“Squeeze, I feel you man!” I said as I gave him a pound. “You right. I gotta decide what it is that I want and just go after it. I had been thinking that and that’s the main reason that I came back to Brooklyn tonight. I mean, I was like fuck it! Fuck the feds and fuck the police! I knew that I had to link back up wit’ y’all and just get busy and I’m ready for whatever.”
I was just attempting to tell Squeeze what he wanted to hear but I could sense he wasn’t buying it.
“So what exactly are you sayin’?” Squeeze asked.
“What I’m sayin’ is I need to get this paper! My niggas’ holding figgaz. I been laying low and outta the game and now I’m ready to do what I gotta do.”
Squeeze attempted to play me as he responded sarcastically, “So in other words you need some money and instead of just asking me to hit you off wit’ some dough, you gonna stand here and front like you still gangsta?” Squeeze began to laugh as he shouted, “Oh my gawd! Niggas’ funny. Word is bond!”
Again, I held my position and I remained humble as Squeeze continued to play me. Trying to switch gears, I replied, “Yo, take me to see the strippers in the strip club. Introduce your boy to some pussy!”
Squeeze smiled as he put his drink down and led me to the strip club. As we walked, I shouted, “Gimme your cell number so I can program it into my phone!”
I know that Squeeze heard me but he ignored me and kept walking.
I pulled out my cellphone and proceeded to program Squeeze’s info into it.
“Squeeze, what’s your number?”
“My celly?”
“Yeah.”
“Lemme give it to you in a few days cuz too many people got this number and I’m about to switch it up.”
“Oh, ahight,” I replied.
As we made it to the strip club area, I could see Marissa chillin’ wit’ Show. Before we reached the area where they were standing, I attempted to get some more info from Squeeze.
“So Squeeze, how much are y’all niggas holding? What exactly are y’all sittin’ on?”
“What da’ fuck? You working with da feds or what?”
Squeeze played me as he patted me down acting as if he was checking for a wire. He pretended like he was joking but I knew what time it was.
“Son, it ain’t like last year, kid. We holding some major paper but I’ll bring you up to speed. Just chill and have a good time tonight. Da fuck wid’ all da fucking questions!”
Marissa was mad cool and she didn’t trip about all of the guys losing their minds over the thick strippers that were in the joint. In fact, she even paid for a lap dance for me.
Show was definitely feeling Marissa’s style and just from the vibe that he had been giving off, I could tell that he was still my man. Or at least it seemed that way. He had given me his home number and his cell number and he told me that he had bought a crib out in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn.
From the looks of everything, I could clearly see how he could afford the cribs in that area. The club had to be making money hand over fist and I knew that Show and Squeeze were getting other kinds of money but I just didn’t know all of the ins and outs yet.
From the cocky way that Squeeze had been acting all night long, it wasn’t long before I was ready to bounce. I just couldn’t take the way he was feeling himself. I also had the uneasy feeling that there were plainclothes cops all over the place inside the club. All of my instincts were telling me to get the hell out of the club so that is exactly what I did.
Marissa wanted to stay and enjoy herself but I explained to her why we had to bounce and she clearly understood. Before we left, Show handed me $500 dollars and he hugged me and said, “Bring yo ass back to New York and let’s get this money nigga!”
“No question kid! I’m a holla at you tomorrow.”
Squeeze pretended to be wishing me the best as I prepared to leave but I could see right through his phony ass.
“Show, da nigga Promise is working wid’ da feds. Tell him not to bring his ass ‘round here no more!” Squeeze laughingly said and stretched out his hand to me for a pound. “My nigga!” Squeeze grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him. In my ear, he whispered, “You still my dog for life. Just let me know what you wanna do.”
“No doubt,” I replied as I walked out of the club with Marissa. Squeeze walked out with us and waited for the valet to bring us Marissa’s car.
As we left the club and waited for our car, I still had that paranoid feeling that undercover cops were everywhere and that people knew my face and knew what I was wanted for, and constantly looking over your shoulder, a feeling hard to describe. Only cats on the run, can relate to that feeling. Not to mention that only a month ago, the TV show, America’s Most Wanted had done a segment on me so beads of paranoia followed me everywhere I went.
Fortunately, Marissa and I made it on to the New Jersey Turnpike headed south. I was able to breathe a little, as I felt somewhat safe.
As we drove, Marissa asked, “What’s up wit’ your boy, Squeeze?”
“What?” I asked.
“Homeboy is on some other shit! I don’t know what it is but he ain’t really real.”
“You peeped that too, right?”
“Yeah, the nigga just come across like he the man. Like his shit don’t stink. I don’t know about that dude. You should just chill out in Philly wit’ me and try to get something going wit’ these Philly cats cuz Squeeze come across like a snake type nigga.”
Marissa was right on the money and she had only been around Squeeze for a short time. But see, the thing that was motivating me to get back to NY to try and make some dough out there was the fact that my daughter, Ashley, was in New York. I couldn’t confirm anything but I had this sick feeling that she was being bounced around foster homes and that was driving me insane.
My plan was to get to New York, get my hands on some real long money, find out where Ashley was staying so that I could straight up kidnap her and bounce out of New York for good and never return. So if putting up with Squeeze and his phony ass was gonna get me the things I wanted plus get me in touch with my daughter in the shortest amount of time possible, then I was willing to put up with whatever it was that I had to put up with. But at the same time, if that nigga tried to snake me or play me I wouldn’t hesitate to go to war wit’ his ass...
The next day when I was back in Philly, I made numerous attempts to contact Show. I called his crib and his cellphone. Each time his phone would just ring through to his voicemail. I left the nigga like seven messages and he never called me back, not once.
My head was really spinning trying to figure out what was up with Show. Maybe Squeeze had started filling his head with some garbage about not messin’ wit’ me. I didn’t know. As Marissa walked around her house in a red thong and a matching red bra, she reminded me so much of Audrey in terms of the advice she would give me.
“You see this tattoo?” Marissa asked me as she was referring to the tattoo of a pair of yellow and black snake eyes that was on her lower back.
“Yeah,” I replied. I couldn’t help but also stare at Marissa’s big Puerto Rican booty.
“I put that tattoo there because cats always wanna get at me because of my body. And they always wanna hit it from the back and they are always happy as long as they’re getting what they want. It’s all good when they getting what they want but I know that even the niggas that I let hit this, as soon as they feel they don’t need it anymore, those are the exact niggas that