Wifey: Part 1
“Leave the shit here!” he commanded. “My man inside will watch it. I know the owner.”
I grabbed my pocketbook and followed Shabazz. We walked through the Mobil station toward the restricted employee area. In the back there were several surveillance cameras and an Indian guy keeping close watch. I scanned the room and saw a massive safe and two coffee cups. Shabazz grabbed his NY fitted baseball cap. Immediately, I copped an attitude.
“You been sitting in here watching me all this time?”
Ignoring my question, he addressed his friend. “Yo, Hassuan, I’m out. I’ll hit you on your jack in the morning.”
“And make sure you watch my father’s car!” I ordered.
Hassuan smiled slightly but didn’t reply. Shabazz led me out a back entrance and we jumped into his truck. As soon as he started the ignition he leaned over and gave me a quick peck on my lips.
“I missed you,” he said softly.
I rolled my eyes. “Then why haven’t you been checkin’ for me? You don’t answer my calls and just leave a bitch out here alone.” I then added, “And broke.”
“I got a lot of complicated shit to figure out, and I don’t want you in harm’s way. Shit could get thick. Believe me, the less you know the better. Your big-ass mouth could g
et you in a lot of trouble.”
I turned the radio to 98.7 Kiss radio before beefing. “Since when do I got a big mouth?”
Shabazz chuckled. “Since you learned how to speak, I’m guessing.” He pointed toward the back seat. “Yo, grab that bottle in the back and pour me a drink.”
That was right up my alley. I leaned over and grabbed a brown paper bag. Shabazz had stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle of Hennessy for himself and a bottle of Nuvo for me. Two plastic cups and four blunts were already rolled. I knew Shabazz had a drinking problem. But his problems were his problems. I just wanted to have a good time and possibly leave with a couple dollars in my pocket. Once the liquor was flowing I sparked up a blunt.
Finally, I asked. “Where we going?”
“New Jersey. I got a hotel room out there.”
“We going to Atlantic City?”
“Nah, just chill,” Shabazz replied. “And stop asking so many questions.”
“Why you on some new shit? You used to be able to tell me everything, and now you’re acting all weird and paranoid. I’m not in the mood for no crazy, 007 bullshit, Shabazz. So if you’re gonna start actin’ all loony tunes, you can turn this muthafuckin’ truck right back around!”
Shabazz cut his eyes toward me and began to chuckle. “A’ight, I feel you. It’s just that so much is at stake that I knew I had to bounce.”
“OK, well tell me everything and maybe I can help you.”
Shabazz held out his cup and waited for me to refill it. And then he continued, “It’s about Skeen’s murder. I keep replaying what happened over and over in my mind, and it’s just not adding up. It’s obvious that it was a setup—”
“Yeah, but shit like that happens all the time, right? Stickup kids runnin’ up on drug dealers.”
Shabazz cut to the chase. “It was Nico, Jasmine. I’m telling you that muthafuckin’ bitch-ass nigga set us up to get killed, and I promise you I’m gonna splatter his fuckin’ brains out on the hot pavement!”
Now I was hyped. “Nico? Why the fuck would he want you and Skeen murdered? Why would he put the wolves on his own people?”
“I don’t know why!” Shabazz began to get really animated and the car began to accelerate. “All I know is that shit ain’t adding up, and when shit don’t add up you gotta go back to the basics.”
“Slow down,” I warned. “I’m not trying to spend the night locked up.”
Shabazz eased his foot off the accelerator. “I’m telling you, the night Bebo came home he was acting real extra. He kept talking about the wolves and goons and shit like that.”
“So?”
“So? It was all an act to me. Like he wanted to go overboard in showing Bebo that I’d fucked up to take the focus off of how I almost lost my life and that we’d been set up!”
“I think you reaching. Nico’s concerned about you.”