She fell back grabbing her nose, and I don’t know what got into little ole me. I pounced, kicking and stomping. My heart was racing, and I didn’t know why but I was screaming like I was… crazy.

I didn’t hear the door open. I only knew someone was in there with us when I heard my name being called and felt the hands grabbing me. It was Vicky and Amekia.

“What the fuck?” Vicky yelled.

“Is that Carmen?” Amekia asked.

“Stupid bitch,” I yelled, and we walked out the bathroom as the hall crowded.

They were excited; asking me what happened. I was on a high, the adrenaline was pumping through me, and I felt good and relieved. I explained to Vicky and Amekia everything but what I heard from Free.

“That bitch deserved that.”

“Damn girl, had me scared fah a minute… thought you couldn’t fight,” Vicky said when we emerged into the main hall. I was supposed to be going to P.E., but instead Vicky grabbed me. I silently followed her to the F-wing.

“What’s going on?”

“There she is,” she said, and I watched Vicky walk up to the girl I’d bumped into my first day.

Tianna was against a wall with a group of girls.

Vicky marched up to her, grabbed her hair, and dragged her off the wall and onto the ground where she got on top of her and beat her ass.

Tianna’s friends just watched shocked as a crowd surrounded them. I was shocked. I ran over and tried everything I could to get Vicky off her without getting hit.

After a while, someone finally came and helped me pull her off.

Vicky had a wild look in her eyes. She was smiling as I dragged her away.

“I been looking foe a reason,” she said.

We skipped sixth period and caught a bus home.

Chapter 38

That was my first fight, and when we got home, a bitch thought she was Muhammad Ali as I retold my story to Vicky again and again adding and removing things each time. Shit, I was ready to fight the world.

She told me that after I left to the state hospital Tianna-who was my other best friend at the time next to Vicky-went around telling everyone I was crazy and shit. Vicky checked her about it their freshmen year, and they haven’t spoken since. I thought I remembered hearing about it in a letter, but I guess it wasn’t that important to me at the time.

Dr. Richards called at dinner time-like she’d done all week asking for updates and just wanting to chat. She was more excited about my date with King than I was. I picked up the phone.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello, how are you? This is Dr. Richards may I speak with Scheyenne?”

“It’s me,” I said smiling at her polite greeting.

“Oh, hey. I thought that was you.”

I laughed, happy she called. I took the cordless phone into the back yard.

“So how was your day?” I asked her.

She sighed, “Good I guess. But those bitches are getting on my nerves. I almost slapped the shit out of Jean.”

I laughed.

Ever since my release Dr. Richards and Dr. Felter have been going at it tough. Dr. Felter is under Dr. Baker the head doctor, but after Dr. Richards’ success with me, she was given a promotion.

“If I wanted the bitches job I’d of taken it when it was offered to me years ago. Damn we make the same amount.”

“She just on a power trip,” I said quoting Dr. Richards.

“Yea, but anyways how was your day?”

I shrugged and said just as coolly as possible, “I got in a fight.”

Dr. Richards went crazy asking if I was okay and what happened?

Then, after assuring her, I was fine and not in any trouble she asked, “You whooped her ass right?”

I laughed and told her I did and explained the Carmen situation.

“That’s my girl,” she said when I finished.

I even told her about hearing Free. She said it was a ‘repressed memory’, which happened to everyone from time to time.

After making sure, I was okay mentally and emotionally she said, “Shi, now I don’t condone fighting but… I’m happy you’re out there being a kid.”

I smiled and said, “Goodbye,” and we hung up.

Chapter 39

The date was at eight p.m. I was up at seven a.m. stressing, Dr. Richards called at twelve p.m., and we were on and off the phone all day.

The date was a big fuss.

Vicky styled my hair, and I decided to be casual. So a white graphic tee with black jeans and some k-Swiss was my choice. My hair was put in a ponytail. I’d been getting ready for twelve hours, though the actual time it took me to get dressed was about five minutes.

I was so scared and excited at the same time.

Vicky’s boyfriend Russell was picking us up, and we were going to Shoreline Ampa-theatre in Mountain View instead of Century 12 in Redwood City.

Vicky wore stretch denim jeans and a red shirt with some red and black Iverson’s.

Mr. Lopez peeked his head in to give me the phone when we were dressed. He looked at us.

“You two look beautiful,” he said and left after our thank yous.

It was Dr. Richards. She was so nervous, she wanted to know every detail. What I was wearing how it fit, and how it looked, what Vicky was wearing…

After promising that I’d take pictures of us and send them to her and promising that I would call her when I got back-no matter how late I got in,-we hung up.

As I hung up Vicky came in.

“Russell’s here,” she said looking more nervous than me and panicking.

“Let’s go,” I managed to say nervously.

“No! We need to change.”

Chapter 40

We barely made it on time.

After twenty minutes of arguing while she switched into a pair of white stretch jeans and black and gold shirt with some gold strap heels I was forced to change.

I felt very, extremely uncomfortable. I was forced to wear the one push up bra I let Vicky talk me into buying. I had on some type of jersey slash t-shirt. It was tight and opened at the top, so you saw my breast pushing up. I had on a pair of Vicky’s pants; some from her freshmen year. They were faded black and I had to admit went well with the red and white in the shirt. I had on high top chucks.

Vicky tried to put me in a pair of heels, but after arguing for five minutes and dramatic falling out on my part, I was able to wear some regular shoes.

It was cold, and I could feel my nipples getting hard as we walked to the ticket counter. I wasn’t allowed to wear a jacket. There wasn’t one that went with my outfit, besides it wasn’t snowing or raining.

The things girls do…

I crossed my arms to hide my erect nipples.

I’d met Russell once before, and he was an okay looking person. He was about six foot tall. We didn’t really talk and we’d never been alone together. We had so many awkward moments when he asked me a question and our conversations died prematurely.

I watched as he and Vicky bought tickets. The movie we were going to see was Drum Line with Nick Cannon. It looked funny from the previews.

“Psst.”

I looked to my left and felt a hand tap my right shoulder.

I turned and saw no one.

I thought I was tripping then I looked left again and saw King’s fine ass smiling and showing a mouth full of bling.

He was wearing a large button up black shirt with some baggy jeans, a white N.Y. fitted hat and white and black reeboks. He looked me up and down and smiled. I began to wonder if I should have let Vicky put some makeup on me and arch my eyebrows.

“You look good.”

I smiled while my heart bounced.

“You too” I said not able to help but smile.

“Hey King,” Vicky said walking up to us and giving him a hug. King said what’s up to Russell and Russell what’s upped him back.

“Here Shi,” Vicky said handing me my ticket.

“I already bought hers,” King said pulling two tickets out.

“Oh, well, we’ll just get our money back,” Vicky said. “Ready?”

I didn’t know, my heart was flip-flopping as we walked into the theatre and found us some seats. Me and Vicky sat next to each other, and King and Russell sat on the outsides of us.

The previews were playing, and Russell and King asked us if we wanted anything.

I said, “No thank you.”

My stomach was too in knots to eat.

“You sure? No soda?” King asked.

I said, “No I’m alright.”

He smiled at me, and I felt hot all over again.

He had a seductive look as he said, “I got you,” and left.

“Damn girl, he is fine,” Vicky said when they left. “I almost left Russell,” she joked. “You gone ride home with him, or you want to ride back with us?”

I said, “He can take me home.”

She smacked her lips and said, “Uh, huh. Make sure that nigga strap up.”

