A Rumble in VA: The Rumble Series, #1

By Rayven Skyy

According to Milton “Milk” Woodhouse, the true testament of a man was his ability to provide for his family and protect them at all cost despite the turbulent relationship he shared with his long-term with girlfriend, Sabrina Wright. The self-proclaimed “Prince of V. A.” played the game of life by a dissimilar set of rules and made no apologies for it. Whatever Milk wants; he gets. Be it expensive cars, luxury houses, high-priced jewelry, and not to mention his favorite past time—women! Sabrina was no stranger to his indiscretions having been with Milk for the last ten years and the love she had for him was unconditional. She understood there was a price to pay to be on the arm of a boss with pockets as deep as the streets he claimed as his own. However, Milk’s constant battle to sustain his hustle in the seven cities and his desire for women may cost him the streets that he worked so hard to acquire as a new hustler from down south, with vengeance in his heart, orchestrates a low-key takeover that could ultimately jeopardize Milk’s reign. Lust, betrayal, disloyalty, selfishness, and greed all fuel an imminent explosion as these events unfold igniting a love and war battle, which ends with deadly results, and through it all there can simply be only one man left standing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rayven Skyy
• Release date: Jun 15, 2011
• ISBN: 9781502293695

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I dedicate my first novel A Rumble in VA, to my brother Ronald Wood Jr. May you continue to rest in peace. I love you! 

Money and Dope!

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I looked through the window from outside and I could see the two niggas Lisha said would be in the house sitting down. The window was slightly cracked and I could hear them talking to each other. I nodded my head to Gremlin signaling for him to knock on the door. I then pulled my ski-mask all the way down to my neck and then stooped down low to the ground as I crawled over to the other side of the door, so I wouldn’t be noticed right away.

Dune, get the door that’s the food, man, I heard one of the dudes say.

Hell, nawl! Fat Boy, you get yo’ lazy ass up. I’m playing the game.

Man, fuck this, Gremlin grumbled, kicking the door in before Fat Boy had a chance to open it. You know what it is mothafucka, get yo’ fat ass down on the ground, he said, pointing his gun at Fat Boy’s face.

Fat Boy did what he was told and got down on the floor. I ran up to the house and stepped over the top of him. I didn’t say shit to the other nigga; I just hit him in his head with the butt of my gun and made him join Fat Boy down on the floor.

Money and dope, Gremlin announced, pushing his gun further into Fat Boy’s face. Give it up mothafucka!

Man, do you know who the fuck it is you are trying to rob, nigga? Fat Boy asked, looking up at Gremlin from his view on the floor. Y’all niggas might want to rethink this shit if you knew-

Before Fat Boy could finish his unwanted statement, Gremlin thrashed him in the face with his fist and then cocked his gun. Let’s try this again, you talking ass mothafucka. Where the fuck is the dope at, nigga? Gremlin probed.

Man, fuck you, nigga! Fat Boy grunted, spitting blood on the floor next to Gremlin’s feet. Go find it, he shouted heatedly. I ain’t telling you bitch ass niggas shit!

Gremlin never had a chance to respond to Fat Boy, because without warning I shot him in the back of his head twice, and then I turned my gun back to his partner, Dune. How ‘bout you I need to kill you, too? I punched him in the face with my free hand.

It's the downstairs man, damn, he said, rubbing his jaw and shaking his head left to right.

Downstairs, huh? I kicked him in his stomach. Get the fuck up, nigga.

Dune took his time getting up on his feet and it was starting to piss me off, so I started smacking him in the back of his head. I couldn’t shoot him, too, because I knew he was about to give up the stash. I followed him downstairs to the lower part of the house with my gun aimed at the back of his head. He removed the panel off the back of an old floor-model TV and there it was. At a glance I counted at least a 100k in cash and five bricks of dope. Lisha was dead on with her estimation.

Jackpot, Gremlin cheered as he made his way downstairs smiling as if he had won the lotto.

You check out the rest of the house, man? I asked Gremlin, never taking my eyes of Dune.

