Christmas in the Hood (30 page)

Boom! Boom!

The two shots ripped into Supreme’s face, the impact splitting his head like a coconut. He never knew what hit him.

Still a little shaken, Meeka placed the chip back in the fuse box in order to operate the stash compartment. She did the necessary three-step maneuver she had seen both Victorious and Supreme do many times to open it. After putting both Desert Eagles back into the box, Tameeka closed it and pulled out of the rest area. Instead of hopping back on I-95 South, she jumped onto I-95 North, headed back to Jersey. At first, she thought she was going to be sick as images of what she had done to Supreme began to haunt her mind. She had never killed anyone before and felt a little remorseful, but the six hundred Gs in the trunk had her feeling a whole lot better as she drove with caution on the highway. Besides, the hard part was over….

Chapter Nine

D
aylight had just revealed itself when Tameeka first reached the New Jersey Turnpike, and now she was exiting off the highway where the sign read 13a, entering elizabeth.

It had been a long night, but she had finally tied up all the loose ends and was now headed to her initial destination. Had it not been for the time-consuming trip to the South, where she had to get rid of Supreme, she could have already handled her business affairs in Jersey, but Supreme’s death was a must. He had served his purpose, and now he was no longer needed. Besides that, it was a gift to Victorious, because, in her opinion, he was too good of a man to have someone as grimy as Supreme on his team. In spite of what Supreme’s mouth said, Tameeka knew that his words were a contradiction to his actions, and he did not deserve Victorious’s friendship. With that in mind, Tameeka pulled in front of the bail bondsman’s office with the intent of taking care of what she had set out to do.

Chapter Ten

H
old on. Lemme get a minute right quick. Yo, sun! Yo, sun!”

“Oh, what up, kid?” Victorious responded.

“Yo, I’m outta this muthafucka, bee.”

“Word?”

“Yeah, sun, they just told me to pack up like five minutes ago.” Has couldn’t contain his smile.

“Damn, kid, that’s a good look for you right there. What time is it?”

“It’s almost eight-thirty.”

“Shit! I been up all muthafuckin’ night. I just dozed off like a few hours ago,” Victorious said, climbing out of the bed, still half asleep.

“Sterling! Keep standing there, and you’ll stay up in here with him. Now let’s go!” the CO shouted at Has.

“A’ight, I’m coming now. Yo, I gotta go, but I left you some shit with my man Mustafa. He gonna get that to you. Yo, stay up, kid.”

“Yeah, no doubt. You, too. I appreciate everything, sun, that’s my word. I’ma come check for you when I touch. I should be out today, too.” Victorious was not 100 percent convinced of his own words.

“Yeah, do that,” Has suggested as he walked backward toward the door.

“Hold it down out there,” Victorious yelled as he watched Hasan exiting the tier. Just before Has stepped off the unit, he pumped his fist in the air to Victorious and grinned, then he was out the door.

Chapter Eleven

H
asan waited patiently for the metal door to open—he had butterflies in his stomach. It had been a long two years up in the county jail, but now it was over. He was moments away from being a free man. The clothes he wore were now too small for his newly built physique. All types of thoughts ran through his mind as he waited. There was so many things that he wanted to do when he got out, but first he wanted to take a long, hot bath to get the jail stench off of him, put on some fresh gear, eat a big hearty meal, and sex his girl. Without her, he knew he’d still be sitting upstairs with the rest of the inmates who wished they were in his shoes.

At first Hasan thought long and hard about what he was asking her to do, not even knowing whether she’d agree to it or not. But he knew that it was his only chance at any freedom, especially facing murder charges. He remembered as if it were yesterday when, with a straight face, he proposed it to her on a visit. He thought after she heard him out she was going to hang the phone up and leave, but surprisingly, she stayed, and after five well-thought-out visits, she agreed. It was then, and only then, Hasan realized the depths and extent of the love she had for him. The CO opened the sliding doors from the control booth, and Hasan walked out of the county jail.

“See you when you get back,” one of the officers said to him as he exited.

“I doubt it,” was Hasan’s comeback with a smile.

Chapter Twelve

Y
o, you Victorious, right?” the inmate at the door yelled, walking up to Victorious’s cell.