“Vick, it ain’t gone be none of that,” I laughed.

“Just tell me how it is.”

I shook my head. I hadn’t even had my first kiss, and she was talking about sex.

I lifted my ring finger, “When you see bling on here then you’ll know.”

Vicky rolled her eyes and then said, “Well mines is in the works. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“Vicky! Y’all gone-”

“Shhh,” she hissed as Russell and King appeared. Russell scooted by me, and she whispered so low only I could hear, “Don’t wait up.”

I was shocked and had to play it off as King sat down.

Vicky and I did everything together. When we were little we planned on getting married together; a double wedding, and having our kids together at the same time. I thought maybe I should do it. I was definitely feeling pressure.

King had a large popcorn and a drink.

“You look like a Dr. Pepper girl,” he smiled. Dr. Pepper was actually my favorite soda though I didn’t really get it often. I wondered how he knew when he said, “We can share.”

The movie was starting, and I ate some popcorn and took a sip of soda. I was trying to concentrate on the movie. I’d watched the movie for ten minutes straight without shifting my eyes, and it was a challenge. I finally looked over at him, and he had not cracked a smile, he looked bored.

I hoped it wasn’t me as I leaned over and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He smiled and said, “Nothing.”

I could tell he was lying.

I turned to Vicky and said, “I’ll be back.”

I grabbed King’s hand and said, “Come on.”

He followed me without any protest. He managed to grab the soda and popcorn with his free hand.

“Where’re we going?” he asked.

I shrugged and then said, “To talk.”

“But don’t you want to see the movie?” he asked.

I said something that I guess was corny but still it was how I felt.

“I want to see you more.”

Awe, I know I’ma mac.

We were slowly walking down the hall when I said, “If you’re bored and don’t want to be here with me.”

Shaking his head, he grabbed my hand and said, “It’s not you.”

Yeah, it’s not you, it’s me I thought remembering the line from so many movies.

“It’s Nick Cannon…”

I stopped and looked at him.

He rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t like Nick Cannon.”

I laughed mostly because I was fucking relieved and a lot more because I felt dumb for assuming he didn’t wanna be there with me.

He was smiling shyly.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You,” I said and then asked, “Why’d you agree to come see the movie then?”

He shrugged, “I thought you wanted to see it. I just wanted to go out with you to spend some more time with you and then you told me about the double date-”

“You should of said, ‘no’. It’s our date. The double date was just a suggestion.”

“You were hella hyped, and I…” he shrugged and looked embarrassed.

I wondered if he knew how sexy he was, and what he was doing to me?

Probably, I thought.

“Well do you wanna see another movie?”

He looked around at some names.

“It’s your date too.”

He looked at me with them sexy green eyes.

“Honestly,” I said.

He smiled and repeated, “Honestly?”

I damn near wet myself.

“Yes, we got to do what I wanted to do now I wanna do what you want to do.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“How about this,” he looked at me and I said, “Take me on the date you had planned before I brought up the double date thing.”

He bit his lip and looked nervous. He was so sexy.

“Come on,” he said walking towards the back exit.

I caught up with him, “Where we going?”

“On a date,” he said opening the exit door.

I wasn’t too sure about what was going on, I mean I knew King, but technically I didn’t know him. I was getting to know him he was still a stranger. I decided to stop being so scary and cautious and live.

When I became scary and cautious?

I had no clue.

But, I began to fear the unknown back in the state hospital.

Coping was my problem, and if I ever wanted to move forward, I’d have to learn how to trust. How to cope and deal with the unknown; how to deal with life because life is full of unknowns. I know better than any, no one is promised tomorrow and you cannot predict the future.

I thought about when I told Dr. Richards about my fight what she said, specifically the last part of our conversation.

“I’m happy you’re out there being a kid,” she’d said.

I’m not grown I thought. I am a kid.

I need to make all the mistakes I can, while I can and have an excuse.

Therefore, I accidentally went against everything I had learned and followed this boy-I had known for six months-out of the movie theatre.

Chapter 41

I followed him to his car, and he opened the door for me. I got in, and when he got in he started the car and set the heater.

Thank God.

He turned on the radio an asked me, “What do you like?”

Honestly, I had no idea. I’d heard some people Vicky listened to and I guess I liked them or the song but I could not remember any names for the life of me.

“No favorites?”

I smiled shyly.

“Okay, rap? R&B?” he smiled. His smile dropped as he asked, “Country?”

I laughed and then said, “Gospel.”

His eyebrows went up, “Okay, Kirk Franklin and the Family…”

I began laughing, “You got gospel?”

“I love music, you name it, and I most likely got it.”

I thought back to what I’d listened to before the state hospital. I’d been infatuated with Dru Hill, and I liked Xcape. I was an R&B fan I guess, but I listened to some rap or hip-hop.

“Anyone in particular?” he asked. I shook my head, and he said, “I’ll just throw on the radio, we ain’t going far. You sure you shouldn’t tell your friend?”

I shook my head, “She with her man, she ain’t trippin’ off me.”

The ride was less than five minutes. We drove down dark streets in the back of Mountain View and turned up somewhere around office buildings and businesses. He parked, and we got out.

“This is a little place I come to relax. It’s a pond I guess.”

It was hella dark, and I couldn’t see nothing. It was also cold as hell. He draped a peacoat over me, and it made a world of difference. Then he took his hat off his head and sat it on my head. My ponytail stopped it from going all the way down.

“Now you look the part.”

I rolled my eyes, and he grabbed my hand.

We made it to a landing and began walking on a path. It was beautiful, though, I couldn’t see nothing. The moon reflected off the waters surrounding our little strip of land.

We were silent for a few seconds and then he said, “So.”

I smiled and replied, “So.”

We walked side by side bumping into one another.

“So you from the town rogue, wow, it’s so small yet so big. I can’t believe I never seen you, or we never met.”

“Well believe it,” I smiled deciding it safe to take control of the conversation.

“Damn feisty, I like that Tyson.”

I laughed, “Tyson?”

“Yeah, I saw your handy work.”

I lifted my eyebrow, “Huh?”

“Carmen.”

“Oh,” I said rolling my eyes.

Then my heart sank.

Did she tell him?

“Your girlfriend,” I joked.

He sighed, “So you heard?”

I nodded.

“Okay, let me set it straight. What you hear?”

“That you a hoe and you hit and quit.”

I know blunt as hell.

He was silent. I waited for an answer.

I was looking at him as he started nodding, “sounds about right, guess your sources are good.”

My heart sank. But damn I had to give him credit for honesty.

“So you just go ‘round fuckin’ hoes? Is that what you tryin’ do with me?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I said not wanting to look at him.

“‘ight on some real shit rogue, all you heard is a lie. I met Carmen two years ago when she was a freshman. We talked for like a week, and I was feeling her, but she talk too much. We went out one night, and the next day I come to school, and this cat trying to fight me. Rogue talking bout I was fucking with his girl. So I eased off…”

We were standing still facing each other. I was so happy it was dark because I couldn’t see his eyes clearly. Just the whites and a shine like the moon in the water.

“A few days later, Carmen calls me talking ‘bout he trippin’ she don’t know him and some ole otha shit. I’m not with the drama, so I kept pushing givin’ her dust. Then I start talking to this new girl named Frankie.” He was shaking his head. “Well, Frankie tell me that Carmen a gold digger and a hoe. Come to find out Frankie and Carmen cut from the same shit. I push off and they both start claiming me, then Carmen tells Frankie we fucked, I stopped calling her, and that she was pregnant.

