Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose

“
ANYTHING 4 PROFIT: 2”

Nothing to Lose

Dedicated:

To my TRUE readers, supporters & fans. Without you there would be no me. I sincerely thank you for your patience, love & CONSTANT SUPPORT. This book is for y’all…

Enjoy.

Thank You:

Saying thank-you is a way for me to show appreciation to the people closest to me who have been instrumental in my success, my life, and my continued growth as a human being.

Ok; let’s go. First and foremost I have to give thanks to God for not only blessing me with the talent to write but also for the opportunity to be able to share this talent with the world. I don’t believe in any particular religion but I do know that God is real. All praise is due to him. Only the mistakes have been mine.

After God I have to thank my family for their constant support and genuine, unconditional love. To my baby sister Jazz: you’re my heart. Words can’t express how much I love you. I know I get on you sometimes but it’s because I want the best for you and to see you become a successful young woman, (so you can stop hitting me up for money!) LMAO! You know I’m just messing with you Jazz. As long as I have breath in my lungs I got you baby girl… no matter what. To my little brother Kevin: I’m proud of you man. I’m proud of the man you’re becoming and I’m proud of the fact that you chose a different path than I did. If you need anything I got you. To my Aunt Rose: when I think of a strong black woman a picture of you always comes to my mind. I can never thank you enough for being there for me when I was at my lowest, trapped inside the bowels of the beast. To my cousin Lisa: I truly appreciate the genuine love and constant encouragement over the years.

I also have to give a BIG thank-you to my extended family, the McGills. You’ve taken me into your homes and I know if I ever need a good home cooked meal I can always stop by somebody’s house and get a plate (LOL).

To Caroline McGill: You began as just my publisher but over the years I’ve truly come to love you as an artist, a beautiful woman, and more importantly as a close friend on whom I can depend. You’ve held me down when it mattered most and I thank God for allowing our paths to cross on this journey called life. HE doesn’t make any mistakes. Synergy Publications! Let’s make history!

To LaToya Leigh Evans: We’ve known each other since 7
^th
grade at Tanglewood (remember those days? Lol). You’re truly a beautiful woman (I rode all the way to KP on a no speed just to see those dimples! Lmao). You’re also the epitome of perseverance. I just wanted to say thank you for being in my life. I love you. If only the stars had aligned differently…

LaToya Williams Sanders, Brandi Young Rosemond, Stephanie (Step) Rosemond, Marcus Pearson (Marc’d Money Ent.), Damien (Dame Dash) Williams, Jasmine (Bite Size) Taylor, Brittni Burton, Tomeka Shumate Clay, Nicole Calhoun, Ronisha Burris, Jerome (Twin) Bruster, Shan Duckett, Candy Farmer, Amanda Farmer, Doreen Lewis, Jessica (Jett) Scott, Fredericka Cruell, Iesha Cartwright, Love Elmore, Natasha Sherman Beaty, Laquana (from BK), Kella Sullivan, Delana Dendy, Rene’ Dendy, Michella Jackson, Mychea Writes, Faith Herrin, Toyya Funchess, Ms. Toni (OOSA), David Ashby, Renee Henderson, Ashlee Evans, Sophia Garrison (OOSA), Stephanie Tarrer, Jeanette McMillan James (Readers R Us), Sandy Barrett Sims, Lesha DeBlanc Steward (Amen’s Angels), Taylor M. Jackson, Shawntel Kennedy (Amen’s Angels), Theedra Kim Brown, Denita Brown, Kea GoddessMaat Thorns, Denise McCoy, Cleopatra Isaac, Tyson Byrd. Last but certainly not least, Ms. Tina Sherri Nance for her editorial insight.

HUGE thank you to everybody back home in Greenville S.C. who continues to hold me down. All my folk in West G, Sterling, Nicholtown, Brutontown, Brick City, Woodland Homes, City Heights, City View, Augusta Hills, Crooked Creek, Berea, KP, and the whole District 25. I’ll never forget the streets that raised me. G-VILLE STAND UP! To all my niggas still in the streets getting money: I see y’all. “Do what you gotta do but know you gotta change. Try to find a way to make it out the game.” Rest in Peace to everybody who didn’t survive the struggle.

Shout out to all the political prisoners locked down in the bowels of the beast across Amerikkka. Especially all my comrades still locked down in the S.C. Department of Corruption. I’ve been in your shoes, I know how it feels. From the yard to Lock-up, I’ve done it. Stay strong, stay unified! Remember: They can lock your body but can’t trap your mind!

Last but certainly not least, I wanna give a big shout out to my many, many detractors, enemies, and overall non-believers. I told you I wasn’t stopping! May my success be the ether that eats away at your envious souls every time you hear my name mentioned or see my book being read; which will be a lot. LMAO!

Once again THANK YOU to all my readers, fans and supporters!!! From the heart.

If I forgot anybody, please blame it on my mind, not my heart.

Special Thank you & R.I.P. to a man that was a father to me when my own father was nowhere to be found: Kevin Aubrey Farmer. I miss you, dad.

INTRODUCTION

The swinging doors that led into Greenville Memorial Hospital’s trauma unit burst open with a resounding bang. Pandemonium ensued. Paramedics frantically wheeled in two stretchers. On top of which lay two bleeding, mangled bodies. They were covered up to their chests by sheets that were once white, but were now the color of dark crimson. The sheets were heavily stained with the life that was quickly seeping out of the holes from the gunshots that the two victims had just sustained. The coppery scent of blood was heavy in the air. A trail of blood on the waxed linoleum followed each stretcher.

