A Grind Is a Terrible Thing to Waste

By N.S. Hood

There are two roads to take on this journey called Life. The right way, which is summed up at times as “The Good Life.” On the other hand, some people take a left which is “The Street Life.” A lot of young niggas take this route not always because they want to, but because that’s the only road in the middle of nowhere. America was built on the same. Come ups that are considered crimes today. Fraud, Robbery, Murder and Grand larceny. The problem is the youth is more up front with the truth, too much exposure can effect an entire generation. That can make life crazy. The unbelievable is always reality. The unpredictable is always anticipated. Funny thing is only a selected few realize what they see is only an illusion, what they need is always confused with what they want. Priority is always confused with “I’ll do it eventually.” If only we could see are mistakes for what they are. No one is perfect, Do to our creator, but if there was a such thing as an equal perfect would the world still be kaotic with envy and hatred? Of course, nothing has changed. It’s still a war being waged amongst one another everyday. Individuals don’t think individually they let others control their mind because they are weak minded. They are controlled, by people around them, almost like a child that depends on you to feed them whatever you give them, they are trusting you to give them something to fulfill their hunger. They eat it without question or suspicion just like the people that you surround yourself with. They feed you whatever they think you mind will eat. If you let them, they will feed you whatever they went. Whether its lies, the truth, or entertainment; whatever to fulfill the satisfaction of acceptance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781665565646

Book preview

CONTENTS

Prologue

Acknowledgements

Summary

Chapter 1     Yung Nigga

Chapter 2     Tha Kut

Chapter 3     2-11

Chapter 4     Mayhem Village

Chapter 5     Money Power Respect

Chapter 6     The First Day

Chapter 7     House Party

Chapter 8     House Party 2

Chapter 9     Only The Strong Survive

Chapter 10   No White Flags

Chapter 11   Knock’em Off

Chapter 12   Nights Like This

Chapter 13   Playin’ Both Sides

Chapter 14   First 48

Chapter 15   Goin’ Up

Chapter 16   Dying 2 Live

Chapter 17   Second Chances

Chapter 18   Relocate

Chapter 19   Get Money Vol. 2

Chapter 20   Nobody Safe

Chapter 21   The Bum Rush

Chapter 22   The Warning

Chapter 23   Dreams Come Tru

PROLOGUE

There are two roads to take on this journey called Life. The right way, which is summed up at times as The Good Life. On the other hand, some people take a left which is The Street Life. A lot of young niggas take this route not always because they want to, but because that’s the only road in the middle of nowhere. America was built on the same come ups that are considered crimes today such as fraud, robbery, murder and grand larceny. The problem is the youth is more up front with the truth, too much exposure can affect an entire generation. That can make life crazy. The unbelievable is always reality. The unpredictable is always anticipated. Funny thing is only a selected few realize what they see is only an illusion, what they need is always confused with what they want. Priority is always confused with I’ll do it eventually. If only we could see our mistakes for what they are. No one is perfect, due to our creator, but if there was a such thing as an equal perfect would the world still be chaotic with envy and hatred? Of course, nothing has changed. It’s still a war being waged amongst one another every day. Individuals don’t think individually they let others control their mind because they’re weak minded. They are controlled, by people around them, almost like a child that depends on you to feed them whatever you give them, they are trusting you to give them something to fulfill their hunger. They eat it without question or suspicion just like the people that you surround yourself with. They feed you whatever they think your mind will eat. If you let them, they will feed you whatever they want. Whether its lies, the truth, or entertainment; whatever to fulfill the satisfaction of acceptance.

Being aware is the most important objective in life. Being conscious, knowing your surroundings and the people that you encounter on a daily basis. Just ask yourself; what is it that people want from you? When you can figure that out no one can take your mind and manipulate it or get over on you because you know their angle, everyone has one.

