ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) (14 page)

              Red from Freetown was also up in the spot. Red was an up and coming hustler/rapper in Zulu’s organization. His mind was sharper than a razor, and his heart colder than ice in the Artic. Word on the street was that he was next in line to take over Twan’s former position on the team. Red was a workout fanatic. Since he stayed in shape, he tended to keep his shirt off. He liked to show off his muscles, and the tattoos he had gotten while bidding in some of the most violent penitentiaries in S.C. like Lee County, Libre, and Evans Correctional Institutions. Red had a reputation, both out in the streets and behind the walls, for being an authentic street nigga.

              Then there was Derek from City Heights. Derek had done a 36 month bid when he was fifteen at John G, a juvenile facility in Columbia, for killing a nigga at that very same park about eight years before. The beef was over some bullshit but when you were young, trying to get a reputation, and didn’t give a fuck, it really didn’t take much to squeeze that trigger. Derek had opened fire on a nigga with an AK-47. So young he was barely able to control the assault rifle, he shot a dude up at point blank range. The other dude never had a chance. If not for his age at the time of the offense, Derek would have likely been given a life sentence, and spent the rest of his years locked in a maximum security hole somewhere.

              And then there was this nigga named Fat Mack from City View. Fat Mack was a fat, black, ugly mothafucka with a lazy eye, and he had a stable full of bad bitches that would “put that money in his pocket like a rocket!” Nobody could understand how this fat, ugly ass nigga kept those quarter bitches on his team in check.  

              Whenever somebody on the outside looking in would pose the question as to how Fat Mack kept so many hoes breaking off that bread for him, he’d simply laugh, and say some fly shit like, “Nigga, either you pimpin’ or you simpin’. It was my fuckin’ destiny to live a pimp legacy! And I’d advise all you niggas to go get you a bottle of Heinz, ‘cause it’s gonna be a minute befo’ y’all “catch up” to
any
pimpin’ of mines!”

              The list of hood stars and local celebrities present at Cleveland Park that Sunday went on and on. There was even a rumor that Kevin Garnett, who was originally from the Mauldin section of Greenville, might come through and show some love.

              The potential for violence was always present when there were that many egos and ‘hood niggas in the same place at the same time, but for the most part everybody was just chilling. People were enjoying the weather and the overall atmosphere. There were even a few people cranking the grills up to barbeque. A few scuffles broke out here and there, but nothing that serious.

              The ‘hood rats and gold diggers were also out in full force. They were wearing bikinis and short shorts that were all in the cracks of their hot asses, leaving little to the imagination of anybody who looked. They were competing with one another, trying to catch the attention of the young ballers, hoping to be elevated to that coveted role of wifey so they could experience what life was like in the fast lane. At least for however long the nigga they got with had their run, and stayed his ass outta jail. It could be a few years, months, or even weeks before those same niggas they were chasing behind were being chased by an indictment.

             One of the most notable gold diggers on the scene that day was a girl named Abby. Abby was a straight schemer. Over the years, she’d set numerous niggas up for her boyfriends, and had even allowed them to rob places where she was employed. Her nickname in the street was Scams because there wasn’t a scam in the book she hadn’t tried. Everything from claiming kids that weren’t hers on her income taxes, to having kinky sex with her boss, taping it, and then using the tape to blackmail him for cash. She was a high yellow broad with hazel eyes, and a nice shape, but she was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. That’s what came along with the life of jumping from one hustler’s dick to another, and having unprotected sex with them. Abby had A.I.D.S. and knew it, but continued to recklessly suck and fuck niggas like it was nothing but a mild cold. She had infected lots of them with the deadly disease. Some nigga had given it to her, so she felt no remorse in returning the favor. She took the term “pay it forward” to another level. The dudes she infected would then turn around and have sex with their wives, girlfriends, and in some cases, men, steadily passing the disease along. And people wondered why A.I.D.S. had become an epidemic of such proportions in the Black community. Some mothafuckas were so ignorant.

$$$

   There was a two way street that ran along side of the park. That was the strip, where niggas drove by as slow as possible, to make sure everybody got a good look at their candy painted box Chevy’s, Bubbles, and Donks sitting high on 26’s, 28’s, and even 30 inch rims.

              At six o’clock, Ant D and Mike came through in Ant’s new ‘07 drop top, flip flop Corvette, and the game was officially over. The Vette was sitting on 21 inch chrome Giovanni rims in the back, and 20 inch Giovanni’s in the front, which gave it a mean stance. The rims were wrapped in low profile Pirelli tires. Nobody could really tell what color the car was because, depending on the angle you looked at it from, it appeared to be yellow, orange, or a light green hue.

              Muh’fuckas were catching whiplash trying to peep the Vette, and the two young, fly ass niggas in it. Ant D pressed the play button on his iPod, which was hooked up to the stereo system in the car. Jeezy’s voice came blasting out of the speakers, and the trunk sounded like King Kong was in that mothafucka trying to get out!

  “
I’m a T-R-A-P S-T-A-R, got the city on lock, big shoes on the car, and she likes it…she likes it, she likes it…aayyyy!
”

             
Ant turned the volume up even louder, acknowledging the hateful and envious stares that came from the crowd of spectators. The women were practically drooling and slobbering, like kids in the window of one of those little yellow school buses.

