TYCE (3 page)

"How much you finna’ make in the next two hours?" I questioned.

"Shit, ‘bout three hundred...why?"

"‘Cuz I need you to run this package over to the “
Mosque”
for me, and time is money. I'll give you four hundred if you handle that for me."

He playfully punched me in the chest, "Hell yeah I'll drop that shit off for you!"

I gave instructions, "Look, it needs to be there this morning by ten...ask for Cory, and give it to him. Wait inside for Cory to bring you another package and bring that shit back to me. When you get the package from him, you get paid, but don't forget to bring me my shit."

Flash pulled his jeans up from around his ass and adjusted his wife beater. He snatched his hat down low on his head, college boy style and looked from side to side. Flash was 15, the same age I was when I bounced from the group home. He had a dark baby face with a long scar on the right side of his forehead. The white T-shirt he wore contrasted with his black skin and hugged his broad chest.

"That aint shit man, I got you." He said confidently.

I reached under my seat and handed him a box wrapped in brown paper, “Hit me when you get that, and I'll meet up with you." I looked in his speckled brown eyes, "Don't tell anybody I sent you!"

      "Bet!" He said and dashed off.

Flash made the ten block walk and rounded the corner walking briskly up to the front door of the Mosque. He stepped inside and was immediately met by a tall man in a blue suit. Flash sized the dude up and gripped the package.

"Ay ‘cuz, I'm here to see Cory." He announced.

"Alright young man, just hold here a minute."

The clean cut man stood back and began to search Flash's body for weapons. His body tensed up when the man's hands got close to the gun that was tucked in his back. The man's hands landed on the weapon, and Flash jumped back.

"You can't come in here with that young brother," the security guard told him.

 "I'm going to have to take it for now, but I'll

give it back to you when you leave."

Flash wasn't comfortable with that idea at all, but he trusted Tyce not to send him into some bullshit. He reached behind his back and handed the man the gun. The brother nodded in appreciation and allowed Flash to enter into the next room. He followed closely behind him and motioned to another man sitting in a corner. The man stood up and started to approach the two of them.

“I'm Brother Cory, what can I do for you?" He asked Flash politely.

"Yo, I got this package for you and you only."

Flash handed the beige skinned man the package and waited for his response.

"I see, well feel free to have a seat, and I'll get back with you shortly."

"Naw, I'm good, I'll jus’ stand in the back."

Flash moved to the rear of the room and leaned his back against the wall. Although he wouldn't admit it, he felt safe in the room, even without his gun. He began to relax and his ears tuned in as a young bold man preached to the full audience seated in front of him. Inside the privacy of his office, Cory opened the package. He pulled back the flaps and seen a stack of hundred dollar bills in a rubber band. The box also contained an envelope. Cory

opened the envelope and read the note inside.

Thought you might be able to put this 10,000 to

good use. Keep doin what ya doin'. Watch the dude that brought this to you, if he stays for the entire service...give him 400 dollars. And yo, please put a bean pie in a box, tape it up and give it to him.

      -peace

Cory smiled at the anonymous package. He removed four hundred dollars from the stack and placed the rest of money in an office safe. He buzzed the secretary and informed her they had a donation. Cory let his curiosity take lead as he watched Flash lean against the wall listening intently to the student minister speak.

      I was on my way to Omar's spot two hours later when my cell phone rang. I turned down “
Young Geezy's”
vocals and grabbed the phone.

"What up Flash...you got my shit."

"Nigga you know me, when have I ever slipped up?" He challenged.

"Yeah, you right my nigga that's why I sent you,” I agreed.

“You get ya money?"

"Yeah, good lookin’ out Tyce."

"Yo meet me at Omar's crib so I can get that from you." I told him.

"Bet." He shot back.

I mashed on the gas and sped toward Omar's

house. Man, I hope he hurry up ‘cuz a nigga was

straight starvin'!

Time To Go To Work

    
I pulled in front of Omar's crib and hopped out my jeep. His two huge Dobermans Bonnie and Clyde immediately greeted me. I tussled with them for a minute and walked up to the oversized door. Before I could knock, Omar swung the door open. I lowered my hand and looked at him like he was crazy.

"You alright?" I asked looking him up and down.

"Yeah, I'm straight." He sighed scratching his head. "Come on in, I jus’ heard the dogs barking that's all."

