DEADLY DECISIONS III: The End (4 page)

“My sentiments exactly: you fucked up, nigga! That shit shouldn’t have ever happened. Now let’s just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass,” Big Pope Dog steamed. “I have enough shit on my plate to fix and clean up for you without you out here slipping without a pistol,” he continued to express his dismay.

Gutty sat frowning. “A’ight, nigga, I know I fucked up. I was the first to admit that. But you ain’t gon’ be sitting here chastising me like I’m some gotdamn kid or something, my nigga.”

Big Pope Dog giggled sarcastically, seeing that he had struck a nerve in his young homeboy. “Don’t worry about it, homie, that mill ticket Keys paid me is just about enough for me to train you up in this business, dope boy.”

Big Pope Dog’s comment immediately caused an odd expression to overtake Gutty’s face.
Damn, I leave my family behind and put my life on the front line and only get three hundred and fifty grand to Big Pope Dog’s mill ticket?
Gutty wa
s brewing with anger inside.

Big Pope Dog instantly noticed Gutty’s shift in demeanor. “When you start stomping like the big dogs, then you’ll get paid like one,” Big Pope Dog said, looking Gutty dead in the eyes.
“
Your job is to guard Keys; mine is to guard her and provide safe locations such as the one you’re dwelling in now, Gutty, and to see that niggas make it into body bags.”

Gutty frowned defiantly and then spat back, “Well go ahead and tell a nigga how you really feel, big homie! I been stomping with the big dogs since I was fourteen -”

Bi
g Pope Dog cut Gutty off.
“Yeah, you’re right, Keisha schooled you right in the dope game. But you still have a lot of advancing to do when it comes to hits and life on the run, my nigga. Follow my lead; I’ma get you right,” he said, full of authority.

Is this nigga tryna belittle me and question my gangsta?
Gutty steamed. “Lady G put a nigga on, but my nigga, I been about this life. You think these teardrops is fake?” Gutty referred to the two teardrop tattoos under each of his eyes.

Before long, the two were at each other full throttle, arguing back and forth. Keisha tried to explain that she had paid them each according to skills and the work that each had put in, but she was unable to get a wor
d in edgewise.

“So what you saying, Big Pope Dog…homie? Are you saying that a nigga not needed or something? ‘Cause if not, I can fly my black ass back to Cali.”

Big Pope laughed. “Get out yo’ feelings, Gutty. We on some Mafioso shit right now. This shit is a little different than watching yo’ back while moving kilos.”

“Nigga, I know what it is! You ain’t the only muthafucka in this room that done laid a couple niggas down!”

“A couple niggas?” Big Pope Dog was entertained by Gutty’s statement.”Them four teardrops ain’t shit on the niggas and bitches I done wasted…let’s be clear,” Big Pope Dog continued.

Keisha continued to try to stop the argument, but her voice continued to go
unheard.
Frustrated, Keisha held her hands over her head and then started yelling at the top of her lungs. “Shut the fuck up!” She finally silenced the room, grabbing Big Pope Dog’s and Gutty’s attention. “I need both of you niggas. We can’t be falling apart right now. Shit is already all bad!”

After a few moments of silence, Big Pope Dog removed his eyes from the stare-down he and Gutty were having and turned to Keisha. “You’re right, Keys. I’m about to go lay down. Gutty still my li’l nigga. I just wanted to establish who’s the chief and who’s the Indian of this operation.” Big Pope Dog proceeded to exit the room. “I was once an Indian too, young Gutty,” he added.

“Nigga, I’m a YG. Fuck being an Indian!” Gutty retorted in full rebel mode before stepping outside to release some steam. He wasn’t a man with a big ego, but he didn’t appreciate Big Pope trying to discredit him - not one little bit.

In the living room area alone, Keisha sat on the couch and laid her head back, pissed at the argument that had transpired.
I’m paying the cost to be the boss. I’ma need these niggas to get it right like yesterday.
As she stared at the ceiling fan going full speed, Keisha got lost in her thoughts. Each blade seemed to represent a part of her life and how fast it was speeding. She couldn’t seem to think straight. Her life had spiraled completely out of control and she blamed no one but herself.
I shouldn’t have never let that nigga Carter front me that cocaine or given him the pussy!
Keisha reached inside her purse for another Xanax. She longed to be with her children and wondered how her son was being cared for. Keisha took the pills and then decided to call Cameron to check on her baby, but his number had been changed.
Why would he change his number knowing it’s the only line of communication that I have with him to check on my son?
Keisha called Niya. She needed her to get in touch with Cameron, she needed a number on him, and she desperately wanted to know how her son was doing.

