Hood Math (HDLY#4)

chapter twelve

"Are you sure about this, little bro?"

Tamel looked at Train from the backseat and gave him a raised eyebrow. Train had not called Tamel 'Little Bro' since they both were in that little dingy juvenile detention hall they were sentenced to when they were still youngsters. Tamel knew Train only wanted what was best for him and Tamel felt the same way. But Train seem real skeptical about this one.

"Yeah, man," Tamel sighed looking at the street signs to make sure he was heading in the right direction.

Train put the photographs he found in the envelope back inside and tossed the envelope beside him. "I just don't know. I mean even if he..."

"You've seen the pictures," Tamel remarked. "You tell me. You knew the nigga. I barely remember him."

"I don't remember much about him after he left for..."Train paused. He knew his next sentence would bring back to many memories and finally the ultimate payback because of it.

"I'm just confused," Tamel said. "I mean it's been years and I should be over this bullshit. I mean last I heard was that nigga died and I was cool with that story. But now, I see pictures of what could be and an actual address."

"Could be a trap?" Train suggested. "I mean right now we are still wanted. And we don't have a sexy bitch like Angela Jolie doing fancy car tricks and curving bullets helping us out either. We got an overpaid Jessica Simpson giving us envelopes in dirty toilets telling us to go here. Could be a set-up, my gee."

Tamel sighed again. "I know but for some reason, my gut won't let it go. Like something is nagging me to at least check it out."

"What will it accomplish?" Train inquired. "Let's just say for argument's sake that the man turns out to be our long last pappy. Then what? We all hug and invite that nigga over for Thanksgiving dinner while we watch a Good Times marathon. The nigga left us, both of us. We been not needing him and we don't need him now. Not even if he's alive and kicking, we don't need anything from him."

Tamel nodded but kept driving. "Still I can't shake this feeling in my stomach."

"Then take an antacid," Train recommended. "Take a shit on the sidewalk, do some pushups on a street walk sign, anything. Just let's get back to the business at hand. Which is, in case you forget, a motherfucker that just pulled a Michael Scofield prison break move on my ass and now I have to go meet him."

"We'll get to that," Tamel assured.

"We'll get to that," Train mimicked. "Are you serious? Do you understand that this nigga has the kind of pull to get niggas out of a federal hold? He must be type of black Lex Luther or something."

"He's just a man that has a lot of pull," Tamel replied. "We dealt with them before and we took them down, together. Nothing has changed. We will do it again."

"I don't think so, bro," Train snickered. "I think we might be over our heads on this one. Nigga tried to have me follow. How we know all in all that this chick or that fat chubby bastard isn't accentually working for that motherfucker. It could all be tied together."

"What are you now? A conspiracy theorist?" Tamel asked. "Look at you, the cool and collected Darren Train Bishop is paranoid. You acting paranoid. Like you scared."

Train smacked Tamel across the back of the head making Tamel almost swerve the car into oncoming traffic.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tamel snapped.