“Since she one upped her, Frankie did it movin’ and got a new dude and that’s how the rumor started.”

Now I was shaking my head, “Wow!”

We were silent, and then he turned and we started walking again.

“So, who do you stay with?”

“Grans,” he said and then changed the subject.

I had a feeling he was dancing around stuff just like I was.

It was starting to get real cold, and I guess he felt it too because we were heading back to the car. When we got there, he adjusted the heat and put on an R&B mix he said he made.

“Shi,” he said putting his seat back. “Why do you like me?”

I shrugged, “Why do you like me?”

“Because you’re a vanilla child.”

I gave him a blank look.

“Oh my God rogue, you don’t know what that is?” I shook my head feeling stupid, and he said ever so calmly, “Nothing special.”

I turned in my seat to look at him because I could not have heard right.

But I did, I could not believe what he just said.

“Oh, so, am I another notch or am I just easier than the pretty girls?”

I was fucking heated, and the nigga had the nerve to just laugh, and that pissed me off even more.

“Shi, you’re fucking bad rogue…”

I was silent all the while still fuming.

“I see these ole stuck up high maintenance hoes, and I’m like ewe. All that damn make up, all that damn perfume got mah looking like she thirty when she really thirteen. That ain’t attractive rogue. And, they so into themselves they don’t know what’s happenin’ around them; straight shallow. You know what attracted me to you?”

“What?” I said trying to understand.

“Yo’ backpack.”

“My back pack?”

What kinda freak is this nigga?

He nodded without looking at me.

“It was full,” he said. “Shi your brains got me. These girls show up with an eyeliner pencil to work with.”

I laughed because it was true. If the backpack didn’t match an outfit, it wasn’t worn.

“You’re beautiful inside and out Shi. I know y’all think we dogs rogue but, naw. I mean yea a nigga get horny and wanna bust every now and again but… naw.”

I smiled because I was nervous.

“Where are your parents?” I asked knowing I was in dangerous water.

“Didn’t know pops and moms deuce died.”

My heart was beating hella fast, and I was hoping he wouldn’t return my question. He knew I was staying with Vicky and her dad, but that’s all. I bit my tongue as I asked my next question knowing I was in the danger zone but not caring. Curiosity killed the cat, and hell I was ready to die.

I remembered what Dr. Richards said about the weird things we go through. I guess I was attracted to hurt, to death. I wanted to hear about it and see if I could relate. I had to hear about his hurt.

“How’d she die?” I asked.

He was looking straight through the windshield, and my heart dropped and got dead still as he said, “Same thing that happened to yours.” A million things hit at once when he said, “she was murdered.”

Chapter 42

“Take me home!” I told him, and after protesting and trying to talk me out of it, he apologized and began to drive. As he did, I was wondering if that bitch Carmen told him. I wondered how long he knew and what he knew.

I mean he technically did nothing wrong. My heart was racing. We were turning down the street from Vicky’s, and I still had no idea what I was going to do or say.

How was I going to explain?

Was I ready?

I’d asked him to drive me home, what was I doing?

I was barely breathing. he parked, and I grabbed the door handle.

“Shi!” he called. I opened the door. “She was a crack head. I was in the back seat while she went to score a rock.”

I’d stopped. My heart was pounding loudly.

“I was like five. She met a guy and they talked at her window. She didn’t have enough I guess, so, he got in the car.”

I couldn’t look at him; I didn’t want to hear this. Then again I did.

“I was in the back seat, and I watched my mother give this nigga head. I heard it all, and I seen it all. Him grabbing her head, her gagging, him treating her like she was nothin’ but the junkie she was. After he skeeted in her mouth he gave her, her shit, then left… She didn’t even wait, she needed it, she was sick… she pulled out her lighter and a spoon.

“I watched her load up the needle. I watched her wrap her arm up and find a vein. I watched her put the needle in. I watched her shoot up and then lay back.”

I felt like crying.

Why?

I wasn’t sure if I felt like crying for him or me.

I wondered if he was crying but let it go because I refused to turn around to see.

“She was just moving her head around and then she started shaking… and jerking… she was making these gurgling sounds and foam was coming out of her mouth. I was scared and crying.”

I could see the entire thing, and it was so sad.

“A few minutes later she stopped shaking. She stiffed up, and sighed, and didn’t move again. I cried and screamed for her, but she didn’t answer… a cop found us the next day. I was sleep, and in a mild state of shock, she was dead…

“Turned out she injected heroine laced with battery acid. Police said she committed suicide.”

I didn’t know what to do.

When I was sure the tale was over I stood up and he called me,” Shi!”

“I’ll be back,” I said and I left after slamming the door.

His story was running through my head as I opened the front door. Mr. Lopez was asleep in front of the television.

It was almost midnight.

I grabbed the shoebox out of Vicky’s closet. I tried not to think about what I was about to do or else I would not have done it.

I got back in the car and said, “Let’s go somewhere.”

He drove in silence while I arranged the story in my head. We were back where we’d just left in no time.

Once he parked, I climbed in the back seat, and he followed. I sat the shoebox in the middle of us, and I brought out my notebooks. I first showed him pictures of my family then gave him the notebooks. While he flipped through them, I told the quick version. I learned not every detail was important. I finished when he was done looking in the second notebook.

He put them back in the box and pulled out a chain.

“What’s this?”

It was my Tiffany’s necklace.

“My oldest brother gave it to me,” I told him.

He opened it and said, “You should where it. He gave you his heart.”

I almost cried even though I’d managed to get through the story without shedding a tear. The necklace was light and virtually weightless, yet it felt heavy. But not in a bad way.

“How long have you known?” I asked him, and he shrugged.

“First day I met you,” he said reaching over the seat.

He grabbed a little Altoid box. He opened it, and I smelled the powerful musk smell I’d smelled on him ever since the first time I met him.

The weed overtook the car.

“I need a blunt after this shit.”

He began working on the weed. The smell was so strong.

I watched as he took a brown cigarette and cut it down its sides and emptied it out. He made it look simple though I doubted I could do whatever he was doing. He put the weed inside the cigarette and began to wrap it, licking here and there until it was a misshapen cigarette.

Sure I’d heard about weed and knew what it was but if you’d asked me the difference between a joint and a blunt I couldn’t tell you.

He put the Altoid box on the armrest and sat back.

If I didn’t love this man before, I sure did now.

I told him everything, even about being in the hospital and it seemed he was okay. He was so freaking sexy, I was feeling hot all over, and I knew I was horny. I kept thinking Vicky’s doing it. It was the only thing I could think about in order to keep my mind off my family.

King wasn’t what I expected of a guy, though, I didn’t know what to expect from one.

After what we shared, I felt a special connection. He looked at me and put the weed behind his ear, then put my box on the floor.

Maybe I was looking vulnerable because he opened his arms and I went into them.

We just hugged all the while my stomach doing flips with the weed assaulting my respiratory system. He eased his embrace and looked down at me. I looked up into his eyes.

His nice, full, dark, pink lips were inches from my forehead. His breath had no odor, it was warm and if he had on any cologne, the weed masked it. I liked the smell of his breath.

He softly kissed my forehead and said, “It’s gone be okay… now we got each other.”

I smiled and out of instinct leaned my head up and closed my eyes. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know how to kiss. I’d imagined him giving me my first kiss, but not like this.

