Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose (18 page)

CHAPTER 18

Dressed in dingy, ill fitting orange jumpsuits and flip flops, Meka and Gloria stood in the small courtroom, located in the county jail, where bail hearings took place. It was ten o’clock in the morning and the judge looked as if she’d rather be anywhere doing anything… but her job. Not a good sign. Meka looked up at her nameplate and rolled her eyes. Judge Johnson was the same bitch she’d had the last time she’d been locked up. This was another bad sign. Judge Johnson was pudgy, wore thick glasses and had a very nasty disposition.
Probably just need a good fuck up her tight ass,
thought Meka. She stood beside her mother and waited for the proceedings to begin.

They stood before Judge Johnson and listened to her read off their charges. Her voice had about as much emotion in it as a corpse: “Assault and Battery on a Police Officer, Disorderly Conduct, and Resisting Arrest. You ladies enjoy your Christmas in our fine jail?” she asked with an evil smirk on her face. She looked down at the mother and daughter; neither bothered to answer. After being formally charged they were each given a $25,000 bond. It was a percent bond so only 10% of the entire amount had to be paid.

On their way out of the courtroom, Meka saw them wheeling Mike into one of the holding cells. She tried to slow her pace in an attempt to talk to him. The nasty ass C.O. who was escorting them pushed Meka. “Keep it moving,” he barked. If her hands weren’t cuffed behind her back, she would’ve swung on the pig. Instead, she just hollered out, “Hold ya head Mike! We got you on the bond nigga!” She hoped he had heard her but she wasn’t sure as the heavy steel door slammed shut.

Meka manipulated her way onto a staff phone and made a few calls. A few hours after being given their bond, Glo and Meka were released. Somebody had posted their bond. They emerged from the detention center wearing the same clothes they’d been locked up in three days earlier. Meka stood on the steps of the county jail and took a deep breath of freedom into her lungs. She raised her head to the sky. It was drizzling and the rain wet Meka’s face but she didn’t care about any of that. She was free.

Gloria gave her daughter a hug and said, “let’s get the hell out of here before these crackers change their minds.” They weren’t exactly sure who was coming to pick them up though. They stood in the light rain and looked for a car that was familiar. Once Meka spotted the little old, beat up Honda Civic she sucked her teeth in utter disdain. Under ordinary circumstances Meka wouldn’t be caught dead in that piece of shit. These weren’t ordinary circumstances.

“Let’s go, Mama. That’s Uncle Leroy right there,” Meka said, pointing. “I guess he came to get us.” Leroy Davis was Gloria’s younger brother. He was a part time mechanic, part time scam artist. He was one of those mechanics that always knew what was wrong with a car and claimed he could fix it. For some strange reason whenever he “fixed” a car, it tended to have more problems than when the person first brought it to him.

Gloria and Meka dashed to the car. Meka hurriedly got in the cramped backseat and ducked down before anybody could see her. Glo got in the passenger seat and closed the door. “Thanks Leroy.”

“Awww, ain’t no problem Glo. What the hell was y’all doing up in that place anyway? I ain’t even know y’all was in there ‘til Ant called me up a few hours ago. He gave me some money to pay y’all bond and told me to come pick y’all up. So… what happened?”

“It’s a long story Leroy and I really don’t feel like talking about it right now, Ok?”

“Yeah, ok. I can dig it. But what happened exactly?” Leroy persisted.

Gloria shot him a look that he knew all too well. “Alright, alright Glo. Hey Meka. I ain’t seen you in a minute baby girl,” said Leroy, staring into the rearview mirror at his niece. “How you been?” The windshield wipers made a loud squeaking noise.

“I been alright,” replied Meka. They were still sitting in the parking lot of the detention center. “Umm… Uncle Leroy, why is we still sittin’ here? Can we go?” she asked with a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. She’d just spent the last few days in a funky ass holding cell. Right now, the only thing she wanted to do was take a good shit and soak in a nice hot bath.

