The sirens rang through the streets of Danton County, Bakersfield. A high-speed chase was in progress, and DaVontae was the leader.
"Hurry up, nigga, get rid of the dro. Throw it out the back, mane. We gotta move," DaVontae yelled at one of his goons in the backseat of his '73 Capri on 24z.
DaVontae was biting his bottom lip cussing through clenched teeth as he cut the corner of Monroe heading toward The Bear Mountain Project.
DaVontae cringed as he heard his newly polished rims scrape the curb.
"Fuck, bro, fuck those pigs, man. As soon as we hit the freeway we smooth sailing. Where the fuck is Amari at?" DaVontae felt around the lap of his jeans for his phone. He needed A'Marionn for backup if he wasn't too good to come to the hood side of town.
He'd been fucking with white bread for the last two months and still had yet to put a nigga fully on. DaVontae understood, but it was about loyalty and family and, as of late, he was starting to feel like the foster child that was court awarded for the money. Only, he was hungry while A'Marionn ate.
"Nigga, where the fuck you at, bro?" DaVontae tried to speak loud and clear. He had Amari on speaker, but the boys were close behind.
"I'm at the tilt, where the fuck you at? You in a high-speed chase or somethin', or you watching a flick on the big screen?" A'Marionn asked, laughing and choking on his weed.
"Naw, nigga, I'm in trouble. It's hot as fuck out here. Had to get rid of the dro. I got the Yola on me too, bro, and I ain't tryin'a ditch that shit. That's ma bread, cuz."
"Yeah, but twelve on yo ass like a muthafuckin diaper. So you know what you got to do. You fucking around riding hella deep, like the boys ain't lookin' to pinch yo' ass. This the shit I'm talking about. You be straight jumping in shit and can't get out. Yo, you gon' have to pull over and let them pigs do what they do. We need to keep a low profile."
"You know I know the rules, nigga. You trippin'. I brought yo' ass in the game."
"Man, just pull over and let them drugs go. It's plenty more where that came from, but it's coming out of your royalties. I'm in the house, not floating the streets getting pinched by them thirsty-ass pigs. Twelve ain't gon' report nothin'. They gon' flip that shit on the streets. How much bread you rollin' wit'?"
"Aww, not much. I got a couple of Gs. Had to rock with enough to make my dollas roll, you feel me?"
"No, I don't, actually. Cuz to be honest, like I said, I'm at the tilt, and you rolling hot. Get on my hype; then we can make these moves. Pull over and take the rap. You'll be out by morn. But you staying the night. I got a bad one here, and I ain't about to leave that pussy alone."
"For real? You gon' let me rot for some pussy, ma nigga?"
"Naw, you gon' simmer for some pussy. And like I keep saying, pull over. See yo' ass in the morning." A'Marionn shook his head and hung up the phone.
"Who was that, baby?" A'Marionn's girl asked.
"My stupid-ass cousin. I got to go to county in the morning to bail his ass out."
"Well, you don't have time for that shit, baby. You got work to do over here. I'm talking now and in the morning. So whatever this cousin of yours is talking about is going to have to wait," A'Marionn's girl said, licking her thick lips and swaying her legs open and closed to expose her freshly shaved pussy and hardened clit.
"You ready, baby? The pussy is calling." Her wet fingers massaged over her clit and dove into her center. D'Kiyah's juices squirted down her fingers. She was too excited by A'Marionn's attentiveness.
D'Kiyah continued to watch A'Marionn as he watched her intensely as she licked her fingers and urged A'Marionn to come and play.
A'Marionn felt his dick rise and jump at attention to D'Kiyah's erotic display. "I'm coming, baby. You ready to back that ass up?"
D'Kiyah flipped over in a hurry and twerked her ass so that A'Marionn could get a good visual of what she was working with. "I'm always ready, Daddy."
"Oh yeah," A'Marionn said, climbing into bed and situating himself behind her. He slapped her ass before diving right in.
DAVONTAE POV...
"Man, DaVontae, what you wanna do? The boys got the helicopter out. I can see the lights. Man, we gon' fuck around and get shot out here. Like you really with the shit tonight, DaVontae. Let's just get rid of this shit. The car, the dope, all this shit. I got kids."
"Man, shut yo' bitch ass up! I ain't about to turn over no cards. I went and got this dope and shit, and A'Marionn just expect me to throw my money in the wind, while he eatin' steak and potatoes. Naw, fish ain't bitin'. I got rid of four pounds of weed. I ain't gettin' rid of shit else. I'm just lightening the load for the run, ma nigga."
"Run?"
"Yeah, run. Now!" DaVontae screamed as he drove the car straight into the gate of an abandoned steel mill.