I waited there in the air, and I thought maybe he wouldn’t kiss me but then I felt his lips brush mine. My nipples got hard, and my pants got tight. I felt his mouthpart, and I let mine do the same. His strong tongue made its way through my lips and into my mouth. At first, I just moved my lips while his tongue roamed around. Then I let my tongue touched his and then entered his mouth. My whole body was tingling as he shifted a little and somehow got on top of me. He pressed in against me. I felt his rock hard body and craved for it. I could feel his dick against my legs like a large piece of steel. He touched my breast and then pulled away from the kiss.

He buried his face in the spot between my chin and chest. I could smell the African Pride in his hair.

“Fuck,” he moaned.

I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t want him to stop. My first kiss and first time all in one night would be a lot.

“I can’t, I really like you Shi.”

Fuck I thought. If you like me then what’s the problem.

“I like you too, and, I, I wanna do it,” I told him.

He looked up at me then lifted his eyebrow. He seem to be thinking; debating something.

“You a virgin,” he said. He wasn’t asking.

I nodded biting my lip. I knew he’d do it now. A nigga couldn’t resist a virgin; they loved being the first though they hadn’t had a first for years.

I guess it was a competition, something like collecting Pokémon cards. Gotta catch ‘em all.

He groaned and then moaned, “Fuck,” again. “Now we really can’t do it. Shi I can’t let yo’ first time be in the back of an old ass car. It’s special; you at least should do it in a bed.”

I looked at him confused.

Was he really turning me, a virgin down?

He pushed himself up and yes, he really was turning me, a virgin down.

“If you really serious about it then, just hold up. I promise we’ll do it and when we do we’ll do it right.”

I nodded feeling foolish as I sat up.

“You mad?” he asked.

Yes!

But I said, “No.”

And he seemed to take my word. He pulled the cigarette from behind his ear.

“You smoke?”

“I ain’t never tried,” I said.

‘I bet not catch you smoking Shi,’ I heard Free’s voice in my head. ‘But if you decide to ignore me, make sure you come to me. I’ll keep you safe.’

I felt a sting in my eyes as he shook his head and lit it.

“You wanna hit?”

I shrugged, and he took a hit and then he began explaining how to hit a blunt. He warned me about the burn and potential coughing. Then he handed me the blunt.

I put it to my lips as he said, “First I almost take your virginity, now I’m teaching you how to smoke.”

I smiled as I took in some smoke.

“Free would kill me if he knew.”

I thought I was doing well until I heard that. I started coughing, I was trying to talk and breathe at the same time. He began beating my back, and after five minutes, I stopped with my throat burning.

“You know my brother?” I rasped heart pounding.

“Yeah,” he said like I was dumb. He was hitting the blunt again.

“How?” my voice was weak and my throat raw from coughing.

“He was my brother’s best friend.”

“Who?” I asked knowing good, and well who Free’s best friend was. They were always together.

“AJ” he said.

I was shocked.

AJ went missing with Free and some people thought they were together. I began to relax and feel light headed.

“You heard from AJ?” I asked.

He shook his head, “You didn’t hear?”

I passed on the blunt, but I was feeling its full effects. I lay my head back and looked at him.

“They found him in the waters behind that field in the back of the G.”

There was a lot of undeveloped land in East Palo Alto, and the place he was talking about was a vacant field surrounded by the bay.

“Who?”

“He shrugged and said, “The same people who got Free and yo’ family.”

Chapter 43

I thought we were sitting in that car for hours. I began laughing at stupid stuff and then I was hungry. He took me to Jack in the Box, and we ate in the car.

It was only 2:15 a.m. when he dropped me off. I was happy I’d spent what felt like an eternity with him, and I was pumped.

I walked to the house and opened the front door as quietly as I could. The room was dark, and the television was lighting up the living room. Mr. Lopez was still on the couch. I saw him move his hand and bring something up and then sit it down. He was drinking as usual. He seem to drink but never be drunk.

I walked by him, and he asked, “Where’s Vicky?”

I didn’t know, and I had no idea what to say. We didn’t talk about what I was supposed to tell Mr. Lopez.

So I chose the truth.

“We saw different movies. I asked to come home; I think she’s done gone to Frisco to drop off Amekia with Russell.”

Okay, sort of the truth.

“How was it?” he asked.

I was so high. I sat down on the couch across from him and sat my box down.

“Fun, I had fun,” I said relaxing.

My eyelids were heavy, and my words felt far away, like they were coming from someone else.

“Here,” he said handing me his beer.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I ended up grabbing it and sitting back and heard another top pop on another beer. The one I had was almost full. I took a sip, and the bitterness hit quick. I held onto my box of memories which sat in my lap.

“I miss them Scheyenne, and, I can only imagine how you feel.”

I took another sip. He was bringing me down with this shit.

“Mr. Lopez,” I sighed. I didn’t know what I was going to say.

“What?”

He was like a father to me and so I said something I hadn’t said in a long time to anyone. Not even Vicky.

“I love you.”

The words hung, and there was more silence.

“I love you too Scheyenne,” he said, and we grew quiet.

The T.V. blared and I laid my head back listening to the razor commercial, and soon I was out.

Chapter 44

Spin was sitting silently in a motel room. D-loc appeared twenty minutes later. He sat on the bed and looked at Spin.

The room was covered with cash, guns, coke, weed, and meth. They just hit a safe house in Richmond and now sat fifty miles away in the white part of Palo Alto off El Camino Real.

D-loc looked at Spin. Ever since Geezy was found dead at the Embassy with his head super glued to his crotch and his own dick in his mouth Spin was quiet and seemed far away. True, Geezy was dumb and reckless, but that didn’t change the fact that he was one of theirs; one of them. Nor did it change the fact that Geezy, Jason Grimer was the illegitimate child of Mitchell Spencer Washington.

Spin was feeling his brother’s death hard, he was blaming himself. He knew T-money was behind it, and he knew T-money was on his tail. He wanted to act now, but his source assured him T-money was blind.

“It was a fluke,” he said.

Spin just nodded and let it go. He was planning something and D-loc could only imagine what was going through his friend’s head.

“We at the five mill mark,” Spin said in a flat cold voice.

D-loc nodded, “And yo’ family been killed.”

“When?” Spin asked.

“Yesterday.”

Spin shook his head. They just hit the safe house and hit the five million dollar marker, yet his family was killed the day before. T-money wasn’t playing fair; then again, the game wasn’t fair. The only thing that stopped Spin from riding to T-money’s mansion and killing him was the fact that his family was safe in Atlanta. He’d just got off the phone with his mother. Still T-money was going to pay. Spin vowed to kill him personally.

“How?” Spin asked.

“Moms got one through the temple, Granny in the back of the head. Stace was hung, they cut Trey’s head off, and James was drowned. Mar’s neck was cut, and Lil’ Keith, well no word on what they did with Stace’s baby.”

Spin nodded.

T-money’s getting soft, and his kindness will be his weakness, Spin thought.

Chapter 45

Vallejo, California…

Dennis Miller was home early. His baby’s momma or wifey as he called her ain’t been too happy with him. She’d told him that if he wasn’t home by eight dressed and ready to take her out she was moving in with her momma.

Dennis was sure she was bluffing. Though she had made sure, he bought her mother a house Tennisha’s life was in the home overlooking the bay that they shared. She wasn’t leaving, she wasn’t a gold digger but she had it better than good. She didn’t have to lift a finger. All she did was get pampered and shop. She barely watched the twins or their new born.

The only reason he made it home early was because he didn’t feel like dealing with her when she was mad.

