Cracked Dreams by Michael Daniel Baptiste Page A

called Ceelow to inform him that I’d be there in the morning, and that we needed to have a meeting so we all could be brought up on current events. My flight landed a little after nine o’clock, and Trigger and Cee were waiting for me in Trigger’s Range Rover.
    â€œWhat’s up, son?” Ceelow asked as I exited the airport. “How was the flight?”
    â€œIt was cool, you know,” I answered. “Different toilet, same shit. How ya’ll holdin’ everything down in our borough?”
    â€œShit, everything is still under control over here, dog,” Trigger answered. “We got the city under lock and key, my nigga.”
    â€œCool, ya’ll niggas ain’t eat yet, right?” I asked.
    â€œNah, Don P. gonna meet us at M&G’s over there on 125th Street,” answered Trigger.
    â€œOh, i-ight. Let’s get over there then,” I said. “I’m hungrier than a mu’fucka.”
    As the truck pulled off, it didn’t take long before they started making inquiries about California.
    â€œSo, what’s good?” asked Cee. “Tell us how it is out there in Cali.”
    â€œOh, it ain’t nothing like over here, dog. Everything is the opposite. The way we like to relax and hang out is not how they do it out there. Besides that, the niggas are all arrogant and conceited. Because of the men-to-women ratio out there, the broads have to push up on the dudes. Rachel introduced me to some of them niggas though. I mean they mad cool and all, but they too wild and shit. I even got into it a bit wit some niggas out there, and the cats that I was with held me down. They even let me hold a pistol so I could be ready for anything. I got some real niggas out there, for real.”
    â€œOh, word,” Trigger said. “Maybe we could set something up out there, too.”
    â€œYou never know, dog. We just might,” I said, already thinking way ahead of him.
    When we arrived at M&G’s, El Don and Poncho hadn’t reached there yet, so we waited for about twenty minutes before we just said, “Fuck it,” and got a table without them. I ordered some home fries, beef sausage and a tall stack of pancakes. Trigger got cheese eggs, grits and salmon, and Cee had an order of waffles with bacon on the side. Once we’d all placed our orders, we started discussing issues of business.
    â€œHow’s the trial going?” I asked.
    â€œOh, we ain’t really get down to it yet,” Trigger replied. “Everything is moving in slow motion and shit. They picked the jury though; a bunch of crackerzoids. The Doberman said that our best defense is that we didn’t know that it was police runnin’ up on us, being that they never identified themselves. On that alone, he said that all of the evidence would be inadmissible. Besides that, we gonna see if we can turn a couple of those jurors to force our hand, or get a hung jury. These are all the Doberman’s ideas. If you ask me, I should just fucking disappear right now, you know?”
    â€œYeah, I feel you, dog,” I said in agreement. “But let’s just put some faith in our Doberman, and see what he can do with it. If it comes down to that, I know exactly what to do. Don’t even worry about it, my nigga.”
    â€œI-ight, son,” said Trigger, showing no worries. “I know if you say you got me, you ain’t bullshitting.”
    â€œWhat’s up with you though, son?” asked Cee. “You just want to be flying off everywhere and shit. You i-ight, dog?”
    â€œYeah, I’m cool, now. You just have to get out of New York every once in while, so that you can come back and appreciate all of this dirt and grime, you feel me? Besides, I ain’t even really go nowhere yet. You’ll know it when I’m really doing it up.”
    â€œOh, i-ight,” he responded. “I got you in my radar now. You ain’t trying to leave a stone