The Score (20 page)

“You really put me in a fucked up position, Lauren. After all I did for you, this is how I end up . . . on the fucking run for my life and for my freedom. Even after all of this a nigga stayed having mad love for you, but not now. Consider yourself lucky that I couldn't confront you today. I swear they would be tagging your toe had I gotten to see you up close and personal,” I spoke through my teeth aloud as if Lauren was standing right in front of me. All I could do was hope that I could make it out untouched.

LAUREN

I
downed my third mojito with the hopes that it would lighten my mood or at least help to change the tense atmosphere I was in. It didn't work. Trust me, I could have used about ten more drinks with the way I was feeling at that moment. It was hard enough being back in town without all of the added little stress from Daysha.

Lunch with Daysha was painful to say the least. We were barely conversing. I really had nothing to say to her after her little remarks in the car about my miscarriages, so there were long bouts of silence between us. When there was conversation it seemed forced and strained. I thought I would be excited to share news about my new relationship with Drake, but I had completely shut down on her.

Daysha, who usually runs her mouth nonstop, spent most of the time texting on her phone and whipping her head around like that shit was on a swivel. If I didn't know any better, I would've said Daysha was acting like she was expecting someone to come join us. If I didn't trust her so much her suspicious behavior would have had me thinking she had called Matt down there or some shit. Nah, I knew Daysha hated Matt so I wasn't worried about that.

When Daysha wasn't looking around all crazy suspicious, she was undressing me like one of the hater chicks we always talked about back in the days. Even without asking I was sure Daysha probably knew which designer had made every piece of clothing, the shoes, and the bag that I wore that day. It was disgusting how she was acting.

As soon as we sat down earlier, Daysha had made a comment about my Chanel purse. “Damn, bitch, that's the big-boy Chanel. That's about ten Gs, right? Must be fucking sweet, whatever you're doing for loot,” she had said. I had ignored her. Thank goodness our waitress had come over to break up the tension. Then, Daysha kept it up. She was like, “Mmm. Mmm. Ms. Lauren Kelly the superstar. Life must be treating you good you out here wearing a Balmain skirt and them new Loubs that ain't even hit the stores down here yet.”

Okay, I couldn't ignore her snide comments anymore. I crumpled my face in disgust and shot her an icy glare.

“Girl, please. You know
we
like nice shit so why you acting like that? You ain't looking too shabby. New Gucci bag. New Michael Kors sneakers. True Religion jeans. Romeo and Juliet top. I mean we always been about the fashion so what's the problem today?” I had shot back at her. Daysha tried to laugh it off like she had only been joking. I didn't return the fake laughs with her. I was trying to make it through lunch so I could ditch her ass anyway.

Now, I shoveled a forkful of my teriyaki salmon into my mouth and looked across the table at Daysha. Of course she was in the middle of texting or receiving and reading a text, I should say. I watched Daysha's eyes go wide. She looked over at me and cracked a phony, nervous smile. Then, once again she was looking over her shoulder like she was afraid someone was after her. I sucked my teeth. She was getting on my nerves. As a matter of fact, she was making my damn nerves bad. I had had enough. I looked at my watch and decided it was time for me to go. But, first, I needed to ask Daysha what the fuck was up with her. I would hate to leave things with my best friend with tension if she needed to say something to me. I loved Daysha like a sister.

I dropped my fork and finally asked, “You a'ight, Daysha?” I just couldn't take the phoniness and tension for another minute. “It just seems like things are different between us. I'm not sure if I did something to you or what,” I said, looking Daysha dead in her eyes. Daysha averted her eyes from mine and lowered her head. She picked up her fourth Hennessy and Coke and threw it back. It was like she was trying to use the drink as liquid courage or something. Daysha opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but just then our waitress interrupted to ask if we were okay.

“Yes, we are fine,” I said, cracking a fake smile. I turned my attention back to Daysha. She was looking over my shoulder like she was distracted by something behind me.

“Okay . . . so back to my question. I need to clear this up before I'm gone again,” I said to her.

“I have to use the bathroom. I'll be back, Lauren,” Daysha said, abruptly cutting me off. I opened my mouth to say something but Daysha quickly got up and rushed from the table, leaving me there alone. I folded my face into a frown. Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head. Daysha was definitely expecting somebody.

I was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. I slowly turned around in my seat and I spotted the first dude staring at me. He stood out in the restaurant like a sore thumb. He was tall with low-cut hair and was wearing a dark suit. Definitely not the type of dude you'd see in a local chain restaurant. I turned back to the table and noticed another dude, dressed similarly, staring at me too.
What the fuck? Nah, not more than one
Men in Black
nigga in the same place. Something is up,
I told myself. It was time for me to bounce. Clearly, I was going to have to dip out on Daysha.

I slowly dug into my purse and pulled out two one-hundred-dollar bills. I threw them down on the table. My heart was racing. My hands were shaking. I wanted to wait for Daysha but she was taking too long. I slowly stood up, picked up my purse, and slid it on my shoulder. I was trying to play it cool but my legs were trembling with fear. My steps were kind of unsteady. My waitress rushed over. I guess she wanted to make sure I wasn't bouncing out without paying my bill.

“Oh, was everything to your liking?” she asked in that cheery I-want-a-tip-bitch way. Her little eyes were scanning over the table to make sure she saw some cash for the bill.