The ambulance dispatcher had called ahead to the hospital to make them aware of the severity of the situation. A trauma alert had been issued. The trauma unit’s team of surgeons, nurses, and technicians were already assembled. The level 1 trauma unit at Memorial was a seasoned group of specially trained medical personnel who had seen some of the worst emergency situations you could think of. Even
they
were momentarily taken aback by the grisly sight that lay before them.

Over the past several months, the streets of Greenville had turned into an increasingly violent battlefield. The hospital staff had more and more frequently been treating the victims of wounds obtained from gun fire, but they hadn’t seen anything this bad in a while. Sadly, the majority of the wounded that were so frequently rolled into the E.R., many D.O.A., had two things in common: they were young… and black.

The initial shock quickly wore off. It was only a matter of seconds before the extensive training and years of experience kicked in. One of the best trauma units in the upstate of South Carolina got busy. The team immediately went to work and began to do what they did best; whatever it took to save a life.

“Ok, people, we’ve got two patients here; one male and one a female that looks like she might be pregnant. Both with multiple gunshot wounds. Both have lost massive amounts of blood, so let’s get these sheets off, get this bleeding under control, and get some blood and fluids into ‘em… stat!” the doctor barked out.

In the Emergency Room, more than in any other place, time was an extremely precious commodity that no one could afford to waste. Ultimately, one second could be the difference between someone being visited in the I.C.U or being visited at the cemetery.

The nurses listened attentively to the doctor’s orders. Then, with a sense of urgency, they went about carrying them out. I.V. tubes were inserted, blood pressures were checked, and anything else the doctors felt was necessary to assess and stabilize the patients’ conditions was done.

“This one’s having trouble breathing! Gimme an ET over here, now!” The respiratory therapist inserted the tube down the throat of the patient and turned on the respirator to get some air into their lungs. Suddenly, the other patient began to spasm and convulse violently on the gurney, blood coming out the side of their mouth.

“Doctor, Doctor! We’ve got one going into shock!” exclaimed a nurse as she and a co-worker ran over to make sure that the patient didn’t fall off the gurney onto the floor.

“Where the hell is radiology?!” another surgeon asked aloud in frustration. “I need those x-rays so we can know where the bullets are! Now, damn it! And call up to the OR; tell them to get two rooms ready! As soon as we know where the bullets are, we’re going in. Get them both prepped for surgery. Let’s go people!”

Dr. Leiman, the leading resident surgeon and team leader for the trauma unit glanced briefly at his watch and then over at the human carnage that lay on the gurneys. His staff was busying themselves prepping the victims for emergency surgery as per his orders. It was still mid-afternoon and the night had yet to arrive. But from the looks of things, it was going to be a long one; a very long night indeed.

CHAPTER 1

It was the first Sunday of December, 2006 and Gloria Davis came home from church feeling rejuvenated. She hadn’t felt this good in a very long time. To say that the past few months had been a very trying time for her would be a vast understatement. Her only daughter, Tameka had been kidnapped, tortured, raped, and beaten to within centimeters of her life. On top of that, the sick fucks that violated her baby had then left her for dead, in of all places a filthy dumpster full of decomposing garbage. Like her baby was nothing more than a piece of trash.

For several weeks, Meka lay prone in a hospital bed trapped in a coma, with doctors unsure if she would ever come out of it. If she would be able to walk, talk and function again normally was another matter entirely. Meka made a full recovery, thank God, but needless to say… Gloria had blamed herself.

Earlier that day, while attending service, Gloria felt compelled to share her story with the rest of the congregation.

Gloria became pregnant with her twins Tameka and Anthony after being brutally raped when she was still a teenager. Though Gloria came from a halfway decent family, she had become an abuser of drugs. Cocaine became her drug of choice at a young age. Eventually, her habit led her to sell her young, innocent body to any perverted man who had enough money to pay for play. At first, it was just something she did occasionally. But of course, like so many others, the more she used… the more she needed.

Her system became so accustomed to the cocaine that instead of just sniffing it, she started freebasing as well. After that first blast she was hooked. It was an indescribable feeling of bliss. From that day forward, Gloria spent her every waking moment trying to chase down that blissful, but elusive, feeling again.

With an ever-growing gorilla that refused to get off her back, Gloria’s life rapidly spiraled out of control. Before she knew it, she found herself constantly frequenting the dilapidated, abandoned houses where other girls like her traded their bodies for drugs. The rooms often contained nothing more than dirty, stained mattresses and maybe sometimes an old broken down nightstand, table or chair. The acrid scent of cocaine smoke was prevalent in the air. Soon, those dark, boarded up rooms became her home. The high, which was such a blissful feeling before, now only helped her to escape the miserable existence that her life had become.

On one fateful night, (she couldn’t remember which, because back then the days and nights all seemed to blend together), two men stepped into Gloria’s room and held her at knifepoint while they brutally raped her repeatedly until she lost consciousness. When she came to, in a puddle of her own blood, feces, and other bodily fluids, her assailants were gone, but they had left her with a growing embryo inside of her young womb. To this day, she can’t explain why, but the thought of an abortion never crossed her young mind.

Throughout her pregnancy, until the time she gave birth, Gloria continued to fill her body with poison and sell herself to strangers. Unfortunately, the pieces of herself that she sold to these men she could never get back. Her self-esteem was non-existent. She lived to get high and in many ways got high to remain living. The drugs helped to push back the many demons and sick memories that fought constantly to break through to the forefront of her consciousness. The high kept those demons at bay… at least momentarily.