A Project Chick (34 page)

Lucky continued his stride and bumped into a stripper. "Hey Lucky, one of the girls just got here late and she said the tow truck was towing your car for parking in the lot cross da street. They just put up signs last week, warning people not to park there." Lucky almost shit on himself, as the anger and fear set in every bone in his body, knowing that he had no access to his gun.

Shit! Damn! I can't go out like this!
Lucky thought until he saw Motor.
I know that nigga got a gun in his car
sho nuff, but damn, I'm gonna have to kill him too because he
talk to much, but shit at least this nigga be killed too.

He walked up on Motor who was talking to two girls and whispered in his ear, "look man, I need ya gun. I got beef wit a nigga in here and I think he strapped." Motor nodded, he went outside ahead of Lucky, told Lucky to give him a few minutes and he'll be waiting right outside of the door. Motor went outside only to find out his car was towed too. Lucky borrowed one of the stripper's car and knew he had to get the hell up out of dodge and deal with this later. Lucky, with his heart in his drawers, walked out of the door, with Indie not too far behind him.

As soon as Lucky hit the pavement on the sidewalk, out of nowhere, the feds rushed him with warrants for his arrest. This was the last thing Lucky was expecting. With the lifestyle that Lucky lived, just about everyday he heard about someone getting locked up, but for some reason, he never thought it could happen to him. He felt untouchable, but for some reason, he felt relieved. He thought that this was one time the police was on time. They saved his life because he was going to be murdered that night.

Believe it or not, big, bad, prankster, killer, slaughter, drug-dealing Lucky, "cracked up at the pick up".

Once he was inside of the Tahoe that the feds placed him 228

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in, before they drove away from the club, he was negotiating a deal with the feds.

The first person he sold out was Indie. Other than the vibe he got from Indie, he didn't have any concrete information on him. That didn't stop him, Lucky lied and made up vivid stories, just to get an investigation going on Indie. Lucky was sure that behind closed doors, there were plenty of skeletons waiting to be pulled out of Indie's closet.

Why wouldn't there be? He was a dude from New York, here in Richmond hustling. Most dudes that come down from New York, come down here for one of a few reasons: Either they were no where, had nothing going on and were knocked down from their position up top, so they come to Richmond for a new beginning with a product that's plentiful and dirt cheap on the streets of New York. If street life was the desire, then they'd have a promising future down south.

Then there's the other reason why many New Yorkers hustlers migrate to the South. They had maximized their hand in New York, got a lot of money, got caught up in a sticky situation, became wanted by the law and decided the law would have to catch him. So, they come to the south and continue to foolishly live flamboyant lifestyles, merely picking up where they left off. While others lay back, and enjoy the ride from the background.

Indie tried to play the background and live happily ever after, but Lucky threw salt in the game. Indie knew he had to leave town for a while, and he had to do it tonight.

Before he left, he swung by Tressa's house. He knew he was taking a risk, so he arrived in woman's clothing in case the feds were staking out Tressa's house. He didn't know how to explain it to her, but he knew she'd understand.

He held her hand and explained everything to her about what happened that night at the club.

"Look baby, I swear on everything I love, this is the hardest thing I ever had to do."

Tressa looked into Indie's tear filled eyes, which revealed hurt and pain. Although she didn't know what was going on, tears immediately began to roll down her face. He wiped her tears, "listen baby, that bitch ass nigga Lucky, is putting the police on me. I know it's just a matter of time before they come. I love you so much, and as a man, I don't 229

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want to put you or the boys in any kind of danger. So, for the time being, I've got to go under." Tressa tried to be strong, but she couldn't. The tears would not stop, he hugged her and tried to comfort her as she whimpered. He held her tight and continued to wipe the snot away from her nose as she cried. She was angry, mad and hurt. Once she got herself together, she told him, "take us with you then."

"Baby, I can't have you and the boys with me while I'm on the run. I can't have you being an accessory or aiding and abiding a fugitive. I need you here on the home front, taking care of my boys.

"I hate that you have to go, but I understand that you gotta go, I really do understand." She said, shaking her head, while wiping her tears from her eyes.

It was hard for Indie to let go of her hand. "Baby, I promise you, I will hold your hand like this one day. I promise you that."

Tressa shook her head in agreement. "Baby, I love you so much. Please just get all this straightened, out. I will be here waiting on you, I promise." After giving her some money to hold her over for the next few months, his last words to her were, "look baby, I promise I will be back. And for every tear you cry, I'll replace them with diamonds. I love you so much." He hopped on I-95 and headed south in his "Plain-Jane" Mustang convertible. Before he was quite outside of Richmond, he realized that he needed to give the boys something to remind them of him. He turned around, and when he approached Tressa's street, the feds were all over Tressa's house. He knew she was safe. He was certain that they were looking for him, he wasn't there and neither was anything illegal.

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-27-

The High Speed Chase

Indie, reflecting on a saying that his mother told him as a child, he could hear her voice just as plain as day.

"Boy, what you do in the dark will come to light. Keep on keeping all those skeletons in the closet, they're sure going to come falling out when you least expect it." His mother's warnings were all flashing through his head, especially when he heard his name and saw his picture plastered all over the television on "America's Most Wanted". Though shocked, but not surprised, he knew this day would come.

