Memoirs of a Businessman, Chapter 8
The Laurel House Scandal, part 2
Chapter 8- The Laurel House Scandal pt 2
🔥 “I would like the power to fire the head of the alphabet boys investigating me and the ability to disseminate classified information for profit after selling real estate to foreign dignitaries. All without having to release my tax information.
Furthermore, hate is a strong word, for one must love something before we truly hate it.
Today’s Mother’s day. Still, I despise this month for it’s haunting reminders.
I spend time with family and friends, hearing wilder tales than the ones I’ve put in this book, and constantly pray for those of us who never made it here. In that, I know that what I type is necessary. How? All of the comments from people who have reached out and said so. So, please keep that up because it’s inspiration for me to continue. If I changed one soul then I feel I’ve succeeded.
Not all Mothers live a completely crime free life. Some do what they simply have to do. In the instance of this story I’ve even seen mother and daughter hooker teams(and in this case the daughter was under age). I briefly introduced the readers to Bobbi in the last chapter but we haven’t spoke of her daughter Bridget yet. I was living the bachelors life back around the time I was hanging out with Bobbi and was in the streets regularly. As a young man just trying to find my place in the world, I was reckless and thoughtless. Now the world is filled with thots. Back then that term didn’t even exist. O what a world we live in. I guess convenience has shortened everything. We’re in a rush to go nowhere quick. Before Anonymous who warned us of WWIII? In this particular instance I told the war for our households was on its way.
“Yesh I need to meet you. I’ll take you shopping and we need to discuss some things?” Chi said
‘What particularly?” I inquired
“An order of protection! Can’t tell you all the details over the phone, she replied.
“You know I hate this enigmatic behavior, Chi! However fine! Let’s go. I need some shoes and a new fit anyways.”
2 hours later we were shopping and I was told not to come out after dark for reasons of an ongoing assault and that certain precautions must be taken. What a day, what a day! She was the type I loved to pieces with such a fiery spirit. The type who kept a nine milli’ in the glove compartment and a shotgun in the back seat.
Meanwhile Soul never knew he was dead already and neither did I. He often ranted about taking one last run with black (for those who dont know what that is I suggest you research just a little more). I told him: “Na homie! Your next run could be your last!”. The official toxicology report on the day of his death said that he died from a heart attack. However I have my reasoning for thinking that it was more than that. The day of his death his last request was for me to put my name in his music. The night he died forensics kept all residents of the Laurel House in the streets from 8pm-2am. When the cops showed up I was in the backyard dumping the contents of a dresser drawer full of narcotics down a hole in a center block used to construct a fire pit. When the police pulled up I had already lit a cigarette and was smoking heavily. Then you wonder why I hate this month!