Ain’t shit upstairs, man, he answered as he unzipped the duffle bag he had in his hands. Gremlin removed the contents out of the bag, and then tossed it down on the floor at Dune’s feet.

Put all that shit in that bag, nigga, I told him. Once the money and the dope was inside the bag, Gremlin taped Dune’s hands and feet together and made him lay face down on the floor. Don’t worry nigga I ain’t gon’ kill you, I informed Dune after seeing piss running from underneath him. I sat down in one of the folding chairs leaning up against the wall.

What the fuck then? I gave you the shit, man, he bawled.

And that was the smart thing for you to do, too, youngster. Be a man and stop all that whining and shit. If you gon’ be in this game you have to know how to handle shit, I told him. Where Milk at? I asked and pointed my gun in his face again.

I don’t know no Milk, man, he replied, still using that whiny voice. I knew he had just been put on to watching this house. Lisha spared no details about this trap house or Milk.

You don’t know no, Milk, huh? I repeated with a smile on my face. Ain’t this his shit I’m taking? I pointed to the duffle bag Gremlin was now holding with my gun. You gave up the shit so you might as well give it all up.

I told you I don’t know no nigga name Milk, man, he repeated stubbornly.

Okay, then. Enough said. I stood up. You doing the right thing. I can’t even be mad at you. You’re never supposed to bite the hand you eat from. It was a pleasure to meet you, man.

I’m a man of my word; I meant what I said when I told him I wasn’t going to kill him. I needed him to live to tell this story. I nodded my head to Gremlin and he shot Dune in both of his legs. Now, instead of whining he was crying.

Now or Never!

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I will be glad when we’re on that damn plane tomorrow, because Sabrina is about to worry the shit out of me. She makes me want to say fuck it and not go to Costa Rica altogether. Do this, do that! I already ain’t looking forward to the fifteen-hour flight as it is. Shit, how hard is it to put some fucking clothes in a suitcase anyway?

I clicked back over to the other line. I’m back, Lisha. Sorry ‘bout that. She didn’t respond. Baby, come on now. We already talked about this. I told you I got you when I get back, ma.

What the fuck ever, Milk, she snapped back. I hope the plane falls out of the sky and kills you and that bitch. Bye! She hung up the phone. Women, man—can’t please their ass for shit. I got Sabrina in one ear and Lisha in the other. I should be the one walking around with a fucking attitude as much as I come out of my pockets with for the both of them.

I’ve been dealing with Lisha for a minute now, and I’ll admit that I do have feelings for her, but I would never leave Sabrina for her or any other broad. Lisha was a bad bitch, trust me when I tell you, but being with her sometimes was like hanging with one of my niggas. I’ve never seen a broad throw them dice the way Lisha can. There had been times Lisha and I was at dice games together and couldn’t leave because Lisha was the bank. Lisha wasn’t into all that girly shit either, but she still turned me on. A woman doesn’t have to be half-naked all the time to attract a man. It was her gangster that made my dick hard. Give her the latest pair of Jordan’s and some True Religion jeans, with a top to match, and Lisha was good. Honestly, she would rather I buy her a gun, with a year supply of bullets, over clothes and jewelry any day.

My girlfriend, Sabrina, on the other hand was the complete opposite. All she wanted to do was spend money. I told her that she should move into MacArthur Mall and save me money on gas, because her ass was in that mothafucka damn near every day. Sabrina had somebody from Macys, Nordstrom, and some other stores calling her before they even put new shit out on the sales floor so she can go pick out what she wants before anybody else buys it. But, if it makes her happy, and keeps her from nagging the fuck out of me, I let her shop until she drops; and she ain’t dead yet.

I stayed out all night two weeks ago and I lied to Sabrina and told her I had lost track of  time because I was gambling, but the truth is I was fucking a girl I had met earlier that day. Danielle was gracious enough to bless me with a sneak preview of her head game in the back room of the barber shop, so it was only right for me to go back to her house later that night to see if her pussy was just as good, and baby girl did not disappoint. Sabrina didn’t speak to me for a week after that night up until I threw those plane tickets to Costa Rica in her face.