When he stepped in the door, the lights were out, and there were candles lining the floor with red rose petals on either side making a walkway.

He smiled and followed them into their living room where he found his baby’s momma sitting at a small table lit by candles. He smiled at her and she stood.

She was bad, and her body was on point for three children, one born months ago. She was in a simple looking black cocktail dress that covered everything and nothing at the same time. He knew it cost more than it looked. The dress was opened in some places revealing skin. Her caramel skin glowed in the candles soft light.

She strolled over to him.

“What’s this?” he asked with a smile.

“Happy Anniversary baby,” she said in her deep husky voice.

Fuck! he thought. He forgot it was their anniversary. “I thought we were going out,” he said as she kissed him and pulled him to the table.

“It’s my turn to surprise you,” she said going to her seat after he was situated.

Dennis was relieved because he would have gotten hell if she knew he forgot.

It was their six-year anniversary. Dennis took pride in the fact that he’d been faithful for five of them. That was when he realized they were getting serious, and she was really the one. He was happy that he’d moved up in the game about a year ago and was able to give her everything she wanted and needed.

“Where’s the kids?”

“Corin took them to my mom’s for the weekend,” she smiled.

Corin was their nanny and housekeeper.

Dennis looked down at the meal, he was sure she made herself. She could cook, but it almost never happened since they’d hired Corin. He was famished so he dug into the food. Mouth full he looked at Tennisha, eyeing the table in front of her. She didn’t have any food.

“I already ate, this is all for my man… so hurry up, dessert’s upstairs.”

Dennis got hard instantly and began shoveling food in his mouth. Tennisha erupted into laughter, and that was part of the reason they did not hear the lock on the kitchen door pop and then open and close.

Dennis was finished eating in ten minutes. After Tennisha made sure the bottle of Moet was empty she seductively took his hand, and led him upstairs to one of the guest rooms, where she’d set up more candles and roses. Dennis could feel the warmth from the Moet settling over him. He was a lightweight and didn’t drink much. He occasionally smoked, but that was all. His job was to sell drugs not use them. And now that he had Vallejo sewed up thanks to the death of Ron, he was more of a manager. He was too in lust with Tennisha to notice the door stop instead of closing firmly. He was taking off his clothes, and they were too busy kissing to notice the door open and then silently close all the way.

His gun was thrown down with his clothes, and he was on top of and in Tennisha within seconds. He was feeling buzzed, and it took all his will power to make love to her. It was their anniversary, and it was supposed to be romantic, they could always fuck later.

She moaned and said she loved him as he found his rhythm. He slowly slid inside her, his muscles tense at the tight dampness. His little head was hurting it was so hard. But he still kept his cool. He’d pulled all the way out, and then let his thick head part her lips, and slid back in as deep as he could go.

Tennisha was starting to scratch his back, and it felt good.

Pain and sex.

He looked down at her and then lowered himself to kiss her.

“You are so beautiful,” he said and then stuck his tongue slowly in her mouth.

She returned the soft kiss and then jerked her head away and groaned.

He lifted up still inside of her.

“What’s that?” she asked. “You hear that?”

“What?” he asked looking behind him at the door still trying to keep his rhythm.

“I heard something.”

“Naw baby, you trippin’,” he said trying to kiss her again.

The room was in shadows because of the candle light. She shook her head.

“Babe,” he moaned looking into her eyes.

Not wanting to ruin the mood Tennisha sighed and then said, “Fuck me!”

Dennis smiled and shifted positions.

He grabbed her leg and lifted it up, so he could get in as deep as he could. He was about to beat it up when this time he heard something. He turned.

“What?” Tennisha asked.

“I heard something.”

“Den don’t play with me.”

“Naw babe, I did. Shhh…”

They were silent, Dennis still inside of her. They sat still until they heard it, a swishing sound.

“See,” he said and reluctantly pulled out.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Sounds like…”

There it was again.

“Paper?” Dennis looked at Tennisha then around the dimly lit room.

His eyes passed by a dresser with a chair next to it. The chair was completely black.

Was someone sitting there? He wondered.

He shook his head and looked around the empty room. Then he heard it again.

He looked at the chair and felt stupid with his heart pounding he said, “Who’s there?”

He looked at Tennisha knowing he would get no answer.

His heart stopped when he heard, “It’s just me.”

It was a woman’s voice.

He thought maybe he was trippin’ until he heard paper shuffling again and then saw the shadows move. He saw the faint glow of white paper.

“What the fuck?” he said.

“What are you doing here?” Tennisha asked.

“Oh just catching up on current events,” the voice said walking into candle light.

The woman was about 5’7, white with-what looked like-blond hair. She had on pink silk pajama pants and a wife beater with pink bunny slippers.

Dennis registered the danger too late. He jumped out of the bed naked looking on the floor for his clothes and most importantly his gun. He was on the wrong side of the bed.

The woman rushed him, and Tennisha screamed. Dennis felt a sharp pain as the knife went into his navel.

When it slid up, he felt nothing because he’d already gone into shock. Once the knife was up to his chest, she took it out. Then she stabbed him to the right of his navel and brought the knife horizontally. She pulled the knife out.

It all took less than fifteen seconds. She turned towards the screaming Tennisha. Dennis was making half-screaming sounds as he stood eyes wide with fear and glazed with shock. His intestines were on the floor, but he was still standing.

The woman shushed Tennisha as she advanced towards her with the newspaper still under her arm. She sat down on the bed next to her, patted her back, and stroked her hair. Tennisha was screaming with her hands over her mouth, watching Dennis in disbelief.

The woman sitting next to her watched him also as she comforted her.

“It’s okay let it out,” she cooed.

Dennis was swaying then finally dropped.

“Nooo!” Tennisha yelled.

The woman smiled then took the knife and quickly slit Tennisha’s throat, silencing her.

She felt nothing when she did it. She stood up, put the knife inside her bloodied pajama pocket, returned to the chair, and sat down. Opening her newspaper, she began whistling as she grabbed a candle off the ground and sat it on the dresser next to her for better lighting.

I wonder when the kids are due back Helen thought. Maybe I should have asked.

Chapter 46

San Jose, California…

Jamal Watson a.k.a. J-Wheezy and his crew walked passed the long line outside the club. The only time he didn’t roll with his entourage of five or more was when he went to the hills of Oakland to meet up with his boss for the Heads of the Bay meetings. He was a playboy through and through.

He thought all bitches were gold diggers, and he had the gold. He was in charge of the South Bay, he ran it. There was only one person over him, and that was T-money.

He didn’t mind, he’d been hustlin' for too long. Now he was in management. He basically sat back and counted money.

He’d been working for T-money since he was twelve though T-money wouldn’t have known it. He and his potna Twan worked their way up in San Jo’ hustling and selling weed. They’d buy an eighth and flip it almost doubling it.

Word got out, and one day after seven years of hustlin' and living in the streets, he was approached with a proposition. He couldn’t refuse the offer and wouldn’t have.

At nineteen, he became the king of the South Bay. Every ounce of everything came through him.

He shook the bouncer’s hand, and he and his entourage entered The Agenda without paying or being searched.

There was no point in searching them. Everyone knew they was strapped.

They ignored the ground floor and went upstairs to their normal area.

J-Wheezy made himself comfortable on a couch listening to the music and watching the crowd. There were bottles of everything on the tables in front of them. You would have thought it was the third bar.

J-Wheezy poured himself some Jack and began drinking. His right hand Twan was dark like him and minus the dreads could have been his twin. The rest of his crew was sitting around just chillin’.