              Ant and Mike knew niggas were hating from the sidelines, but fuck that. They came there to shine until they blinded muh’fuckas. And if somebody was stupid enough to try some dumb shit, they had a stash box in the car with two newly purchased, fully loaded pistols in it.

              Ant pulled into the parking lot slowly. He was looking for a space to park but the lot was jam packed. Finally, Mike peeped somebody backing out of a spot. He got Ant’s attention, who then pulled into the parking space, and killed the ignition. 

   “Man, I can’t even believe this bullshit. Them hoes from the club wore my ass out last night, dog,” said Mike.

             “Nigga, you ain’t playing. I ain’t never bust that many times in one night befo’. I thought I was gonna have to pop one of them lil’ blue smurfs to keep up wit’ them bitches,” Ant D laughed, referring to Viagra.

             “Man, that little bitch Angel was a straight mutt, my nigga! I’m talkin’ ‘bout she was doin’ all that shit them porn stars be doin’ in them videos! I ain’t showed you the flicks?”

             “Hell naw, you ain’t show me no pictures. Nigga, you was too busy tryna choke them bitches to death to show me any pictures,” Ant said, laughing and thinking back on that crazy ass scene from the hotel.

    “Anyway, where they at?”

              Mike looked confused. “Where what at?”    

              “The pictures you took, nigga!”

              Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He went to the menu and clicked on the pictures. Just then, images of Angel with a face full of sperm came onto the small color screen. He handed the phone to his friend, and let him check it out. There were shots of Diamond kissing Chocolate, and them eating each other out. There were also shots of Diamond kissing both Chocolate and Angel. But when Ant got to the pictures of Angel blowing bubbles with the cum in her mouth, he went fool.

    “Oh shit! Ooooooh shit! I knew I should’a kept that bitch Angel in the room with me, dog! This bitch is a straight animal.”

              “What I tell you, nigga, huh?! You thought I was lyin’? That shit was crazy last night!”

              They continued to reminisce animatedly on the previous nights’ sexual exploits without the thought ever crossing their minds that they had failed to use protection. Who wanted to think about catching a disease, and let alone talk about it, after a night of raw, nasty sex? Niggas tended to put shit like that out of their minds because they thought it couldn’t happen to them. But sometimes the price of one night of indiscretion could cost a person a lot more than they were willing to pay.

              “Nigga, you see how them hoes was showin’ out?”  

              “Yeah, I see, nigga. I ain’t blind.” Ant D opened his car door, which went up like the doors on a Lamborghini. He tossed the phone back to Mike. “Come on nigga, let’s see who all out this bitch.”

              “That’s what it is,” said Mike, as he opened the passenger side door and got out. As he was getting out of the car, he happened to glance to his left, and saw a group of four girls walking together. One of them was a girl by the name of Nikki Jones, who Mike used to go to Greenville High School with before he had dropped out a few years back. Mike had always wanted to holler at her, but back then he was just a nobody ass nigga, still committing petty crimes and getting kicked out of school every other week for fighting, and other bullshit. She used to be a cheerleader, and one of the smartest girls in the school. So Mike would often check her out from a distance when they were in class together, but he never got up the nerve to approach her. Today would be different though. 

              “A yo, Ant, peep this here, my nigga. I just seen somebody I ain’t seen in a lil’ minute. I’m finna go holla at her real quick. I’ll get up wit’ you at the ball court.”

              “Bet it up.” They gave each other quick pounds, and Ant D walked off towards the basketball court, which was on the other side of the park.

   Mike approached the group of girls. “Excuse me for bothering y’all, but ain’t your name Nikki,” he asked, looking at the light skinned girl with the natural green eyes.

             “Yes, my name is Nikki. Do I know you?”

             “Naw, you don’t really know me like that, but my name is Mike. We used to go to Greenville together.”

             “Oh yeah, I remember you now,” she said, with a slight smirk on her face. “You were the one who used to be fighting all the time, getting suspended.”

             “Yeah, that was me,” said Mike, laughing. He was surprised that she even remembered him.

             “Oh, my bad, Mike. These are my homegirls, Brandy, Vicki, and Nique.”

             “What’s up y’all, what’s ‘hood?”

             “Nothing much, just out here chillin’, and enjoying this good weather,” replied Brandy.

             “Who was that dude that got out of the car with you? And was it his?” asked Vicki, like the true gold-digger she was.

             “Oh yeah, that was my dog, Ant D. And of course that was his shit! We ain’t finna be ridin’ ‘round in nobody else shit like that.”

             “Damn, where he went to?! I need to find his sexy ass! And he got money too?!”

             “Ummm Mike, you’ve got to excuse my friend. She gets like that sometimes,” Nikki stated, looking pointedly at her friend. She was obviously embarrassed by Vicki’s comments.

             “What?” Vicki asked innocently. “I can’t help it if I’m attracted to niggas wit’ paper. I damn sho’ don’t want no broke ass nigga that’s still livin’ wit’ his mama!”

              “Like I said, Mike, you’ve got to excuse my homegirl.”

             “That ain’t nothin’. I ain’t even really sweatin’ that right there. But if you don’t mind, Nikki, can I holla’ at you for a minute by yourself?”

             “Sure, what’s up Mike?” Nikki asked, walking away from her friends with him.

    After a short distance, Mike turned to Nikki and said, “Nikki, would it be a problem if I got yo’ number, so I can call and rap wit’ you for a minute?”