Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 25- Monica

Where in the fuck is Python?

I draw in a deep breath and then try to settle my ass down, but this nigga has been MIA for six fucking weeks now. I keep hearing his name in the street, but this nigga ain't returned none of my calls, texts, or muthafuckin' smoke signals for that damn matter. I can't prove it, but I know he's getting my messages. So what's up? My belly is getting big as fuck, and I've been tapping into my own stash to pay fucking bills that I ain't supposed to be paying.

The info I'm getting is off the muthafuckin' streets, and most of that sounds and smells like bullshit. However, some of the other shit got me wondering. The way Captain Smith and his badge posse stay on the news looking for his daughter's killer got me believing that Snake got the wrong nigga gunning for his ass this time. As usual, ain't nobody seen or heard shit in this case, but Snake's real name, Terrell Carver, has been plastered on the news every hour on the hour as a person of interest in the case.

What the fuck does that mean? Do they think he killed the bitch or not? And if he did and they are able to slap him with the charge, surely that shit is like a needle in the arm for killing a cop. Where the fuck will that leave me? Some niggas say Snake is dead and that McGriff is the new head nigga in charge. Judging by the way Kookie has been rolling through, styling and profiling, I figure that she has a lot to do with spreading that fucking rumor. If Snake goes down, then so does Le'Shelle's evil ass as head Queen G.

Again, where the fuck does that leave me? I close my eyes and curse under my breath for a full fucking minute. I know exactly where that shit leaves me. Up a goddamn creek without a fuckin' paddle. In my mind, I can picture Shi shaking her head and telling me, Only a retarded muthafucka would keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results. I can't go back to square fuckin' one. I'd rather cut my own damn throat than have to move back into my momma's house on Shotgun Row and mule shit into the federal pen for some chump change.

Maybe I could go back to the Fat Monkey after I have this kid, bounce my ass on the poles again and hope that another high-ranking soldier will get hypnotized by how hard I make my booty clap. Fuck. At this point, I need to be thinking of a plan B, C, D, and even a muthafucking Z. The way the game keeps flipping so fast out here, it's hard to keep up. One minute I think I can get my kids back, and now I don't even know if that's fucking possible. And if I can't get them now, then when? A knot grows in the center of my chest while my baby karate chops my bladder for like the millionth time today.

I have to do something-something different-to get my ass back in the game. But what? What fucking card do I have to play? Snake's baby? Shit. Snake has an army of ugly lil niggas roaming the streets, and he hasn't wifed none of those bitches that spit them out either. Only Le'Shelle has been hanging with his ass longer. While she's not wife, she certainly is wifey. So what's gonna make my baby special? Hell, I was relying on how hard I made the nigga bust his nuts as a guaranteed ride to the top. The shit worked for LeS'helle when her ass worked at the Fat Monkey once upon a time.

And I refuse to believe that that bitch's pussy snaps harder than mine. What is it going to take to knock that bitch off her throne? I have an appointment to go see my kids today, but by the time I climb behind the wheel of my SUV, I've made up my mind to swing by Goodson Construction. Being around the way as long as I have, I know Momma Peaches's man, Isaac, used to use the place back in the day as a business front. Snake and McGriff mentioned the place in the VIP of the Fat Monkey a couple of times, and I'm just going to take a chance and see if his ass is over at this muthafucka.

The minute I roll up, I spot Snake's ink-black '77 Monte Carlo and nearly piss on myself with excitement.

"Got you, muthafucka."