Grind Mode

by Willie Slaughter

  “Yeah. Just drop me off at my mama’s house. We’ll get up in the morning,” Lil Will said in deep thought.

  “Fo’ sho’, fam,” Mark said.

  They sat in the parking lot of Crystal’s, enjoying the burgers and fries and the view of every grade-A broad who found their way into their line of sight.

  *******

  “Aye, pussy nigga, I need to holla at cha,” Teddy yelled at Tony.

  Teddy had laid on Tony. He finally caught him at home. As he came out of his crib, Teddy was shoving him back through the front door.

  “Nigga, where my money?” he asked.

  “Chill, homie,” Tony said, scared as hell. “I got ya money. Some of it. But I’ll have the rest soon.”

  “What the fuck you mean?” asked Teddy.

  “I took a hit,” Tony replied.

  “And what in the hell that got to do with me?” Teddy asked. “Look, Tony, you got until Friday to have my shit or it’s gon’ be an early 4th of July 'round this bitch. Understand?”

  “I got ya, bruh,” Tony said, shaking.

  “Word from the wise: have all of my money,” Teddy said calmly.

  Teddy’s phone vibrated on his hip. He had a text saying they had a meeting at 2:30. Damn, he thought to himself. But so what? Everybody was making good money and they were back on top.

  He showed up at the spot not a minute too late. Everybody was kicking the shit, blazing Cali bud and sipping on good.

  “Now that everybody’s here,” Lil Will started to say, “let’s get down to business. I called y’all here to let ya know proud I am of this family. I see everybody doing their thing, eating in these streets. We got to keep networking and building and remember, don’t bring heat to the family unless it’s necessary. Reports?”

  Bee rose to his feet. “Word is them Florida niggas on some real live bullshit and they tryin’ to find out who S.M.F. is.”

  “Easily handled,” said Lil Will. “Anybody else?”

  Teddy and Dink stood, but Teddy gave his report first. “Word is the drug unit looking at four of our spots. Supposed to go down soon.”

  “A’ight,” Lil Will said, still thinking. “Tell whoever runnin’ shit to lay low and keep shit clean as a whistle.”

  “Bet,” Teddy replied before sitting back down.

  “Dink, what up, big bruh?” asked Lil Will.

  “Me and my bitch that works at the courthouse was at the Days Inn. She told me the county putting together a gang task force,” was Dink’s report.

  Lil Will let everything he’d just learned soak in before speaking. “Okay… The only thing I see a problem with is how the fuck the drug unit knows about our spots. Somebody’s talking. Find out, Dink.”

  “On it, bruh,” Dink said.

  “The rest of the shit is just a li’l gun play,” Lil Will reminded them, “and we’ll pay a few pigs to keep us informed on shit. Other than that, I got to hit the road. Lay low until I get back. The next shipment will be here before I return, so you three need to be on point. You’ll be hearing from me the beginning of next week.”

  *******

  “Brina, what’s up, girl?” asked Sopia.

  “Shit, tryin’ to find a bitch to do my hair,” answered Sabrina. “What’s up with you, Sopia?”

  “Bitch, it’s going down at the track on 300. Everybody going to be out there. Even them Slaughter Boyz,” Sopia said, all hyped up.

  “Bitch, why you so late with the info?” snapped Sabrina.

  “Better late than never,” she shot back sarcastically. “You know I’m going just to see Lil Will’s fine ass on that fly-ass bike he got.”

  Thinking about all of the ballers who would be there, Sabrina said, “Damn. I’m about to go get my nails done now. Have you talked to Kerria?”

  “Nah, not today,” Sopia said. “Why?”

  “I was just worried about her,” Sabrina said in a serious tone. “She ain’t been herself lately.”

  Sopia thought for a second. “Yeah, I noticed that too. We might need to pull up on our home girl.”

  “Fine with me,” Sabrina said

  Sopia looked at the time. “My break almost over with. Let me try to call my baby before he leaves out. We’ll talk when I get off.”

  “A’ight, homegirl,” Sabrina said.

