Everything Happens for a Reason
“Look, Mr. Big still here,” Pokey said. “Let’s make sure he all
right, let’s roll.” Knock, knock, they tapped on his window, watching as
Mr. Big rolled his window down.
“You all right, Mr. Big?”
“Yeah, son, I’m all right. Just a lil broken up, that’s all.”
“Why you still out here?” they asked.
“To be honest, I was waiting on y’all.”
“For what?”
“Come on, get in, and ride with me.”
“Hold up, I gotta go ask my momma,” Fatboy said, running off.
“Momma, it’s all right if I roll with Mr. Big? He said he’ll bring us home.”
“I guess so, go ’head.”
“All right, Momma. I’ll see you later.”
“Uh-huh,” his momma said, watching him walk back the other way.
“Let’s ride, she said it’s cool.”
“All right, hop in,” Mr. Big said.
“Dang, Pokey, why you always gotta hop in the front seat?”
“’Cause I’m the oldest,” he said, laughing.
As Mr. Big turned on the radio, all you heard was “Life Goes On”
by Tupac blaring from the speakers—Two in the morning and we still high assed
out. The part that caught everyone though and had us remembering we just left a
funeral was when he said, Have a party at my funeral / Let every rapper rock it
/ Let all the hoes that I used to know from way before / Kiss me from my head
to my toe / Give me a paper and pen / So I can write about my life of sin / A
couple bottles of gin in case I don’t get in
“Damn, I can’t believe my momma gone, just like that,” Mr. Big
said. “I gotta find out who gave them crackers the ups on my momma, and when I
do, it’s gonna be a slow death for whoever,” Mr. Big said, looking dead ass for
real, like he could kill at any given moment.
“Mr. Big, where we going? We been riding around now over an hour,”
Pokey said.
“You right,” Pokey said.
“Look, light the joint up,” Mr. Big said. “It will help you learn
some patients,” he said.
“Now you talking,” Fatboy said. “Fire that shit up. I need
something to ease my mind anyways.” As Pokey sparked the bunt, you could smell
the scent of weed all in the car.
“Damn, we got this shit smoked out,” Pokey said, rolling down the
window, watching the smoke slowly disappear right along with the joint. They
pulled up to this big ole house surrounded by trees and different cars parked
everywhere.
“Damn, Mr. Big, you got us way out here in the country. You ain’t
gonna kill us, is you?” Pokey asked, laughing as his two friends started
laughing too.
“Lil nigga, you a trip. This one of my cribs. I use this shit when
I need to get away and just think. Out here it’s quiet as a motherfucker, and
it’s nice so just chill. I ain’t gonna kill you, fools,” he said, breaking a
half smile, still feeling the pain that his momma is gone. “Maybe it’s true,
you lose someone you love, someone else will come,” he was thinking, if looking
at his son.
“Well, what we gonna do, sit in the car all day?” Flick asked.
“Oh, na’ll come on,” Mr. Big said, getting out the car and walking
toward the house with the three boys right behind him, laughing and giggling
from the joint they just smoked.
“Y’all higher than a kite, ’cause y’all laughing y’all ass off,”
Mr. Big said, being met at the door by this fine-ass woman who was thinner than
Buffy.
“Hey, baby, you all right?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m good. I’mma be all right,” Mr. Big said.
“Look, baby, this here is Pokey, and this Fatboy and Flick.”
“How y’all doing?” she asked.
“Fine,” they all said.
“Y’all this my wife Tina.”
“Damn, old school, you married?”
“What I just told you?”
“Shit, I can’t blame him,” Fatboy said, laughing.
“All right, look, y’all make y’all self-comfortable while I go
talk to her. Y’all can just chill out or walk around. I know y’all probably
hungry, so the kitchen is down the hall on the left,” Mr. Big said.
“All right, we got cha,” they said, looking over the place.
“Damn, this shit nice. This nigga got this bitch laid out,” they
said, walking around, touching shit they never seen before.
“This nigga got that paper for real,” Pokey said. As they made
their way into the kitchen, they were startled by a female voice.
“What y’all want? I got y’all, my daddy told me to fix y’all
something to eat if y’all hungry,” the girl said.
“Damn, Mr. Big got a daughter.”
“Yep,” she said, “his only child. But anyways, my name is
Trirena,”
“Oh, mines is Pokey, Fatboy, and Flick.”
“All right, y’all want anything?”
“Yeah, y’all got some pizza?”
“Yeah, I got y’all,” the girl said, digging in the freezer looking
for pizza.
“Damn, this girl fine ass, the woman who answer the door,” Flick
thought. “And she must be sixteen or seventeen,” he was thinking.
“Y’all can put it in the microwave y’all self.”
“All right,” they said, as she walked off, not looking back.
“Shortie cool as fuck, ain’t she?” Flick asked.
