by U. E. Wynn
“I’m not gonna leave until we’re through with this,” said Malik. He seemed much angrier than before and Brandon seemed pleased with it. He had never been a patient man and Brandon knew exactly how to play with that.
“Well, your ass is going to rot here, cause I don’t feel like talking to you today.”
“Brandon, if only…”
“If only what?” he snapped, cutting him off. “If only what, huh? If only I listened to you complaining about how hard your life is and how we should feel bad for your sorry ass? If only I would cry for you when you drive all those fancy ass cars and spending all your cash?”
“Brandon…”
But he was only just getting started. All the last few weeks frustrations was coming out and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“If only I pitied you when I saw you stacking the money as if it was simple to get that much paper? Or when I caught you fucking that big-tittied whore in the back seat of your new Audi? Fuck off, Malik,” he spat. “I don’t want any of your shit. I’m a grown ass ma…”
A loud whack ended his discourse, followed by a stinging pain in his cheek. The realization that he was no longer on his chair, but on the floor, shocked him. He stared up at his brother and seeing the pure anger in his eyes, he felt afraid once again. He despised himself for that.
“You fuckin’ bastard,” he groaned. “You hit me. You hit me!” he yelled.
“I had to,” Malik said, panting. “You wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry, Brandon. I really am.”
He helped him up and after he sat him back down in his chair, Malik continued.
“Just do as I say and keep studying. You’ll become a big man someday and you need to be educated for that. You can’t have that if you fuck with these streets.”
He moved towards the door and stopped when a thought came to mind. He knew Brandon was stubborn as fuck, so he felt he should scare him a bit to keep him from trying to be a hustla again.
“And I swear, if I catch you doing any illegal shit again, I’ll kill you myself.”
He knew he didn’t mean a word of it, but it needed to be said. With a chuckle, he left the room, leaving behind a more confused than ever Brandon.
Did he seriously think he could just do that? Did he actually believe he could just say shit like that and get away with it like nothing happened?
I’ll show him. I’ll show him and everyone else who’s the biggest, meanest motherfucker around. Just wait and see, Malik, he thought. Just wait and see.
CHAPTER 6
This was the big day for Brandon. It was graduation day. The day he would finally get to see his classmates for the last time. How he hated them. He hated them all for the admiration they had for his brother. He hated them all for wanting to be his friend because of him. He hated the fact that they believed his low life hustla brother was someone to idolize.
That night after his brother hit him it all became clear to him. He decided that since he couldn't join his brother on the streets, he would dedicate the rest of his life trying to take the streets from him. It would please him like nothing else to ruin Malik’s life.
He would destroy him and his empire little by little. He would start with the small corner thugs, ending with the ones that sat in his trap houses throughout the day bagging drugs and counting all his money. That’s what mattered most to Malik—his money. And he would do whatever it takes to rip it from his grasp.
Suddenly his thoughts turned to their mother and he smiled. His desire to impress her has never faded. It’s only gotten stronger, almost becoming an obsession. And even though his need to have her love all to himself is what drives him, his only wish at the current moment was to do everything he could to destroy his brother’s. To knock that ever present smug smile from his lips.
He wanted to see him crawling in the dirt begging him for his help. He wanted to strip him of his power and respect and show everyone who he truly was – just a scared little man that used drug money to steal away all of their mother’s affection. In Brandon’s eyes, he was a coward. The exact opposite of everything their father raised them to be.
Brandon looked around the crowded lobby until he found his mother. He stood there watching as she scanned the crowd looking for him. As soon as their eyes met he stepped from the auditorium and began walking in her direction.
“My baby boy.” Gloria kissed his forehead when he finally reached her. His graduation hat slid to the side when she hugged him tightly. “I’m so proud of you. So proud,” she said, giving him one last squeeze.
“You did it, lil man,” Malik said, patting his back. “So what are ya gonna do now?”
Brandon shrugged as if he didn’t know, although he knew exactly what he was going to do. They were the ones that didn’t know yet, mainly because they wouldn’t approve. In fact, no one else knew about his plan. They had already begun pointing out different colleges for him to attend snatching the right to choose from his grasp. He heard his mother talking about Medical school the other night, to which his brother responded saying he should actually study law.
Brandon laughed inside. He had no idea how close he was to being right.
“Well, you have time to decide,” Gloria said, taking his arm and guiding him outside to Malik’s car; a new Lamborghini Aventador. The red race car was shining in the sunlight as the doors let out a slight hiss sound as they opened lifting towards the sky. This beauty is going to be mine one day, Brandon thought as he got into the luxury car.
For the first time in years, he actually felt happy that he was returning home. Gloria was throwing a graduation party for him that evening and it was the perfect cover up for what he was going to do.
“I’ve invited Amy too,” she said, trying to sound innocent. Under other circumstances, Brandon would’ve gotten mad. Amy was his ex-girlfriend and she was obsessed with him. Despite his efforts to get his mother to believe it, she still thought the girl would make a great future wife. He shook his head. Amy wasn't good for nothing but a good time.