“Yeah. Why, what’s up?” Victorious asked, jumping out the bed thinking he had made bail.

“Yo, I’m Mustafa, Has’s people. He got bailed out. I got some shit for you.”

“Oh,” Victorious replied, disappointed that he hadn’t hit the lottery himself.

“Yo, I’ma gets the CO to bust the slot for me. Hold up,” Mustafa said before walking off.

Victorious was glad that the kid Hasan who he had gotten cool with had made bail, but it made him stress more because he knew that he should have been in the same situation.

He had stayed up all night thinking about the last time he had spoken to Supreme. A whole bunch of maybes and what-ifs crossed his mind because he just didn’t want to believe the obvious. He still had hope that either Supreme or Tameeka would come to get him out. Slowly but surely, though, the light of Victorious’s hope was dimming by the hour.

Within two minutes Mustafa was back with the CO.

“Don’t take long,” the officer said to Mustafa, walking off.

“A’ight,” Mustafa replied. “I told Has I’d get this to you this morning,” Mustafa said, sliding the junk food and cosmetics through the porthole.

“Damn, I don’t need all of this, kid. This too much. I should
be out today, too. Take some of this shit for yourself,” Victorious insisted.

“Nah, I’m good. He left me mad shit, too. Has was strapped in this muthafucka. That was love, how you was holding him down out there. Ain’t too many real dudes like that no more,” said Mustafa, under the impression that Hasan and Victorious were friends from the streets.

Catching the misunderstanding, Victorious attempted to correct the assumption, but Mustafa was getting called from another direction.

“Yo, Mu, hurry up. Check this shit out,” one of the inmate orderlies yelled.

“Hold up for a minute, kid,” Mustafa told Victorious. “What up, sun?”

“Yo, this dude Has doing it real big out here,” the orderly said, while looking out the window down to the front of the county jail.

Mustafa took a look out the window.

“Damn! That piece hot!” Mustafa said in reference to the whip outside the jail.

“You think that’s his joint?” the orderly asked.

“Nah, that’s probably his man’s piece, ’cause that’s his man’s shortie right there,” Mustafa clarified.

“Oh, I was wondering why he ain’t kiss her. After all that time I woulda been all over that piece. Shortie bad as hell. Yo, he looking up here.”

Both Mustafa and the orderly threw their hands up as they noticed Hasan waving up to them just before he hopped in a Beamer.

Chapter Thirteen

A
s soon as Hasan stepped from around the corner of the county jail’s back entrance, he saw her leaning against the brand-new vehicle. He had waited too long for this day to come when he would be able to be close to his girl again without being separated by Plexiglas. He knew that as bad as he wanted to just run up on her and snatch her up, he had to wait just a little while longer to touch her, just until they were away from in front of the county jail.

Tameeka didn’t see Hasan walking up on her, but when she heard his voice, it took everything in her power not to jump all over him. She fought to hold her tears of joy back and smiled with her eyes instead. Hasan warned her that she could not show any form of affection because there would be a lot of eyes on them.

“I told you I’d have you out by the morning,” she said to him.

“I never doubted you, baby,” he replied.

“You better not had,” she said, flashing him a half smile.

“Chill,” was Hasan’s reaction, catching the smile as he turned around and waved to the inmates who were standing at the fourth-floor window, where they house new commits. “I told you all eyes would be on us. You should’ve waited for me in the car.”

“I know, but he don’t know nothing, right?” Meeka asked.

“Nah, not about us, but I can tell he was putting the pieces together with you and his man, though. Speakin’ of his man, did you take care of that nigga like I told you?”

“You know I did. That’s what took me so long getting back. I had to go all the way to North Carolina and back,” Meeka answered.

“That’s nothing, as long as you handled that,” Hasan said, reaching for the car-door handle. “Yo, let’s get the fuck up outta here,” he said, opening up the passenger’s door.

*  *  *

“Yo, I just seen my dude Has leaving.”

“That’s what’s up,” Victorious said, happy for Has.

“That’s your Beamer, right?” Mustafa asked.

“What Beamer?” Victorious replied, confused by Mustafa’s question.

“The blue six series.”

“Nah, why you think that?”

“I mean … that was your shortie driving,” Mustafa tried to explain.”

