Authors: Miasha
He was right about how he played his part throughout our short-lived relationship, but there was one thing he was wrong about, and I wanted him to know it and understand it. I wasn’t lettin’ him off the hook.
“That’s all true, Nasir, but the difference is like you said, you knew all along I had a dude! You walked into this knowin’ that! Me, on the other hand, I had no idea that you had a girl! It ain’t like I ain’t ask you! And you told me before you spend time or money on a girl it had to be somebody you planned on being with for a while or whatever! You remember that? You coulda told me right then and there I got somebody ya kna mean, and that woulda been that! This wouldn’t be happenin’ right now! But you didn’t do that! You didn’t keep it real with me!”
At that point the girl stopped crying and pulled away from Nasir. She stepped out of his arms and said, “I can’t do this. Nasir, it’s over. Miss, whatever ya name is, you can have ’im.” Then she walked off.
“Let me take you to ya car, Tara,” Nasir said, following behind her.
“No need!” she shouted back at him. “I can’t stand to be in ya presence right now! I’d rather walk to my car!”
“Naw, come on, Tara!” he pleaded.
She put up her middle finger and kept walking.
He eventually stopped chasin’ her and walked back down the street to where his truck was parked and where I was standing.
He shook his head at me and asked, “You happy?”
I nodded slowly, looking him in the eyes. “It’s sad, and it may even be fucked up on my part, but yes, I’m very happy!”
Nasir leaned up against his truck and said, “You full of shit.”
I walked over to him and took the spot that his girlfriend had just left. I wrapped my arms around his back and leaned my head against his chest. I squeezed him. And I said, “I think I’m in love with you, Nasir.”
“Then why all the games? Huh? Why won’t you leave Kenny today if you in love with me? Huh? What’s keepin’ you at bay? And don’t talk that financial security shit to me. That counts for nothin’ no more,” he said.
I lifted my head up and looked at him. I wanted him to believe every word I was about to say. “I swear on my life if I could leave Kenny right now, I would. I woulda left him months ago if I could have—”
Nasir cut me off. “What’s all this ‘if I could have’ shit? That’s what I’m not understandin’! That’s what’s soundin’ like game to me!” Nasir stood up straight and pulled his jeans up on his hips. Then he leaned against his truck once again. “All you gotta do is move ya feet and walk. I don’t get you!”
“No, no,” I began to explain. “It’s not a matter of me just leavin’ him! I can do that with no problem! But I got this case I’m fightin’
with him right now. And if I leave him today or tomorrow, he goin’ stop payment on my lawyer, and I’ma be left on my own tryna beat this thing with a public defender. It ain’t about me and him! My freedom is on the line!”
“What a lawyer cost? Five stacks? All right, let’s say I give you that. Would you leave the bull?”
I was silent for a minute as I thought about a way to explain my true dilemma to Nasir without giving away too much. I was even contemplating telling him the truth about my being an informant. But I had been told precisely not to let anybody know that I was a CI. Not even my family. All it took was for the information to get in the wrong hands and I could be discovered. I took that seriously, too, because that was the one thing I dreaded happening—being found out. That meant life or death to me. So I decided against telling Nasir after all.
“So I take that as a no,” Nasir said, referring to his question about my leaving Kenny if Nasir would pay my lawyer tab.
“All right, listen,” I said.
Nasir put his hands up and looked away. “Here come the bullshit,” he mumbled.
“It’s not bullshit!” I said.
Nasir grew aggravated. “It is, man! I don’t understand why you just made that big-ass scene, fucked up shit between me and my girl…for what? What was the point?”
“You know what, you’re right. I shouldn’t have done that! I shoulda just let you be with ya girl. Go ’head. Be with ya girl. If that’s what you wanna do,” I said stubbornly, backing away from him, as if I was giving him permission to leave.
But instead of his leaving, he shot back, “No! See, that’s where you wrong! I wanna be with you! That’s where I wanna be! But you can’t get that through ya head!” He poked me in my temple with his pointer finger. “You ain’t tryna leave the bull! Every time I offer you a way out,
you shoot it down! But you don’t want me to be with nobody. You full of shit, man.”
I was getting frustrated, wishing I could tell Nasir the real deal. I liked him so much. In fact, I had love for him. “Nasir, I need you to understand, it’s not that I wanna be with Kenny! I don’t! I just got a complicated situation goin’ on and I need you to trust me when I say that! I wanna tell you the deal so, so bad, but it’s a lot at stake!” I started getting emotional, and tears began to surface. “You think I go home every day with a smile on my face? You think I like layin’ up with Kenny every night? Fuck no!” Tears fell down my face. “I hate Kenny! If you only knew what he did to me and if you only knew why I was still with him, this would be so simple right now! But it’s not! It’s complicated! And at the end of the day I’m the one carrying the most burdens around! And I’m not askin’ you for sympathy! I’m a big girl. I got myself in this mess, and I’ma get myself out, God willing! All I’m askin’ for from you is trust, understanding, and time. Trust that I got my reasons for stayin’ with Kenny right now. Understand that I got a lot of shit I’m battlin’ right now. And give me time to get to the finish. Once that happens, I’m free! I’m yours! I give you my word! I love you, Nasir! You been my rock through all of the shit I been goin’ through, and you don’t even know it! If you wasn’t in my life right now, I’d probably be goin’ crazy! That’s why I know God put you in my life for a reason! I value you for that! And in due time I’ll be able to show you. I just need you to ride it out with me until then,” I poured.
