Talkin' 'bout chasing hoes, man I'm chasing these Ben Franklin's.
-- Brown
I been in my silver Impala for what seems like for hours. Where the fuck is Omanda? I feel like she ain't takin' me serious by comin' late. This a job, and I will fire her ass before I hire her ass.
I put the cigarette up to my mouth and took a hit to calm my nerves. I'm gettin' kinda spooked sitting in this dark-ass park by myself. A nigga can easily come kill my ass right now and I won't even be able to see dude face.
I picked up my government phone-- Obama phone, whatever the fuck they call it, and checked the time on the small screen.
3:32 AM
Damn! I texted her at 2:25. Dre ain't done hittin' it yet?
As soon as I threw the phone on the passenger seat, I heard Future blasting out of no where, and it seemed to be getting closer and closer.
My heart beat picked up and I reached in the back seat for the hammer I bought with me. No, not a gun. A real hammer. I'an packing so the hammer was the next best thing I found in my apartment. Speaking of apartment, I hope Mitchelle ain't tearin' my shit up right now. She was mad as hell when I told her I wanted to use Omanda instead of her.
My grip tightened around the wood handle of the hammer as I saw a red Toyota roll in Richmond. I don't know who the fuck it is, but if they come over here I'ma hammer they shit like a damn construction worker.
I kept my eyes on the car as it stopped right under the only street light in the park. My phone began to ring, making me jump. I put my cigarette in the ashtray and reached over to get the phone all while keeping my eyes glued to the Toyota. The loud Future song seemed like it filled the whole park.
I looked from the phone screen to the car two quick times.
"Omanda," I mumbled before pressing the small green button. "Aye, man what's takin' you so long? You wanna do the shit or not?" I heard the same song playin' in the Toyota blasting in the background on Omanda's line.
"Nigga, shut up. I'm already here. Where you at?" She yelled in the phone. Won't it be smart to just turn the music down?
I kept my grip on the hammer. "That's you in the red Toyota?" I asked to be extra clear.
"Yeah, this me. Where you?" She repeated.
I let the hammer go and relaxed a bit before blinking my lights so she could see me. "Over in the circle, in the back by the trees."
"Aight," she said before disconnecting the call.
I watched as the Toyota made a short turn to come in my direction. I put the hammer back in the back seat. I ain't finna have her big mouth ass clown me.
Omanda parked on the side of me in the opposite direction. I heard a car door slam, so I figured she got out of the car. Like I said, I can't see shit.
A few seconds later the passenger's door opened and the light on top of the roof of my car came on.
I picked up my half burned cigarette from the ashtray as Omanda slid in.
"Damn, it's about time. You gotta nigga out here waitin' on you for hours 'nd shit," I told her before putting the cancer stick to my mouth.
"Aye, man crack the window or some. A bitch ain't try'na get second hand smoke from them nasty-ass cigarettes. Shit." She fanned her hand in the air try'na clear the smoke.
I sighed and turned my key in the ignition to let down the window. "Happy now?" I asked her sarcastically.
"So, what's up? What you need me to do?"
Damn, she gettin' straight to the point, I thought to myself.
"Its simple: set up Quadir," I told her before flicking ashes off the cigarette outside the window.
"Who that is?"
I looked at her stupid. She was just in the nigga face today, she know who the fuck he is.
"The nigga that came in today in the white Benz," I said, annoyed.
She snapped her fingers and smiled. "Oooooh yeah! Quadir, Quadir. How could I forget about his fine-ass?"
I blew out a frustrated sigh. Dealing with Omanda was like fuckin' with a ten year old. "Look, like I was sayin', I need you to set his ass up, you feel me? No--"
"Hold up, hold up, hold up. Set him up for what? He ain't did none to me."
I threw the burned out cigarette out the window and reached behind my left ear for the other one. I lit it and took a long drag like it was a blunt. Why she gotta be so gotdamn complicated?
I felt Omanda watchin' me as I blew the smoke out of the window next to me. "I need you to set him up for me, aight? All you gots to do is get wit' the nigga at Club Rain this Friday, take him to Motel 6, and leave." I said before I looked over at Omanda, even though I could barely see her.
"That's all, huh? That simple. Have you even thought this shit through, dumb-ass! What if his girl at the club wit' him? Then what?"
Oh, shit! I didn't even think about ol' girl that he had with him today. Omanda did have a point, but I don't appreciate her callin' me dumb when I'm tryna help her out. In a way.
"Man, look fuck her! Aight? You stepped to ol' boy while she was right in the car, you gon' let that stop you at Club Rain? You gon' let one bitch stop you from gettin' three grand?" I told her smoothly. I was kinda impressed by my own words. "And, you ain't even got'ta fuck the nigga," I added for good measure. I flicked the ashes and took a hit from the white stick in my hand.
"Did you say three thousand dollars?" Her voice had completely changed. I got her.
I nodded my head. "Three thousand, baby. Easy ass money," I lied. There was no way in hell I was breakin' her off that much. Maybe three hundred, gotdamn.
"And all I got to do is hook him at the club and bring him to the motel?"
I nodded my head again. "All you got to do, ma."
Omanda sat quietly for a minute, probably weighing out what I said. After about three minutes, she spoke three magic words. "Aight, I'm in."
