False

by U. E. Wynn

  However, he wasn’t a match for Brandon and his men. He had to give it to him, though. His courage was foolishly admirable.

  “We wanna collab,” Brandon spoke, enjoying the distrustful reactions his words got from the drug dealers.

  “By force?” Mort asked, his eyes narrowing in rage.

  “By any means,” Brandon smirked.

  He gave a small hand signal that had his men form into a tight ball. With his team protected behind his shield, and wearing their heavy vests, the hustlas didn’t stand a chance. One by one, all five remaining men were taken down, their blood mixing together into a giant dark stain. It was a grim reminder that if you messed with him, you were going to end up with your brains scattered on the floor.

  After the last man fell, Brandon sat down at the table and gulped down a half finished glass of brandy.

  “We should celebrate, guys,” he smiled, pointing at the stack of cash on the table. “We’re killing scum and getting rich doing it.”

  “Amen to that!” said Zane. He took the bottle of alcohol and gulped down a few swallows.

  O’Malley didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

  “So what are we gonna do with this?” he asked, pointing at the money.

  Brandon burst into laughter.

  “It’s ours. We found it, we keep it. What was the deal with the old man upstairs?”

  “He was the uncle of one of these fuckers,” O’Malley replied, casting a disgusted look at the dead bodies on the floor. “I don’t think he knew what was going on to be honest. He seemed scared when we first got into the house, but gladly gave us all the answers we needed.”

  “So he was scared,” Brandon said.

  “Yup. But not because of us. He was afraid of his nephew.”

  A slight pang of sadness shot through Brandon’s heart. He felt bad for the old man. He probably was trying to live a peaceful life, but was being assaulted by his nephew and his gang of criminal friends.

  “Alright, let’s clean this shit up,” he ordered, looking for his backpack. He quickly shoved all the money inside, wondering how much they were going to rake after the split.

  His thought’s drifted to his mother thinking it wouldn’t be long before he would be able to give her a few expensive gifts. He saw her hugging him and kissing his cheek with love and gratitude. He always had visions of how she would react to his generosity, and it always played out the same in all of them.

  Brandon, the neglected son, would finally get all the love and affection he deserved from his mother. It would feel good, he thought. Then he looked down at the bag full of money. But all this cash in my backpack feels way better.

  CHAPTER 10

  “What the fuck, man? Are you actually leaving us on our own today?” Brock grumbled, clearly upset at the news he just heard.

  “It’s not like you can’t handle a group of college niggas. Don’t be stupid. Plus, I promised.”

  Brock’s face showed nothing but discontent. Brandon was leaving town that Friday, so that meant they were on their own in this evening’s raid. It was nothing complicated, as he insisted – just a few college kids thinking they could get into ‘the business.’ But the main problem was that they didn’t know who backed them up and that could create more trouble than they wanted.

  “Do you at least have any useful information to give us?” Brock asked, lighting up another cigarette. Brandon scrunched his nose. He hated that cheap shit his men smoked.

  “You know just as much as I do,” came his stern reply. He was tired of this conversation already and yet, Brock didn’t seem to be leaving.

  “You’re not lying, are ya?”

  Brandon let out an exasperated groan.

  “I told you already,” he said, trying his absolute best to maintain the calmness in his tone. “Why the fuck would I keep info from you? You think I wanna get you all killed or some shit?”

  “I never said that. I was just hoping there would be something you forgot.”

  “I don’t see why you’re so worried about this crap,” Brandon sighed. “It’s just a bunch of fuckin’ freshmen thinking they’re cool. You won’t even need all the men for that. Actually, I think it’s for the best if you only take one person with you.”

  “We don’t know who’s backing them, man!”

  “Their fuckin’ parents are backing them!” Brandon shouted, his fist colliding loudly with the desk in front of him. “Are you done being such a lil’ bitch? I thought I got some ruthless mother fuckers on my team, not fuckin’ cowards. Fuck!”

  Brock didn’t seem too impressed. He took another drag from his cigarette and watched the smoke rising up to the ceiling.

  “I was just making sure this ain’t nothing serious. A lot of shit has been happening lately and you can’t always know who’s who.”

  “This is nothing serious,” Brandon said. “Now get the fuck out and let me get ready. And open the window before ya leave. That shit smells like rotting corpses.”

  Laughing, Brock did as he was told. There was no use in annoying Brandon anymore since it was obvious that he didn’t know anything else.

  A sigh escaped Brandons’ lips as soon as he heard the click of the door being closed. Where did they even find these people? Each and every one of them stubborn as a mule and just as stupid as the next one. If they hadn’t been hired by his superiors, he would’ve gotten rid of them a long time ago. Well, not exactly all of them, he thought. Just the dumbest ones. Maybe he could arrange some accident. He would think about it some other time.

  For now, he had to get ready to go meet his mother.

  He fixed his tie in the small mirror on his desk and made sure his hair looked impeccable before putting on his best suit coat. It’s been a while since he had last seen his mother and he wanted to look perfect. She was definitely going to be impressed. And most of all, proud to have such a great son.