“Yeah, she all right,” Fatboy said.
“Man, what y’all think this nigga got planned now?”
“Shit, I don’t know,” Pokey said. “But it’s gotta be good, he done
brought us to where he lay his head.” As the beep sounded to let them know the
pizza was done, they grabbed it and began to eat. About five minutes later,
another older chick walks in with a case in hands. As we watched her set the
case on the counter and opened it, she said, “Hey y’all, my name is Blessing,
and I’m about to bless y’all,” she said, opening the case. “Y’all check this
out,” she said. As we got up and walked over, this lil ass case was loaded with
guns. “Look, Sterling told me to let y’all pick whatever y’all felt comfortable
with.”
“Shit,” Pokey said, as he looked then decided on a chrome .38
special. Fatboy looked around and grabbed a Glock 9 all black, while Flick
grabbed a .22 with a clip.
“Man, that shit weak,” Pokey said.
“Nigga, you tripping. Up close this bitch will fuck you up. I say
up close, ’cause if I ever have to use it, POW, one shot to the head and
he dead. Kill the head, the body dies, right?”
“I’m feeling that dog, here y’all go,” Blessing said, passing each
boy the bullets they would need for the guns they just picked. “All right
y’all, I’m out,” Blessing said, looking like she was thugged out.
“Y’all good?” Mr. Big said, walking in the kitchen.
“Hell yeah!” Pokey said.
“All right then, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“Mr. Big, what’s up with the gats? Why you giving us guns?” Flick
asked.
“Young blood, remember I told you in this game, you never know who
may be plotting to take ya life, so you gotta be ready at all times. This a
dirty game, and I’ve told y’all, in order to reach the top, you gotta be ready
and willing to die to get there,” Mr. Big said, tapping the top of Flick’s
head.
“I hear you,” Flick said. “But where I’mma keep this, and what if
my momma finds its then what?”
“Come on, lil nigga, I know you sharper than a knife, so use ya
head. Hide it somewhere, only you know where it’s at, or just keep it on you
like I do at all times,” Mr. Big said, pulling up his shirt, exposing the gun,
“’Cause you never know when you may need it,” Mr. Big said. “Look, I’mma go
back in the room with wifely. When y’all ready to go, just let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” they said, as Mr. Big walked off. Pokey pulled his gat and
started talking all crazy.
“I wish a bitch would try me, if I don’t put a bullet in his ass.
My daddy ain’t dead.”
“Man, put that shit up, for you shoot a nigga on accidence,”
Fatboy said, watching his friend act a fool. “This nigga gonna be hard to deal
with. They say a gun will make the weakest nigga feel like a killer. I guess
that shit is true,” he was thinking.
“Come on, y’all, let’s walk around this shit some more before we
bounce.”
“Damn, look at this big-ass fish tank. Man, what the fuck is
that?”
“Shit, I don’t know, but it ain’t no fish. This nigga got some
crazy shit in here.”
“Now this what I’m talking about,” Flick said, walking in the game
room, where there was a pool table and all kinds of games. “This nigga got
every game there is.” And they began to play. About two hours later, they were
worn-out, full, and ready to get back to the hood.
“What’s up? Y’all ready to go?” Pokey asked. “Whenever y’all
ready, I’m ready.” While the boys where getting ready to call Mr. Big he was in
the room telling his wife that Pokey was his son from back in the day. But she
knew the minute she saw him, “Shit, they look just alike, if you look hard
enough,” she was thinking.
“Baby, it’s cool. I’m just glad you told me. Now I gotta tell
Trirena she got a brother, she’ll be cool about it. Mr. Big, and why they call
you Mr. Big?” she said, laughing.
“Oh, that’s a name they give me when I first met them.”
“Oh, so you ain’t tell the kid you was his father yet?”
“No, baby, I don’t know how to. I’m trying to catch up on the
years I missed by doing shit for him.”
“Baby, you’ll never catch up for the years you missed. All you can
do now is enjoy the ones that to come.”
“All right, baby, I got you,” Mr. Big said, getting up off the bed
and walking out the room.
“Yo, Mr. Big, we ready to roll.”
“All right, let me put my shoes on, then we out. Y’all got
everything y’all need, right?”
“Yeah, we good. Hey Mr. Big, when you gone bring us out here again
to chill?” Pokey said.
“Any time y’all wanna come, just let me know and I got cha.”
“All right, that’s what’s up,” they said, heading out the door.
Remembering the fire they had tucked in their waist.
“Well, let’s roll.”
As they entered the car, Mr. Big started to tell Pokey he was his
father but changed his mind, just as quick and just got in the car. With
thoughts on his mind, “Is it my fault his mother ain’t tell me I had a son?”
But just as quick he erased the thought, remembering his brother Sico told him
from day one Mrs. Queen was having his baby. So maybe it was his fault he
wasn’t in his son’s life.
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