“Yes, everything was perfect. Keep the change. I have to get going,” I replied with a shaky, phony smile myself. I quickly scanned the room and those dudes in suits were still there. I could feel the heat of their gazes bearing down on me.
They are definitely here for me! Shit!
I said to myself.

Play it cool, Lauren. Play it cool, Lauren. Just get out of the door. Just get out of the door,
I chanted to myself.

I swallowed hard and started heading to the door on unsteady legs. As soon as I moved, I saw the men moving in my direction. I dug down deep and got a burst of energy. Suddenly I was much more steady on my legs. My fear had turned into determination. I knew they were following me now, but I wasn't going that easily. I got to the door, pushed it, kicked off my heels, and bolted from the restaurant. Just like I suspected the men in suits bolted after me.

MATT

“C
alm the fuck down! I can't understand shit you're saying, Daysha,” I yelled into the phone. Daysha was yelling and screaming into the phone. I could only understand every other word. I was on my feet pacing nervously.

“Yo! Calm the fuck down and tell me what you're saying!” I boomed. I couldn't take it anymore. My nerves were already on crazy edge. I stopped moving for a few seconds so I could listen intently to what she was saying.

“Okay,” Daysha said, sucking in her breath so she could speak properly.

“I . . . I . . . shouldn't have . . . I . . . I . . . didn't mean to . . . they probably got her. Oh my . . . my . . . gawd,” Daysha stammered and cried at the same time.

“What? What happened? Something happened to Lauren?” I asked frantically.

“Three men came into the restaurant. Um . . . they came to get her. When I came out of the bathroom she was running out of the restaurant and they were chasing after her,” Daysha relayed through sobs. “This is crazy. We're the only ones who know she's in town, so who were those dudes? I can't believe I betrayed her and made her come back here!”

“Daysha! Are you sure they weren't five'o? Who were they? What did they look like?!” I barked into the phone. I was up on my feet and pacing again now. I had to know because whoever was after her, they were probably coming after me next. Again.

“I don't know,” Daysha cried. “They just . . . just . . . you shoulda seen the way they went after her. My best friend is probably dead by now.”

“Think, Daysha! Fuck, man! Tell me exactly what they looked like! How did they act?!” I screamed, my voice going high like a bitch.

“They were wearing dark suits and dark shades. They were big . . . like tall and big. I . . . I . . . don't know. They could have been cops. I just didn't see them long enough. But they started chasing her.” I could barely understand what Daysha was saying. She was breathing so hard into the phone I would swear it was inside her mouth. “Oh my gawd! It was all because of me. I was the reason she came back here! Me being greedy, I set up my best friend. All for some funky-ass money! Now somebody might kill her,” Daysha screamed. This bitch was straight wigging out, which meant she might go running her damn mouth. I felt like I was caught up in the Matrix. The way shit was falling apart seemed unreal, like some shit out of a movie.

I was gripping the phone so tight my hand began to cramp. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face and all of the muscles in my body were tense.

“Yo, Daysha, you talking crazy. This is because of snitching-ass Yancy, not you. Look, I gotta go. I can't give you the rest of your paper because as soon as it gets dark I'm bouncing. You ain't never speak to me or see me. I got niggas that will come after you if you try anything funny, too,” I told her. I hung up the phone.

“Fuck!!!” I screamed. This time I smashed my cell phone into a million little pieces. I stalked through my condo and loaded up all of the weapons I could find. Cops or those thugs that were tailing me . . . this time I wasn't going to be a sitting duck for whoever decided to come after me.

“A nigga is not going out without a fight. I ain't no punk bitch,” I grumbled. I got up and peeped out of the mini blinds hanging from my bedroom window. I needed nightfall to come so I could get the fuck out of Dodge. But waiting. . . the suspense . . . and counting on it taking a while for the cops to track me down . . . I was tense as shit. I needed to calm down before my nerves sent me bolting out of the front door. If folks saw a crazy-looking nigga running down the street, they'd have the cops giving chase in ten seconds flat. I couldn't let that happen. No way.

I paced over to my bed and lay down. I lit up a blunt to calm my nerves while I figured out an escape plan. As the weed worked its way into my system, I leaned back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I hadn't had this ill feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach since the day I woke up and found my moms murdered in our apartment. When shit got tough for me like it was now, that memory always came crashing back down on me like a brick falling from the sky. Today was no different....

 

 

 

* * *

I jumped up soaked with sweat and with my chest heaving. I guess I had fallen asleep and that memory about the morning I had found my mother murdered had turned into a nightmare. I sat up and swiped my hands over my face. I looked at the cable box, it was almost midnight.

“Damn. I gotta get out of here,” I grumbled. I got up from the bed and walked into the closet. I hoisted the duffel bag I had packed containing the money I stole from Ryan, two guns, and a few pieces of necessary clothing items. I kept my Glock out and shoved it down the back of my pants. I took a deep breath.

“Now or never, nigga. Time to blow this joint for good,” I said out loud. I stepped out of the closet and walked through the bedroom.

BAM! CRASH!

“Oh shit!” I huffed. I heard the thunder of what sounded like a million pairs of feet stampeding in my direction. I dropped my bag and went for my gun. I pulled it out but it was too late.

“Drop that shit!” a voice barked. I was definitely outgunned. I hung my head and let my Glock drop to the floor. Before I could do or say another thing, what seemed like a million dudes put hands on me. I folded to the floor as a storm of punches and kicks rained down on me. They left no part of my body untouched. I quickly realized that this couldn't be the police. I was about to die and there was no escaping it.