  He could already see his brother in his sagging jeans and white t-shirt. Compared to him, Malik would look like a young high school gangster wannabe. He chuckled to himself.

  In front of the precinct, a taxi stopped and after a few honks, Brandon remembered he had been the one who called for it. He grabbed his suitcase and flew out of the door.

  He forgot one thing though, and that was exactly what Brock had been waiting for.

  After making sure Brandon was gone for good, he crept into his office and started rummaging through his papers. What a lucky fuckin’ day, he thought, pulling out a red file labeled “high risk.” The dumb ass left both his office and drawers unlocked in his hurry to leave.

  He knew some people who would pay good money for what was in that file.

  ~~~~

  Brandon always hated when complete strangers tried to make small talk. And he hated it even more when they didn’t take the hints and started talking about every small thing that crossed their minds. Like the taxi driver.

  For the past half an hour, Brandon learned that democrats had no chance in winning the elections that year, that Leo wasn’t actually supposed to win the Oscar, and that the world will finally come to an end once the government finally started their evil plot of freezing the Earth to death by controlling the weather. At one point, he started thinking that jumping out of the car while it was speeding down the street wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  “We’re finally here, mister,” the driver announced, pulling over in front of a small but nice-looking house. He grinned when he saw that Brandon had tipped him, showing off his golden tooth. “Lost it in a fight with an Italian mobster,” he explained as if Brandon actually cared.

  Not waiting for another word, Brandon slammed the car door closed and took a deep breath of relief when he was finally free of the talkative old fucker. He shook his head, regretting that he tipped that lunatic. Whatever, he shrugged. He was feeling extra generous that day.

  He only needed to knock once before the door opened, his mother stood there, her face lit up by the brightest smile. She looks even pretti
er than the last time I’d seen her, he thought.

  She was wearing a black dress with daisies on it and had her hair up in a bun. He was so happy to see her like that. She was radiating sheer happiness and that was more than enough to make him happy too.

  “Hi, Mom,” he said shyly. “It’s good to s—“

  Before he could finish, he was pulled into the warmest embrace he had ever felt.

  “Come in, come in,” his mother beamed, inviting him inside. “Oh, what a great day. To have both my sons home for dinner again!”

  “Both?” he asked as his smile began to drift away.

  She nodded.

  “Your brother is coming in a bit. He said he has a surprise for me.”

  He could barely hold in a jeering snort. It came out as an odd sneeze instead. While he was busy pretending he was looking for a tissue, his mother took his coat and hung it on the mahogany clothes hanger. Another gift from her beloved drug dealer son, he thought. It took all the self control he could muster not to sound heated when he spoke. Instead, his tone came across as friendly, and sickly sweet.

  “I can’t wait to see him either. It’s been a while.”

  Gloria nodded. “I know, I know. I’m pretty sure he’ll love to see you here!”

  Brandon followed her into the living room, passing by a set of modern art paintings. There was nothing to be admired there except the straightness of the lines that made the geometric shapes randomly thrown onto the canvas. Waste of money.

  The living room had been redecorated as well. His eyes were drawn to a small glass table in the middle of the room resting on top of a white fur rug. Probably real.

  There were a few chairs in the odd shape of a half moon, their feet pointy and black. The white walls were covered in white bookshelves packed with books he was pretty sure no one ever read.

  “Do you like it?” his mother asked, her eyes glowing with pride. “I took care of all the decorating process!”

  “With whose money?”

  He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. They hung heavy in the air between them, pressing on their shoulders like mountains. He snapped. He shouldn’t have. Not at her. Never at her.

  “With mine and Malik’s, if you must know,” she uttered through her teeth. “I work too, you know. I’m not lazy.”

  “I know, Ma. I know,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just...”

  “It’s alright. The trip must have tired you,” she said, forcing a smile. “Why don’t you take a nap? It’s gonna take a while until everyone’s here so you might as well rest.”

  Brandon looked at her closely and for the first time he noticed that his mother was getting old. Her brown eyes were still bright and she was still beautiful, however, she now had tiny wrinkles that were slowly becoming noticeable. The wrinkles around her mouth, the lines on her forehead, and even the few white hairs he thought were just a trick of the light, gave away what she’d gone through worrying about Malik. That made him feel even worse for what he’d said earlier, but angry at Malik for making her worry so much.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry I snapped like that. I just had an argument with a colleague before leaving and it kinda got to me.”

  She got on her toes, reaching for his cheek so she could kiss it. She laughed when he pretended to pull away.

  “You know where your room is,” she said releasing him. “It’s still the same as you left it.”

  He nodded and went upstairs.

  She was right. His room was still the same way it had been while he had been growing up in. The same bed, desk and chair. Even the posters of basketball players still hung on the walls. He ran his fingers on the glossy surface of one, remembering how he’d sometimes gazed at them and dreamed about becoming one of the famous NBA players. He liked to imagine himself on posters like that, being an inspiration for another kid like him.

  He sat down at his desk and pulled open a drawer. His stuff was still there, untouched by the hands of time. He found a few pens, some Crayolas and a few old notebooks. He took one out and opened it, laughing at the doodles he’d drawn during math class. What an awesome time that had been. He had hated it then, just as every other child that was obligated to attend school. Now, when he recalled those days, he wished he could go back.

  Those were the good times when it had just been himself, his mother and father, and Malik, who wasn’t yet a filthy drug dealer. A flash of pain struck his heart. He wished everything was different. He wished his father was still alive so he could continue to give his ‘golden boy’ Malik all his attention. Then his mother would be free to continue to give him all of hers. He missed her praising him and being eager to hear about his day. Now it was all about Malik.

  With a deep sigh, Brandon got up and flopped down on the twin bed. I wish I didn’t have to hunt down my own brother. But someone’s gotta teach him a lesson.

  It was his last thought before he fell into a dreamless sleep.

