The Streets Keep Calling. Chunichi
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The Streets Keep Calling
Chunichi
Contents
Chapter 1 Free at Last Breeze
Chapter 2 All in a Day’s Work Tanisha
Chapter 3 Apple of My Eye Mr. Biggs
Chapter 4 Time For a Change Breeze
Chapter 5 Watchful Eye Mr. Biggs
Chapter 6 I Need a Man in My Life Tanisha
Chapter 7 Pockets Getting Fatter Breeze
Chapter 8 Gotta Get Mine Trixy
Chapter 9 Stand by My Man Tanisha
Chapter 10 No Room For a Side Chick Trixy
Chapter 11 Tricks of the Game Breeze
Chapter 12 What Goes on in the Dark… Mr. Biggs
Chapter 13 Money Hungry Tanisha
Chapter 14 Payback Trixy
Chapter 15 Word on the Street Mr. Biggs
Chapter 16 Women of My Life Breeze
Chapter 17 Baby Momma Drama Tanisha
Chapter 18 Setting Boundaries Breeze
Chapter 19 Going In Mr. Biggs
Chapter 20 Last Breath Tanisha
Chapter 21 Faced with Death Breeze
Chapter 22 Guilt Trip Trixy
Chapter 23 Bloody Murder Biggs
Chapter 24 Failed Escape Breeze
Chapter 25 Inner Struggles Trixy
Chapter 26 I Mean Business Biggs
Chapter 27 Do or Die Breeze
Chapter 28 Broken Hearted Trixy
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Free at Last Breeze
“Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last,” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I walked out the gates of the federal penitentiary after serving five long years for drug charges.
From the first day I’d begun serving my time I’d been waiting for the day I would be released. I walked out the gates with the same thug stroll I’d had walking into the courtroom, and, ultimately, into the brick walls of the federal penitentiary. I walked proud with my head high and a mean grit. No one would have ever known that I ain’t have shit, not even a hundred dollars to my name. A nigga would think I had the same half a million dollars cash and even more in assets that I’d originally had when I first got locked up. One thing about me though, I am always one of two things: either filthy rich or dead broke.
“Goddamn!” I said, realizing there was no one outside waiting to pick me up.
I scanned the parking lot again, looking to my left, then looking to my right. Still I ain’t see no one. Other than a couple of cars parked in the visitor parking area, there wasn’t a single nigga there but me. Even though I knew not to expect any of my boys to be there waiting to pick me up, it still hurt like a bitch to come out to nothing. At that point I ain’t have no one. The so-called boys who didn’t snitch on me or steal from me forgot about me after the third year of my bid. We all know how the saying goes: “out of sight, out of mind.” In my case, it’s been proven.
Before I got locked up, I had a whole crew of niggas by my side and another list of niggas who wished they could be by my side. But when shit got hot, niggas started snitching to save their own asses. The niggas who ain’t have shit until I took them under my wing were the same bitch-ass niggas who turned on me. As soon as they felt a little bit of pressure, they were quick to drop names and information. Then there were those who owed me money before I got locked up. These niggas saw that as a free ticket. I had cats making promises to pay my lawyer, give money to my moms, and look out for my wife and kids with the money they owed. Needless to say, my lawyer, mother, and wife and kids never saw a single dollar of that money.
As far as my wife, Maria, and kids, Jaden and Kaylyn, go, well, deep inside I knew they wouldn’t be waiting outside the gates for me either. Even though I hoped and prayed I would walk out those gates and be greeted by them running into my arms, I knew I was wishing on a star. Maria had turned her back on me a long time ago. Despite that I had left everything I owned to her.
At the time I got locked up, we were the picture-perfect happy family living in a $300,000 house that was paid for. My wife had her own personal car, we had a family truck, and I had over $500,000 stashed up in cash. When I went in to do my time, I made sure everything was taken care of for her. I had my attorney sign over all my paperwork so she could have access to and be in control of all my assets, and I gave her all my drug money down to the last dollar. It never crossed my mind that she would be the type of woman to turn her back on me, her husband, of all people. I figured with the house, cars, and money, she’d be straight and wait for me until I got out. Even that wasn’t enough to keep her.
I will never forget the pain I felt when I called my house number collect, and the operator told me the charges were denied. I must have tried calling at least two times a day for, like, two weeks straight just to make sure I had the right number. I couldn’t understand for the life of me why my wife would not take my call. Then one day I called and the operator said that the number was disconnected. When I heard that ma’fucking disconnected recording come on, I was pissed. Then I felt betrayed, but beyond all that, I was hurt that my wife would do something like that to me. After all the shit I had done to make sure she and the kids were taken care of, she would turn her back on me like that? But then I convinced myself that she had a perfectly good explanation for changing the number. It dawned on me that she might have gotten wind that the line was tapped, and she didn’t want to talk to me on it. I figured instead of getting pissed off, I would just wait for a letter from her with the new number and an explanation; but that letter never came. It didn’t even take her one year to change her number, stop visiting, and stop sending letters.
I can’t lie; I didn’t have an easy bid. I knew things weren’t gonna be easy from the first day I walked through the prison gates. On the streets I had a crew, a gun, and a whole lot of hood respect. I’d spent years proving I was gangster, but once I was behind those prison walls, I was a nobody with an assigned number. After all the sacrifice and time it took me to get to the top of the street game, I walked into that place and had to work my way from the bottom up and gain my respect all over again. I got in countless fights, losing more than I won. Hell, I was stabbed the first week, and put in the hole a few weeks after that. I lost my good time for getting caught with a cell phone, and even had a couple incidents that I’ve constantly tried to erase from my memory. Even through all that, nothing hurt me as bad as being away from my kids. No lie, not being able to see or talk to my kids was the hardest part of my entire bid.
Realizing there wasn’t a person in sight to pick me up, I finally said, “fuck it,” and started to walk. I had already made my mind up while I was in prison: I was gonna come out a new person. No more of the bullshit that got me locked up. I wanted one thing and one thing only, and that was to get my wife and kids back. I didn’t give a fuck what it would take, I was gonna get them back and never leave them again. I had plans to work a nine-to-five, see my parole officer as instructed, get my rights back, get some credit, and live the simple life.
I hadn’t taken a good three steps when a familiar car rolled up. I couldn’t do anything but shake my head and smile, as Moms pulled up in my 2002 Lexus GS 300.
“What the fuck?” I had to laugh. This shit I was looking at was crazy!