Beware of your situations and predicaments that come around on a daily basis. Master the art of self-control remember nobody is entitled to owe you anything so don’t be distracted by expecting or depending on anyone. I’m not saying become selfish, but I am saying be more self-sufficient, that way you have no one to blame if failure occurs or prosperity prevails. Regrets and disappointments can be used as motivation. You are responsible for your own well-being. Master your mind, when you have done this, it is easy to notice the ones who have not. Patience is not a factor nor is common sense to the have nots. Too many don’t understand common sense, so they can not possess it. Try to avoid the have nots, even though they surround you daily and are sometimes disguised as relatives or friends. Only you can notice this for yourself. Most of all, be aware of who you are because that will determine who you become. The best advice is knowing the difference between advice and an opinion. Either way you have the decision to make no one else. Trust someone else’s mind or use your own. Pull your own strings or dance like a puppet.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I love you mama thank you for never turning your back on me no matter what. First and foremost, I would like to acknowledge all my brothers that walked pass my cell multiple times and didn’t bother me so I could stay focused on finishing this book. I’ll never stop the grind until I see y’all make it home Roach and Davo I love you brothers’ blood couldn’t make us any closer. To my other brothers that are lockdown in other camps: My Thug brother Mooder Mook Dawg a fasho Y.N.I.C. (young niggas in charge) you always told me keep my focus and stay sucka free. Big ups to my big brother C-Dawg out of Murdaville, but he straight off the block of 40th and Boulevard. From jail to behind the wall you always keep it G and remained the same through it all. I love you for all your guidance through the Lion’s Den. I can’t acknowledge 40th Street without saying free my dawg D-Rob and the Bumpster. Bumpy Maul BLVD HARD! The real BAJA bloodline. RIP BOONA BADAZZ, R.I.P. BINKY, R.I.P. B-NO, R.I.P. JUSCAT, R.I.P SWADE, and R.I.P Deshawn Swanson that got killed on Graceland when he was only 8 years old. The hood ain’t been the same since ya’ll changed forms.

I would like to acknowledge my day one, $T. You taught me what hustling can get you and what robbing can take away from you if you good at it. I’ll never forget the times we shined, IMPD tried so hard to shield us. I hope when you read this book it can take you to a familiar place and away from those electric fences in the FEDs. Hold that thought my nigga, you’ll be home sooner than later. To my little brother Lil Keith that held me down the whole time I was gone; bought my mother flowers on Mother’s Day, and stepped on all my messy situations for me. I love you Thug. I hope you and Marcus can read this book and see my vision. Marcus, I love you to lil brother. I wish I could stop time sometimes or at least go back to those late nights when we were scheming demons. Times like this makes me appreciate the struggle and all those times we only had just enough to buy a stale ass Good times swisher. Last but not least, I would like to acknowledge all the loved ones locked up and the good that died young. I do this for everyone that has NEVER BEEN RICH!

Free

Lil Roach

Davo

Mooder

Quang

Lil Jamar

D-Rob

Bump$

Lil C

Lil O

Santana

J-JR

Pooh Bear

Lil Kev

Small body

C-Dawg

J-Roc

Lil Rock

Lil Nate

Mark Daddy

Lil Tayo

WooWoo/

And all my young niggas they know who they are. And the list could go on - Free Da Real

Rest In Peace

Bango

Rodney Lovett

Big Bookie

DT

Lil Juan

Eric Bell

C-Murder

Keondre Man Man Brown

Jeremy Swift

Swade

Big H

Doc

And this list could go on as well... You all will be truly missed

SUMMARY

Trying to conquer the city with music and muscle, Demarco finds himself in one messy situation after another. Between keeping him and his crew alive and keeping his hustle hand sharp, he races to find a way out the street life with motivation from his new love. With the fast life being the only life, he’s ever lived, change seems almost impossible. Even if that is the only thing that can save him from karma.

CHAPTER 1

Yung Nigga

Wake up! Get your ass up before you miss that goddamn bus again! I’m not taking you if you miss it, your ass going to walk!

Ughhh! Stretched Demarco as he rolls out of his twin sized bed. He looked at the clock. 7:13 AM. He sits up reminiscing on a dream he had last night about being in a prison cell the size of a telephone booth. His shirt damp from the sweat as he pulls it down to look at it, Fuck that shit, he says as he thinks to himself. Taking off the shirt and walking toward the bathroom in the hallway of his mother’s 2-bedroom apartment. He takes a deep breath and runs his face under the shower. His head was still playing back the cell door closing on him, the walls all white, nothing in the cell not even a mat.