J-Wheezy was searching for which nigga’s bitch he was taking home. He saw a white girl and thought a snow bunny would be nice.

Twan tapped him, “Aye check mommy out ova there.”

He heard J-Razz in his other ear saying, “Bitch bout to make a nigga nutt just watchin’ her ass.”

Dancing with a white guy was a brown-skinned girl. She had her hair in Micro minis, it was two-toned, burgundy on top and black on bottom. She had on black mini shorts, which told more than it hid. Her ass could be seen in the back hanging out the bottom. She wore a black thong, which covered her ass crack. Her black shirt was tied in the back stretching the front over her breasts.

She was breaking the white boy off, and if she didn’t have on her clothes, they’d be fucking. The clothes were probably the only thing stopping her from getting pregnant.

She had writing on her shirt.

“She may not be Miss Right,” J-Razz read the front of her shirt aloud.

She turned around on the white boy and lifted her leg up to his shoulder.

“Damn!” J-Wheezy, J-Razz and Twan said together.

“But she’ll fuck you ‘til she get here,” J-Razz yelled.

Her shirt read, ‘I may not be Miss Right… but I’ll fuck you ‘til she gets here.’

J-Wheezy tapped Twan, “Who that?” he asked Twan.

Whoever she was he knew she wasn’t from San Jo’. J-Wheezy knew and fucked probably the entire female population of San Jose, and if he didn’t fuck um yet, he knew who they were, and plans were in the works. He’d seen ten of the ones he fucked in the line outside the club, and he didn’t even want to count the ones already on the dance floor.

“Don’t know but she ain’t from here I know fa shoe,” Twan yelled to him.

J-Wheezy filled up his plastic cup and said, “Let me get out there before she hurt white boy.”

Twan and J-Razz laughed as they followed him to the dance floor.

The girl was bent over shaking her ass in the white boy’s crotch when J-Wheezy got there. He tapped the white boy on the shoulder and gave him his drink to hold. J-Wheezy wasn’t even buzzed.

When the girl came up and turned around J-Wheeze’s dick was hard. She was sexy as fuck. He could imagine beating it up from the back and her turning around with them sexy eyes.

She could be wifey he thought as she kept dancing as if not surprised to see him.

“Where’s my white boy?” she asked.

J-Wheezy was trying to keep up with her, but it was hard. She was getting it.

“Holding my drink.”

She rolled her eyes and turned around grinding and moving. J-Wheezy backed away twice turning around and trying to play it off. She was going to make him nutt in his pants.

“Damn nigga you got a gun and you happy to see me,” she smiled.

“Anything foe Miss Right,” J-Wheezy smiled back.

“Can’t you read,” she yelled.

J-Wheezy turned her around and pulled her close as Ludacris Fantasy came on.

“I ain’t her,” she yelled in his ear.

“But, you’ll fuck me ‘til she get here.”

She laughed, “So you can read.”

He laughed as she grabbed his dick and moaned.

“So what’s yo’ fantasy?” she asked.

They were slow grinding around the packed dance floor. J-Wheezy knew he was being watched.

J-Wheezy bit his lip and said, “You.”

The girl laughed, and J-Wheezy grabbed her ass. J-Wheezy had a feeling she was high. She kept grabbing his dick and moaning. She was rubbing the side of her face on his shoulder. He wondered what she was on only because he wanted to know how easy she’d be.

“What’s yo’ fantasy?” he asked her.

She stood on her toes, and he put his ear down.

“I wanna sit on yo’ face, then lick my nutt off yo’ lips,” she answered.

He looked at her, and she looked up at him licking her glossy lips.

“Let’s go,” he said knowing that it wouldn’t stop there.

She was a freak, and he was making a mental list of what he wanted to do. He might even bring out the camera. He had to, Twan had to see this one. He was trying to top Twan who was in the lead with a video of a bitch who he said could suck peanut butter through a straw. She’d swallowed his shit, licked his ass and then hopped back on his shit until she nutted and then went back to town on him. They were going at it for hours in every position. I’m gone have to make some shit up J-Wheezy thought.

The girl reached into her pocket and pulled something out. She stuck her tongue out and put a small white pill on it.

X J-Wheezy thought.

She grabbed the back of his head and stuck her tongue in his mouth. J-Wheezy felt the pill move into his mouth and against his cheek.

They’re tongues touched and played making J-Wheeze’s dick jumped.

The kiss was ended.

“Let me go get my purse,” she said and gave him a seductive look. “Don’t go far,” she yelled.

He watched her slide through the crowd and vanish. He walked over to his area trying to dry swallow the pill. The side of his mouth was feeling numb. It’d tasted horrible. It was white, so J-Wheezy knew it was pure ex, but it had to have something else in it because his cheek was going numb. He guessed cocaine.

He’d popped pills several times and couldn’t recall the taste. He poured himself some Goose and took the half he poured to the head swallowing the pill.

He was at the spot alone, the rest of his crew was dancing and probably getting ready to take a bitch home. He looked around waiting for his little freak.

His throat felt strange. The burning of the alcohol in his stomach began to feel uncomfortable as it traveled up to his throat. He poured himself some water and drank, but it was no help. The room began to darken, and he began to shake as vomit forced itself out of his mouth. He’d lost consciousness while still on his feet.

And before he hit the ground, Charika was putting her burgundy and black hair into a high ponytail as she drove out of the maze of down town San Jose’s one-way streets.

Chapter 47

San Francisco, California…

Raymond Page or Ray-Ray was number seven.

He ran San Francisco and most of the cities in-between there and San Jose. He’d been running the drugs in the city for T-money for six years, and he hadn’t been to jail or prison in those six years.

T-money made sure he had minimum to do with the drugs as he did all the others who helped run his empire.

Running drugs and getting their hands dirty was what the D-boys were for. And Ray-Ray hadn’t been a mere D-boy in six years.

Now, Ray-Ray wasn’t gay, but, he’d fucked a man several times and got his dick sucked. It happened when you were in prison for seven years without a female. Though it may have been somewhat tolerated in prison, it was not on the streets.

That’s why he ditched his crew, drove around for an hour and then walked ten blocks to cover his tracks.

Why did he have these cravings for a male ass?

He did not know.

He’d fucked many females in the ass, but it wasn’t the same. An ass wasn’t a pussy which itself was bomb, but an ass wasn’t an ass either. There was something different about a bitch’s ass and a niggas.

Ray-Ray was far from a punk, he had a reputation to protect. That was his reasoning for being so secretive about his life style.

Ray-Ray walked up the steps and in the door. The lights were dimmed, and the place was dark. He could hear music and see bodies moving around in a door across from the desk. He walked up, handed the man two twenties and then entered into the dark world of San Francisco’s Power Exchange.

He looked around the open room at the men, women and everything in between. He saw a bad bitch with breast and a dick walking around in the nude. He was hard instantly.

Transsexuals were his thing, the best of both worlds. Besides, it didn’t make him feel as bad.

Ray-Ray found a sofa in a corner where no one was. He sat down and watched the orgies taking place in front of him. He lifted the front of his shirt over his head and started rubbing his crotch. Soon he unbuttoned his pants and relaxed.

He was on the prowl, just looking, getting aroused. Once he found one, he’d approach or if he didn’t find anyone he’d just join one of the orgies. All he had to do was go up to a group and pull out his dick, and a mouth would be there, or he could just stick it in any available hole. The beauty of it all was it was anonymous and no one would trip.