He just found it funny how his mother was already thinking about him getting married at such an early age and yet she never bothered Malik with the same stuff. Probably because he wasn't worth the effort. Who the fuck wanted to marry a drug dealer with no future besides death or jail?
“Whatever,” Brandon said, gazing through the window watching as the night shadows started to creep in. Looking up at the sky, he noticed that it was also getting cloudy. Perfect, he thought.
When they finally arrived home, the lights were on and much to Brandon’s disappointment, the house was already full of partying teens and the music was booming through the speakers.
“Ma, this was really unnecessary,” he sighed as he got out of the car. Hadn’t he made it clear enough that he didn’t want a big party? Sadly, and as usual, no one seemed to listen to anything he said, let alone actually take his opinion into consideration. He hated that about them. They never truly listened to him.
“Hey, hey,” she said, giving him a tight hug. “It’s your last day as a high schooler. You’d better make the best of it. Now go on in. Me and Malik are going to spend the night at your auntie's house.”
Brandon couldn’t believe his ears. They were actually leaving for the night. This couldn’t have been better. Suddenly, his mood changed and he smiled.
“Alright then,” he said and then kissed his mother’s cheek. “I won't have too much fun.”
“Don’t have too much fun with Amy either,” Malik said laughing.
With one last hug, Gloria stepped off the porch and headed back towards the car. Brandon didn't even bother to look at Malik or comment on what he’d said about Amy. He knew that this would be the last time he saw him before he started ruining his life. I can’t wait.
~~~~
Everything seemed to be working perfectly so far. His mother and brother didn’t show up to check on him as he thought they would and there were no thug faces at the party he recognized. He guessed his brother didn
’t want to ruin his fun by sending his people to spy on him.
But that didn’t stop him from being cautious. Throughout the night when the attention would shift to someone else, he would sneak into his bedroom and pack a few things in his luggage. He did this quite a few times until he was happy with the contents of his bag.
During the last exit to his room, he made sure he had enough money for what he needed to do. He had been smart enough to save most of the money he made working for Vice, so he had a few thousand dollars to use. But when the time came, he would need to be smart how he spent it. In a few years he would need a place to stay, money to buy food and still have enough to pay his tuition. He made sure that his budget was perfectly split by his future needs and was happy with his results.
Once all of his luggage was packed, and the money hidden within a zippered section of the duffle bag, the last thing to do was find a way to sneak out without being noticed by the people in the house. The solution came disguised as Amy, his crazy ass ex. During the next hour, he began making advances to her friend Karen, who never left her side.
“You know,” Amy said, looking at him in disapproval as he caressed Karen’s thigh. “I didn’t think you would get over our relationship that easily.”
He didn’t bother turning to her. He even pretended not to have heard her as his lips wandered along Karen’s neck.
“You two never really had anything anyway,” he heard Karen say. “Maybe that’s why you let Malik fuck you in the back seat of his truck last year.”
Although he wanted them to go at each other, Karen’s response caught him off guard. His whole body tensed. He turned to look at Amy and from the irate stare she was throwing at Karen, he knew what she’d said to be the truth. Malik had fucked his girl. Okay, maybe at the time she had been his ex-girlfriend, but that shit still was wrong. It just proved to Brandon that he was correct about him. He was a piece of shit who really didn't give a fuck about him or anyone else.
Anger hot and sharp rushed through Brandon and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Amy’s neck and squeeze the life out of her slutty ass. But he didn't want to fuck up his plan. I’ll just chuck it up as a casualty of war. I’ll find my reward later when I set my plan into play.
Much to his surprise Amy’s response was pretty calm. “Your just jealous cause you’ve never fucked him,” said Amy, quietly.
Keren giggle when Brandon tickled her ear with his tongue. “No, but I know who I’ll be fucking later tonight,” she said as she leaned over and kissed Brandon fully on the lips.
Amy got up fuming and Brandon smirked.
“I know you didn’t just say that, you bitch,” Amy snarled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger in Karen’s face.
Karen got up as well and stepped up to Amy. Her face was so close Brandon could see her breath steaming up Amy’s glasses.
“But I just did,” she said all up in her face. “What you gonna do about it, huh?”
The answer came as a loud slap, followed by complete silence. Everyone was paying attention to the girls now. They had even stopped the music so they could hear better.
It only took them half a second and a hatred-filled look at each other to start fighting. Much to Brandon’s joy the people formed a tight circle around them, blocking their view of him. He was now safe from any inquisitive looks.
Carefully, he got up and walked to his bedroom. He looked back a few times to check if anyone had noticed his absence. They hadn’t. They were too busy cheering for the two crazy bitches fighting over him.
He chuckled when he heard something break. It was the glass vase Malik brought their mother on her birthday a few years ago. Nothing brought him more happiness than knowing something his brother spent money on had broken.