  Sopia hung up and voice command dialed Lil Will’s number. His phone went straight to voicemail.

  “You have reached The King. Leave a message. Beep.”

  “Hey boo. I’m just calling to see if we can get up before you leave GA. Muah!”

  She hung up. It was obvious to her how much she loved him. In her eyes, nothing would ever come between them. Nothing or nobody.

  *******

  “Man, I’m on my way now,” Henry said and hung up. He drove up the dirt road and stopped in front of the car parked sideways on the road. He checked his gun before he jumped out.

  “What’s up, Nod?” asked Henry.

  “Let’s talk,” Nod said in a strictly business tone of voice.

  Nod was a D.C. nigga who was heartless when it came to getting paid. If the price was right. consider the job done no matter who had to die. He had done a job for Henry in the past. His skills had proved to come in handy.

  “Do you have what I asked for?” he asked Henry. “I need a picture and 50 G’s up front and the rest when the job is done.”

  “Done,” Henry assured him. “Just make sho’ this shit don’t fall back on me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Nod said with confidence. “My shit legit and I’m good at what I do.”

  “Good,” Henry said, satisfied. “Everything you need is in the bag.”

  Nod picked the bag up and left. Henry got back in his ride and busted a U. Mike, you a dead nigga, he thought to himself. Feeling the need to enjoy himself, he called Sabrina.

  “Hello,” answered Sabrina.

  “Hey sexy,” he replied.

  “Hey boo. What’s up?” she asked.

  “Feeling like money and fun,” he said, feeling himself.

  “I’m with it,” Sabrina said softly. “You on your way home?”

  “Yeah just ’bout to stop by the store. You need anything?” he asked.

  “Bring me whatever you think I want, bae,” was her response.

  “In that case,” he said seriously, “I’ll buy the fucking store.”

  She laughed. Her voice and mannerisms were so grown and sexy to him.

  “Bye Henry. I’ll see you when you get here,” she said before hanging up the phone.

  The line went dead. He went in the store and bought some blunts and some wine coolers. As he was about to leave, he saw Mike pulling up. He wanted so badly to body the nigga himself, but didn’t want to get his hands dirty with all the money being made. He watched as Mike and three more men walked across the parking lot, talking.

  “Man, we almost had that nigga the other night,” the guy on the left side of Mike said.

  “Yeah, so you say,” Mike said angrily. “If you would’ve waited two more seconds, he would be dead. Nigga, next time do the job right.”

  After hearing that, Henry was amped up. He grabbed his pistol and opened the door, about to let loose, when his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was his mama. Nigga, next time we meet, you dead, he thought as he closed the door and answered the phone. “Hey Mama.”

  “Baby, I’m sorry for calling you so late,” his mother swore.

  “It’s okay, Mama. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’m good. It’s your father. We at the hospital now,” she said.

  “Is he okay?” Henry asked.

  “I don’t know. Nobody told me nothing yet. And he been in the back for over four hours now,” she said, worried.

  “I’m on my way, Mama,” he said.

  He hung up. His mother and father had been tight for 37 years. Even though he had four children outside of their marriage, two of whom he didn’t even know, his mother loved him because no matt
er what he did in the streets, his father always took care of home first.

  Henry didn’t waste time looking for a parking spot. He pulled up next to the Emergency Room entrance and hopped out and ran inside, where he greeted and hugged his mother. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

  “Sit down, Mama. Where everybody at?” he asked.

  “They’re on the way,” she said as she looked up towards the emergency room entrance door. “Here they come now.”

  His two sisters and younger brother came in the door in a hurry. They all hugged their mother. After they tried to cheer each other up, the doctor walked up and stood before them. By his facial expression, Henry already knew.

  “Mrs. Knight,” he said.

  She rose to her feet. “Yes, I’m Mrs. Knight. Is my husband okay?”

  The doctor shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Knight. We did what we could. With his health condition and age, the heart attack was too much on him. I’m sorry to say that he didn’t make it.”