Nasir didn’t say anything. He just stared at me. Then he asked, “You love me?”
I nodded as I wiped my face with my hands.
“Naw, seriously, can you really say that you love me?”
“With all my heart,” I said sincerely.
“Come here, man,” he said, pulling me to him again. “I don’t know what it is about you, Leah, but you got me. You do somethin’
for me that no other girl has. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake you.”
“You tried to shake me?” I asked him in an innocent whisper.
He chuckled and said, “See. Just the little shit you say and do draw me to you. I don’t know, man. I can’t explain it.” He took a breath and exhaled, then he said, “I’m goin’ ride with you, Leah. Just don’t end up hurtin’ me, man. I’m puttin’ a lot on the line for you. And I need it to be worth it in the end.”
I lifted my head, reached up, and kissed Nasir on the lips. How he felt about me was unreal. Nothing short of magical. In his arms I felt like a princess who had been rescued by her Prince Charming. If only I was living a fairy tale.
A
fter my fight with Leah last week I realized just how much I felt for her. I wanted a serious relationship with her. No more sharing her with another nigga. She didn’t know it, but I had plans for her to leave Kenny sooner than she thought.
I’d been grindin’ hard, chasing all day and all night, tryin’ to build a nice stash not only to hire Leah a lawyer to beat her case but also to be able to hold me and her down once she left Kenny.
I was seeing the fruits of my labor, too, when payday rolled around. Not only did I get three grand in commission from my pop, but I had a nice amount of money waiting for me at the lawyer’s office and the medical center that day.
“Hi, how you doin’, Cara? I have a ten o’clock appointment with Anthony,” I told the woman at the front desk.
“Good morning, Nas. Have a seat. He’ll be out shortly.”
“Thanks,” I said, walking over to one of the antique chairs that decorated the expansive reception area.
Anthony was the injury lawyer to whom I referred bodily injury cases. Basically, whenever I got a hit, not only did I refer the customers to my dad’s shop to get their cars repaired, but I also referred them to Anthony to represent them in their lawsuits for medical and rehabilitation expenses. So just like I made a commission off people’s cars, I also made a commission off their injury cases.
“Nas,” Anthony greeted me with his hand extended for a shake. Then he joked, “Tell me something: is hip-hop dead or what?”
Although not funny, Anthony chuckled at his lame joke, which referred to the fact that my name was the same as Nas the rapper who two years ago had come out with an album titled
Hip-Hop Is Dead
. Anthony turned red and everything laughing at himself.
I just shook my head and smirked, “That’s why middle-aged white men don’t need to listen to rap music.”
I followed Anthony to his corner office, almost jogging to keep up with his swift pace. I swear that nigga snorted coke. It had to be more than coffee that kept him so upbeat all the time.
“Have a seat,” he said as we entered his office.
“So what’s been goin’ on? How was your Easter?” he asked, reaching into a bottom drawer on his desk. “Nice watch, by the way,” he said, gazing at the diamond Audemars Piguet I had on. “Looks like I’m payin’ you too much for these bodily injury cases.” He chuckled.
I flagged him and said, “Aww, get outta here.”
Anthony pulled a folded-up orange envelope from the drawer. He looked at the front of it first and mumbled, “Yup, Nas,” then handed it to me. “Here’s what I owe you for the four you brought me last week.”
I took the envelope, opened it up, and peeked inside.
“It’s four grand,” Anthony said. “I’ll give you what I owe you on the other three as soon as they go to therapy.”
“Cool. I’ll be signing them up this week.”
“All right, well.” Anthony stood up and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s good doing business with you as always. Keep chasin’ wrecks and bringing the injury cases my way, won’t you? There’s this yacht I wanna buy.” He smiled.
I nodded and left his office. I walked down the hallway and saw myself back to the reception area. Cara was on the phone, so she couldn’t verbally tell me to have a nice day. But she smiled and nodded at me as I headed toward the elevators. I returned the gesture.
I left Anthony’s Center City law office and got my BMW 645 from the parking lot across the street. I didn’t like driving my truck downtown. It was too much traffic, too busy. Plus, it was spring now, so I drove my car a lot more. For one, because I chased less, and for two, because it was a convertible—meant for warm, sunny days.
