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“Because I wanna talk to you about something, and I don’t want everybody in our business.”
“You did what I said and looked in your mirrors on your way over here, right?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t followed. I’m sure of that. I made a left hand turn, then another left, and then another left just as you said. No other cars did that too.”
I don’t know if Shabazz said anything in response, but the next thing I heard was the sound of car doors opening and closing. I could tell that they were back inside the truck.
“What’s up?” Shabazz asked Jasmine.
“What’s up is, that shit you did to me in New Jersey was fuckin’ foul!”
“Jasmine, it is what it is. Now, is this why you got me out here? Because, if it is, we can end this shit right now, and I can bounce. Fuck this IHOP shit, for real.”
“Why you gotta be so cold about shit? You don’t even care about the psychological scars I got because of you.”
“Jasmine, I didn’t come here to be put on no guilt trip. You said that the nigga Nico been harassing ya ass, now give me the 4-1-1 on that or I’ma bounce!”
Jasmine yelled, “You know what? Fuck it! Forget it then! You get on my fuckin’ nerves!”
“Now do you see why I stopped calling your crazy ass?”
“No, this picture is why you stopped calling my ass!”
I was sure she had showed Shabazz the picture of him fucking some other bitch.
“Where the fuck you get that shit from?” Shabazz yelled. “You still fuckin’ that nigga ain’t you?”
“Who the fuck is this bitch? And how the hell was you playing me like that?”
“Jasmine, get the fuck out my truck!”
“I ain’t going nowhere!” she yelled.
“Get the fuck out my shit, or I swear on everything, I will whip your ass!”
“You’ll never put your hands on me again, Shabazz!”
At that point I could hear what sounded like tussling, and I heard Jasmine scream. Then I heard three consecutive gunshots.
“Oh my God! Oh shit! I can’t believe this,” Jasmine said.
After that everything went quiet, and the call ended. I wanted to call Jasmine back, but I didn’t. I started up my car and pulled out of the Burger King parking lot, and as I drove past IHOP I could see her hurriedly getting into her car and quickly pulling off.
A few minutes later, my phone started to ring.
“Nico, what the hell did I just do?” Jasmine asked me.
“We good. Stop thinking. He was a dirty nigga. Don’t worry about nothing. Just drive to Baisley Park and meet me there.”
Baisley Park was only five minutes away. When I got there, Jasmine was already there and in tears.
“Give me the gun,” I said.
After Jasmine handed it to
me, I walked fifteen yards into the park and threw the gun into this large pond, and then I walked back over to her.
“We good! Stop crying,” I said to Jasmine, hugging her.