BAM BAM BAM! His eyes open with startle as the bathroom door gets pounded by his mother. Turn that damn water off. Your ass is clean enough, she says. Demarco cuts the water off and dries off. He opens the door and a cool breeze feels good on his face. Steam shoots out of the bathroom as if he had just smoked. As he walks past his mother’s room, he can’t help but think about how much he loves her for working so hard to provide. His father went to the Federal Penitentiary when he was just 6 years old for conspiracy of dealing cocaine and conspiracy to commit murder of a federal agent. After the DEA seized the house and the cars, the FBI took the money and even the dog. They were left with nothing. Demarco’s aunt Debbie had taken them in until Demarco’s mother could support them both financially.

Meanwhile thugs from the neighborhood would look-out unannounced every so often just on the strength of Demarco’s father. Big L, an original Baja boy. I’m gone ma, Demarco says as he waits for her response but she never does. He locks the door as he steps out unto the hallway, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to call his right-hand man, Ghost.

Wassup nigga! Where you at?, Demarco says. Here I come, he replies with a raspy voice as if he is still sleep.

Demarco walks towards Ghost’s building which is right next to his mother’s building. He spots his right-hand man as school his school rides pass his bus stop. He turns back around without any care in the world. Dressed in Denim Robins Jean, a black V-neck and all black diamond Turf Nikes. A dark-skinned youngster with dreadlocks that hang down to his stomach, Ghost greets Demarco with a handshake. They shake up to lock in the love and the loyalty amongst one another.

Ghost puts his dreadlocks in a pony tail as he observes what Demarco is wearing.

Nigga you fried, Ghost says with a chuckle.

What?, he says as he looks down at his outfit in confusion.

"Come on bro, you wore dat shit yesterday, he laughs.

Nigga I wear the same shit all the time, Demarco says.

"Yeah, but not to school nigga, I mean you still my nigga either way but them hoes gone. -

Them hoes love me., Demarco cuts him off as he fixes his hat off his reflection in a window of the car parked next to Ghost’s black Pontiac Grand Prix GTP with dark tints. Ghost unlocks the doors and they both get in.

Grab that out the glove box for me, he says as he passes Demarco the keys to unlock the glove box. A fat sack of weed falls out unto his hand. Roll up, nigga, Ghost says as he lights a cigarette and cracks the window. And don’t put 100 holes in that motherfucka like last time, he says. Demarco looks at the clock on the dash 7:42 AM.

We going to have a lot of shit to do today. Is you riding?, Ghost’s asks.

Hell yeah, Demarco says as he dries off the blunt. Damn nigga that was quick. Ghost says putting out his cigarette and rolling up all the windows. Spark that motherfucka, he says as he turns up his Don-Don mix CD and pulls off.

You got to hear this new shit I came up with last night, Ghost says as he passes the hefty blunt to Demarco.

He takes the CD out and puts in a different one, he dug out of his center console.

I think I’ma put this one on my Goon Status mixtape, Ghost says. It’s called Take a Flight, he adds as he turns to track 6.

Damn nigga, he says as he turns to face Demarco. Pass that shit, he adds.

Damn my fault, he says as he takes another pull before passing it.

Ghost takes a long pull before turning into a Marathon Gas Station. He passes the blunt back to Demarco and pulls up next to a pump and turns off the car, leaving on the radio.

Hit that shit nigga, Demarco says turning the instrumental up.

