False

by U. E. Wynn

  “You fuckin’ pussy,” Jaymes said and laughed. “You begged me to come and now you punking out.”

  “I was just sayin’, man,” he shrugged. “It’s gonna look suspicious as fuck if all three of us walk to the house like, Hey man, want some of this?”

  Jaymes opened his mouth for another joke, but was quickly interrupted by Brandon.

  “Nah, he’s right. We’re gonna look like dumbasses and then, if we don’t get locked up by the mayor, we gon’ get our asses shanked by Vice and his crew.”

  “Then who’s gonna deliver?”

  “Me,” came Brandon’s short response. “I have my brother’s respect behind me as a shield, so if something goes wrong, nothing will happen to me. I can’t say the same about y’all, though.”

  Brandon was pleased to see his friends’ concerned faces. They seemed to agree with him and ultimately, gave in. He had wanted to convince them to give up and was happy when they did. That night belonged to him, and him alone. There was no place for mistakes.

  Thoughts of the money he was about to make had him feeling anxious. He could already see himself covering his mother in gifts and receiving all her love and attention. He saw himself being hugged and praised by her, while Malik sat in a corner looking foolish. He could see him glaring at them with jealousy, like Brandon had done so many times before.

  “A’ight then,” Jaymes finally spoke up. “You on your own, Bruh. Just let me know if you need me though.”

  “I got this,” said Brandon, trying to hide his enthusiasm after seeing his plan work.

  “But we’re gonna get a share of that cash, feel me?” said Jaymes not really asking. He gave Brandon a hard stare, waiting for his reply.

  “Don’t worry man. I got’chu,” Brandon assured them. They could have it all as far as he was concerned. He was gonna make more than that if his plan worked.

  Jaymes nodded and he and Dominik started walking in the opposite direction.

  As soon as he was left alone, Brandon headed straight to the mayor’s house. It was definitely bigger than the average neighborhood house and it was surrounded by a tall concrete fence. There was no way he could sneak in so he decided to take the obvious way – the main gate. There was a small speaker installed on the wall with a red button that read ‘Push to speak’. He pushed the button and waited for someone to answer.

  “Business or simple visit?” a woman’s voice echoed through the box as soon as he pressed the button.

  “Business.”

  The gates instantly opened, leaving him enough space to get inside the yard. He walked along the pavement and glanced at the tall trees that framed it. Ol’ Jameson surely had a taste for the fine life. When he finally reached the door, he rang the bell and was soon greeted by a middle-aged man, obviously drunk.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he said, struggling to tie together the question through gritted teeth.

  “I’ve got a package for Jameson,” Brandon replied, patting his pocket.

  The expression on the man’s face shifted in a matter of seconds.

  “Come in,” he said, moving aside so Brandon could get in.

  The heavy smell of cigarettes and sweat struck him instantly. The living room was crowded with a colorful mass of people laughing and dancing as if they had no care in the world. He even saw a few men playing with the skirts of the girls who were grinding against them in their laps. They wore no underwear. Brandon eyes were glued to their asses.

  “So, boy,” he heard the drunken man’s voice snapping his attention back to business. “What d’you have for me?”

  “The package from Vice.”

  “Follow me.”

  He seemed less drunk as he walked upstairs closely followed by Brandon. When they finally stopped, he turned to him and demanded to see the pack. Brandon handed it to him and could barely hold back a chuckle when the man sniffed it as if he could actually test its authenticity like that.

  He seemed pleased, though.

  “Good, good,” he murmured. He reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and pulled out a thick stack of cash. “Five thousand,” he said, slapping the banknotes hard against Brandon’s hand. “Now get out. And tell Vice I’ll need a fresh batch next month around this time.”

  As he walked out, Brandon could barely contain his excitement. Five thousand dollars. He had just easily earned five thousand dollars. Sure, he had to give the biggest part to Vice and then share what was left between himself and his friends, but it had still been easy money.

