Blood, Sweat And Revenge

Chapter Sixteen

Divine

“That’s the dark side to the big picture. But it’s the picture that counts. Can’t be scared of the dark,” I schooled her. I see I was gonna have to be the brains in our small deal. I could see the greed in her eyes. Sometimes we were the root to our own evil. “I know. Just gotta be cautious. What if we have to kill somebody?” she asked. “Nah. That’s only when we’re fucking people over and stealing. We ain’t gotta worry about that ’cause we don’t steal. Right?” I had to ask her that because the look in her eyes was of one I’d never seen before. “Of course. So what are we going to do for the next couple weeks? Nothing?” “Nah. That’s how people get lazy. We can utilize this time to go to the gun range, and to buy more clothes that speak for us. Like some grown woman shit.” “For real, I like that high class shit we had on. That fits us. Some sexy ass money getters. These niggas ’bout to be falling in our hands.” “Ain’t really worried ’bout a nigga.” “I forgot you were on that gay shit.” “Ain’t worried ’bout no bitches either. I’m worried about plan a, b and c in case this shit goes sour. Feel me?”

“Divine, chill out. We good. See how we handled that shit with Chola?” “What part? When we were on our knees about to die?” “But did you die?” she asked me with a smirk. “Nah, but if it happens again, we ain’t gonna be so lucky.” “Have you talked to Slick?” she asked. I squinted at her because she knows damn well Slick and I didn’t talk. Especially over the damn phone. “Why would I be talking to him?” “Just asking.” “I guess. Get dressed. We need to pay these bills up.” “What about a new car?” she asked. “That’s not needed right now. Maybe in a few mo—” A knock on the door stopped me midsentence. “Who’s that?” Malina asked. “Bitch, I don’t know. I’m in here with you,” I hissed back as I power walked to the door and peeped through the hole. It was Bishop. Goddamn, I was tired of seeing his face. “Bishop, what the fuck?” I swung the door open and let him in with an attitude. “Damn, D, what’s up with the ’tude? You ain’t happy to see a nigga?”

“It’s too early. The sun ain’t even up yet.” “That’s the point. The early bird gets the worms.” I looked him up and down. “Whatever.” How in the hell was he short on money when every time I saw him he had diamonds and Rolex watches? Seems to me like his priorities were in the wrong place. I peeped my head around to check out the Gucci backpack and shook my head. “I got some good news for ya’, homie,” he said as he walked over to sit on the couch and opened the bag. “I’m sick of your good news. It always turns out to be bad news.” He laughed. “Open the door. We’re expecting company.” I rolled my eyes. “Yo, what I tell you about bringing random ass people to my crib?” “Sis, all I’m tryna do is put money in y’all broke ass pockets. Just open the door ’fo you piss me off, bruh.” I flipped him the bird and opened the door to some tall ass nigga who looked like the rapper, Gunplay from Rick Ross’s crew out in Miami. Tall, light skinned, skinny, dreads, tatted and had diamonds all in his grill. His rude ass walked right in to where Bishop was and they clapped hands. “I don’t know what Bishop told you about me, but I don’t like rude ass niggas. You can speak before you walk up in my shit like you own it.” I was standing over him with my hands on my hips.

He smiled and stood up. “My bad, shawty. My name Glory.” “That’s your real name?” I asked as I turned up my nose. “Yaaa. My mama gave me that name, ya’ heard me?” He was clearly from New Orleans. I could tell by his accent and his whole swagger. “Oh, okay. I’m Divine,” I said, shaking his hand. “And I’m Malina,” my cousin said as she rushed her nosey ass out. “What’s up, love?” He gave her a hug and sat back down. “Y’all niggas friendly. Back to this business. My nigga got some work that he need in Miami.” “Okay. How long do we have to deliver it? And is this a life or death situation?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the coffee table between the couches. “Nah, love. I’m good with my plug. That’s this nigga who be bullshitting,” Glory said, referring to Bishop. “Fuck you,” Bishop responded. “Anyway. I got time to give it to him, but I’m always early. So y’all can take y’all time, but I’d love to have this shit to him in two days.” Glory tossed a suitcase on the table. “Bishop said y’all charge seventy-five G’s?” “Yes,” I said reluctantly. “Oh, that’s the playa price.” He gladly tossed us a brown backpack full of money.

“Let us count it,” Malina said as she prepared to take the money to the back room. Bishop smiled. “That’s why I brought my money machine ’cause I knew y’all rookie asses wouldn’t have one. Y’all can have it.” He pulled a heavy black machine out of his bag. “Word? They didn’t have one? Ma, y’all gonna need that. Niggas be too busy to sit around and wait on y’all to count the cash,” Glory said as he pulled out his IPhone and checked his messages. “Count it up. And fast. I got places to be,” Bishop said. “Why are you even here?” I asked. “To introduce y’all to Glory, and to give y’all this money machine. My bad for tryna help y’all.” He put both hands up in defense. While Malina put the money into the machine, Bishop and I talked. Glory was too busy in his phone. It was obvious he was ready to go. “This the one that slammed shawty with the brick?” Glory asked, showing me the video on his phone. It had made World Star. “Hell yeah,” Bishop responded. “You too cute for all that. Shit like that will make a nigga look at you different, ya heard me?” “But she started it.” “I understand that. Just saying. You cute, so bitches gonna hate off the rip. And y’all bouta be getting money too?”

“So what I’m supposed to do? Let a bitch punk me? No.” “Nah. Never that. It’s time to get out the hood. Yeah, I know you don’t wanna seem like a sellout, but you really ain’t got a choice when you getting money. The hood don’t love nobody. Move over there to Addison or some shit.” “And where do you stay?” I asked. “Not in the hood. I’m around, though.” “Thought so.” “But I’m a nigga. You’re a woman. It’s different.” “Stop getting all defensive. This nigga tryna give you the game. Why y’all think I left and moved to Cali for a while? These niggas hate to see another nigga make it. They are worse than the white folks,” Bishop said. “This one hundred G’s. I counted it six times,” Malina finally said from the kitchen table. “I know. It’s a lil’ something extra for the risk. The bigger the risk, the bigger the check,” Glory said as he stood up and stretched, getting ready to leave. “Well, I will get a track phone and hit you up when I get there. Leave your number,” I said as I walked them to the door. “Track phone? Feds ain’t watching me. Call from your phone.” “Nah. Just in case. I’ma always use them.” “Well, damn. I can’t get ya number? What if I need

an emergency delivery?” He had a point. I put my number in his phone and he put his number in my phone. “Don’t call my real line unless you absolutely have to after I trash the track phone,” I said. “Bet. When y’all leaving?” he asked. “Today,” Malina said as she walked up behind me and smiled at him. “That’s what’s up. Fuck with me.” He and Bishop walked to their cars. “That nigga just hopped in a jeep. He got all that money and got a jeep,” Malina said as she watched them leave. “That’s how it’s supposed to be done. I’m sure that’s not his only car. Would you be in a Porsche carrying all that money?” I asked her. She needed to use her head. “You’re right. Let’s go to work.”