"PLUG hit me up

Told me he just got rite

Now I need to know who got the

Rollers kuz I’m goin all nite next week

I’m onna flight"

As Ghost raps his new song for Demarco, he can’t help but imagine how his life is going to turn out. With his right-hand man by his side. He always felt like they would both be rich one day or they were going to die trying. They were 2 different people. Ghost was more of a hustler being that he was from the Bay Area. He would stand out, young and flashy, 16 years old he had 2 cars and only a learner’s permit. He was 3 years older than Demarco so he had a lot of older friends. He would introduce Demarco as his little brother D-No. Demarco was more of the aggressive type. He stood 6 ft 3 since he was in the 7th grade so he wasn’t tested often. He was never shy on proving he was not to be played with. He was stocky built like his father, with shoulder length dreadlocks. The blood thirsty stare he kept on his face whenever they cruised the streets, would make anybody uncomfortable. He admired Ghost for his hustler’s ambition and the fact that he had everything he wanted at a young age. In his eyes blood couldn’t make them any closer and he would kill anything breathing for his right-hand man. He always knew that day would come sooner than later.

Yo! Was that shit hard or what nigga?, Ghost says with his eyes half closed.

Hell yeah, I know you got a spot for me on that motherfucka, Demarco says with a grin that closes his eyes.

You got to come hard, Ghost says as he replays the track. He rolls all the windows down and sprays some blunt power. Filling the car up with a strong sweet smell of watermelon.

Oh shit!, yelled Ghost. We got to hurry up before we be late. I can’t get any more late passes, he adds. Ghost starts up the Pontiac and lights up the cigarette he put out earlier. Demarco looks at the clock. 7:58 AM. School starts at 8:00 AM in the city. Graduation rate is down to 40%, Ghost is a senior this year and Demarco is a freshman. The only freshman that isn’t riding on the school bus.

As the bell rings students pour into the school. Filling the hallways with life. I’m high than a bitch, Demarco says as he gets out the car. I’m cool, Ghost says. I’m tired of smoking this shit, I’ma see what’s up with Big Juice when we leave here. That shit ain’t going to cut it, he says. Hold up, Demarco says as he sat back down in the passenger seat. He reaches in his black and red Adidas jacket and pulls out a 22 caliber semi-automatic pistol and throws it under the seat.

Mane!, Ghost’s laughs. That lil shit, he chuckles.

That lil shit going to keep them up off of me one day if shit get real, Demarco says with a stern tone.

Now this! Yeah, this going to make a nigga fly away, Ghost say’s as he pulls out an all-black 9mm Ruger from under his seat. This motherfucka got a hammer on it too, Ghost grins as his gold teeth twinkle in the sun’s reflection.

Fuck you, Demarco murmurs loud enough for Ghost to hear him as he closes the passenger door. Don’t be mad lil nigga you going to play with the big toys one day, Ghost says as he shuts the driver door and locks the car down with the remote key. As they walk in the front door the assistant principal, Mr. Stein stops them both. Mr. Carter, Mr. Holden, every time I see you two, we have the same conversation, Mr. Stein says. They both exhale as the principal observes their clothes. Pull up the pants fellas, he says as they both look at each other and begin to pull their pants above their bottoms. Thank you, Mr. Holden, for not arguing this morning. Now get to class, he says with a firm tone. They walk the opposite direction getting their pants back where they were before they were stopped. Bro I’m so high I ain’t even feel like it today, Demarco says as he shakes his head. Fuck that bitch, Ghost says. Don’t forget what I said about today, we got a lot of moves we need to make later so meet me at the car ASAP, Ghost says with determination. Bet, I’ll be ready, Demarco replies as he turns away, he can’t help but wonder what the day brings.

CHAPTER 2

Tha Kut

"I’ma M-O-N-E-Y a motherfuckin goon til the day that I die

Nigga don’t ask why I shine and I blow

And I don’t gotta tell folk he keeps da pistol on the low."

Hold up, hold up!, Beezie says as he takes off the headphones. Somethings not right, what you think Louis?, he asks.

That motherfucka sound good to me, Louis says as he resets the track for Beezie to do over.

Alright, alright y’all niggas been at it for hours, y’all going to let me hear something or what, says Big Juice.