  When Brandon finally returned to the bar, he handed Vice the money. He sat there quietly as he watched him count it. Nodding his head, he peeled off a few bills and tossed them on the table in front of him. Vice decided that he should only have seven hundred dollars for the run. Brandon found that a bit unfair, but didn't argue back. He figured that he would give his two friends only one hundred each since they didn’t do shit and keep the rest for himself.

  He snatched the money up and stuffed it into his pocket. As he left the bar, he had a huge grin on his face. Like I said. Easy money.

  ~~~~

  It seemed that Brandon’s fame was growing day by day. He delivered packages for the small time dealers and met the important people in the city. It came as no surprise to him to see how many of the high-ranking men and women depended on his services. At the end of every delivery he would get a hefty sum and he was happy with it, mostly because he could now buy his mother things as well. Gloria had been grateful at first, thinking the gifts were bought from his savings, but when they started arriving more often and getting more expensive, she started getting suspicious and reached out to Malik.

  “I don’t know where he gets the money from,” she told Malik one day, pointing to the box full of jewelry Brandon had given her.

  Malik didn’t know either, but he was going to find out what was going on.

  “Don’t worry, Ma,” he told her. “I’ll find out and handle it.”

  Gloria smiled already feeling relief. Malik’s pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug.

  “I have to go, Ma. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Alright, baby. Be safe in those streets,” she said, holding on for a moment longer.

  “Always,” said Malik. He squeezed her tightly and kissed her cheek one last time with a loud smacking sound before leaving the house.

  His plan was to wait for Brandon to leave and follow him. He hid on the side of a small brick house down the street and waited patiently. He was well hidden due to his dark clothes which he used to his advantage. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.

  After a few minutes, he saw Brandon come into view on the porch. He watched as he locked the front door, descended the few steps, and headed down the block in a hurry. Malik followed him closely from the opposite side of the street. Luckily for him, Brandon didn’t pay attention to what was going on around him. What a mistake, Malik thought, shaking his head.

  As expected, Brandon took the road that led to the center of the city, the same place he started his own ‘career’ in. His blood was boiling. His little brother, whom he thought incapable of doing such things, was heading straight to Vice’s pub and went in as if he owned the place.

  I’ll show him who really owns everything around here, he thought as he got his phone out. After a few calls, and about ten minutes, he was surrounded by some of his most trusted men. Trey, Meek and Rock, each bigger and tougher looking than the other. They were always strapped and ready for whatever. They had murder in their eyes and fire flowing through their veins. None of them had ever liked Vice and this opportunity was too good to pass.

  “I’ll go in first,” Malik instructed them. “I just wanna make sure before we off them motherfuckers. Y’all come in at my signal.”

  The men nodded and with a blank expression plastered on his face, he entered the pub.

  “Sup, Vicey boy,” he laughed as he sat down at the table next to his brother who instantly tensed up in fear. “I see you’re here wit
h my lil’ bro and by the looks of it, y’all ain’t playin’ Monopoly.”

  His gaze swerved across the colorful packs spread on the table. There were at least fifteen types of drugs there, all sorted by a different color. He knew better than anyone how Vice worked, since he copped most of his shit from him.

  “He came to me,” Vice shrugged, trying to seem unaffected about the tension that was evident all around them.

  “Oh, he did, huh?”

  Even with the smile on Malik’s face, Vice wasn’t stupid. The ice in Malik’s eyes told a different story.

  Turning to his brother Malik continued to grin. “You did?”

  The only reaction that came from Brandon was a small nod. Weirdly enough, Malik was happy to see the fear in his brother’s eyes. Maybe that would convince him why this wasn’t the right choice for him. To stay the fuck in school and leave the streets to him.

  “I see how it is,” Malik hissed, the first sign of his anger being shown. With a hand wave the pub’s doors were slammed open by his men, who wasted no time in shooting everything and everyone that moved, except the bartender. She cowered in fear behind the counter waiting for her turn. It never came, though.

  The three men stepped over the still-twitching bodies on the floor and when they finally reached Malik’s table, they stood still in silence.

  “Now what do I do with my boy Vice here?” Malik smirked, his eyes glaring devilishly at the terrified man in front of him. “You know what? I’ll deal with you myself, but before I do,” he uttered, turning to face the woman behind the bar. “I want you to tell everyone that will listen that if they try and give my brother work, then I’ll have to come and put in work. You got that?”

  The woman nodded and ran out of the bar, stumbling over the lifeless bodies as she headed for the door. Malik felt bad for her. By the looks of it, she wasn’t used to seeing this kind of shit. Which was quite odd, considering her work place.

  That being said, he pulled out his knife and with a quick hand movement, he slit Vice’s throat. Blood sprayed his hands and Brandon’s face as he let out a disgusting gurgling sound before falling head first on the table.

