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It Is What It Is. Montez Jordan
Читать онлайн.Название It Is What It Is
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781456605094
Автор произведения Montez Jordan
Жанр Современная зарубежная литература
Издательство Ingram
Little did she know at the time, but Sheila was pregnant. By the time she found out, she was too far along to get an abortion. And to make matters worse, T denied the baby and refused to see her. That crushed her spirit — bringing a fourth child into the world without a father was the last thing Sheila wanted to do. She became extremely depressed.
Cho didn’t want to be with Sheila but he didn’t like seeing her feeling like that, either. He tried to comfort her and support her through her pregnancy. He made an extra effort to take on the responsibilities that T was neglecting and her other babies’ fathers were unable to carry out. He promised Sheila that she would never have to depend on another nigga for shit as long as he was breathing. Cho saw himself stepping up as a true friend, but Sheila took it as more. She already wanted Cho. She disregarded his actual intentions to twist his actions and words into her own little façade. In her world, her children had a father and her fantasy family was complete.
• • // • •
Sheila hadn’t fucked in God knew how long and she hoped Cho would give her some sex this particular morning. “Girl get your ass up and get them kids together! Its 6:40 already,” Cho exclaimed as he smacked her on her butt. Damn, she looks phat this morning, he thought.
“Alright nigga! But why don’t you come here first?”
As much as he wanted to, he knew he had to get back out to the block. “Not right now,” he replied. “I’m by myself right now and you need to get them kids together before they’re late.”
“They won’t be late plus I know you want some,” she said as she cocked her legs open and began to play with herself. “I’m horny and wet as shit. Look!” She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and rubbed them together in his face. They were dripping wet.
You stay wet, he thought. He did want some, but there were more important things at hand. He walked away and looked out the window. He noticed a lot of cars had pulled up and were waiting on him.
“I don’t know why you don’t get your workers up early and let them do that shit. You know damn well you’re not supposed to be out there doing that shit yourself,” she grumbled as she pulled a satin robe closed around her. “What do you pay them for if you’re going to do all the work yourself?”
Sheila was right and Cho knew it, but he always wanted to give the lil’ niggas a break. Plus, there was just something that he loved about the early morning. It was calm and beautiful—not to mention prosperous. And he liked the rush of being in the mix. It showed everybody on the team that he wasn’t too good to do that shit himself.
He turned and watched Sheila switch out of the room, butt cheeks shaking with every step. Then he looked back out the window. More cars were pulling up. He knew that they wouldn’t leave, but he also knew they had to get to work and he didn’t want to make them late.
He gathered his thoughts, walked out of her bedroom and down the steps. “After I get them niggas up, I’ll be back!” he yelled as he stepped out of the house. She smiled and went on to get her kids ready for school.
• • // • •
Cho walked around the block to observe his surroundings. He wanted to make sure no law was undercover, in covert or playing bent. Plus he didn’t want his customers to see where he was coming from.
Once he saw that the coast was clear, he went back to the stoop in the middle of the block where most of his business was conducted. He signaled those waiting to come in the hole. They knew the routine. They approached in a single-file line, mumbling orders like “give me four,” “can I get five,” “11 for 100” and “three.”
After serving all the fiends, Cho went to get Scrappy and the rest of the squad. Scrappy was Cho’s lieutenant and had worked for him since he was 11 years old. He handled the day-to-day business on the block and was in charge in Cho’s absence.
Sheila was right—he didn’t belong out there. He had put in his work over the years. It was time for him to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his labor while the little niggas earned their stripes. Besides, the block generated nearly $30,000 every day. It didn’t make sense for him to get knocked off for hitting. That was just fucking stupid.
Radi never hit. Shit, Radi never did too much of anything. His sister Netty distributed the packs to all of there blocks. He allowed his workers to do everything else. Once he taught them what and what not to do, the dope practically sold itself. All he had to do was pick up the money. He ran two spots that together brought in $25,000 every day more or less, depending on the time of month.
Swervo’s younger brother, Pimp, was the same way. Two months after Swervo had been murdered, he picked up the slack. He had been one of Swervo’s lieutenants so he was already pretty much running shit. He kept everything the same as his brother had had it, but he gave the workers an increase in pay to maintain their love and loyalty. Pimp ran three different dope shops, and together they brought in $40,000 on a daily basis.
Cho’s main focus was the block where they grew up, but he had two shops in East Baltimore. One was down the hill doing about $10,000 a day. His little cousin Chico operated it. The other had just opened up and his older cousin Randy ran that. Randy had only been out for a week so his numbers weren’t established yet.
Cho and Radi split everything down the middle. It didn’t matter whose shops made the most: they were in it together. They allowed Pimp to run his brother’s territory but he was not a partner. It was too soon and he wasn’t ready yet. They felt that he was too much of a hot head and not at all mature enough to be on their level. He was cool with his cut and didn’t have any complaints. They had been homeboys all their lives, but business was business. They accumulated a lot of cash every day and wanted to keep it that way.
Cho went to Scrappy’s house and banged on the door. After a couple of minutes Sambo, one of his workers, answered the door.
“Wake up nigga!” Cho said as he walked past Sambo. “You still got cold in your eyes. Go wash your face!”
Sambo stretched and took a deep breath. Cho frowned. The scent of alcohol, weed, funky niggas and Sambo’s breath attacked his nostrils. His whole crew was there. They were laid out every which way all across Scrappy’s living room.
“It stink in here. I gotta get the fuck outta here!” He turned and walked backed to the door. “Sambo, get these niggas up and come the fuck on! Y’all got 20 minutes. Hurry the fuck up!” Sambo shook his head as Cho slammed the door shut.
It took them about a half an hour to get themselves together and make it to the hole. Everyone was up and lively, joking about the night before. Cho was sitting on the stoop tapping his foot. They had taken too long and he couldn’t wait to let them have it.
“A yo, you lor niggas gonna start getting da fuck up inna mornin!” Cho warned his crew. “I’m not doin’ this shit no more. I been spoilin’ you niggas for too long. From now on, Scrap,” he said to the skinny one in the middle, “you can’t be so fuckin’ lazy! You’re in charge so you have to make sure the rest of these niggas on top they shit.”
Scrappy looked around. “Man, I can’t get these niggas up at no 5 inna morning. Dat’s early as shit!”
“I be just getting in the house at 5,” Rocko added.
“Why we can’t come out 9?” Sambo suggested.
‘Cause by 9 we would’ve made at least eight grand, Cho thought. “Because we would miss out on a lotta dough cheese,” he answered. He never really discussed how much they made every day. It was none of their business. He paid them very well and made sure they didn’t blow all their money.
“Look, I haven’t