What's Really Hood!: A Collection of Tales From the Streets (21 page)

The conversation continued a little while longer until Tiffany excused herself. She had a job to get to. They agreed that
he would call her sometime around eleven-thirty that night and they would hook up. Before leaving she gave him a hug and planted
a kiss on his cheek.

After watching Tiffany retrieve her son from the pool and leave out of the complex, Jihad proceeded to the crib to see what
had happened to Crook. However, when he got there, Crook was nowhere to be found. With nothing better to do, Jihad jumped
in the shower and went to lie down.

It was a few hours before he finally opened his eyes and when he did, Crook was standing over him.

“What the fuck you doing?” asked Jihad.

“Waking your ass up,” replied Crook, laughing. “You ain’t even get the pussy and she put you to sleep.”

“Fuck you!” replied Jihad, laughing. Then he asked, “Where you been?”

“Unlike you,” Crook said, “I was in some pussy.”

Jihad just laughed as the two began to discuss their day. After they were through and Jihad had told Crook about Tiffany,
Crook looked at Jihad seriously and said, “Yo, dawg, she ain’t Monique so don’t go falling in love.”

Jihad blew the comment off but Crook knew better. You could look in Jihad’s eyes and see the pain. There were so many nights
that he had wanted to call, to run to her even, but in the end he knew it wasn’t possible. This was his life now and Jihad
had to make the best of it. Crook didn’t want to see his friend get caught up trying to fill the void in his life that losing
Monique had created. He knew in the end it could only bring about trouble.

A
s the months passed by, Jihad and Crook began to relax and returned to the game. They weren’t playing all out, but they were
eating a slice of the pie.

Kileen, Texas, was a military town, sitting right next to Fort Hood army base. One night while ballin’ out in City Lights
nightclub, Jihad got to talking to a few soldiers who after a few drinks got loose with the tongue. They liked to get high.
But finding good blow wasn’t easy. “I’d pay whatever for some good shit,” stated one brother, causing the rest of them to
agree.

After leaving the club that night, Jihad sat Crook down and after some planning they decided to try their hand. Jihad had
a connect in Houston, via Tiffany. He had met her cousin Dom at a cookout a month prior and at that time Dom had passed Jihad
his number… just in case.

After a few phone calls it was settled and the next day Jihad was driving down Interstate 35 South en route to Houston.

Jihad hated driving. If he got pulled over there was no way his ID could stand a check. That would prove fatal to either him
or the cop.

Once in Houston, Jihad followed the directions southeast. He was to meet Dom at Sharpstown Mall. When he arrived, Dom was
waiting and after some small talk they were en route to Dom’s crib.

The drive took only a few minutes. They pulled into a nice gated community. After getting out of the car, Jihad followed Dom
into his town house and got down to business.

After all was said and done Jihad got what he came for, four kilos. Knowing they might have to sit on the work for a minute
until shit got poppin’, he and Crook had reasoned that sitting on it would be better than driving back and forth on the Interstate.
Prices were damn near half of what they had paid at home. It made perfect sense. As a matter a fact, during the drive home
Jihad wondered why he hadn’t copped more. At $12,500 a bird, he could have copped at least eight of them.
Fuck it!
he thought.
There’s always next time
.

After he arrived safely at the crib, Jihad and Crook put everything up and left the house, going separate ways.

The plan was that Crook would talk to his cousin Chris and Jihad would discuss the work with a young brother named Sweets,
who was messing with Tiffany’s girl.

Over the past few months, Jihad and Tiffany had become somewhat serious but Jihad still couldn’t get over Monique. Tiffany
would get on his nerves by pestering him about quality time. However, she helped to pass the time and dull the ache of losing
Monique.

In the end, everything came together. Chris and Sweets agreed to step the game up and copped only from Jihad and Crook. In
return, they were blessed with the sweetest prices they could find without having to make a trip. Crook and Jihad were only
making about six thousand dollar profit off each brick. It enabled them to live comfortably and not hit their nest egg.