“My shortie? Yo, kid, you mistaken. You don’t even know my shortie,” Victorious said, wondering who Mustafa thought he was.

“Nah, you right. Ain’t no disrespect, kid. I just thought that was your shortie you was hugged up with in all the flicks you sent Has,” Mustafa replied, not realizing just how powerful his statement was.

“Flicks?” Victorious asked, puzzled. But even as the word came out of his mouth, the pieces began to come together. Taking a shot in the dark, Victorious said, “Oh, the flicks? Yo, I’m buggin’. This jail shit got me fucked up, sun. You talking about a tall, light-skinned chick with long hair and a nice body?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” Mustafa answered.

“Was the six midnight blue with twenty-fours and tinted windows?”

“Exactly. That’s the one.”

Un-fucking-believable! This can’t be for real, I gotta be on the muthafuckin’
Punk’d
show or somethin’
, Victorious thought as he tried to appear unfazed by the new developments, compliments of Mustafa, but the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach was making it difficult to do so. Seeing Mustafa looking at him strangely, Victorious tried to play it off.

“Yeah, that’s my shortie’s whip,” he said, knowing who the car really belonged to.

“Damn, kid, you must be doin’ it up real big out there if wifey got the new quarter to seven. What you pushin’, a Maybach or somethin’?”

“I got the new 745,” Victorious replied, still keeping up his appearance so Mustafa wouldn’t suspect that he was milking him for information.

“Yeah, that make sense,” Mustafa said. “Yo, them was some hot minks you and your shortie had on in the flicks in front of Madison Square Garden. What was those, chinchilla?”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Victorious said, remembering when he and Tameeka had gone out for her birthday sporting matching furs. That had been the most recent picture he and Tameeka had taken.

“Yo, you and your wifey was definitely livin’ it up out there, from what I saw in the flicks Has showed me. That’s all he used to talk about. But yo, I gotta bounce, but I’ll come back through to see if you still here later. Hopefully you not. They should be callin’ you next, right?” Mustafa said.

“Should be,” Victorious replied dryly.

Misinterpreting Victorious’s vibe, Mustafa added, “Yeah, I know how they be bullshittin’ around here, so anything’s possible. Yo, let me roll though.”

“A’ight, yo,” Victorious said, letting Mustafa’s words marinate.

Yeah, shit happens
, he thought to himself as he jumped back in his bunk, nauseated by the situation.

“Muthafucka!” he yelled after Mustafa was far enough away. He began thinking about how he had just been played like a mark. So many thoughts and unanswered questions raced through his mind. He couldn’t help but notice the roller-coaster sequence of events.

“Ayo, fam, you a’ight down there?” Victorious’s cell mate asked. But Victorious was so heated that he didn’t even bother to answer.

“Damn!” he yelled, this time with a lot weighing heavy on his mental and his gut twisted up in knots. “Why me?” Victorious asked himself, his hands on his head massaging the migraine that just came on. How could he not have seen this coming? he thought. Could it be that his girlfriend of two years had been playing him the whole time? And if so, how could his man he had known since he’d been in the game and been through thick and thin with cross him for a chick? Was Supreme only pretending to be his friend? Was it a setup all along? Was Has really who he said he was? Was his girl and Has’s girl actually one in the same? And how did Has and Supreme know each other? These were just some of the unanswered questions floating around in Victorious’s mind as he drifted off into a tormented sleep.

Epilogue

Mail call!” the CO yelled as the inmates began to ritually gather around the dayroom table, seeing the stack of mail in the officer’s hand. After all, this was one of the highlights of the day for all inmates. Not to mention, it was two days before Christmas.

“Charles Brent, mail!” was the first name the CO sounded off.

“Ayo, Karim, Chuck-a-Luck!” two inmates began shouting out.

“Yo, what’s that, mail? Get that for me. I’m in the shower,” inmate Brent yelled back as he stuck his head out of the unit shower. As requested, one of the inmates grabbed the letter for Brent, who was referred to by two different names.

“Andre Davis, Hussam Williams, mail,” the CO continued.

“Yo Bisquit, Hu,” another inmate yelled over to where inmates were playing a game of spades.

“A’ight, we heard it,” said Davis, who was referred to as Bisquit, and Williams, who was referred to as Hu.