Chapter 17 ( Gabos )

Stopping up Our Game Three Months Later

“Damn, we got shit on smash with the three keys ya uncle gave you and Shine and Boo Boo out the way, we been seeing major paper. It’s a good thing Mr. Big gave us a chance to show him we can handle shit on our own,” Flick said.

“Yeah, but we can’t forget the first two months was pure hell. So I guess it’s true, at the end of every rainbow it’s a pot of gold,” Fatboy said, looking over at the bundles of money they made in the last three months.

“The sad thing is Mr. Big said this it’s he done lost too many friends and family members behind this game. Not that we mad, ’cause we ain’t. We still got enough money to cope our own shit and keep business booming. It just won’t be as cheap-ass Mr. Big shit, that’s all,” Pokey said. “So look, we can’t be mad. He said as long as we can keep the lil rent up, we can use the lil building all we want.”

“Dog, remember when I went to court for the gun charge and said if we ever make enough money to do the shit we want, we would give the game up?” Fatboy was telling Pokey.

“Yeah, I remember that bullshit,” Pokey said, “but that’s before we started making all this money. It’s too late to quit now, people depending on us.” Pokey said. “We done came too far to turn back now. Just look around, you got all the clothes, shoes you want. You got your own ride sitting on dubs. You getting ya momma a house build out in the country. What else could you want, nigga?” Pokey said,

“A normal life, nigga, that’s what. A nigga get tired of looking over their shoulder every day, worrying about the police, the boys, and whoever else may be plotting on a nigga.”

“Nigga, fuck the police, the kack boys, and whoever else think they gonna take a nigga shit. I’ll die before that happens,” Pokey said, becoming angry.

“Look, dog, we are living good, but that shit don’t last forever. Y’all know the saying us niggas die of three ways. We either get shot, die in prison, or die from AIDS. And I ain’t trying to go out either way,” Flick said.

“So what y’all saying,” Pokey asked, “this it, this where y’all niggas get off the train?” Pokey said, pacing back and forth, looking at his two so-called friends.

“Man, we ain’t saying shit. All we saying is let’s get out while we still can.”

“No!” Pokey screamed. “You niggas know the rules, GABOS. We in this shit till the end,” Pokey said, with tears in his eyes.

“Man, you tripping,” Fatboy said. “What else can we do?” Fatboy said, looking his dog dead in the eyes.

“Man, we can become the most feared niggas in this city,” Pokey said.

“Or the most dead,” Fatboy said.

“Pokey, do you honestly believe it’s better to be feared than love?” Flick asked his friends, who just look at him like he was crazy.

“Look, Pok. Fuck it, I’mma ride with you to the end. No matter what,” Fatboy said.

“I just hope you see the light before it’s too late.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Pokey said, embracing his dog. “I thought you was getting soft on a nigga,” Pokey said. “What about you, Flick?”

“Shit, if Fatboy still in, I’m in,” Flick said. “Boy, peer pressure is a motherfucker,” Flick was thinking. “Look, y’all know since we cope our rides, I’ve been going to see my shortie on the low-low, and I was gonna tell y’all the night Pokey took me to see my shortie. But I forgot you talking ’bout the same night I went and saw Rosie,” Flick said.

“Yeah, dog, that night. Well, look, my girl Shakia told me she was pregnant, and having a nigga shortie. She’s three and a half months or four now. The baby is a girl, we already got a name.”

“What is it?” Flick asked.

“Tykia,” Fatboy said, smiling.

“Tykia, Tykia. What kind of name is that?” Flick asked.

“Nigga, it’s a name.”

“But congratulations, nigga. Nigga, this should be the main reason you wanna stay in the game. So you can give ya daughter all we never had,” Pokey said.

“Yeah, I’m feeling that. I just don’t wanna end up missing out on my first child’s life, that’s all,” Fatboy said. “But I’m in.”

“So I’m the god daddy, right?” Pokey said.

“Yeah, man. Y’all both the god daddy. So pay up that cash,” Fatboy said, “the baby needs Pampers.”

“Nigga, the baby ain’t here yet.”

“Stupid, it’s better to be sorry than late,” he said, laughing.

“All right, man. Let’s do this. We ’bout out of everything, so I’mma get into contact with my Uncle Sico and see what he can do.”