  “If I catch you again,” he said, turning to Brandon, who was staring wide-eyed at him. “I’m gonna beat the shit outta you in front of Ma. Understood?”

  Brandon gave a weak nod. It was all he could do at that moment and he hated it. He hated how weak he was in front of his brother.

  “Good. I’m not gonna tell her anything this time. But I’m dead serious about what I said.”

  He grabbed a bunch of napkins from the tabled, wiped off his knife and then cleaned his hands. “Meek, call Stacey and tell him we have a clean up at Vice’s place. Tell him to send a replacement too.”

  “You got it Malik,” said Meek, walking away to make the call.

  Malik stood up and Brandon followed like a scared little boy.

  “Trey, take him to the Den and let him get cleaned up. Then take him home.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Brandon. “Don’t give Trey any trouble. Do as he says and don’t upset Mom when you get in the house. You got that?”

  Brandon nodded, bested by his brother once again. The sharp knife of anger wedging even deeper.

  CHAPTER 5

  Three weeks had passed since Vice’s death and as expected, no one said a thing. From what Brandon saw that day, Malik took over Vice’s territory, and his clients as well. The money was flowing in double time now, especially with all Vice’s high society customers.

  This made Brandon even angrier than he already was. He was 17, damnit! Almost 18 and technically, he was an adult. He was tired of seeing his brother basking in street fame and cash while he had to waste time in a classroom surrounded by loud racist idiots.

  Of course, the events hadn’t just passed by unnoticed. Everyone knew about Brandon and his overprotective older brother. Some people made fun of him, laughing at him as if he had been some kind of kid who needed chastising.

  The most annoying moments in Brandon’s opinion are the ones when he’s walking to class and other students that use to talk to him pass by him in fear. They are so afraid that they would cower in fear as they hurry along. The thing that drove him mad was that the respect wasn’t even fairly earned by him, but by Malik. They were afraid of his brother, and by extension, scared of him.

  It was all because of Malik. Wherever he went, that’s all he heard. Malik did this, Malik said that. Malik, Malik, Malik. Even his mother, the person he loved the most in the world, seemed to ignore him lately. I’m sick of being in his shadow,” as he stood near the school’s front gate.

  Today, Malik had called and said he would be picking him up from school instead of him taking the usual bus ride home. It annoyed him, of course, but there was no way he could refuse. Truth was, despite all the hatred he felt for Malik, he was still afraid of him. Especially after he saw what he could really do.

  He hadn't been waiting long before a newly bought black Dodge Viper stopped in front of the school yard prompting amazed gasps from the kids that saw it. He rolled his eyes and quickly got into the car, making himself comfortable on the black leather covered back seat. The front seat was occupied by a blonde bimbo who looked like she had just been taken out of a strip club. Knowing his brother, that was probably true. She didn’t even look at him, let alone say hello.

  “Sup, Brandon?” Malik said with a smile.

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh, C’mon. There can’t really be nothing going on. How was your d…”

  “It was fine,” Brandon snapped. “Now pay attention to the fuckin’ road or you’re gonna get us killed.”

  Malik was shocked. It was the first time he heard his brother talk like that and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Especially in front of that chick. She was gonna think he was some weak piece of shit now all because Brandon decided to try him.

  “You’d better not talk like that around Ma,” he threatened.

  “Why do you give a shit? You don’t live there to hear it.”

  Malik took a deep breath, his fingers tightening their grip around the wheel. For some reason Brandon was angry and he couldn’t figure out why. He thought showing up in a flashy car in front of his friends would make him feel like a boss. Wasn’t every high school boy’s dream to be seen in a car like that? Hell, he even risked exposing one of his hoes to him. It seemed that it all had been in vain.

  “Look, I ain’t got time for this,” he spoke as calmly as he could. “But we gon’ talk tonight, okay?”

  “You’re not Dad,” Brandon mumbled from the back seat.

  Malik’s eyes shot up to the review mirror to see Brandon behind him. “What the fuck you say?”

  “I said you’re not Dad!” Brandon shouted, sheer rage filling his voice. “You’re not Dad and you’ll never be. You know what he’d do if he knew what you’re doing right now? He’d fuckin’ spit on you, that’s what he’d…”

  In a quick movement Malik swerved the car over to the curb and stopped. He unlocked the doors and looked back over his shoulder at Brandon. “Get out,” he spat through gritted teeth. “Get out before I do something I might regret.”

  Brandon laughed. He felt unusually powerful as he did that. Seeing his brother get angry because of him and watching him struggle to contain the fire that was eating at him, made Brandon feel like a God.

  “So now you’re gonna kill me too?” he snorted. “Like you did Vice?”

  That was it. Blinded by fury, Malik got out of the car and walked around to the back seat. He didn’t even open the back door. He dragged Brandon out of the car through the window, then reclaimed his seat at the wheel, and drove away.

  He left Brandon lying on the concrete, his clothes a mess, but feeling happier than he had ever felt. If that’s what being the boss felt like, he now understood why Malik fought so hard to keep his position. Brandon smiled evilly as the adrenaline rushed through him. How’d you like that shit, bro?