He just anticipated that he'd be out of the country before this day arrived.

I'm not tripping because I only have about a hundred
miles before I reach the Florida Keys, and I'll be home free.

Shoot, I hope Reka don't mess this up. She ain't never
slipped before, so I don't even know why I am tripping
thinking she'll leave me for dead.

Just then his pager went off, he looked at it and all he saw was "800", which when the pager was held upside down, it looked like "BOO". He smiled and knew it was Tressa sending him a message, letting him know that she was thinking of him. He put the pager down in the console of the car, and as soon as he did, it went off again. He swerved a little and boy, was that little mistake blown out of proportion.

A Florida State Trooper, trying to make his ticket quota saw him, and automatically put the blue lights on Indie. Indie knew he wasn't getting caught. He had come 231

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too far to just turn himself in. He pulled over to the side of the highway, and as soon as the police got out of the car and came up beside and approached the car, Indie sped off giving himself a two-minute head start on the police.

As he pulled off laughing, he got excited when the thought sunk in that he'd be able to try out his new toy, as well as get his money's worth out of his $50,000

investment, his black Mustang 5.0. While the other guys were busy installing televisions, DVD players, 24-inch rims and a booming system, Indie was thinking for the future.

He took the basic 5.0 Ford Mustang, brand new off the showroom floor, and tricked it out for predicaments, especially like these. He went to an old country boy, Secret.

Secret wanted to be called "Secret" because his whole identity was a Secret. Secret lived like a hermit back in the deep woods of North Carolina, and he too, was on the run and knew every in and out about a getaway vehicle. His whole existence was to beat the police. All he did all day was gather info on the newest street vehicles and used that information to enhance his own. Secret was forever indebted to Indie, and owed Indie his life, so the limited times that Indie ever needed anything, Secret came to his aid. So, the first thing Secret did, was lower the suspension to the ground to keep it steady on the street, while the oversized tires made it stick to the road, making them both go hand and hand. The turbo charger boosted the horsepower from 290 to 490. Indie didn't feel it was enough, because he was well aware of the technology of some of the modern police cruisers, so to be on the safe side, he added 150 shot of NOS to add another 150-horse power.

For Indie's protection, Secret installed a flip license tag to flip-flop the license tags from Maryland to Texas with just the hit of a button. It was Indie's idea to get Secret to mount a spotlight behind the license plate. This enabled Indie to hit a code on the radio, when the tag folded down and the spotlight would blind everyone behind him preventing them from seeing him.

The trooper called in for back up. In a matter of minutes, there was about 30 police cars chasing him and this really got his adrenaline flowing. He was most intrigued, because not one of his of illegal devices failed 232

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him. Right when he thought he had lost one of them, here comes another one trailing him. With this being the first time Indie ever used the tricked out devices, he crashed three different times, but was able to maintain the control over the car to keep it moving.

The chase finally ended in the Florida Everglades.

The Everglades is a national park in the southern region of Florida. It is mostly known for the swampy land and hungry alligators. Taking into consideration, its clumps of tall grass, numerous branching waterways, quicksand and maneating gators, this is no place for a city boy and especially not a New Yorker. But what the troopers didn't know, is Indie wasn't the average city slicker. He was off the Indian reservation, and though his dad left him at a young age, he had unusual survivor and wilderness skills.

The state troopers were furious that Indie had made them the laughing stock of the media coverage, so they had no choice but to form a manhunt. The manhunt for Indie included plenty of bloodhounds, boats and helicopters circling the swamp, and they were closing in from all directions, the north, south, east and west. All of a sudden the search came to an end when the cops heard about twenty gunshots, Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! They zeroed in on the location. When they get there, all they found was a bloody crime scene. There were two alligators, one dead and the other badly wounded. Then there were other gators in the swamp voraciously devouring what was left of Indie.

None of them would dare to try to stop the gators, by any means, from devouring Indie's body. The troopers saw his body surface twice, before rolling under the water. By the time they blocked off the crime scene, hoping to preserve what evidence wasn't contaminated, all they found was Indie's DNA all over the dead gator's nose and all across the ground where they observed that he had been dragged. About six feet away, was his chrome 9mm with his fingerprints all over it, some swatches of his jeans and his wallet baring his ID and three credit cards.

Even though a couple of cops went on record saying they saw Indie's body being taken under by the alligators, it still took Indie's loved ones twenty months to finally receive 233

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a death certificate. Therefore, no one could collect any money from insurance policies in which they were the named beneficiary.

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-28-

Empty Hearted

Once word reached back to Tressa, she was heartbroken, but she was not surprised.
Why would I
expect to live happily ever after? My luck has never been that
good. It's just never been in the cards for me. I believe there
is a bad spell over me. I hate that damn Lucky, he meant it
when he said, he was going to take everybody out of my life.

Shit, might as well say he killed Indie too, because had Lucky
not ran his mouth to the Feds, Indie would still be here with
me. Now, Lucky is a shoot em' up, bang-bang type of guy,
and as soon as he got put under pressure, he sung like a
canary. And all that weight they caught on Lucky, he got
nerve to be out already walking the same streets. I really try
to look on the bright side of things. They say when God takes
one thing out of your life, he replaces it with something else.