Big and fat just like his name, he was a well-respected hustler from the trife life section on the Eastside of Nap town. He had a studio in his apartment he shared with Beezie. He was no rapper but he was a problem when it came to coming off the top. Beezie was the pretty boy type, women were his downfall. Although, music was his first love. He hooked up with a young wild individual he met in jail named Lou. They both shared their love of music and eventually their rolling stone lifestyle. Lou was different he was always mistaken for a little kid because of his height but his baggy clothes, big dreadlocks and prison tattoos quickly gave you a different impression. He was just released from prison for a robbery case, his second one. He got 12 years he only did 3 years and had to do 2 years on house arrest and the rest probation. His cousin J.R. wasn’t so lucky, he received 20 years because he was already on probation for his 3rd pistol case. Lou was from the far Eastside of the city, Main St to be exact. He took pride in his projects that raised him but his music came first before it all. He would use his house arrest passes for finding jobs to go and record music.

"If you ain’t down wit them goons.

You need to clear the battle field

Man fuck you niggas and that’s exactly how I feel"

Ooooh shit! You talking shit on that motherfucka, Big Juice says as he passes the blunt to Louis as he takes off the headphones.

Yeah, I just don’t like that hook too much, says Beezie. It doesn’t sound like the verses fit on that track, he adds. He grabs his phone as it vibrates on the glass table next to 2 different scales, one for weed the other for cocaine.

Yeah, come on, Beezie says as he stands up to go downstairs. That nigga Ghost on the way, he says as he goes to the front door and peaks through the peep hole.

What up though, Beezie says as Ghost steps in the cloudy apartment full of smoke. Yo, Ghost says as he shakes ‘ hand. What’s up D-No, Beezie says as he closes the door behind them before looking out to observe his surroundings.

Shit, Demarco says as he plops on the couch and looks at the DJ Gus music video mix on the flat screen mounted to the wall. Empty liquor bottles lined up on the kitchen counter like decorations.

Aye hold up lil bro, Beezie says stand up really quick. Demarco stands up to see Big Juice coming down the stairs but quickly turns his attention back on Beezie, to see the carbon 15 he was just sitting on top of, stuffed under the couch cushion. Beezie took it and lays it on the glass table.

Alright, Beezie says as he walks toward the stairs waiting on Big Juice to come down.

Wassup thug, Ghost says to Big Juice as he grins all the way down the stairs. He’s so black all you can see is yellow eyes and his sparkly white teeth.

Ghost, Big Juice says as he finally makes it down the stairs passing Beezie. They shake hands. You ready for me already?, Big Juice asks with anticipation. Yeah, Ghost says. But we going to get to that later, burn one!, Ghost says with a swisher he whips out from his hoodie pocket.

Say no more, Big Juice says as he heads to the backroom.

Wassup D-No, Big Juice says as he passes the couch. You can turn that shit off and play that game if you want to, Big Juice insists as he keeps moving toward the backroom. Naw I’m good bro right on, Demarco says.

Ghost goes up the stairs to see it’s a lot foggier upstairs.

Wassup nigga, Ghost says. He observes Lou’s eyes glued to the computer screen, listening to the song they just recorded wondering what’s missing. Ghost pulls the headphones off his ear. Aw wassup nigga, Lou says with a smile. Yeah yeah, Ghost replies. Let me hear that shit, he adds. Lou unplugs the headphones and turns up the stereo.

Here lil bro roll this up, says Big Juice. He hands Demarco a handful of light green weed and a box of swishers.

Damn, Demarco says. What? You can’t roll, Big Juice asks with a straight face. Yeah, Demarco says with a smile Do your thang then, says Big Juice as he walks toward the steps. You can come up here lil bro Mi casa su casa, says Big Juice. But roll that weed first nigga, he says. Demarco grins as he breaks down the strong-smelling weed in his hand. It’s just something missing bro, what you think it is?, Lou says with concern.

That hook got to go, Ghost says with a firm tone. That motherfucka don’t match the beat, it got to be some street shit, Ghost says as he listens to the beat nodding his head.

Demarco comes up the stairs and shakes up with Lou and passes the blunts to Big Juice. Here you keep one lil bro, says Big Juice as he observes the other blunts stuffed to capacity.