I walked in the living room and sat on the leather sectional. I leaned my head back against the cool leather and closed my eyes. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of high heels clapping on hardwood floors. Omar's most recent girlfriend, Tasha was coming up the hallway. Tasha was a beauty queen; she was all legs and ass. She didn't mind showing off what her momma gave her. She had on jean boy shorts that let the bottom of her ass escape and a tight yellow wife beater with no bra. Her long jet-black hair swooped behind both ears and cascaded down her back, my mouth watered because of the way she was chewing her damn gum.

"O, baby have you seen my yellow earrings?" She sang, "I thought I left them on the coffee table last night."

Omar was in the kitchen grabbing two beers, and didn't see what I saw. Tasha stepped right in my view, turned around and proceeded to bend over to look for her earrings. She did this while keeping her long legs completely straight…..stripper style, less than three feet from my face. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back continuing my train of thought. She strutted off before Omar could witness the flirtation. He walked in and handed me a “
Heineken,”
and a pink box.

"Lil’ Flash left that shit for you earlier."

Just then, the doorbell rang, "Yo that must be Bruce”. He said.

Omar disappeared and returned with Biz's right hand man, Bruce. We exchanged mutual glares as he sat in a chair across from me. He must of thought I was a muthafuckin’ sunset ‘cuz he just stared at me.

"You niggas ready to punch in?" He finally asked.

"We stay ready so we aint gotta get ready." I came back at him.

"Yo, let's go to the pool house, ‘cuz I don't

want Tasha all in my business." Omar ordered.

Once the three of us were behind closed doors, Bruce gave me and Omar the details of the next hit; it was a drop house in Riverside. Some mid level nigga was getting too big down there. His business was beginning to sip profits from Biz's cup, and that shit couldn't happen. Biz stayed on top of the dope game because of us. Me and Omar were the two most efficient jack boys in the dope game. We controlled the competition. We robbed and bodied niggas all over the west coast. Only those niggas that Biz saw as a threat got the pleasure of meeting us. Biz already sent the messenger boys to help this new nigga see the light, but that shit aint work. Bruce informed us that those niggas was three weeks missing, so we were up next. Niggas feared us in the streets, but the trip thing was they didn't even know who we were. Omar and I weren't known in the dope business ‘cuz we never sold the shit. All niggas knew was that Biz had a jackin’ crew that you aint wanna fuck with. It was just me and Omar, ‘cuz we aint trust nobody else. We ran up on niggas while they was fucking bitches, getting high,

playing
“Madden”
, or eating Christmas dinner; we aint give a fuck. This shit wasn't some smash and grab random shit…naw; we studied these niggas. We knew they habits, what they drove, what spots they partied at, what ho's they fucked with, every fucking thing. The split was 70/30 on the cash and Biz kept all the dope we found. We'd offer the niggas a deal but if they wasn't with it...then we’d fill em with some hot shit! Simple.

      I insisted on just getting the loot and leaving the dope to the rest of the niggas. Yeah, some might say I was leaving money in the streets, but fuck what they say. I hate losing and too many niggas was losing in the drug game. Getting locked up, set up, flipping and spitting out names for fake ass detectives. Shit, I made sure my name wasn’t part of a bitch ass plea bargain................I didn’t fuck with them niggas…period.

Look But Don't Touch

      Booom! Booom! Bap Bap Bap Bap!
Me and Omar hit the shooting range at least twice a week. I wasn't with that sideways shooting-hit a nigga four times before you kill him shit. Hell naw two shots, center mass or in the dome! Simple.

"Tyce, how much Biz say them niggas is holdin'!" Omar yelled over the gunfire.

"300,000 at least." I shouted.

Omar stopped shooting and faced me, "You know we could turn 210,000 into a half a mil if we flipped that dope."

"All money aint good money my nigga." I schooled.

"Whatever you say Tyce."

He turned away and kept shooting at the distant target. I made a mental note to talk to him later about his attitude. I was focused in on my target, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around slowly and grinned when I saw Angelique.

"You know you can't shoot Tyce." She teased. “If you want I can show you how it's really done!" I stepped aside and said, "I don't mind a

woman teaching me a thing or two."

She smiled unclipped her “
Gucci”
purse, and pulled her pink pearl handle 9mm out. She opened her stance, squared her shoulders, and squeezed off five perfect headshots.

"Damn, remind me never to piss you off."