  “Oh my Lord! My God!” she screamed.

  His mother’s knees gave and she fell to the floor in tears, yelling. Henry was motionless. The doctor called a nurse to check on his mother. After making sure she was okay, he left them at the hospital. He hated the world at the moment.

  He pulled up at his spot around two thirty in the morning, drained. He hadn’t expected Sabrina to still be up, but she was. One look into her eyes and his tears poured like a waterfall.

  “What’s wrong, Henry? Talk to me,” she demanded.

  He was too choked up on his tears to respond.

  “You scaring me, Henry. What’s going on? What happened?” she asked, afraid.

  “He…he…he’s gone,” was all he could muster up the strength to say.

  “Who? Who you talking about?” she asked.

  “My pops,” he finally managed to get out between sobs.

  She pulled him close to her and rocked him like was a baby. “I’m so sorry, baby. What happened?”

  “I just left the hospital. They say it was a heart attack,” he explained

  . “I’m so sorry, Henry,” Sabrina said sincerely.

  “It’s okay. I mean, I love my pops,” Henry stated.

  “Listen, Henry,” she said, “you got to be strong. Yo’ family need you to be strong. I need you to be strong.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Sabrina. I ain’t usually no emotional-ass nigga. The shit just hurts when it hits home,” he said.

  “It’s cool. A bitch don’t want a nigga to be hard 24/7. I’m here for you. Come on. Let’s go upstairs,” Sabrina said. She grabbed him by the hand and led him upstairs to the bathroom. “Sit right here while I run you some bath water. It will help, okay?”

  “A’ight,” Henry said as he sat down on the side of the bed.

  Hearing the running water made his mind wander. He thought about his family and the effects his father death was going to have on them all. Then his mind went to Mike and the conversation he had overheard. The shit just fueled his anger. All he could picture was how many way he could kill him and get away with it clean.

  *******

  Lil Will and Mark were on their way back to Boston. He’d asked Mark about some unfinished business. Immediately, he jumped on the phone, talked for a minute, and hung up.

  “They know we’re on our way,” Mark said. “They say Rimp ain’t talking.”

  Lil Will acted like he didn’t even hear what he said about Rimp. “What’s the word on Fred?”

  “Nobody seen him,” replied Mark.

  “Mark, we need both of ’em to get to the bottom of this shit,” Lil Will said, sounding a little frustrated.

  “I’m on it,” Mark said.

  Lil Will knew Rimp. The nigga was more gangsta than the majority of the niggas he knew. He would die before he showed any sign of disloyalty.

  “Fam, send some niggas to get at this nigga’s mama, sister, grandma. I don’t give a fuck. Just flush this nigga out so we can get this shit behind us,” Lil Will said.

  “Say no more. Consider it done,” Mark said as he jumped back on the phone.

  Mark called a few people and gave them the go ahead. “Done. Don’t you think you should call Monica?”

  He didn’t answer, but he did call her.

  This time, she answered. “Hey.”

  “Everything good?” Lil Will asked, “I been calling you. Where you been?”

  “I been around. I called you too, but I see you didn’t have time for me nor did you try to make time. So I went out a couple nights with Erica,” she said.

  “Really?” Lil Will said, sounding surprised.

  “Yeah,” Monica said. “Look, Will, I love you with all my heart, but I’m not going to keep being your fool.”

  “Monica, a lot been - ”

  “Save it,” Monica cut him off mid-sentence. “I ain’t trying to hear that same old tired-ass story.”

  “Damn. It’s like that?” he snapped.

  “Yep,” Monica said.

  “Listen,” Lil Will said roughly, “I don’t know what bitch or nigga filled yo’ head up with this amped up shit, but you better watch you tone or - ”

  “Or what, Will?” she yelled through the phone. “You going to do what? Just like I thought.”

  “You just hold that thought ’til a nigga get there,” he said, heated.

  “Don’t bring yo’ ass to my house!” she yelled.

  “Your house? Bitch, you mean my house. I paid for that muthafucka,” he reminded her.