“All right, dog. Do that,” Fatboy said.

“I guess we ain’t gonna stop making money, until these crackers run outta trees!” they said, laughing. As Pokey made his way to call his Uncle Sico, “Hey y’all, go ’head and do y’all while I holla at this nigga right quick,” Pokey said, picking up the phone. Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey y’all, cover that money up right quick,” Pokey said, while talking to his uncle. “You never know who that is,” Pokey screamed.

As Flick went to look out the window to see who that was, the door came crashing in with three niggas in masks yelling, “Nobody move, nobody get hurt!”

“Damn, we got caught slipping,” Fatboy said, trying to make a slight move for his piece. But before he could, the tallest of the three masked men put a gun to his face and said, “Nigga, don’t be motherfucking superhero, unless you ready to meet the maker,” he said, pushing the gun in his face. As he snatched the gun from Fatboy’s hip, “Let me get this, you won’t need it no time soon,” the nigga said and smiled.

“Yo, dog, what you want me to do with this nigga on the phone?”

“Nigga, what you think?” the fat kid said. “Make the nigga get off that bitch.”

“The easy way or the hard way? Nigga, hang the motherfucking phone up,” the masked man said. As Pokey kept right on talking, the nigga hit him dead in the head with the gun. “Nigga, you think I’m playing? Hang that motherfucker up, or next time it’s gonna be the bullet that hits you in the head.”

“Pokey, hang the shit up!” Flick said, worried ’bout his friend, as he saw the blood gushing out his head. Pokey looked at Flick and hung the phone up.

“Now check that nigga for a piece, and that one too,” the fat nigga said, pointing at Flick. As the masked man searched them both, they found a piece on Flick but none on Pokey.

“All right, dog, find something to tie this niggaz up right quick. And hurry up ’cause you never know who the nigga was talking to over the phone, so we gotta move quick.” As one goon ran in the room, he came back ripping up a sheet. With the ripped-up sheets, they tied Pokey, Fatboy, and Flick to three chairs.

“Now listen, we can do this one or two ways. The easy way is y’all tell us where all the money is, and we out. Nobody gets hurt. If you don’t, we kill all y’all, and tear this bitch up till we find the money,” the masked man yelled.

“Nigga, fuck you,” Pokey said, spitting blood and spit at the nigga who made the threat. “Do what you gotta do, but we ain’t telling you shit,” Pokey said in pain, wondering how them nigga couldn’t see all the fucking money covered up under a blanket ’cause they didn’t have time to put it in the stash spot.

“Look, let’s talk to these nigga before we kill this stupid-ass nigga. Man, I’m pretty sure y’all love ya lil friend over there, but if y’all wanna see him alive, y’all better start talking.”

“Nigga, fuck y’all,” Fatboy and Flick said. They already knew they would make it outta this alive. “’Cause if these niggas came to kill, we would’ve been dead,” they were thinking.

“Do what y’all gotta do,” Fatboy said.

“Is that so?” the fat kid said, taking his fire and putting it to Pokey’s head. “Y’all think this is a motherfucking game, huh? That’s what y’all think,” the fat kid said, slapping Pokey with the fire, knocking him out cold for just a second. When Fatboy and Flick seen that, they tried to get up outta their seat and help their dog but realized they were tied up.

“Man, chill the fuck out,” Flick said, worried ’bout his dog who wasn’t moving.

“Let me ask y’all a question, which one more important, life or money?”

Neither Fatboy nor Flick said anything, they just kept their eyes on Pokey who was starting to come through.

“Niggas, I asked y’all a question.”

“Yeah, and your answer is money makes the world go round, so without it, nigga, fuck life,” Fatboy said.

Then the fat kid rushed Pokey and started hitting him all over the head with his fire, “Niggas, do I look like a nigga who gives a fuck about y’all lil friend?” the fat kid said, breathing hard and heavy. As he eased up on Pokey, his head dropped to his chest, with blood coming from everywhere. “Now look, niggas. This the last time I’mma ask y’all, where the motherfucking money at?” the fat kid said, cocking his gun.

“All right, man, chill, we gonna tell you. Just chill out,” Flick said. “Man, the money is—” Just as Flick was about to tell the niggas where the money was, Sico and Mr. Big ran in the house, guns pointed at the two niggaz they see first.

