ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) (15 page)

             Nikki didn’t answer him at first, which had Mike thinking that either she hadn’t heard him, or was about to turn his ass down. He was getting ready to ask her again, but she replied after a few seconds. “No, that’s not a problem.” She gave him her number, and he saved it in his cell phone.

             “What you gettin’ into tonight, after you leave the park?” Mike asked her.

             “To be honest with you, Brandy was trying to get me to go with them to Escalade to see Jeezy perform, but I’ve got some stuff to do tomorrow. So I was thinking about just going home and getting some rest. Plus, I’m not really into the whole club scene. I got some studying I need to do for some exams I got coming up at school.”

             “Where you goin’ to school at?” Mike inquired.

             “I’m in Tech. I’m getting my degree in computer programming.”

             “That’s what’s up, Nikki. I really respect a woman that’s pursuing her goals like that. But do me one favor.”

             “It depends on what it is.”

             “Come out to the club tonight and chill wit’ me.”

             “I’ll think about it,” Nikki said, and walked off towards her friends.

    Mike stood there for a minute, just admiring the sexy way her hips moved when she walked. He hoped to see her at the club later on that night.

$$$

              “Pass the ball! Pass the muh’fuckin’ ball!” exclaimed the tall, dark skinned brother standing at the top of the key of the basketball court. Finally, the rock was passed to him. He immediately faked left, and then went right, leaving the nigga who was supposed to be guarding him on the ground looking stupid with a sprained ankle. He drove to the lane, jumped in the air with the ball, did a windmill, and then slammed it into the basket with as much force as possible. All of this happened within a matter of seconds.

              Everybody who saw what had just gone down went fool. “Did you see that shit?!” asked one person excitedly. “Goddamn, that nigga showin’ out!” exclaimed somebody else.

              “Yo Shawn, I think you broke that nigga’s ankle on that one there, homey!” exclaimed Ant D.

             “Naw, I just shook his ass outta them fake ass J’s he got on. Muh’fucka should know better than to be guarding me when the jump man is missing off one of them shits,” replied Shawn, referring to the imitation Jordans his latest victim was wearing. “The muh’fuckin’ jump man missin’ the ball
and
the hand!”

    The crowd broke out laughing. Shawn McGee was a tall, dark skinned, lanky dude from Piedmont Manor. He went to Southside High School, and was the starting forward on the varsity basketball team. He had taken them to the 3A championship games the previous year. It was rumored that several colleges were looking to recruit him. Basketball was his life. Every day you’d catch him in the gym after school, practicing like he was possessed. And every weekend you’d catch him at the park putting on a show for the people.

             “Fuck that! Since y’all niggas slobberin’ all over Shawn dick like a bunch of bitches, I got five stacks, cash money, that say my lil’ brother and two mo’ niggas will beat the shit outta Shawn and any two niggas stupid enough to ride wit’ him,” yelled Nut from the sidelines. He pulled out fifty crisp one hundred dollar bills wrapped in a rubber band.

             “Shiiiiiiiit, nigga, you ain’t said nothin’ but a word,” replied Ant D. He pulled out a stack of his own money.

             “Then it’s a bet. Let Stacey hold the money,” said Nut, referring to a girl from Berea who was standing on the sideline. They each gave Stacey their five thousand dollars to hold. She stuffed both the stacks of bills into her bra.

              Shawn picked two young ballers that he knew were decent to run with him, and Adrian, Nut’s little brother, picked his two. Adrian was 5’8”, and had serious game despite his height. He was like a smaller version of A.I. He was small, but fearless when it came to going to the hole. And his handle was sicker than a muh’fucka with the flu!

              The game was going to 11 - you make it you take it. If both teams had point game, they had to win by 2. The game started out going back and forth, with no team really dominating the other. The score was tied at 5, but all of a sudden, Adrian took over and scored four consecutive shots. Three penetrating lay-ups, and one jump shot that was so sweet it didn’t even touch the net going in.

   “That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout! I told y’all my lil’ brother was the fuckin’ truth!” exclaimed Nut. “You might as well give me my money now!”

             “Come on, Shawn, tighten that shit up,” encouraged Ant D.

             “I got this,” replied Shawn.

              The score was 9 to 5, and Adrian had the ball again, driving to the lane. He went up for a lay-up, and Shawn came flying out of nowhere. He knocked the ball forcefully out of the air, and into the hands of his teammate, who immediately took the open shot and made it.

              After that, Shawn went to work. They tried to double him when he came inside, but he just made them pay with one acrobatic shot after another. After putting in four baskets of his own, the score was now point game to 9, in favor of Shawn and his squad. Shawn had the ball at the wing. He was so feared from that spot, Adrian got out of position and ran over to help, leaving his man wide open. Shawn started to drive baseline, but then at the last second made a no look pass to his teammate, who made a jump shot off the backboard. Game over!

              The crowd went crazy screaming and yelling. Nobody had really thought Shawn and them could come back after the way Adrian had been scoring.

             “Fuck that! This shit ain’t over yet. I want some get back,” yelled Nut. “If I can’t get no get back, then you ain’t gettin’ paid!” He said, reneging on the initial bet.