You might know what you doing lil nigga, he says as he lights one of the blunts. Light yours up he says. Demarco lights the blunt and almost immediately he was high. The apartment was so muggy the windows began to fog up.

Demarco passed the blunt to Ghost. Lou turned back to face Demarco and turned back toward the computer screen.

What you think?, asks Lou, That beat is hard, Demarco says as he can’t help but nod his head to the bass line.

I got it!, Ghost says blowing a big cloud of smoke out all over Lou, before passing him the blunt. Big Juice starts to cough, sneeze and wheeze. Lou restarts the track and hits the record button. Ghost picks up the headphones and the room goes completely quiet, even Big Juice manages to stop coughing to hear what Ghost has to say.

"Yeah, all my niggas, yeah we down to ride"

All my niggas yeah we down to ride

"Yeah all my niggas yeah we down to ride

Get caught with yo eyes closed you gon

have bullet’s all thru ya insides"

The room is foggy and quiet everyone nodding their heads to Ghost’s lyrics

"If you playin with them goons then you playin with yo life you need to stop that bullshit and that fakin for the crowd cuz these niggas over here will put you 6 feet in the ground."

Boom! Boom! Boom! Demarco looks toward the door down the stairs. Hold up, says Lou as he stops the track

Wassup, Ghost asks with frustration. Why you stop?, he asks.

Somebody go answer the door, says Big Juice with his eyes closed shut.

D-No go see who that is, says Beezie as he leans back further in the couch. Demarco raises up and heads down the stairs toward the door. Boom! Boom! Demarco looks through the peep hole to see a red bone with full lips and red micro braids petite size with a scowl on her face. Boom! Boom! The mysterious girl bangs again. Demarco opens the door only to lock eyes with her. Her body language shows she is pissed but as she looks up to Demarco, she’s slow with her words or at least he thought. Wassup, Demarco asks in a lazy voice Where Beezie at, matter of fact move out the way nigga, she blurts. She bum rushes in pass Demarco smelling like Bath and Body Works, her red Victoria Secret pink sweatsuit hugging her nice shape, not to thick but just right.

Beezie, she yelled as she stomped up the steps.

Aw shit here she come, y’all watch out, Beezie says as she makes her way to the top of the steps with her arms folded.

Wassup Mesha, Beezie says with a smile. Don’t wassup me, bitch I thought we’re supposed to be finishing our song and you got these niggas in here all the time. What the fuck!, she says as she scans the room. Wassup girl, Ghost says as he takes off the headphones. Wassup Ghost, she says. You want to record? Go ahead, we were just leaving anyway. Big Juice let’s take care of that really quick, says Ghost as he lights a cigarette. Big Juice gets up and they head down stairs to the back room. Alright Mesha what song you want work on, Beezie asks with a grin.

Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, Ghost says as Big Juice holds his mattress up to see at least 70 pounds compressed in individual Ziploc hefty bags.

If you buy more than 5, I’ll give them to you for 22 a bowl, says Big Juice. How about I buy 10 for 20, Ghost says as he cuts his eyes at Big Juice to see what he has to say to his offer. Big Juice rubs his stomach and grins to show his pearly whites. You a slick talking nigga boy, Juice says. But you my nigga so...let’s do it, he says as he extends his hand. Ghost shakes it and reaches into his two front pockets and pulls out 2 fat wads of cash, so thick he had to use both his hands for each pocket. He reached in his hoodie pocket and pulls out 2 more wads. He set the cash on the dresser by the money printer. It’s all you, Ghost says. Big Juice goes to the closet to get the bowl scale. As Ghost hand picks his product one by one, Big Juice pops the rubber bands off the cash. Ghost drops the sacks on the scale he throws his cigarette in the nearest ashtray.

You got a book bag or something?, Ghost asks. Yeah, in the closet bring my shit back nigga, Big Juice says as he pops the 3rd wad to be put into the machine. I got you, Ghost says as he throws the bags in the book bag. He zips up the book bag and stands up. Big Juice still smiling. We good, says Ghost.

That’s all you, Big Juice replies as he looks at the bag.