A few women walked by him. They were naked with big breast. Both white girls looked at him, and he hoped they’d keep walking. He breathed a breath of relief when they did.

He soon spotted a transsexual fucking a man from behind. He slid his hands in his pants and began playing with his head when he saw her.

She was olive color and had on a lace bra and some matching boy shorts. She was standing on a wall watching an orgy close to her. Then she saw him.

He just stared, and she did the same.

The place was lit by enough glowing lights for him to see she was fine. She had a flat stomach and normal sized breast, which appeared large. Her hair was wavy and fell all the way down her back. She was mixed.

She can’t be all black unless it was a weave he thought.

Ray-Ray wanted her to turn around. He wanted to see her ass. She watched him just as hard as he watched her. He was wondering if she was a man or a real woman. Regardless he’d refer to her as she. It was easier for him.

He was going to get up and get a better look when she started towards him.

Woman he thought. No, man, she’s too perfect.

He did not understand why men made better women than women did. He could see the outline of her hard penis in the boy shorts. He smiled, he’d found what he was looking for.

She turned around, and he caught a glimpse of her ass before she sat next to him. He liked what he saw. Nice and round. She crossed her legs to cover her penis he guessed. She had to be sure he was into it. His hand was still on his dick inside his pants.

“What’s up?” he smiled his yellow toothed smile.

His skinny, hairy chest was puffed up. He wanted her to think he was buff. His bald head-which was to hide the receding hairline -made him look younger than his forty-seven years he hoped.

She was young, probably just turned eighteen or younger with a fake I.D. She looked at him, and he saw the slant of her eyes.

Mixed and fine, he thought.

She smiled shyly and shrugged.

“What’s up with you?”

“Shit, just lookin’ fah a home fah mah dick.”

“What kinda home?”

“A nice warm tight one.”

She uncrossed her legs and Ray-Ray saw her dick was still hard. She looked down at it and then at him. She was trying to let him know she was a man.

Ray-Ray bent over close and said, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

She turned and they started kissing. Soon she was on top of him sitting butterfly style in his lap kissing him. She was all over him.

Definitely not shy, he thought getting even more turned on.

He grabbed her ass hard and then slapped it with both hands.

He felt her hard dick on his stomach as they kissed and he played with her ass. This was it, she was the best; she even sounded like a real female. Ray-Ray pulled the back of her boy shorts down. He had them down, and his hand on her smooth, bare ass. He slid his hand down her ass and felt the little smooth opening.

Nice and tight, he thought.

He wanted to see how tight, so he started to push his fingers in.

“Hold on,” he heard her say through the kiss.

He stopped, “What?”

Her hands were on either side of his head. With one fluid motion, she twisted his head one hundred and fifty degrees to the left snapping his neck. There was a cracking sound. She brought his head back around and looked around to see if anyone was looking.

No one was watching.

She used all her strength to stretch him out on the sofa on his stomach. He was too tall, so she made sure his head was flat and then bent his knees up propping them against the sofa. She pulled his underwear and his pants down as far as she could. She looked around again. This time she had an audience.

A little white man was watching her. She turned around; he saw her hard penis and kept moving.

She waited for him to get out of sight before she reached in the front of her boy shorts and pulled the dildo out. She smiled at the eight thick inches of silicon. Slowly she inserted it between the dead man’s ass cheeks and then guessing she was where she should be pushed it in hard. The dildo was partially sticking out of his ass.

He looked like a freak who’d been fucking himself, and either passed out, fell asleep, or was waiting on someone to join him.

She found her trench coat, put it on and left. The city was cold and windy.

And it would be just my luck I catch a cold Tamekia thought walking to her car in six-inch heels.

Chapter 48

Richmond, California…

Richard Claude or K.R. a.k.a. Kid Rich was in his late thirties. He’d been in the game for all his life. His father was a hustler, and so was he.

“Hustlin’s in my blood,” he’d say. He was about money. He had himself several houses in several different cities. He even owned an apartment complex in Georgia. Everything was about money. “If it ain’t money, it ain’t me?” he also liked to say.

Though he made millions with T-money, he still had other ventures. He was a part time pimp, he didn’t really focus on his hoes, but when he came around the bitch better have his money.

He was sitting in his car outside of the Magic Johnson’s Super Sport 24hour Fitness. It was three in the morning and except for six cars parked close to the fitness center. He was alone parked one hundred feet from the entrance.

The bitch he was waiting on was Serena. One of many; he was going to surprise her when she got off work and take her home.

She got off at one and usually worked out for an hour and then she got in the pool and relaxed. She didn’t have a car, and there was no buses running that late. The only good thing was she lived a few miles away-about an hour’s walk. She did it all the time, and her body was right. Fit and thick in all the right places. And it was for that reason K.R. was surprising her and taking her home.

He was still trying to hit. The bitch wouldn’t give it up. They both knew once he put a nutt up in her he’d be gone with the wind. What she didn’t know was he was getting tired, and she had a week to give him her goodies or he’d move on to the next.

Ain’t no pussy that good he thought turning up the music and looking at the front doors.

He saw headlights and a brand new silver and black Lexus on twenty-twos driving by.

He was in a jet-black mustang with smoked out windows on dubs. He wondered who was out this late stuntin’.

Probably a drug dealer he thought knowing if it was, it was one of his boys unless he was from out of town.

“Watch it be that nigga Mark,” he smiled thinking about his right hand.

Mark was a health nut, and the reason he’d met Serena. He was always in the gym.

K.R. picked up his cellphone getting ready to call Mark to fuck with him when the car stopped, and the lights went out in front of him. He watched and heard the engine whine.

This nigga broke down he thought laughing.

“Brand new car and it’s already dying,” he said picking up a blunt and lighting it. He let the phone drop into his lap as he took a hit forgetting about the call.

The driver’s door opened, and a woman got out. Her hair was cut close in one of those fades women usually got. The Fantasia or professional look. She was tall and thick as hell. Her dark skin was shining in the moon’s light. She had on a mini skirt with sandals that strapped up her leg. She wore a small halter-top, which barely covered her breast.

Her large hoop earrings dangled as she moved. She had on silver bracelets and necklaces.

Damn, K.R. thought as she walked around to the hood. She lifted it ever so gently, so she didn’t break a nail. Then she bent over looking in.

‘You can’t resist a damsel in distress,’ K.R. told himself as he got out the car.

She didn’t notice him approach. He was staring at her long legs and large ass while she bent over poking things.

“Broke down?” he asked from behind her. She jumped, and he said, “Sorry, I just saw you. I was waiting over there for my sister to get off work.”

She smiled, “It’s okay. You just scared me that’s all.”

She sounded ghetto and stupid as hell, but her face was fine. Her cheekbones were high, and her lips were big and full.

“This car is too new to be breaking down.”

“Oh naw, battery dead. My stupid ass sister left the keys in while the TVs were on.”

Damn, TVs? Whose bitch is this? K.R. thought. And whose whip is she pushing?

“Well, let me see what I can do. If you got cables I can give you a jump.”

She shook her head, “I ain’t got those.”

She moved over as K.R. looked in the hood. He had no idea what he was doing. He paid niggas to do this type of shit. But then he saw it. The red clamp on her battery was off.

“Go get in and when I say, ‘go,’ start it up.”

“Okay,” she said walking away.

K.R. was trying to show off. He watched her get into the car. He looked around in the hood acting like he was doing something. Under the hood was as clean as the outside.

