Wifey: Part 1

“My business and what I do ain’t got shit to do with you. You don’t know shit, and you don’t say shit.”

My vex meter was now off the charts. I was never one to hold my tongue, and I wasn’t going to start now. I definitely wasn’t going to just sit there and let Shabazz talk to me like I was his daughter or some shit.

“Your business don’t have anything to do with me. You right about that. But at the same time, you gotta also understand that when you just up and get out of reach with your people, then niggas get nervous. You know that’s how shit goes.”

“See, this is what I’m talkin’ ’bout. How the fuck you know I been out of reach? A minute ago you said Mia called you about school, and now you giving me the remix!”

“And I also said that your name came up! That wasn’t no remix! You know what? I can’t do this with you.” I stood up and reached in my bag, placed two hundred dollars on the table, and started to walk away.

“Jasmine! Jasmine!” Shabazz called out to me.

I turned around and stood in my tracks with my arms folded and just looked at him. There was no way I was going to go back to the table and sit down, tired of Shabazz and his bullshit.

Shabazz realized I wasn’t coming back to the table, and he got up and came over to me, and we walked out of the restaurant, headed toward the casino area.

“There’s a lot of shit going on right now that you don’t know about, and you don’t need to know about.”

“You wanna know what I need to know about?” I asked.

Shabazz looked at me but didn’t respond.

“I need to know that regardless of what’s going on, that you’ll take care of home.” I began shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “Yeah, I don’t live with you and all that, but you know what I mean, because the principle is the same! It’s called security. And, honestly, Shabazz, you wanting to grab my phone, and barking on me about little trivial shit—you coming across real insecure. So when you’re insecure and all private about shit, then you tell me what the fuck am I supposed to feel and think?”

Shabazz was quiet because he knew I was right and he had no comeback.

“I’m going up to the room. You coming?” I asked.

“Nah, I’m going to the craps tables. I’m gonna chill down here.”

It was only Friday night, and we weren’t scheduled to check out until Sunday morning. But I knew right then and there that I was checking out of the hotel Saturday morning and bringing my black ass back to New York.

Kim Kardashian was having a birthday party in New York on Saturday that I had been planning on going to. My good friend Carlos was one of the promoters of the party, so that meant VIP treatment all around. And with Shabazz acting like a straight bitch-ass, there was no sense in me missing it just to chill with him in misery.

CHAPTER 5

Nico

What you thinkin’ Fam’?” BJ asked me right after we left a meeting with Bebo and headed out to Manhattan. BJ was my underboss and the person I most trusted with my life.

“What I think?” I paused and said, being very deliberate with my words. “I think the nigga on some bullshit. We don’t need no product, and we don’t need no shooters. So what the fuck we need to partner with anybody for?” I replied as BJ chauffeured me toward the midtown tunnel.

“Exactly, my nigga! What’s wild is, Bebo just came home, and he’s like, ‘Fuck it,’ and just right back in the mix with shit,” BJ said.

“That’s that ego shit,” I replied. “And that ego shit is bad for everybody. It’ll fuck up everybody’s paper. What do I always tell you this game is about?”

“It’s about buying shit for one dollar and selling it for two,” BJ quickly replied.

“That’s it. It’s simple. Fuck the street rep ’cause when everybody knows your name, it means the feds know your name too. Bebo still on that late nineties shit, and that era is gone. But the muthafucka trapped in that shit. His frame of mind is fucked up.”

“So how you gonna play it?” BJ asked.

I sat back in the passenger seat and I turned up the volume on the Jadakiss freestyle that was playing in the CD player. I slowly shook my head but I didn’t reply to BJ’s question simply because I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with Bebo’s plan to partner with other drug crews.

Twenty minutes later, BJ and I found ourselves inside Club Amnesia, wh

ich was on 29th Street in Manhattan. We were both real cool with DJ Clue, who had told us to pass through the club, since he was doing the music for Kim Kardashian’s birthday party. By the time we made it in the club, it was close to two in the morning, and the spot was rammed. The block was looking like a scene straight from a movie or some shit.

Clue had his man meet us at the front entrance, and he got us inside. Then we snaked our way through the club until we made it to a packed VIP area.