Demarco sits on the couch listening to Mesha sing her heart out. He can’t help but focus his attention on her luscious lips. He never seen her before. Where did she come from? He keeps asking himself. More importantly did she have a friend, she truly was beautiful and she was feisty if she had to take it there.

D-No! Demarco and Mesha lock eyes before Beezie stops the track. Come on bro, we recording Beezie says as he rubs the top of his head. Damn my fault, come on bro we out of here", Ghost says as he shakes up with everybody.

Alright D-No, Big Juice says as he walks behind them down the stairs. Alright y’all niggas be safe, Demarco replies as he walks down the steps and out the door. Thinking to himself he should have told Mesha goodbye. Fuck it he says to himself as he walks towards Ghost’s car. He stops and observes an all blue 97 Caprice Bubble sitting across the street with a FOR SALE sign in the window.

What’s up thug, Ghost asks as he tries to see what Demarco is staring at. What? You want that motherfucka, he asks. Shit, why not, Demarco replies. What you going to get it for me nigga?, Ghost stands and faces Demarco. Hell naw, you going to get it for yourself, he says before throwing the book bag in the backseat. Come on nigga we got work to do, Ghost says. Call JR and see if he ready for us and tell him get the boat ready we on the way, he said.

JR was a young nigga with an old soul. He was the real deal for his age, by the age of 14 he had already been to Boys School and questioned in at least 4 unsolved homicides. When he was 15 years old, he was arrested for trying to suffocate his mother in her sleep. While he was locked up his mother got married and moved into a house. When he was released, he moved back into her apartment. It only took him 3 weeks to figure out she had another house and would lie about her work hours to live her double life with her husband. The house was completely empty all day every day until JR was released on house arrest for his 5th drug case.

Demarco and JR have known each other since middle school. The whole school was scared of them both, mainly JR because he was more hands on than Demarco. They have always been tight despite JR’s incarcerations; Demarco sees him as a brother misunderstood.

Yo, JR answers. We outside, Demarco says. Yup, JR hangs up and turns off the water in the tub, its steaming so hot the whole bathroom is foggy. Ghost and Demarco got out the car to see a light skin youngster with twisties in his hair, twisting his hair. Yellow eyes like a lion, black gym shorts and house shoes that he walks on the back of. He had a stocky build like he utilized his time locked up. He had a red bandana tied around his left wrist. He looks around with paranoia before stepping all the way out the door with his house phone in his hand. Mane look at this nigga, JR says as he smiles and points at Ghost but looks at Demarco. Who the fuck this nigga think he is, he says. Ghost smiles and hands JR the book bag, Just go drop these off in the boat so we can get to it, Ghost says with a smile. Wassup thug, Demarco says as they shake hands. Shit, chilling I see your shit trying to take off, I’ma catch you though, he says. As he lets one of Demarco’s dreads go.

Yeah, good luck with that, he says as he reaches in his front pocket and pulls out a fresh box of Newport cigarettes and hands them to JR.

Right on my nigga, he says as they all walk into the apartment. Ghost goes straight to the bathroom with a plastic trash bag. He dumps the book bag upside down into the trash bag. The Ziploc bag lay flat in the trash bag. He ties the trash bag tight taking all the air out of the trash bag. He throws the trash bag in the steaming hot water. You hungry nigga I just made some chicken wings?, JR offers. You got to try these motherfuckas, he insists. Hell yeah, where they at, yelled Demarco as he pulls out the different scales from out the couch comforters. Aw yeah nigga I forgot to tell you, JR says as he walks out the kitchen with a chicken wing in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. I got a lick for you, he says as he throws the chicken bone in the trash can.

Shit what’s up? You know I’m with it, Demarco says quickly. Yeah, I know when the time comes I’ma call you. You just got to be ready nigga, JR says with an evil glare in his eyes Come on y’all, we going to be here all day if we don’t start bussing this shit down, Ghost says as he throws the steaming bag on the floor next to the couch. He opens the plastic trash and pulls out the Ziploc bags. He pops the seal off of one and the bag starts to blow up like popcorn as he moves his hand around