  ~~~~

  It
was late in the evening when Brandon heard someone turning his door knob. He was sitting at his desk when Malik opened the door and stepped in. He pretended not to see him, hoping he’d go away as he flipped through the latest issue of Deadpool.

  “The Merc With A Mouth, huh?” Malik smiled as he read the title. Lately it seemed like Brandon was rushing the idea of growing up, but then there were times like this when he would catch him reading comic books that made him hope otherwise. He wished he could just understand that he wanted him to be safe and for his life to turn out better than his.

  Brandon grimaced. Why did he feel the need to ruin such a perfect day?

  “Look,” he continued, looking uncomfortable sitting on Brandon’s bed. “I just wanted to apologize about everything.”

  Silence.

  “You know I do what I do because I care about you and Ma,” he sighed. “I just want a better life for you two. You’re my lil bro and I wanna take care of you as best as I can.”

  Again, no answer. There was nothing but the soft sound of pages being turned.

  “I don’t want you to take the same path I did,” said Malik. “It’s not for you.”

  “Who are you to decide that?” Brandon finally spoke, feeling the hatred growing inside of him. “Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do, huh?”

  “Your older brother.”

  Brandon snorted.

  “Again, you’re not Dad and you’ll never be like him. So just give up.”

  A loud sigh escaped Malik’s throat.

  “No, I’m not like him,” he said, looking down in shame. “I don’t even dare to say that I am. And I know I’ll never be like him. He was so… honest and fair and I’m just…”

  “A dirty hustla,” he said in disgust.

  Malik nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. A dirty hustla doing his best to keep his little brother in school and pay for the roof over his head,” Malik added, the faint pride note in his tone making Brandon sick.

  “Get outta my room,” he said, calmly turning the page to read the next chapter. Carnage was totally going to get mauled in this one, he thought with a smile, now focused back on his reading. Carnage was his least favorite character. He only thought about his own personal pleasure and acted in such a way that he ignored everyone around him.