Without turning the lights on, he cast a last glance around his bedroom wondering when and if he was going to see it again. He shook off the sadness, grabbed his luggage and phone, and off he went. He had to use the back door to make sure no one would see him. Luckily, they were all still in the living room, watching the cat fight.
As he stepped outside, he breathed in the fresh air of the night and let out a relieved sigh. This is it, he thought to himself as he glanced up and down the deserted street. This was the beginning of a new life. A life lived no more in his brother’s shadow. A life where he would no longer be told what to do. He would be taking charge of everything in his life from now on.
Brandon made his way to to Clinton Avenue where he could find transportation. He didn’t want to call a cab to the house because he knew it could easily be traced and he didn’t know if Malik had that kind of pull. It was better to be safe than sorry.
As he waited for the bus, he basked in his freedom. It was intoxicating, filling him up and making him dizzy with happiness. It almost felt like he could grow wings at any moment and just fly away to wherever he wanted to go. If felt good to be free.
Right on schedule, the bus stopped in front of the sign and a heavy set toothless old driver opened the door for him. He paid for his ticket and carried his luggage over to a seat at the back of the bus. The bus was practically empty except for himself, the driver and another passenger who was leaning to the side passed out. He could tell the man was drunk because the smell of alcohol was strong as he moved by.
Brandon was drunk too. He was drunk on his newly acquired freedom. Leaving home was the first choice that he’d made on his own and he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of independence.
It took two and an a half hours to reach his destination at 40 Washington Square in downtown Manhattan. He thanked the driver and got off in front of the entrance of the building holding a duffle bag in each hand. A feeling of belonging washed through him, putting him at ease.
Glancing up at the brick archway, he felt that once he crossed under, it would somehow confirm everything he had planned for himself. He looked over at the words on a small sign tarnished from weathering the years since 1835 and smiled.
New York University School of Law.
No one had known that he had applied for scholarships at several universities and had gotten accepted at more than four with full scholarships that included campus stay and meal tickets. Loving the vibe he’d gotten from the staff and the hum of energy he felt from the people that lived here in Greenwich Village, he knew this school was the perfect choice.
Not only was he close enough to visit his mother whenever he chose to, but he would still be able to keep an eye on Malik, documenting everything that he did. It wouldn’t be long before he had a thick file on all his workers, trap houses, clients and connects. He would keep the information tucked safely away until he was ready to use it.
Brandon’s plan was to study criminal law while acquiring the college credits he needed to apply for the police academy. Once he graduated from the police academy, he would begin to make his move on Malik’s territory.
He would start out small arresting the corner hustlers. That would impress his lieutenant. Then he would start bringing down some of the more important members of his brother's organization, proving he was a good candidate for the Gang and Drug Enforcement.
As soon as he got his promotion, he would start running down on Malik’s trap houses and everything, destroying Malik’s so called dynasty. He was going to take it or destroy it all. It would be like taking candy from a baby, he thought with a smirk as he finally stepped through the gated archway.
CHAPTER 7
“We got two of them in the building and another two waiting outside,” the man in the dark blue trench coat spoke into a tiny microphone, well-hidden among the buttons. He stood beside Brandon awaiting orders.
“Should I go in?” asked Brandon.
“Wait until they all get in,” a sharp voice sounded in Brandon’s ear. “It’s a small house. They’re gonna be caught in there like mice in a trap,” replied his Sergeant.
“Roger that,” Brandon mumbled with impatience.
The Sergeant could feel his officer
’s hatred burning through his ear, shooting to his brain like electricity. On one side, he could understand where that came from, but at the same time he kind of… didn’t. Sure, like every decent human being around, he hated drug dealers for ruining people’s lives. But on the other side, Brandon seemed to be the only one who did it with such a forceful passion.
Ever since he started working for the police department – and mind you, it had been a few good years – he hadn’t met a man that wanted to do everything humanly possible to catch the drug dealers quite like him. Brandon Baker was an unstoppable force. A tireless machine that didn’t fear even the most dangerous hustlas.
He had been on the force for a few years now, but was basically still a newbie. However, seeing how things were progressing with him, it wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if he was promoted.
The Sergeant cast another frugal glance to the house’s entrance. The men were gone. They were most likely all inside and therefore, they made easy targets.
“They’re in,” he announced through the mic. Move in!”
Those were just the words Brandon had been waiting for. Armed to the teeth and followed by two other policemen, he busted through the house door.
“Police! Don’t move!”
There were four men in front of Brandon, all looking about as dangerous as an old sock. Small time wannabe thugs, he concluded. And if he needed further proof, the little white plastic bags on the table came to his aid. It wasn’t even a quarter of what an actual dealer would work with. But he had to deal with that for now. Plus, there was also a nice pile of dollar bills next to the bags that almost begged him to take it.
“Hands where I can see them!” he shouted as one of the men began reaching for his pocket. The move didn’t go unnoticed by the other policemen because in the next second, the thug was saying hello to the floor, his nose pressed tightly against it as the officer checked his pockets. He took out a small revolver and tossed it to Brandon.
