even touched.
We called the insurance company, locked up, and headed to a hotel at Waterside. Once we were checked in and settled in our room, I questioned Vegas.
âBaby, why didnât you shoot when you saw the burglar?â I was certain my man was thugged out, so I knew it couldnât be because he was scared.
âWell, I recognized that liâl nigga who broke in our crib,â Vegas explained. âHeâs too young for me to bust up, so I got another plan. Now get dressed. Dress comfortably and wear dark colors. Youâre coming with me.â
I did as Vegas instructed and followed him out to the truck. We drove to one of his boyâs houses and traded off the truck for one of his cars. Vegas mounted a pair of 30-day tags on the car.
âYou ready, baby?â
âYes, I am,â I responded eagerly showing my man I could be his down ass bitch.
âWell, jump in the driver seat,â Vegas said as he handed me the keys. He lay on the floor in the back seat and directed me to the location of the guyâs hangout. Once I reached the area, Vegas pointed him out.
I drove up to the group of guys and said, âExcuse me. Do any of you guys know where Berkley is?â
The young kid who had robbed us was the first to respond. This was working out perfectly. âYeah, itâs about five miles away.â He started giving me detailed directions. Pretending to be confused, I used my sex appeal to persuade the young boy to get into the car.
âThatâs a lot for me to remember. Do you think you can ride with me out there? Iâll pay for a cab to get you back, or you can just stay at my crib if you like.â
Hearing exactly what he wanted to hear, he jumped right in with no hesitation. He had no idea what was in store for him. When he got in, I immediately hit the lock. Vegas sat up quietly and put the gun to the back of the guyâs head.
âLook straight ahead. If you turn your head in either direction, I will blow your fucking brains out. Got it?â
âI got it, man . . . I got it,â the terrified little boy said.
Vegas knew the boy was working for someone. âWho in the fuck sent you to my house? I know yoâ punk ass donât have the balls or the brains to come up with that shit on your own.â
The guy was so scared that he told Vegas everything. âMan Iâll tell you everything. Please, just donât kill me. Niggas on the streets is hating, man. They mad âcause you got all the parks on lock. Bear paid me to break in and steal yoâ stash and money and shit. I wasnât trying to do it, man, but I had to do it to clear an old debt I had with him. Come on, Vegas, itâs part of the game.â
With those last words, Vegas became infuriated.
âWhat, bitch?â
Pop . . . splat!
Vegas pistol-whipped the young boy in the head. Blood splattered against the car window.
âWhat the fuck you know about the game? Liâl nigga, you donât know shit. Have you moved any keys? As a matter of fact, have you even seen a key? What about raw? Have you even had any raw? You been on this corner for years, man, pushing nick, dimes, and caps. You ainât shit, nigga. You havenât even entered the game, bitch.â
After a little more terrorizing and a spit in the face, Vegas let the guy go. He put so much fear in that little boyâs heart, he would never think of crossing Vegas again.
Chapter 8
Holiday Celebrations
After the break-in, Vegas didnât waste any time buying a new house. We paid off the balance owed on my condo and quickly moved into our new five-bedroom house in Church Point. We lived near all the stars, from entertainers to athletes. The house was gorgeous. It was on the water and surrounded by a huge wrought iron gate. There was a three-car garage and a huge backyard. In the backyard was a deck with a gazebo, a boat ramp with his and hers Jet Skis, and a large pool.
The inside of