“Hey Kesh. How you doing, boo?” Niya answered.

“I’m alright, but I need you to do me a big favor.”

“What’s that, girl?” Niya hoped it wouldn’t be a dangerous task.

“I know you’re in
Sacramento,
but I need you to get in touch with B-Low and have him get in touch with Cameron for me. He changed his number and I need to check on my son,” she said
urgently
.

“I can do that, Kesh. I’m with B-Low now. I drove out to the city yesterday to spend time with my parents. I’ll track Cam down first thing in the morning.”

Keisha sighed in relief, and after she gave Niya Cameron’s address, she told Niya how much she appreciated her. “Try to catch Cam by hisself. I don’t want him and his bitch getting into it over you.”

“Girl, after that present you dropped on him, I doubt if she’s even still around. I mean, unless she’s a stupid bitch.”

“Niya I don’t want anybody knowing about my son -”

“Kesh, I know, that’s why I said what I said. But I got you in the morning, boo. Be looking for my call. Goodnight.”

Before calling it a night herself, Keisha decided to write out a will. She wrote the percentages down to divide her money out amongst her family and friends, leaving the majority to her children. She specified that no matter what the circumstances, she wanted her children to be raised together in the same household. If they wouldn’t have her, she wanted to make sure that they’d at least have the best part of her: each other. After she finished writing it out, she sealed it in an envelope and planned to mail it to her grandmother the following morning. Needing to get some rest, she dragged herself to the bedroom,
hoping that sleep would come.

Monique had still not come home or returned any of Cameron’s recent calls, and he was heated. The last time they talked, she was threating divorce.

“If I find out that baby is yours and Keisha’s, I want a divorce, Cameron!” Monique kept telling him.

Although Cameron knew he was in the wrong and was responsible for her absence in the home, he was convinced that Monique had sought comfort in the arms of another man. As he tried calling Monique back, his son started crying just minutes after he had gotten him quiet.
This little nigga must got colic or something. He cry too fucking much!
Cameron popped his pacifier back in his mouth and then placed him in his swing. When Monique didn’t answer, he texted her:
Let me find out you with some nigga. I’ma kill cuh! Call me back, Nique, and I ain’t fucking playing no games either!

Although upset, Cameron knew in his heart that he couldn’t keep lying to his wife and that putting her in the situation of raising his illegitimate child was the ultimate slap of betrayal. Monique didn’t deserve that. Having come to a hasty conclusion, Cameron called his mother and asked for his Auntie Carol’s phone number. She lived in Houston, Texas and was a foster parent that loved fostering babies and small children. His Aunt Carol was the perfect solution to his problems. He could compensate her for temporarily caring for his son and then work on getting his wife to come back home and getting things back to normal. Monique meant a lot to him and he didn’t want to lose her.

K
eisha’s neighborhood had been in complete chaos, so days earlier, the OG’s called a secure meeting at the OG’s neighborhood hangout in hopes of regaining organization and structure for the neighborhood. Random drive-bys and senseless killings had residents stricken with fear. Kids weren’t allowed to play outside and not a gangsta from the hood would be caught slipping without a pistol - not even in their own front yards. It was a war that had started months earlier when a drug lord declared war against the Keisha Cones camp. Keisha and her family seemingly vanished into thin air, leaving the hood to once again endure the repercussions and fight her war. While it was a fact that she brought her hood riches, the pressure that she continued to put on her hood had made many grow impatient and intolerant with Keisha.

“We tired of losing homies over Keys, Piru. Yeah, she put money and guns in the hood, but where the fuck she at when it get real in the battlefield?”
a young YG and up-and-coming rapper named Spitter
stated.

“That’s real talk, homie,” another YG added.