I turned into the parking lot and parked my truck on the side of the barber shop facing Feather’s Chicken. Out of my six of barber shops, I spent most of my time at this one. I came here to meet up with my nigga, Kirk, and to get an edge up. That was the last thing on my list of shit to do before me and Sabrina left for Costa Rica in the morning.

I got out my truck and went inside of the barber shop through the back door. Kirk, what it do, nigga? We slapped hands as I sat down at the card table we kept in the back room. There was a magazine on the table with Kim Kardashian on the cover, so I picked it up and started thumbing through it. I sure would love to fuck her. I haven’t had me no Middle East pussy yet.

Shit straight for tonight? Kirk asked me.

Yes, sir, I answered as I flipped through the pages of the magazine trying to find the feature on Kim.

I still say put OG on that mothafucka, man. We can’t afford no fuck ups, Milk.

I feel what you saying, but I’m looking at this shit two different ways, man. If Gee murk this nigga then our problem is solved. I gestured with my hands up in the air. But, if that nigga Byrd get a chance to squeeze a shot off and Gee catch it, then at least we not burying ours next week, you feel me? I put my hand on my chest. Shit, it’s now or never and if it don’t do shit but run this mothafucka back down south then so be it. Then he can forewarn the rest of the natives in his town to stay the fuck out of VA! I refuse to sit back and just let this nigga continue to steal my shit, man. Any nigga on the come up gon’ try me if that shit gets out.

I feel you, man. Kirk reached out his hand to me and we bumped fists.

Aye, I need you to do something for me while I’m gone, too.

What’s up, man? He sat down across from me at the table.

Keep eyes on Lisha for me, I told him.

Why, what’s going on? Talk to me, man.

I can’t really say yet ‘cause I ain’t for sure, but get Maine to eyeball her ass around and see who she spends her time with while I’m gone.

A’ight, Kirk agreed.

A’ight, fam’. I stood up. I’ll see you when I get back, man. I flung the magazine back down on the table and walked toward the front of the barber shop where Rick Ross was playing in the background of the normal shop chatter. I looked round to find out if there were any unfamiliar female faces in the shop, but I didn’t catch anyone I hadn’t already fucked or let suck my dick. Neither seeing, nor hearing any fresh meat I sat down in a chair adjacent to my barber Blac’s station.

I got you in five minutes, man, Blac told me.

Take your time, man. I ain’t in no hurry, I let him know.

Milk, just the nigga I want to see! I turned around to see One Man rubbing his hands together laughing.

Nigga, fuck you! I chuckled, as I got up from the chair and walked over to him to shake his hand.

I told you Dallas was gon’ be sorry as a mothafucka this season. I take debit cards. He gloated.

One Man had the whole shop laughing with us immediately, because they all know that I am a die-hard Dallas Cowboy fan. I purposely didn’t come up to the shop for a few days after Dallas lost six games in a row; I didn’t want to have to shoot anybody. I can laugh about it now, but I was hot about that shit!

Here, man. I reached inside of my pocket, pulled out my money clip, and peeled off three hundred dollar bills. I tell you one thing that ain’t gon’ happen for damn sure, I said, dispensing One Man his money, them fucking Deadskins ain’t gon’ make it to the Super Bowl either. You can hurry up and believe that shit.

Put some money up then, One Man heckled, still joking.

I ain’t fucking with you, One Man, carry yo’ ass over to yo’ station and cut some damn hair. I laughed at him. Blac, you ready for me, man? I put the rest of my money back in my pocket and sat back down.

A’ight, you finished, Bre, Blac told the little boy sitting in his chair. Where your momma go? Blac asked him, as he removed the cape from around his neck. Bre then jumped down and turned around to face him.

Her wen-, the little boy commenced to say before Blac interrupted him.

She  went, to the store, Bre, he  corrected him.

She went, to the. . . um . . . um . . . next door to the . . . um . . . hair store, he disclosed as he looked up at Blac.

Here, man. Blac passed him some money. Go get you some chips and a soda out of the machine, then go sit down and wait for your momma to come back.