“Oh… yeah,” Leroy said absentmindedly. As he began easing out of the parking space, Meka noticed that the shift was changing. She spotted the sergeant that had tried to cop a feel when he was putting her back into the holding cell. He was getting out of a burgundy Dodge Magnum with rims. Committing the car to memory, she smiled.

“I’m droppin’ y’all off at the house or what?” asked Leroy.

“No, you can drop us off at the Hilton right up the road,” replied Gloria.

Leroy started to say something but caught himself. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of the hotel. “Anyway, you remember Greg from Nicholtown right Glo?” Without waiting for an answer Leroy continued. “Well he came to me the other day, talkin’ bout his car was actin’ like it ain’t wanna start up. So I tell him to crank it. Soon as I heard it I figured it had to be the alternator, right? Come to find out the only thang that joker needed was a new battery! You believe that shit? So then…”

Meka rolled her eyes. Her uncle always thought somebody wanted to hear about some damn cars. She tuned him out and turned around in her seat. She stared back at the county. As they got further away from the detention center, she couldn’t help but to think about Mike still being in there. As soon as they found out how much his bond was, they definitely had to get him out of there.

$$$

Earlier that day, Mike was pulled out of the holding cell. He was rolled into the same room Meka and Glo had been in only moments earlier. He waited to hear what his fate would be. Internally he cringed when he saw who the judge was, but he kept a poker face. He was already out on weapons, drugs, and a few lesser charges. Judge Johnson was notorious for giving out extremely high bonds or denying them altogether. He wasn’t too optimistic.

Judge Johnson glared down at Mike from her bench. She looked at Mike like he was a piece of shit in a dirty toilet, not even attempting to hide her disdain. Her thick lenses made her eyes appear a bit cartoonish but there was nothing funny about this situation. She glanced at some papers in front of her before clearing her throat. She pressed the recorder then proceeded to speak: “Michael Smith, you’re being charged with two counts of murder in the first degree. These are
extremely
serious charges. In fact there is nothing more serious than the taking of a life. Do you understand the severity of what you are being
accused
of?” Judge Johnson spat the word accused out as if she hated how it tasted in her mouth. She obviously had already come to her own conclusions of guilt.

Mike just looked at her. He wasn’t about to break down and start trying to explain anything to this bitch. This was a fucking bond hearing, not a trial. Ironically everything he said could still be used against his ass though. Of course he wanted a bond and the opportunity to get out of this hell hole, but that decision was out of his hands. He wasn’t about to start crying and begging to get out like he’d heard about other niggas doing. Judge Johnson probably went home and masturbated off of shit like that. Well she wouldn’t get a nut today. At least not off him. Mike continued to stare at the judge.

Judge Johnson turned crimson. She had clearly been waiting on a response. “Well…” she said, momentarily flustered. She quickly regained her composure. “Smith, it hasn’t even been a full ninety days since you were released on a variety of other charges. You’re currently awaiting trial for those offenses: criminal possession of a weapon, failure to stop for a blue light and drug possession. Now you’re back, this time
accused
of taking two innocent lives. It is not my job here today to make a determination in regard to your innocence or guilt. But because of the severity of the current charges I feel that your presence in the community would be detrimental to public safety. I’m revoking your initial bond. You will be remanded to the custody of the Greenville County Detention Center without bail until further notice.”

$$$

Mike was back locked within the confines of his windowless cell in the infirmary. They had finally moved the heroin addict to general population, so he had the cell to himself for now. It was lights out, but the light from the hallway cast a dim glimmer inside of Mike’s cell. Unlike the rest of the jail, the infirmary was relatively quiet. Mike lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking. Nikki was dead. His unborn son was dead. He had barely escaped death himself.