“Try it,” he yelled knowing nothing would happen.

He looked towards 24hour Fitness hoping Serena stayed put. She didn’t know he was there anyways, and he might just be able to leave with the next chick without her even knowing he came.

“Nothin’,” she yelled.

“Okay, let me try something,” he yelled back.

He grabbed the red clamp and fixed it back over the battery. It must of come loose when she was driving.

Musta been driving wild as fuck he thought trying to figure out how it happened.

“Alright, give it a go,” he called.

He heard the engine whine and then turn over. The car started purring smoothly.

He lowered the hood to close it. He saw her in the driver’s seat, door still open.

She smiled and winked and then he saw all white.

She closed the door, put the car in reverse, and rolled over him again. Then she put the car in drive and ran over him yet again. Without looking back, she reversed again over the body. Putting the car in park, she opened her door, got out and walked over to the body in the middle of the parking lot.

She looked down at the crumpled form and then kicked it hard. There was no sound or movement. She sighed and walked back to her car.

Putting the car in drive, she stepped down hard on the accelerator burning rubber. She aimed the car for the man’s head as she sped by. The right side of the car went up twice.

“Ooopse,” I’esha said looking at the body in the rear view mirror.

Chapter 49

Oakland, California…

Sharif Mathews was outside arguing with Cree-Cree; one of his eight baby’s mommas. She was not his love or main one.

That was Jasmine, the mother of his firstborn.

She was at home in the house he bought for their family.

Cree-Cree was the newest baby’s momma. Sharif met her a year ago at a club. They fucked, and he kept coming back and then she was pregnant. Cree-Cree was the only baby’s momma other than Jasmine he had in Oakland.

He kept all his baby’s mothers apart, moved them and paid the rent and for their child.

Jasmine knew of two of them and two children.

He had eight baby’s mothers including Jasmine and fourteen children including Jasmine's three. They all knew he was a D-boy and made money. But only Jasmine knew he was The D-boy. The man in Oakland who ran all the D-boys. He kept her fed and breaded.

He had a nice bank account with both their names on it. She had no idea about the P.O. Box or the other bank accounts or his stashes. He had to keep mostly all of his money in hiding places since the I.R.S. would be on him with anything over ten g’s. The back account he had with Jasmine was opened with one hundred dollars and every month got nine hundred ninety nine dollars and ninety-nine cents deposited.

If the I.R.S. was on to him, he didn’t know. It was four in the morning and cold as hell. He was fucking a new chick he’d met at the club, and when he came down Cree-Cree was sitting on his hood.

“You nasty triflin’ ass nigga,” she said.

He’d told her he was going to be gone for a week. He was spending time with Jasmine and the kids, but Cree-Cree was told it was to make some new connects and more money. But now, he saw the bitch done followed him.

“Get in the car,” he said annoyed.

“No nigga. Fuck you!” she yelled.

“Look bitch—”

“Bitch? Fuck you nigga!”

Sharif took a few deep breaths and then looked around hoping no one would hear.

“Cree-Cree what the hell is yo’ problem? I’m over here—”

“You ain’t supposed to be here. You supposed to be in Florida nigga.”

“Where’s Junior?” he asked. Her child was actually Junior number three. He had three of his kids named after him by three different women.

“Why do you fucking care?” she yelled.

“Look, if you keep acting stupid and don’t calm down I’m leaving,” he said walking to the door.

She stood in his way, “You ain’t goin’ nowher’.”

“Move Cresha.”

“No nigga, you ain’t nowher’.”

A car was coming down the street. They watched silently as it drove by and then Cree-Cree was yelling again. The car came back five minutes later and parked across the street. It was a nice Mazda.

A woman with dark hair and blond highlights got out. She was Mexican, and Sharif could tell she was fine. He stared and that set Cree-Cree off even more. She called the woman out of her name and accused him of cheating and being with her.

Sharif saw she had a nice body and after a long look ignoring Cree-Cree he turned his attention back to her.

“Cresha let me fucking talk…”

Cree-Cree’s eyes bugged out as she looked over his shoulder.

“Can I help you?” she yelled rolling her neck.

The Mexican woman was standing directly behind Sharif, and he had not even noticed or heard her approach. She was beautiful.

She smiled and said, “No, but I can help you.”

She pulled out a silenced pistol and shot Sharif in the side of the head. Cree-Cree opened her mouth to scream, but the woman shook her head and put her gun to her lips.

“Shhh,” she said.

Cree-Cree was holding her scream as she sobbed looking down at Sharif.

“Girl he’s triflin’, he was cheating on all y’all. You don’t need him,” she smiled. “I did you a favor. Now get out of here.”

Cree-Cree hesitated first and then ran. She forgot her car. She just ran through the middle of the street.

The woman sighed and turned to Cree-Cree’s retreating back. She was running as fast as her legs would go. She saw you idiot. You’re getting soft, she thought. But she’s so cute.

“Aye!” she yelled leveling her gun at Cree-Cree. Lowering it, she unscrewed the silencer. “Don’t make me-” she mumbled then yelled, “Aye!” again.

Cree-Cree did not stop.

She groaned and then looked down at Sharif. Rolling her eyes as if making a hard decision she hung her head.

Cree-Cree was maybe fifty feet away and getting further.

She stretched her arm out with the unsilenced gun, looked at the retreating woman and pulled the trigger.

Cree-Cree dropped, and the woman walked back to her car.

No one would look out the window for at least another few minutes. It was Oakland. No cop would be around for at least an hour.

She wondered how anyone was caught killing anyone in Oakland.

She started her car and drove off. When she passed by Cree-Cree’s body she sighed, I hate killing pretty bitches.

Looking at the clock on the dash, she cursed.

Brittany had virtually no sleep in the past 24 hours, and she had a ten-page term paper due in five hours on surgical preparations and procedures.

Chapter 50

T-money did not sleep much, and when he did, it was restless. Waiting to die is not something someone can do easily.

Honestly, he welcomed death. It was the waiting and then the wondering who which was driving him crazy. He was tired of always looking behind his back. He looked at the picture of the sea and the boat and thought one day.

The door opened, and Janell walked in.

“Oh, you’re still up?” she said when she saw him.

He shrugged.

“You need to sleep.”

“Ain’t got time. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Janell rolled her eyes. She was wearing her nightgown. It was a silk lingerie type dress.

“Why are you up?” T-money asked.

“B.I.T.C.H. just called.”

“Damn, they work fast, that’s why I love them.”

Janell rolled her eyes again.

“One of my best ideas.”

“When you’re done let me know what you want done next.”

“Oh, um, they need to be replaced. Give me some names and then call Four and let him know we’ll need to replace them.”

“Anything else?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Janell said walking out. “Take yo’ old ass to sleep.”

T-money laughed leaning back in his chair.

After B.I.T.C.H. killed Geezy, Janell returned with the information that Spencer was indeed responsible for the robberies and that he had help from inside.

That’s why T-money ordered five through nine killed. And if the leak was not stopped and Spencer’s source not silenced, then he’d make the call for two through four to be taken out as well.

That, he hoped he did not have to do. He was very fond of numbers two, three, and four.

Janell was closing the door when he called her again. The door stopped and she poked her head in.

“Tell B.I.T.C.H. I still want Spencer.”

She nodded.

“But on their time, just tell them to keep an eye open… patience, he’ll pop up.”

Janell nodded and closed the door.

T-money closed his eyes but did not sleep.

>END OF SAMPLE<