“Nigga, if y’all wanna make it outta here alive, drop that shit,” Mr. Big said.

“Yeah and if y’all wanna see this nigga alive again, drop y’all shit,” the fat kid said, pointing the pistol at Pokey’s head, who was bleeding badly. When Mr. Big saw Pokey tied to a chair and bleeding damn near to death, he blinked out and grabbed the closest nigga to him and put his gun to his head, and Sico did the same.

“Now we got a Mexican standoff. Look y’all got about five second before we turn this bitch into a blood bath,” Mr. Big said, knowing the kids were scared.

“Yo, Rico, let’s just go, the niggas said they gonna let us live, right?” the tall kid was asking Mr. Big.

“Yeah, I’mma let y’all go.”

“Man, nigga, shut yo punk ass up,” the fat kid said. “You think these nigga gonna let us live? Nigga, you stupid as fuck!” As the fat kid was talking, he never really noticed Mr. Big ease up closer and closer.

“Nigga, I ain’t leaving without the money,” Rico said, slobbing at the mouth. “I came for one thing, and I ain’t leaving till I get it,” Rico said, looking around. “Now where the money at, before I put a bullet in this lil niggaz head,” Rico said.

“Man, I got all the money you need,” Mr. Big said. “Just let the lil nigga go, so we can get him to a hospital.”

“Nigga, fuck this nigga,” Rico said, slapping Pokey with the fire once again. As Rico was about to slap Pokey again, Mr. Big removed his fire from the kid he had in front of him and opened fire on Rico, hoping not to hit Pokey. As the gun sounded, Rico slowly grabbed his chest and stuck his finger in the hole, where the bullet opened a hole the size of a golf ball. When Rico realized he wouldn’t make it, he tried with all his might to take somebody with him, but he couldn’t pick up his pistol. As he realized his body was shutting down, he fell to the ground. With one last try, he tried to raise his pistol, but it was to let Mr. Big step over him and put a bullet in his head.

As Fatboy and Flick watched all that went on, they noticed the one kid Mr. Big let go of reaching for a pistol on the floor, so they yelled out, “Mr. Big, watch out!” But before the kid even got a chance to move, Sico already seen the move and opened up fire, leaving the kid sucking for his last breath. As he watched the kid take his last breath, he turned round and shot the other masked man in the face, watching him fall to the floor.

“Look, we gotta get these niggaz up outta here, and we gotta get Pokey to the hospital,” Mr. Big said, untying Pokey and picking him up, placing him in his arms, running out the door to his car.

Back in the house Sico was untying Fatboy and Flick, who couldn’t wait to get loose. As they were freed, they both had the same thing on the mind. “Let’s see who these niggaz are,” Fatboy was thinking as he made his way to the tallest kid and took off his mask. He looked down at a dead man, as Flick looked over at Fatboy, he said, “Dog, I don’t know who this is. The face shot fucked him up.”

“Whoever it is, we ain’t gotta worry about no more though. Look, y’all go ahead to the hospital with my nephew, I’ll handle this,” Sico said, pulling out his cell phone, and dialing a number.

“You sure, Sico?” Fatboy asked.

“Yeah, lil nigga, I’mma handle the bodies. Now go ’head before Po Po gets here. I promise I’mma handle all this,” Sico said, calling a few trusted friends who would get rid of the bodies ASAP. “Damn, I know I shouldn’t have put my lil nephew in the game. All this is my fault,” he said. “But shit, that’s just life. I just hope he be all right, ’cause from the looks of it, he took a beating,” Sico was thinking as he hung up the cell phone. “It’s a good thing I heard all the bullshit them niggaz said while I was talking to my nephew over the phone. And it’s a smart move my lil nephew made to stay on the phone, so I could hear the nigga scream, ‘You think I’m playing’,” Sico was thinking to himself. “Or my nephew and his two friends probably would’ve been dead,” he was thinking. As he saw the black van pull up in front of the house, he knew it was his two trusted friends whom he called the body removers.

“I’m glad y’all got here before Po Po,” Sico said, watching the two niggaz load the bodies in the van. Without so much as a word, when the last body was loaded in the van, the Mr. T-looking nigga turned around and said,” Send the money to the same place,” as he jumped in the van and pulled off.