I drove to West Philly to the medical center to collect on the same BIs that Anthony had just paid me on. That was the beauty of bodily injury cases. A lawyer paid you a fee for each customer you sent his way to be represented by him in a lawsuit, and a doctor paid you a fee for each customer you sent his way for physical therapy. You didn’t get paid just for the referral, though. You had to wait until the customer agreed and signed up to use the services. And then you had to wait until the customer actually went to therapy a few times before you got paid. Waiting was a way to give the doctors and lawyers assurance that the customers would be committed to going for physical therapy as often as needed, which meant their case would settle for more money, which in turn meant more money to the doctors and lawyers.
I went inside the small medical center, greeted the receptionist, and then met with the doctor in the back. He gave me $7,200, $1,800 per person since the insured had full tort. If the insured had had lim
ited tort, I would have gotten less money, because limited-tort victims weren’t covered for all injuries like full-tort victims were. Instead, they were covered only for extremely serious injuries, leading to little, if any, money damages at settlement.
I thanked Dr. Fresby and began to turn to walk away when he stopped me.
“Nas, I don’t know if I told you, but some of the people you sign up show no evidence of having pain. I’ll ask them if certain key areas hurt, and they’ll say no. Now, I know that some of them aren’t really accident victims but have been added to the police report after the fact. But they need to at least pretend like they were. One day they’re gonna have to go to arbitration,” he said. “They need to be coached.”
“All right,” I said. “That’s a small thing.” I tried easing Dr. Fresby’s nerves. He was the type to worry more than he had to. But it was cool because I was the type to make him feel like he didn’t have to.
“I’ll coach ’em. I got you,” I said, making a mental note to make sure all my customers knew to coach all of their friends or relatives who they would add on to the police report for the sake of gettin’ them some case money.
“Okay, buddy,” he said, walking me to the door. I waved good-bye to the receptionist and left the office.
I got in my car, blocked my number, and called Leah. After the first ring I hung up. If she was able to talk, she would call me back.
“Yo,” I answered soon as she called me.
“What’s up?”
“You in the mood to chase with me?” I asked her.
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding extra sexy. “What are you goin’ give me if I do?”
“The ride of your life,” I told her.
She laughed and then asked, “How can I resist?”
I arranged to pick her up from her mom’s house, where she had
been staying during the day since being fired from the shop a week ago.
She chased with me until about a quarter to five. And she turned out to be good luck for me, too, that day. I got two hits while I chased with her. I told her I would give her a couple dollars off the commission I’d make on them since she was keeping me company, making sitting in one place for hours listening to the constant chatter from police and medics over the scanners more fun and tolerable.
We had such a good time chasing together that we began to do it more often. Eventually, after a few days, it became our routine. Leah would leave her house every morning at eight, go to her mom’s house to park her car, and I’d pick her up from there after rush hour at ten. She would chase with me and I would drop her back off at her mom’s at about five, then she would go home from there.
It was as if she still worked at the shop. At least, that was what Kenny thought. And it worked out, too, because it gave Leah and me more time to spend together, and it allowed her to still make money as I broke her off whenever I got a hit while she was with me.
The only thing was, she still needed to present her paycheck to Kenny, which I didn’t think was necessary, but apparently every Friday when she used to get paid she would give Kenny her check and he would deposit it for her and give her the cash. So she feared that if she stopped bringing him a check every week, he would find out that she didn’t have a job anymore. So I agreed to help her out by having my pop pay me six hundred of every commission I got in a check and the rest in cash. My dad didn’t suspect anything. I told him it was for tax purposes. I would then hand the check over to Leah so she could have something to show Kenny.
I felt bad about doing it, though, ’cause I ain’t like lying to my pop about shit, especially not when it came to Leah and that nigga Kenny. My dad wasn’t fond of me still involving myself with them, and he damn sure wouldn’t have been with me givin’ Leah one of his checks
every week to keep up the facade that she still worked for him. Shit, he didn’t even know Leah chased with me. So I had to be real secretive about a lot of things. And it was an internal struggle for me to mislead my pop like that, but I did it because, for one, I knew it was only temporary. And for two, and most importantly, I really wanted to help Leah.
Me of all people knew how it was to feel like you were stuck in a relationship with somebody. I dealt with that in my friendship with Kenny. If it was up to me I woulda been stopped bein’ cool with that nigga. But he had dirt on me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I had to be bothered with that nigga in order to keep that dirt buried. So I related to Leah and I wanted to help her get out of a sticky situation. Somehow, I felt that helping her would be helping me. Taking her from Kenny would be my way of finally standing up to that nigga and lettin’ him know that he couldn’t keep gettin’ in the way of me livin’ my life, being happy, and doin’ the things I wanted to do, like how he brodied Leah from me in the first place. Call it revenge. Call me a sucker for love. Whatever the case, I was takin’ back what was supposed to had been mine. I was goin’ show that nigga.