For three months everything went well. Money came regularly and Crook and Jihad were able to establish a limited social life.
Jihad spent most of his time with Tiffany, and Crook with his cousin Chris, but they never strayed far from one another. They
were together every day and this morning was no different as Crook swung past Tiffany’s house to get Jihad since his car was
in the shop. After eating breakfast they decided to get an early start on their day, pulling into the Winn-Dixie supermarket
to grab a case of Heineken. As he got to the register, Jihad realized he didn’t have his ID. “Shit,” he mumbled under his
breath. He asked the clerk to hold the case while he ran to the car. Outside he told Crook to grab the beer while he searched
the car.

By the time Crook returned, Jihad still hadn’t found it. He picked up the phone to call Tiff.

“Hello,” Tiffany said as she answered on the third ring.

“Tiff, did I leave my ID there?” questioned Jihad.

“Yeah, I got it. But I’m about to leave for work,” she said.

“Leave it in the mailbox or with your brother. I’m on my way,” said Jihad.

“Boy, if I leave that shit, I won’t see your ass for another three days. At least now I know I’ll see you later.”

“Look, Tiff, I need my ID. I’m on my way,” he said, getting irritated with her games. She didn’t know that he was on the run.
Therefore, she didn’t understand how important it was.

“You’ll get it later. I get off at eight o’clock tonight. See you then!” she said, ready to hang up the phone, but was stopped
short by Jihad’s anger.

“Bitch. I’m coming to get my ID now and if you keep playing with me I’m gonna fuck your ass up!”

Tiffany was about to snap, but instead all she heard was dial tone. Jihad had already hung up. “Who the fuck does that nigga
think I am!” she snapped as she went to get her brother.

By the time Jihad and Crook pulled up to the house, Jihad was steaming. Crook tried to calm him down, but he wasn’t trying
to hear it.

Walking up the path to the house, Jihad saw the door begin to open as Tiffany’s brother appeared in the doorway. “Nigga, what
the fuck…” His words were cut short as Jihad pulled the nine-millimeter Beretta from his waistband, grabbed him by his shirt
and jammed the barrel in his mouth, knocking out some teeth in the process.

“You think this is a motherfuckin’ game!” screamed Jihad as Tiffany came out of the kitchen, horrified at the drama erupting.

Seeing Tiffany only escalated Jihad’s anger. He withdrew
the pistol from Smitty’s mouth, bringing the cold steel crashing down on his head.

As Smitty fell, Crook ran around Jihad and began to stomp the shit out of him. Jihad walked toward Tiffany saying, “Where’s
my shit?”

“I ain’t giving you shit, motherfucker!” she hollered. “Get out my house!”

Unable to control his anger, Jihad reached out and snatched her by the throat. He heard her son screaming, but he didn’t relent.
She tried to back away and fight for air, but her attempts were futile as he backed her up against the wall and tried to choke
the life out of her.

Jihad didn’t realize Tiffany’s supply of oxygen was running out as her dark complexion turned purple and she went limp and
slid down the wall. Finally letting go, Jihad stepped back and watched as her seven-year-old son ran to her, trying to revive
her while crying hysterically.

Jihad had thought she was dead. He raised the pistol to eliminate any potential witnesses. And was surprised to hear Tiffany
gasp for air and begin to vomit.

Her son clung to her as she looked up into Jihad’s eyes. She had seriously misjudged him as being just another hustler with
a few dollars. Seeing the rage in his eyes she knew she had fucked up. He was a stone-cold killer.

Tiffany struggled to her feet and reached into her pocket, saying, “Here’s your ID. Now get the fuck out!”

He reached for his property and he and Crook walked away from the house. Once they were gone, Tiffany
ran to her brother. He lay there in a puddle of blood, unconscious but breathing. Through tear-streaked eyes she dialed 911
and let them know her brother had been beaten, then hollered out after Jihad and Crook, “You niggas is going to jail!”

B
eing involved with Tiffany had made Jihad take certain precautions. They had rented another apartment. You always had to have
a backup.

When things began to get somewhat serious between Jihad and Tiffany, Crook had warned his friend, but Jihad wasn’t trying
to hear him. It wasn’t that he loved Tiffany. She was just convenient. “It ain’t like you think,” Jihad had told Crook. “I’m
just having some fun.”

“What did I tell you?” shouted Crook. “Leave the bitch alone. But you had to be hardheaded.”

“Man, fuck that!” retorted Jihad. “That bitch served her purpose and now it’s over.”