  ~~~~

  An hour later Brandon woke up to the sound of voices downstairs. One of them belonged to his mother, that he knew for sure. But there were two more he wasn’t able to recognize. He figured out one must have been his brother’s and yet there was still another one. A woman’s voice he could not make out.

  “Brandon!” his mother cheered as soon as he walked into the kitchen. “There you are!”

  “Hey, bro,” Malik said, reaching out to shake Brandons’ hand. “It’s nice to see ya again.”

  Malik looked over his brother and felt a surge of pride at the man he’d become, knowing he had a hand in making it so.

  Oh, it would be truly nice to see you when you’re behind bars, he wanted to say. Instead, he put on the best fake smile he could and greeted his brother with warmth.

  “Nice to see you too, bro,” he said. “And who’s that lovely lady over there?”

  The girl flashed a bright smile. She was stunning. Her long wavy hair flowing over her chocolate shoulders in a silky cascade. Her big brown eyes glowing with pleasure. She had full lips and sculpted cheeks, giving her the arrogant air of a model.

  “I’m Terry,” she spoke, shaking Brandon’s hand. He couldn’t help but focus on the touch of her silky smooth skin. “Malik’s girlfriend.”

  “I’m so lucky to have met her,” Malik spoke, sheer pride dripping from his voice. “She’s a goddess.”

  “Oh, stop,” she giggled. “You’re making me blush.”

  Gloria, obviously proud of her older son, couldn’t stop fretting around him and his girlfriend. She kept repeating how beautiful Terry was and how proud she was of Malik. It shamed Brandon to admit it, but it kind of made him feel as if he was lacking something. As if he couldn’t measure up.

  “Okay, mom,” Malik laughed.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Gloria said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s not often one of my sons bring a woman home for dinner. That being said, I made a killer grilled rabbit.”

  “Skilled as always,” Brandon said, placing a small kiss on his mother’s cheek. He felt oddly proud of himself for having thought about that compliment before his brother.

  They all took it upon themselves the task of helping with setting the dinner table. After the food had been arranged on the table and the good cutlery was taken out, they all sat down around the massive wooden table. Their mouths began to water at the delicious meal in front of them. When Malik reached for the first bite, his mother gently slapped his hand.

  “You know we pray first in this house. Who should be the one to do it?”

  “I think that should be you, Ma,” Brandon said. “You’re the host, after all. We’ll just follow you.”

  She seemed happy with that. They all joined hands, Brandon caught between his mother and Terry, a spot he rather enjoyed.

  “Lord almighty,” she began and Brandon could feel how her grip on his hand got tighter. He could tell it was the same for his brother as well. “Please accept our humble prayers and thanks. I than
k you for bringing my sons together this evening and for blessing us with Terry. I thank you for the life we have and I thank you for the food you put on our table. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the others repeated.

  “Can I eat now?” Malik asked, just as he used to when he was a child.

  Gloria laughed and, much to his surprise, Brandon followed her.

  “Of course.”

  They ate together, laughing and talking about the small things that made them either happy or annoyed. Long moments of laughter were often followed by short silent pauses when each of them would either focus on their food, either letting something sink in, be it a joke or a serious remark. It was Malik’s turn to break the silence that time.

  “So,” he spoke, reaching for the gravy, “what do you do, bro? You never told us? I mean the way you left the night of your party, we didn’t know what to think. We were happy you called and said you had decided to leave early for school. You never said what your major was, though.”

  That was just what Brandon had been expecting. An opportunity to brag about his super dangerous job. How he risked his life to keep the streets safe and how he made sure the young kids wouldn’t follow any wrong path in life.

  “I’m working as a cop at the moment,” he said, enjoying the look on his mother’s face. She looked impressed and that was everything that mattered at that moment. “Just a plain old cop,” he continued, realizing it wouldn’t be a good move on his side to reveal his actual occupation. “Patrolling the streets and making sure everybody’s safe. Nothing interesting, really.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Malik said, a wide grin etched on his face. “That’s amazing, man. Congratulations! I know Dad would’ve been so proud of you!”

  “Yes, he would have,” Gloria repeated. She didn’t look sad and Brandon was happy to see that she wasn’t. Usually when his father's name was mentioned she’d get this mournful look and it pained him to see it. It seemed that she remembered only the happy memories now, rather than recalling that terrible day.

  “What about you?” Brandon asked Malik, happy to see the smile fading from his face.