Okay, Bre exclaimed with excitement, snatching the two dollars out of Blac’s hand

Hold up, hold up. Whatchu’ supposed to say, man? Blac seized the money back.

Thank you, Bre smiled and said. Blac gave him back the money and he took off running toward the vending machines.

A’ight, then. Come on, Milk. He gestured to me. I hopped in the chair and Blac placed the cape around my neck that he kept in his bottom drawer specifically for me.

Yo’ tight ass dishing out money and shit. Whatchu’ trying to get at his momma, nigga? I asked Blac.

Yes, gawd! He snickered. I have been trying to get at Nicole, but she only comes up here to get her son’s haircut when Dap is out of town. Plus, she gets her hair shit from the store next door. I only see her every now and then, but oh when I do, it’s worth the wait. I could see Blac shaking his head through the mirror on the wall across from his station.

Damn, she bad like that, man?

Yes, sir, I’mma tell you who she reminds me of, too . . . nawl. Blac shook his head again. No, I ain’t. You’ll see what I mean if she comes back before you leave. Hold your head down, man.

I felt my phone vibrating against my waist and I already knew who it was, too, without looking at the caller ID. Hold up a sec’, Blac, I told him. Yeah, bae? I answered my phone.

What’s your progress? Sabrina asked without greeting me with hello.

Why, what’s up? I heard Sabrina talking, but I was no longer listening to her for real. My attention was now on the woman who had just walked into the barbershop causing me to do a double take. Bae, I’mma call you right back.

Did you even hear a word I said, Milk? she yelled through the phone.

Yeah, I lied. Look, I’m in the chair getting my hair cut, Sabrina. I’mma call you back, I told her without waiting to hear her response. I hung my phone and turned around to Blac grinning at me. That’s her ain’t it, man? I tilted my head.

That shit crazy ain’t it? Her and Sabrina could be mothafucking twins, yo! Blac said.

Hell, yeah, I replied, nodding my head in agreement. Nicole is a dead ringer for my girlfriend. I turned back around in the chair so he could finish with my edge up as I watched Nicole from the corner of my eye as she approached Blac’s station.

What’s up, Blac, Nicole spoke to him.

How you doing, ma? I asked her before Blac had a chance to speak.

Fine, she replied without looking at me. Here you go. She held out a twenty-dollar note.

I told you ‘bout that shit, Nicole. Yo’ money ain’t no good with me. Blac fanned his hand at Nicole to put her money away.

Look, I’m self-employed, too, and I know how much booth rent is. You better take this money. Nicole held her hand out again.

Go ‘head with that, Nicole. Blac pushed her hand aside.

You’re just as bad as Dap, you know that? Come on, Bre, she called out to her son. I could feel my cell phone vibrating again, but I ignored it this time.

I’ll take it. I reached my hand out. I don’t turn down money from nobody. Nicole looked me up and down.

You seem like you are getting along alright. She cut her eyes at me.

But you could make me better. I can do a lot with twenty dollars. I’m really good with money. I winked at her. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Milk.

What kind of name is Milk? Nicole inquired. I know your mother did not name you Milk.

No, she didn’t. My real name is Milton, I told her.

I think I like Milton better, she said, returning my eye wink. Blac, take this money. I have to go.

The man said you good, ma, I reminded her.

What do you have to do with this, Milton? Nicole asked in a smart aleck tone. Blac, take this money, she insisted.

Give me your address, Blac said jokingly.

Now irritated, Nicole walked away. I’ll see you later, Blac. Come on, Bre. She took her son by his hand.

Is Blac the only one you will see later? I hollered out to her backside.

Nicole chucked two fingers up in the air. Deuces, she announced without turning around.

As she walked away I took notice of the shoes she was wearing after staring at her ass. I know damn well she can’t be doing that much hair to afford some Christian Louboutin shoes. I’ve bought Sabrina at least twenty pair myself, so I knew how much they cost. In addition, Nicole was lugging a Fendi Peek-a-Boo tote on her shoulders, too. Not only was there a strong resemblance between her and Sabrina, but they also seemed to have