“That bitch is also gonna call the police,” stated Crook, trying to control his temper.

“And tell them what?” asked Jihad. “That some brother named Tony Spears fucked up her brother? She don’t even know my name
and don’t have no pictures of me. The most she can tell them is the type of car I drive and there’s a hundred other people
driving the same shit. Like I said, that bitch served her purpose. I got almost
forty grand out her girl’s man so now she can kiss my ass.”

“Dawg, you’re not looking at the big picture! We’re on the run. And now we’re down here running again. This shit got to stop.”

As Crook continued to berate him, Jihad listened. Crook was right and Jihad knew it. He had a habit of overreacting and given
their situation he was gonna have to chill. He was also gonna have to lay low for a minute. He wasn’t trying to get sucked
up behind some stupid shit.

After about ten minutes of driving Jihad’s cell went off and the caller ID showed a number he didn’t recognize, but he answered
it anyway. “Hello.”

“Is this Tony Spears?” asked the caller on the other end.

Hearing his alias made Jihad laugh as he asked, “Who’s this?”

“This is Officer Wilson from the Kileen Police Department. I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t got shit to say to you,” laughed Jihad.

“I think you do, son. You beat Smitty Montgomery up pretty bad and his sister called the police. She also said you probably
got a gun and some drugs on you.”

“Fuck you, pig. You want me? Come and get me!” laughed Jihad as he hung up the phone and stared at Crook.

“I know that wasn’t the police?” asked Crook, looking at Jihad in disbelief.

“Yeah, but fuck ’em!” replied Jihad. “I’m just gonna lay back for a minute. Just get me to the crib. We can send your cousin
to the other spot to grab the rest of our shit.”

Crook couldn’t believe the shit Jihad got him into sometimes. He looked at Jihad and laughed, saying, “You know your ass is
going to Hell, right?”

“Probably!” mumbled Jihad as they pulled up to the apartment they used as a stash spot.

The two friends sat back for a minute. Eventually Crook broke the silence when he asked, “So what now?”

“I really don’t know,” answered Jihad. “But we’ll figure it out. One thing is for sure. We just lost our connect.”

As the conversation continued it was decided that they needed a break anyway. They still had plenty of paper. Losing the connect
didn’t mean much. Once Chris went through the last two and a half kilos they could take some time off, letting things cool
down a bit.

With that out of the way, the topic of conversation changed and instead of their predicament their thoughts shifted to home
as Crook asked, “I wonder how Teku and Tree is?”

“Man!” said Jihad. “I think about the twins all the time. Those is some crazy muhfuckers, running up in the police station
for our ass.”

“That’s something I definitely won’t forget,” remarked Crook as he sat back laughing.

“You know, dawg, I wish I would have never pulled that trigger at the car wash that day. I really fucked up!”

“Ain’t shit we can do now, homie. Just pray for the best,” replied Crook.

“I feel you, dawg. It’s just… we lost everything. The crew, property, our family, Monique.”

At the sound of Monique’s name, Crook became silent. He knew that without her Jihad could never be truly happy and he wanted
to somehow help his friend.

“Why don’t you call and check on her?”

“I can’t call her! You know the Feds probably got her shit tapped,” Jihad replied in exasperation.

“Don’t call her, then. Call Love! While you’re at it, check on the twins.”

As Jihad thought about it, he knew he would be taking a chance. But after weighing the pros and cons he decided to give it
a try.

It had been almost a year, so when Jihad punched in Love’s cell phone number and she answered, it kinda threw him off as he
uneasily said, “Hey, babygirl, you miss me?”

“Holy shit!” cried out Love. “What you doing?”

“Checking on the hood, I guess,” replied Jihad.

“Boy, shit is real fucked up!” she stated and she began to fill Jihad in on all the drama. As she spoke his heart sank and
his stomach turned. Teku, Tree and sixty-three other brothers from the hood had been indicted for RICO violations. “After
that police station shit the Feds tore this muhfucker up. They still lookin’ for y’all’s ass! I seen y’all on Crime Stoppers
the other day.”

Jihad couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The
empire they had created had crumbled and now everyone he loved was jammed up. However, he couldn’t possibly be prepared for
what was about to come as Love challenged him, “And guess who is telling on everyone?” she asked.