  She laughed. “Reality check, nigga! It’s in my name, so it’s mine!”

  “Bitch, I got something fo’ ya,” Lil Will threatened.

  She hung up and said to herself, I’m going to have his ass downtown if he comes here with that bullshit. Then she had a second thought when the phone rang. “Hello,” she said, answering the phone.

  “Hey beautiful. It’s me, Ju-Ju. I was thinking about you, so I decided to give you a call,” he said.

  “You so sweet, Ju-Ju. I wish all niggas could be this way,” Monica said.

  He noticed the sadness in her voice. “Why you sound sad, luv?”

  “A lot on my mind,” she said.

  “I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he said.

  “Just got off the phone with Lil Will. He’s on his way back to Boston. We had a fight over the phone. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do,” Monica told Ju-Ju.

  “Do you need me to come get you?” he asked,

  “I don’t know. You don’t know Lil Will. He’s not to be fucked with,” she said.

  “So? I ain’t scared of him. Nigga’s heart pumps blood like mines,” Ju-Ju said, feeling a little offended by her comment.

  “Listen, Ju-Ju, Lil Will kill you and won’t lose a second of sleep,” she said.

  “I ain’t no saint, luv. When it comes down to it, he can be touched too. Just let me come get you or meet me somewhere and we can go from there,” he said compromisingly.

  Monica, being actually scared, said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can’t handle it if he finds out about you.”

  “Luv, let me worry about that. I tell you what. Just call me if things get out of hand,” he told her.

  “I will. I promise,” she said.

  “Goodnight, luv,” Ju-Ju said.

  “Goodnight, Ju-Ju,” she responded.

  They hung up. As the tears started to flow, Monica thought to herself, What have I done?

  *******

  “Nigga, that’s where that nigga Fred’s mama lives,” one of the gunmen said to Mark.

  Mark was in the front van that circled around the block and parked on the back street. He had given orders for the second van to cover the front just in case Fred was inside and he tried to make a break.

  As the four masked gunmen crept toward the house, Fred just so happened to be looking out of his bedroom window. “Fuck! How did they know I was here?”

  He pulled a bag from under the bed. Thankfully, his pa
rents weren’t home. He pulled out two AKs and a Mack-11. Fred crept back to the window and opened fire on the first two men, catching one with a head shot. The other three gunmen dropped to the ground and fired back. Fred jumped behind the bed as bullets put holes in everything around him. Without second thought he dialed the one number he didn’t want to.

  “Nigga, pick up,” he said heart about to beat out of his chest.

  The phone rang two more times, but thankfully someone picked up. “Agent Scott speaking,” the agent said, answering the phone.

  “I need help! Niggas trying to kill me,” Fred said, panicking. He jumped up, letting off a couple of rounds.

  “Is that gunfire?” Agent Scott asked.

  “Nah, it’s fireworks,” Fred said sarcastically.

  “Where are you?” the agent asked.

  “You know where a nigga at! Y’all keep tabs on me,” Fred snapped.

  “Listen, if you want my help, you got to answer my questions,” Agent Scott said calmly.

  “A’ight! A'ight! I’m at my mama’s house,” Fred yelled through the phone at the agent.

  “Stay put. We got a team coming your way,” said Agent Scott.

  Fred hung up and prayed they’d be there soon.

  “Man, jump the back gate, shoot up the back door, and kick it in,” Fred heard one of the gunmen say to another.

  “Fuck!” Fred screamed.

  As he stood to go cover the rear, he got hit in the side. The impact sent him back to the wall, where he slid down to the floor. Blood was leaking to the floor from his right side. The pain was crucial. He tried to stand, but was on one knee when they cornered him. When he looked up, he was looking down the barrel of a gun. That alone told him it was his last day on earth.

  “Drop the gun, Fred,” demanded one of the masked gunmen.

  He complied. They rushed him and took him out the back door because they knew it wouldn’t be long before the police came. They put him in the van and turned off the street as three patrol cars passed them. The masked man in the back check Fred over.