B-Low
interjected, “Fuck that shit, blood! We ride for the homegirl and our hood. Half of you niggas would be relying off yo’ baby mama county checks if it wasn’t for Keisha. So now it’s time to put that work in.” B-Low stood from his chair. “Wasn’t none of you niggas crying when she was putting y’all on, so I ain’t tryna hear that shit now! The homegirl put way too much work and money in the hood to leave her hanging now.”

B-Low was the first love of one of Keisha’s best friends, Niya, whom he continued to engage in sexual relations with even after he had married. He was Niya’s hood passion, but he wasn’t quite the corporate man she saw herself spending the rest of her life with. Still, even her wants and desire couldn’t stop the sexual chemistry and the love that the two harbored for one another.

“Nigga, you ain’t even living in the hood no more, B-Low. You up in Lancaster now, valley boy, and besides that, you fucking Keys’s homegirl. I ain’t on all that!” the YG stood up to
B-Low.

B-Low launched across the room and grabbed his little homie up by the collar. He pinned him up against the building’s wall and aggressively shook him up. “Nigga, remember who put yo’ mark ass on the hood, homie, and taught you how to use that pistol you toting in yo’ pocket,
Spitter
!” B-Low spat in
a fury.

Within seconds the OG’s got involved and separated the two. After being told to calm down or leave, Spitter defiantly dashed out of the meeting with ill feelings.
Fuck the nigga and fuck that bitch Keisha Cones, Piru!
Spitter thought as he made his way to his
Caprice Classic.

The meeting continued without further interruption. After many hours of discussion, it was agreed upon that not only was Keisha the most valuable asset to their neighborhood, but that she was also worthy of their aid. Once again, they’d pull together even stronger than
before and get their neighborhood back in order.

The next morning, Keisha woke up to Big Pope Dog and Gutty
working together installing cameras and other home security systems.
Keisha smiled. “My niggas, my niggas!” She was happy to see her homeboys working together and getting along again. Her night had been long and restless, but she had finally been able to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

Big Pope Dog turned to Keisha.
“Good news: Carter leaves for Hawaii tonight. Bad news: his bodyguard Tre is scheduled to arrive in to Texas today and so is Cameron.”

Keisha eyes widened in fright, recalling that Cameron had an auntie that ran a foster home in Houston. “Piru, that Cam about to dump my son off on his aunt… I just know it!” Keisha flew into a frenzy, regretting her decision to leave her son with him instead of her mother. She went for her phone to contact Niya to see if she had gotten in touch with Cameron. She explained everything to Big Pope Dog and Gutty as she waited for Niya to answer.

“I have to find out if she got in touch with Cameron for me. What time does his flight leave, Big Pope Dog?” Keisha quickly asked.

Big Pope Dog dreaded delivering the news. “Put the phone down, Keys. Cameron’s flight has already departed.”

Keisha’s mouth fell wide open. “But why though? No one knows about our son.”

“It’s a manhunt, Keys, and it’s all in an attempt to track you down. For all they know, Cameron is your man.”

It all made perfect sense. “My son though,” she continued to say.

When Niya answered, she delivered more bad news. “Kesh, I was just about to call you. Cam isn’t home - matter of fact, nobody is. I got fed up waiting and just knocked on his gotdamn door. I’ma try back later -”

The realization of what was going on and the thought of her son being in danger caused her to snap. “My son! Fuck, that’s my son’s life! He could be in danger, my niggas. Piru, we gotta do something, fuck just standing around!” Keisha yelled at her homeboys, and then without warning, she disconnected her call with Niya.

When Keisha calmed down to listen, Big Pope Dog told her that they still had more than enough time to make it over to Houston. “Cameron has a layover in Phoenix, so that gives us additional time. I can have my connect fly us in.” Big Pope Dog contacted his connect and told him to meet them at the airport in an hour.

Approaching the time to leave, Gutty went to check on Keisha. He hadn’t heard a peep out of her since she had gone into the bedroom.

Inside the small bedroom Keisha occupied, she medicated herself, popping three Xanax pills, and then she snorted her newest habit up her nose. The mixture of drugs not only numbed her but they kept her calm and alert and put her in full survival and beast mode.

When Gutty
walked in on Keisha snorting a white substance that he assumed to be cocaine, he was utterly surprised. “What you doing, Lady G?”