Truth Hurts, Lies Kill by Raymond Francis

Author:Raymond Francis
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: SBR Publications
Published: 2013-02-13T05:00:00+00:00

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Me and Tommy both played the bar most of the night. Him and Maya were ‘on again’, so he wasn’t doing too much flirting with the women in Pegasus. I was just browsing and didn’t really plan on taking anything out of the club since I already had the true love of my life at home in Toni. There were other women in the club who may have been thicker than Toni and some even had cuter faces and probably dressed better, but I knew that none of them could love me the way Toni did. We had been through too much together during the last year. I knew we shared a love that couldn’t be replaced. I was in another world, half-drunk off Crown Royal and thinking about my girl and the baby until Tommy tapped me on the arm.

“We need to start back gettin’ money. This cash I got stacked ain’t gonna last forever.” reasoned Tommy.

I agreed, but I wasn’t sure what our next move should be. I was just a rookie in the game. Tommy was the veteran, so I listened to his advice, even though he was half-drunk giving it to me.

“We need to step up to the next level and start gettin’ some local money. That outta town shit is done with for now. But Philly is too hot to be ridin’ around doin’ hand to hand sales. We need to get our own trap house poppin’.” explained Tommy.

Tommy’s logic was making perfect sense to me. It wasn’t smart to take a risk going back to Harrisburg, nor was it smart to start moving work out of the houses we shared with our women. The ‘trap house’ seemed like the next logical idea.

“First thing tomorrow, crack of dawn, be ready. We gonna go holla at Goose. We gonna cop heavy, too.” said Tommy, as he glared across the bar and onto the dance floor at Goose.

The rest of the night pretty much consisted of Tommy and I running back and forth to the urinal to piss out the liquor we had been drinking, and watching women on the dance floor get low to records from Busta Rhymes, Biggie, and even Dre, Pac and Snoop; although we were in the height of the East Coast/West Coast beef. Regardless of where we were from, good music couldn’t be denied. By 2 A.M., Goose was falling down drunk and his thick, ugly broad had abandoned him for a younger, more sober nigga. Luckily for Goose, his house wasn’t far, so some of his friends put him into a cab and got him home. Tommy and I would definitely be paying him a visit the next morning.

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