             “Fuck you mean I ain’t gettin’ paid,” fumed Ant D. He walked over to where Stacey was to get his money.

             “Exactly what the
fuck
I said, nigga! I ain’t stutter, bitch,” replied Nut. He pulled a black Glock 9mm from his waist, and let it hang down by his side. “Now… can I get some mothafuckin’ get back, or what?!”

    All of a sudden from Nut’s blindside, he was hit with a savage two-piece. The blows to his face caused him to stagger, and his gun fell to the pavement, and went off in the process.

              The loud gunshot made people scatter away from the ball court, including Stacey, who was now 10 G’s richer. They were trying to get the fuck out of there before the police showed up, or they got hit with a stray bullet.

              But unfortunately, somebody was already hit when Nut’s gun inadvertently went off. It was Shawn. He lay prone on the pavement with a hole in his chest. Blood was seeping out of the wound. His homey Trap saw his boy on the ground bleeding, and tried to get somebody’s attention to get some help or call for an ambulance. But amidst all of the chaos, his pleas fell on deaf ears. Trap couldn’t do anything but hold his friend in his arms as his life slowly drained from his body.

    “Come on, Shawn, you too strong to die, nigga. You still got too much to do. Too much to live for, nigga. You gon’ be the one who make it out for us, man… Come on, man! Hold on, dog…”

    Trap was already talking to a corpse. Shawn died in his friend’s arms, right along with any promising future that he might’ve had. Trap held his homey in his arms, and despite him trying to be a strong about the situation, the tears still somehow managed to escape from his eyes. Another dream permanently deferred, for no good reason. That seemed to happen too frequently in the ‘hood.

             “See, that’s why I hate coming out here,” said one girl. “It always be some bullshit.”

             “Girl, you ain’t
never
lied. Somebody always wanna start some shit. Everybody was out here having a good time, and then all of a sudden, them niggas start that crazy shit.”

              Back on the basketball court, there was a riot going on. The nigga who had stole on Nut was from the District, so even though Nut was in the wrong, other niggas from his ‘hood jumped in. Even a few gangsta ass bitches from West G helped him.

              Nut reached down to pick up his pistol, but was savagely kicked in the face by somebody rocking some all white retro ‘92 Jordan’s.

              The melee went on for several minutes until the inevitable happened. The flashing blue lights of police cars could be seen. The pigs were coming down the road about five cars deep.

              Niggas started getting light. Damn near everybody out there ran because they had warrants on them, or were wanted for questioning in open cases. The few that weren’t didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon answering questions from some redneck Greenville County police. So the brawl quickly turned into a track meet, with niggas running the 40 yard dash like they were trying out for the NFL!

              Ant D and Mike met back up at the Corvette, and they both hopped in. Before he started up the car, Ant turned to Mike and asked if he had seen Meka anywhere out there at the park.

    “Naw, I ain’t seen her the whole day,” answered Mike, still breathing heavily from the run to the car.

             “That’s strange,” said Ant D. “I ain’t never known Meka to miss the park on Sundays.”

             “Man, ain’t no tellin’ where Meka crazy ass is at, dog.”

             “Yeah, you right. Ain’t no tellin’,” stated Ant D, as he started the car up and screeched off into the late afternoon.

Chapter 15

“First I’m gon’ stack my dough!”

 
“And then what,”
the crowd yelled.

“Then I’m gon’ stack some mo’!”

“And then what?” The crowd yelled again.

“Fall back in the cut so I can do my count - hide the rest of the yams at my aunty house!”

            
 Young Jeezy was on stage at the very packed Club Escalade, performing hits from his classic first album, “Let’s Get It: Thug Motivation 101”. The club had been open since nine, but Jeezy didn’t get on stage until about midnight. And now muh’fuckas were losing their minds and voices, rapping along with Jeezy, word for word.

              Everybody except for Mike. After that shit had gone down at the park, Ant D had dropped him off at one of his spots in Augusta Hills, so he could change and get right for the show. Once inside the apartment, Mike had took a hot shower and put on some fresh swag. For some reason, the possibility of seeing Nikki was the only thing on his mind. Mike was never one to be on that Ne-Yo, Bobby Valentino, R&B shit when it came to the ladies, but with Nikki it was different somehow. He wanted a chance to get to know her better. She was just so different from the regular cheddar chasing ‘hood rats he was used to fucking with.

              So now that he was at the club, all he could think about was seeing her beautiful face again. Mike walked over to the bar and posted up, observing the crowd.

              Thirty minutes later, he felt like a fool. Just when he was about to say fuck it, and go enjoy the show, Nikki walked through the doors of the packed club, and made her way over to the bar where he was standing.

   “Hey Mike,” she said.

   For a moment Mike was so caught up in how beautiful she looked, he couldn’t even speak.

              Nikki was wearing a tight dress that showed off her curves, but didn’t look nasty and show too much. She was 5’8”, but the heels she wore pushed her up to about 5’11”. She stood damn near eye to eye with Mike, who was 6 feet tall.

              Almost thirty seconds passed, and Mike still hadn’t said anything. Nikki jokingly asked him, “What’s wrong, Mike, you don’t like my dress, or somethin’?”