DaVontae jumped from the car and ran like the wind with two duffle bags on his back. He didn't bother to look back to see where the hell KeyShawn was. He just hoped he wasn't dumb enough to get caught. He would be sure to keep his mouth shut.
DaVontae hit every backyard he knew of where there were no dogs and ducked to one of his girls' homes before hitting the main streets.
The police lights were flashing all over the neighborhood at this point, and there was no sign of KeyShawn.
"Fuck, they got his ass, I just know it," DaVontae said to himself as he stashed the drugs and money in an abandoned doghouse in his girl's backyard.
She would know to check it and put his shit up for safekeeping. She didn't live square in the hood slums of Danton County. She lived on the outskirts in middle-class suburbia. If he was even caught in the area, the cops would just assume he was there to rob someone. After all, a nigga driving with big rims and loud music was an automatic threat to society.
DaVontae felt free. He had managed to stash the drugs and avoid jail. He took a huge sigh of relief as he hit the main street and walked down toward the liquor store at the corner. He buttoned his leather bomber and rubbed his hands together as he took a quick look at his surroundings.
"Whew!" he said to himself as he entered the liquor store, smiling from ear to ear.
DaVontae greeted the store manager with a chipper, "Hello, how ya doin'?" and headed straight to the freezer. He was thirsty as shit after damn near runnin circles around the entire city of Bakersfield. DaVontae opened a can of Sprite and guzzled it before grabbing another one and heading toward the counter.
He was well on his way to freedom when all of sudden, he heard the liquor store's bells chime to indicate a new customer had come in. Shortly after, loud screaming followed.
DaVontae immediately ducked around the corner and slid behind a few unpacked boxes to conceal himself.
"Take what you want! Just get out of my store," the owner yelled at the intruder, obviously unmoved by the gun waving around his head.
"Empty the cash register," one of the robbers demanded. "Man, what you doin'?" the gunman spoke just as he was demanding the cashier's earnings. He noticed his partner shopping instead of watching the door.
"I'm getting some candy, man. Might as well. We robbin' the place, right?"
"Nigga, watch the fuckin' door before you get us caught up in here, bro."
The gunman had lost his focus and wasn't watching the cashier's moves. He was too busy waving his gun around the room talking shit to his partner to notice that the cashier had a rifle raised to his left temple. As the gunman turned to continue on with his demands, he was met by the barrel of a gun.
"Get the hell out of my store!" the owner demanded as he cocked his rifle back. The gunman's partner dropped his chips and soda and skirted out of the store without a second glance at his partner in crime. He just bolted out the door and ran.
"Fuck this shit," the robber responded and ran out of the liquor store just as quick and fast as his no-good ditching partner.
DaVontae rustled to get up from his seated position in the back of the store knocking over a few of the unpacked boxes as he tried to stand to his feet.
"Who's there?" the owner yelled, his rifle still in his hands. "Show yourself!"
"Aye, it's me, sir, remember? I came in, just walked back to the freezer to grab a few sodas, but I hid when the men came in the store." DaVontae tried to look sympathetic about the whole mess, but he couldn't care less. He just needed to get the hell out of Dodge.
DaVontae held up his two soda cans and started to move toward the front of the store, all the while assuring the gun-carrying owner that he had every intention of paying for the sodas.
DaVontae had made his way to the counter and attempted to put a few dollars on the counter when he saw the police lights flashing in the window of the liquor store.
The owner had hit his panic and emergency assistance button over ten minutes ago. The police, late as ever, finally showed up.
"Look, I'm just gon' pay you for the two sodas and get outta your store. You won't have to worry about me coming in here ever again." DaVontae was nervous and shaky, and the money in his hands was beginning to dampen from the sweat of his palms. "Look, man, take the money, take the fucking money."
DaVontae was becoming increasingly nervous and agitated by the store owner's mannerisms.
"Fuck it!" DaVontae said, and threw the money at the owner and walked toward the doors of the liquor store. It, unfortunately, was too late. Two officers ran up to the window of the liquor store, waving their guns, instructing DaVontae to get down on his knees and surrender any weapons he may have had on his person.
DaVontae shook his head and dropped to his knees yelling, "Okay, okay," and saying that he didn't do shit. He turned to the owner of the store and demanded he tell the cops that it wasn't him who had attempted to rob him blind.
The owner of the store put his weapon down and, with a look of pure evilness, said, "Officer, arrest this man. He and two other thugs tried to rob my store. What took you so long? Two of them got away."
"Fuck. Pinched! Ain't this 'bout a bitch!" DaVontae said to himself. He shook his head and put his hands behind his head. "Damn, A'Marionn, this all your fault."