Another Man's Treasure (Joey Bada$$ Story)

Part Ventuno

So apparently, Pro Era had a master plan.

Joey was released from the hospital two days after the shooting. I was with him every moment, bringing him home-cooked food that was ten times better than the hospital food, finding the good TV channels, fluffing his pillow the way the nurses couldn’t and turning off the television after he fell asleep. The rest of the guys came to visit him, and during the time while they were there, I got to talk to them - especially CJ. I wanted to make sure we were okay with each other, and he told me it was a bizarre idea for me to even think that we weren’t. When T’nah came to visit, I walked out of the room to avoid her rude glares. The second day Joey was there, I went out to buy him some food. When I came back, he told me that I’d just missed Dyemond. He didn’t know how glad I was.

Everyone came to drive Joey home, and that’s where we were now. Latara was asleep in her room (she was happy to be back after going back and forth to the hospital) and the rest of the crew were in the living room, munching the McDonald’s we picked up on the way back. I munched the fries and sat in the little corner of the couch that was left. All of Pro Era was here, so the couch and floor were full with them. Joey said that it was important for them to all be here, so they’d all be aware of the plan.

“So what’s up?” Nyck asked. “What moves we trying to make?”

“Alright, settle down.” Joey told them. The room fell quiet. “Things are serious now. Deadly, even. This isn’t a game, and if y’all are down, you have to know that. I fanyone is too scared, or thinks there’s too much of a risk, speak now or forever hold your peace. We can use all of the help we can get, but no one is going to judge you if you have something to lose. I understand that things can get dangerous and people aren’t always ready for that.”

“We’re ready, bro.” Dessy said. “All of us.”

“Then that’s it,” Joey sat up. “Let’s get to business.”

And so they did.

I thought that they’d fill me in on their little operation, but no one told me anything as we drove away from the house. T’nah was at home watching Latara, and most of the other guys were out doing things that I didn’t quite understand. The only ones in the car with us were CJ, Dessy, Kirk, and Sanchez. I sat in the backseat, my arms hugging my knees, watching the car pass through blocks upon blocks. Finally, after Kirk got a call from one of the boys, we left Brooklyn entirely and made our way to Queens.

Kirk parked the car and everyone piled out, Joey first and me last. “Don’t attract any attention to yourselves. Stay low and stay quiet.” He said. Kirk kept checking the texts that came to his phone, and from them he directed us as to where to go. It was probably one of the boys giving him directions; but why didn’t he look up the directions himself?

After walking three more blocks, I realized why: we weren’t looking for directions to a place, but to a person. Someone one of the guys had been spying on. Someone sitting in a black Mercedes Benz on a residential block. He didn’t see it coming.

“Stop!” The man screamed as Dessy cracked the glass of the driver’s seat window with a rock, letting the glass fall onto, and even scratch, the man’s face. Dessy unlocked the door and we all piled in, Joey making sure that I got in first and secured myself directly behind the man’s seat.

“What do you want?” He asked, shivering as he looked at Joey in the passenger seat and CJ in the back. “Please, don’t kill me.”

“We don’t want to kill you, man.” Joey said. “We just want the briefcase.” He pointed to a briefcase I hadn’t even noticed, sitting securely beside the man, who looked to be Indian. He shook his head