“Before I got get Cam,” one of the bitches tried to be funny, and she made sure to say it when she was on the other side, nowhere close to me, so that I wouldn’t reach out, and tackle her ass. I loved a good joke myself, so when she said it, I even laughed.
“If you know her, please go get her. Maybe she can help your girl out the next time, especially since the other two bitches that was in the restroom with her the last time wasn’t much help,” I responded back.
Them bitches thought that they could walk by, crack a joke, and that I wasn’t going to say anything. They obviously didn’t know that I was the kind of bitch to take shit to the pits of hell. I’ve calmed down a lot, but I don’t think that I would ever reach that level of maturity where I didn’t get a word in.
“We not doing this. Let’s go,” Marissa was the smart one out of the crew to say.
She could barely keep her eyes on me. Crazy how all you really had to do was beat a bitch ass one time, and she wouldn’t try you again. Before the ass whipping, I remember her being in the restroom calling me all kinds of bitches, and hoes. I mean,talking big shit. She wasn’t doing any of that now. They made their way out of the restaurant, without saying shit else to me.
“Ain’t no way your little ass got that big ass girl scared. All she gotta do is mush your short ass,” Dolo cracked.
“She tried that, and it didn’t work,” I sassed, getting in his face. His crazy ass kissed me on my lips when I did that.
“Aight gangsta,” he responded, right before he flagged the waitress down, so that he could order dessert.
I was just glad that nothing escalated from there. I was happy to have a night out with my man, and it didn’t have to be a war. I was able to be a lady tonight, and didn’t have to jump across a table, and beat bitches ass, so I guess you can say that our date night was a success.
Chapter 15
Elijah Montclair
“Ya’ll niggas got me out of my bed on a Sunday morning, for what? This better be some good news. Niggas popping up on me early in the morning like this, so I hope it’s some money on the line. Ya’ll got some money for me?” my dad talked shit, as he made his way into the living room area, where I was sitting with my twin brother Elias to the right of me.
Our pops name was Everett. An old school hustler. He came from old drug money because his pops, and his grandfather used to hustle as well. The Montclair drug business was generational. Something that has been taking place since the 40’s. They’ve made a name for themselves over the years, and we had the hottest spots in Miami where we moved our weight. It was the thing to do as a Montclair man to put your work in with the drug game, have sons, train them up, so that you could pass the thorn over to them. My pops molded my brother and I since we were little niggas because he said that he knew from the moment that him, and our mom were told that they were having twin boys, that we were going to follow in his footsteps with the drug business.
That mindset is what caused my parents to divorce. It was a nasty divorce too because my mama wanted to file for full custody of us. Although our pops sold dope, he also knew how to clean his money up, so coming in court, he portrayed himself as this successful, legitimate businessman, that had more than enough money to take care of his children. My parents ended up with joint custody, so growing up, we would spend half of our time with our mom, and then the other half with our dad.
When we went with our mom, it was love, and nurturing. When we went with our father, it was business almost. We knew he loved us, but he would show us tough love. He didn’t want us growing up being soft. He turned my brother and I into real men, handed us the key to the streets when we turned twenty, and we’ve been running shit since then.
I’m not going to sit here, and act like he gave us the key to the city, and we did a perfect job running it. Nah. We’ve fucked up along the way. In fact, we were already on thin ice with my pops. He felt like this was the most fuck ups that the Montclair organization has ever had, and he just told us the other month that if he didn’t see any progress in us, that he was going to shut the entire organization down if we didn’t get it together. He felt like me, and Elias were playing with what the Montclair men had built before us.
He felt like we just weren’t running the organization in the same manner that the men before us ran it. Niggas went around Miami making jokes about our product, saying that our shit was weak. They claimed that it wasn’t what it used to be back in the days. He told us that before he allowed us to run this shit into the ground, he’ll shut the entire organization down.
As much as I didn’t want to pull up on him right now, and share this fucked up news with him, we had to. Something like this has never happened before, so Elias, and I felt stuck. Niggas came and took our fuckin product. Without product, we couldn’tmove weight. We couldn’t pay our supplier. That was a gamble with our lives, and me and my brother weren’t ready to die.
“Why this the kind of shit that you gotta be on with us, pops? Damn, we can’t just come over and talk to you? Why it gotta be about money all the time with you?” Elias was the one to respond back to our pops.
“Nigga, quit it with that motha fuckin whining. Sitting there sounding like a little bitch. I blame ya’ll mama for that shit. She wanted to make ya’ll soft, but I did everything in my power to make sure that ya’ll didn’t go that route. What’s going on? What ya’ll want to talk to me about? How’s business doing?” he shot.
This was just this man’s personality. He couldn’t help but to be tough all the time. I don’t think my pops ever hugged me or my brother. His version of showing us love or affection was knocking us in our chest, telling us to keep it up. He wasn’t going to pull us in for a fatherly hug and let us know that he loved us. Like I said, we got that love from our mom, not him.
He stood there, looking like he could be our triplet. In his late fifties, but the nigga looked good. He was in the gym heavy, and it showed as he sat on the arm of the couch shirtless, with just his pajama pants on. His muscles were huge. He had a bald head, and I swear his head even had muscles in it.
I knew that he wasn’t going to like this conversation. No lie, I was scared. He just might find a belt and try to beat us with it. Better yet, this nigga might get a gun and try to kill us. This was the worst news that we’ve ever had to bring to the table.
I turned my head to look at my brother, and he sat his goofy ass there, scratching his head, and I knew that meant that he wanted me to tell it. I made a whole fuckin plan with him on the ride over, telling him that he would start it out, and I would jump in. I guess he changed his mind, so here I was, prepared to tell this man the worst news.
“We had a drop last Thursday. Big drop. Probably one of the biggest drops that we’ve had in months. Me, and Elias were looking forward to this drop because we lost a lot of our corner boys, so we figured with this re-up, we could get new niggas in and wouldn’t have to worry about the ones that we lost. Pops, only like two minutes into the drop, a van swarmed in, niggas came running through the yard, busting their guns. They stole our shit, and killed our men?—”
“What? Motha fucka, what?” he barked, quickly getting up from where he was seated, and he walked over to both Elias and I.
He stood right in front of us, and I knew that the moment I finished with the story, he was going to nut up on us.
“They took our shit, man! Killed our men too!” I repeated that shit, and I promise I saw steam coming from out of his head.
This nigga drew his fist back, and he punched the shit out of me. Knocked me right in my left eye, immediately making my vision get blurry. Elias tried to back up on the couch, but our pops swung, knocking that nigga in his eye too.
“Niggas came to the drop, killed your men, and took your product is crazy. That’s the equivalent of letting a nigga strip you of your clothes, bend you over, and fuck you! Them niggas came in and treated you like two hoes! Who the fuck did this shit? They still alive to talk about it? Please tell me that you two dumb motha fuckas aired that shit out!” he roared.