“Okay, son. You’ve got my ear. Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” I strategically quizzed.
“Nothing major, but a li’l, low-key spot. Me and Pete Rock can run in on an abandoned house that ain’t been stripped down yet and set up shop.”
“Do you really think you are ready to run two spots?” I questioned condescendingly, knowing I was getting ready to shut his plan down. His plan came with too much risk, and I was comfortable sitting on top.
“No disrespect, boss, but I’ve got the hustle in me, and I’m hungry. I’ve got a big appetite, and I’ve gotta eat. I’ve gotta get out here and put my foot to these nigga’s necks and make a name for myself that will hold some weight.” I saw the savage mentality Street had embedded within him bleeding through his eyes. Running one trap house was not good enough for him anymore.
“Look, son, what I’m about to say is not going to be what you want to hear, but it will be what you need to hear. There are levels to this shit, and you are not at the level where you can run shit in two different spots.” I watched him slouch into the couch.
“I can respect that, Cal. But I do not agree with that. I’m a beast in these streets.”
“I know that, which is why I put you in charge of the block in the first place. Don’t mistake my carefulness for doubt. Make no mistake about it, you’ve got my eyes and ears open. I am definitely thinking about what you’ve suggested, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting ready to give you the green light on shit past taking a li’l bit more off the top for ya pockets. We’ve all got set positions that must be played for a little while longer. Are you good with that decision for now, or do we need to have a different conversation? Are we good?” I questioned, knowing I wasn’t getting ready to compromise or bend with what I already offered. I wanted to see where his head was at.
“Yeah, boss. We’re good, no doubt.” He dropped the subject, then was saved by my ringing phone.
Swooping my cell off the table when I saw Daddy’s Princess on the screen, I dismissed Street. “A’ight, son. I’ll be on the block in a few to see how shit is lying.”
Already knowing I put my family first, he got ghost without another word.
“Hey, baby girl, what’s up?” I answered Porsha’s call.
“Calvin! I’m caught up in some shit and need your help.” My wife’s voice came through the headset.
“Say less. Where are you at?” I slid my pistol in my waistband and picked up Benzie. Hesitation was not a word in my vocabulary when it came to me seeing after mine.
PORSHA
“I want this woman arrested. Call the Dearborn Police,” the loudmouthed lady said, making a scene.
“Ma’am, we’re not going to keep telling you to calm down and let us do our jobs,” the security guard warned the lady again. Then he turned to my mother. “Ma’am, I need to check your purse,” he demanded.
“Oh, hell naw! You can miss me with that search shit you are talking. Y’all ain’t got no warrant, and y’all aren’t the police,” my mother responded.
“We’ve got a complaint, and that is all we need,” the guard responded, stepping toward me. “But the lady’s right. I can call the Dearborn Police and let them handle it.”
Moving quickly, I leaned between the chairs where both our purses were on the floor and grabbed her bag like it was mine while pushing mine closer to her chair at the same time. Although my heart was racing and my palms were sweaty, I had been in enough sticky situations with my parents to know how to think efficiently under pressure.
“I don’t want to be in the middle of all this. Let me get out of the way,” I said, playing like I was disgusted and wanted no part of the drama. But I was plotting to get out of the nail salon and the mall with my mom’s gun.
People within the shop saw me, but their mouths stayed shut as I switched our purses and pulled a fast move on the security guard. I was not about to let my momma get locked up behind her concealing a pistol without a license. My personal grievances or how we bumped heads had nothing to do with me having her back. I was going to hold my momma, my daddy, and Benzie down until the world ended.
As I tiptoed across the floor with wet, bare feet, my knuckles ached from clutching her purse as tightly as I could.
“Ma’am, pass me your purse. Please do not make me request it again.” The guard’s voice shook the room.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw my mom handing my purse over to him with a shocked expression painted on her face. That was when I exited the nail shop as quietly as I could and walked as quickly as I could in the opposite direction of where the guard and loudmouthed lady were standing. I was walking so fast that I was damn near tripping over my own two feet. I did not want to run and bump into people and bring attention to myself. But as soon as I walked out the mall’s exit, I broke out like a track star in a track-meet race. I was running so fast and hard that the bottoms of my feet were starting to burn from the pavement.
Ducking in between two cars, I rummaged through the big-ass duffle bag my mom called a purse for her keys. I did not want to get caught holding the dirty pistol. Pulling out wads of cash, the pistol itself, and a bunch of paperwork about my grandma’s house, I still could not find the keys. I was about to scream out from frustration until her cell phone started ringing, vibrating, and lighting up.
My baby P was what the screen read, which meant the call was coming from my phone.
“Shit,” I whispered, not knowing for sure that it was my mom and not the guard.
My mother presenting him a purse of teenager items and an identification card that did not have her picture on it was reason enough for me to fear that my trickery had been exposed. I had never been so nervous. Nor had I ever felt such a strong nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach. Having a dirty pistol in my possession without Trin and Cal around to protect me had me shaken the fuck up. I could not resist sending the call to voicemail.
Finally fishing out her keys, I bit my lip and peeked over the hood of the car I was hiding behind, making sure the coast was clear to take off. The truck was parked a few rows over. A few people going into the mall saw me creeping through the parking lot suspiciously, but I did not have time to worry about their reactions. Getting to Trinity’s truck was my only concern.
Trinity’s phone rang and damn near made me jump out of my skin. I completely froze when I saw Husband on the screen. It was my daddy.
“Hello! Daddy, oh my God! Ma got into trouble! We’re out at Fairlane, and some stuff happened, and I got her—” I was trying to run off what was going on but was out of breath. He had cut me off anyway.
“Hey! I already know what’s up. Ya momma said pull up on her at the bus stop and answer the phone. You’ve got this, Porsha. You’re a Jackson. Cut all that coward shit out. Fear will get you caught, and you need to make sure you and your mother get out of there,” he said, getting me back on my A game.
I listened to my dad give me a pep talk while I jogged the rest of the way to the truck. With him coaching me over the phone, I felt in control and like everything was going to work out in my and Trinity’s favor. My daddy always made me feel safe and secure.
By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat and revved the engine, my mom was beeping in on the other line. I was not able to finish clicking over before she was screaming.
“Where the hell are you at, Porsha? What’s taking ya ass so long?”
“I just got in the truck. I’m not a track star. I had to run damn near all the way around the mall,” I shouted with attitude, pissed that she was acting ungrateful when I’d just put my neck on the line for her. I was tired of her acting like I hadn’t been holding my own.
TRINITY
I heard the attitude