Now he was trapped in the county and facing two murder charges. Mike shook his head and sighed. After all of the bullshit he’d been through in his short life, here was yet another obstacle for him to face. It was often said that everything in life happened for a reason. Well Mike damn sure couldn’t figure out the reason behind this shit. Fuck it. There was no point in crying or complaining. Nobody gave a fuck anyway. He decided right then and there that no matter what happened he’d hold his head up, stick his chest out and handle it.

CHAPTER 19

It was 45 minutes away from 2007. Excitement filled the air. The Greenville Civic Center was jam packed. People had paid $80 and better to get into this year’s New Year’s Eve Bash. The Civic Center, located off of Congaree Rd. was a venue that easily held 3,500 people, but was notoriously hard to fill. Not tonight. Tonight the Civic Center was overflowing with ghetto stars from all over S.C. If they were getting money and making any type of major moves then they were on the scene… shining.

Nobody illuminated the night brighter than the members of M.B.M. though. They were at least a hundred deep in the Civic center that night. They had secured a section just for themselves. Bottles of champagne were on ice, waiting to be popped as soon as the countdown to the next year hit 1. The most exotic weed was already being smoked. Notorious members from the Pee Dee, and the Downstate areas of S.C. were in the building. You had Conslo and Psycho from the Chuck; C-Note from Myrtle Beach; Gangsta from Flo town and Papu from The Metro just to name a few. Of course Greenville and the entire Upstate were heavily represented.

A plethora of beautiful women had come out as well. Despite being able to see their breath in front of them as they waited in line to get into the Civic Center, they wore little to cover their skin. Many women had forsaken being warm for being cute. Their thinking was that they wouldn’t be outside that long anyway. Skirts were extremely short as well as extremely tight, revealing as much skin as possible. Titties were out, as well as sexy fresh pedicured toes with designs on them that matched their nails.

Everybody wanted to see what promised to be the hottest concert of the year. More importantly, they needed to be
seen
at the hottest concert of the year. So many people who weren’t even old enough to vote had been killed, locked up or had come up missing in one way or another over the past year. In a world where people were literally here today and gone tomorrow, it was important for people from the streets to celebrate the fact that they had successfully made it to see another year.

On stage, a sweaty shirtless rapper who went by the name of Plies was performing the last song of his opening set, which was also one of the summer’s biggest hits. “
Even though I’m not your man, you not my girl, I’ma call you my shaaawty/ ‘Cause I can’t stand to see you treated bad, I beat his ass for my shaaawty/ And we ain’t did nothin’ that we ain’t supposed to do, ‘cause you my shaaawty
…” Most of the women in the Civic Center sang along with the hook word for word. The rapper performed the biggest hit of his career. Overzealous women at the front of the stage grabbed at his crotch and screamed out the lyrics to his song as he rapped.

After Plies finished the last song of his set, he gave a special New Year’s shout out to everybody in the Civic Center. He gave a salute to all of the goons and encouraged them to get money in the New Year. That brought more than a few chuckles from the crowd. There were certified trap stars right there in the crowd with more money and bigger diamonds than the rapper had on himself. In fact, Red, one of Zulu’s right hand men, had financed the whole concert out of his own pocket. What the fuck was this nigga talking about?

As soon as Plies finished and left, Lil Boosie stormed the stage next.
“I’m Boosie Bad Azz and I’ll zoom right by ya/ 765 Krispy Kreme on the tires/ Smoke that fire, purple kush by the pound/ ask my dog Webbie this is how it go down!”
The crowd went fool as Boosie ripped through songs that had become anthems in the south. Lil Boosie was a relatively new rapper from an impoverished section of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He’d been bubbling in the south for a minute. Now he was on fire. As certified killers, convicted felons and the females all rapped along with him it was safe to say the streets fucked with Boosie.

$$$

While Lil Boosie was inside tearing down the Civic Center, a crowd of people were outside in the cold still trying to get inside the packed venue. Pulling into the parking lot was a candy coated baby blue 1973 Chevy Caprice sitting on 24” spinners. The car was clean and the system was on blast. It could have easily been featured in Rides magazine.