Page 38 of On Everything
“You lil niggas don’t think at all. That’s your fuckin’ problem.”
I kicked the chair in front of me to the other side of the room and walked into the kitchen.
“Siri, call Crew.” I stood in the middle of the messy ass kitchen that had cigar guts all over the counter. How these niggas fucked up my spot in a day should be studied. Nasty ass niggas.
The phone rang for a little bit then Crew answered the phone breathing hard in my ear, so I already knew what this nigga was doing.
Fucking some bitch.
“Get off of the hoe and head over to the stash house. We need to move this money somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else for what? Damn baby, slow down, slow, slow. Yeah, like that. Now what, nigga?”
I couldn’t even judge the nigga for getting no pussy when I’d just gotten some head from his sister earlier. I wish I had saved it for now since my pressure is up through the roof. Thismay be one of those nights that I open up a sack of weed and roll a joint for myself. I didn’t smoke every day, hated the taste it left in my mouth. But when I’m stressing, I’ll take a blunt to the head. I don’t judge or see nothing wrong with people who do it every day, I’m just not one of them. My favorite stress reliever is actually pussy. Nice warm juicy pussy to take the edge off a bad day.
“We can take it all to my crib until I get another spot to move it to. We also going to have to find some niggas who really about their money because these little niggas I had here all fired and they better be glad that I don’t kill they young asses.”
“Alright, man, give me like thirty minutes and I’ll be there.”
“Bet.”
When the phone disconnected, I watched over them cleaning the entire place up before I threw them out of here like Jazz on The Fresh Prince. Tony’s little ass flew the furthest.
I locked the door and then looked outside the window, spotting Tony and the rest of them dummies now arguing on the sidewalk.
It sounded like they were blaming each other for getting kicked out of the organization before they really even got in. I gave them a simple job of guarding my money and making sure my tellers didn’t take none of my shit, but they were too busy worried about pussy and having fun. Immature niggas didn’t know how to separate business from muthafucking pleasure and that’s the first thing you learn when trying to be a boss.
I’d learned when me and Cashmier started seeing each other that it is hard to mix both, but not impossible. When we first started off, she was only requiring me to come home every night by midnight, and Wednesdays were all hers. At first, it was cool. I used to be happy to take a full day off and lay up underher ass all day. We would watch movies and shit, order takeout, and have sex every other hour because we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. I think that caused burn out, because over the course of a year, the shit started to get old to me and her superficial ass conversations about new purses and shit I just wasn’t interested in. I fell out of love with my first love simply because I was around her too much.
Once Crew showed up at the trap about forty minutes later, he called up Scotty, our Dominican homie, who was my translator whenever I did business with the plugs. He was an army brat, so this nigga knew three different languages. The most I could speak is broken Spanish. My grandma tried teaching me Spanish back in the day, but my pops said he didn’t want his son talking in any languages that he couldn’t understand. He could be close-minded sometimes. That was the one major flaw he had. I like to think had he not been close-minded, then he would’ve gone to the doctor when his chest first started to hurt, and Grandma told him something was wrong. That shit taught me for sure to never not listen when my body is trying to tell me something. I go to my physician every six months to stay on top of things. My father died at a young age, and it wasn't by the gun. I don't want the same fate for me.
“So, what are we here for?”
Scotty asked, with an eagerness to work. That's why I appreciated him. Rain sleet or snow couldn't keep him from coming through when I need him.
“I need you to watch over the stash house for a minute. The location been compromised so until I find a new one, we exposed.”
“Damn, boss man, I’m getting downgraded to watch boy now?”
“Just for a few nights. Well, until we find someone who we can trust over the money before it ships out to be clean. Niggas get up in here and think it’s a resort. I know you not going to treat it as such. One of you is probably better than three of them.”
“That’s understood, my guy. You know I got you. I took ecstasy this morning, so I know I’m up for the rest of the night.”
“Alright, a few runners should be dropping off bags in the morning. Heaven and Franky will be here soon after to count it. But in the mean time I'll be looking for a new spot. Me and Crew going to take some of the money stashed with us, just to make sure all our ducks not in one basket.”
“Okay, understood.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem. You know it’s always whatever you need, Hov.”
After getting him set up in the trap, me and Crew both left with about five hundred thousand in cash, but there was at least five hundred grand still inside the trap waiting to be transported.
When I got to my penthouse, I checked my surroundings before hopping out of the car and moving the cash inside. Me and Crew loaded up the elevator and then rode up to the top floor. My phone rang just as the elevator door opened. It was Cashmier calling again and I put my phone in my pocket because I’m about to deal with her soon enough. We hit a couple of hallways, and when I got to the hallway my penthouse sat on, I noticed my front door was wide fucking open.
“Yo, what the fuck this shit about?”
Crew noticed what I saw too and me and him ran down to my spot. I could tell that the door had been kicked in because the hinges were hanging on by a thread.
