Tyrant

by Tiana Laveen

  “So? What do you think? You remember how much fun we used to have there, right?”

  “Yeah, I remember. That sounds good, man. I’m looking forward to it. So, you all arranging your schedules to come down here? That’s what’s up.”

  “Yeah. It’s going to be lit, man.”

  “Don’t let me drink too much,” Hunter smiled as he recalled a drunken night they’d had many years ago. “It was crazy.” An old station wagon went past down the street, slowing to a crawl at times as if they were lost.

  “Don’t let you drink? Shit, we need to watch each other then.” Ethan chuckled. “I’m just trying to take my boy out for a good time. I didn’t get to throw you a release party, so I definitely want you to have a good birthday celebration. No crazy shit from me, man. I’m not tryna go back to jail anytime soon.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Once was enough. So uh, yeah, me, Mike and Bruce will come by and treat you to a good time. Glad you’re out. We didn’t even know until it had been like a week. You shoulda called me.”

  “Yeah, it came up faster than expected. The lawyer pulled some strings supposedly but really, they were overcrowded and tryna get people out, mostly those that were there for non-violent offenses.” He shrugged. “Plus, my grandparents asked him to help. This was the one time I wasn’t in there for kickin’ someone’s ass so it just worked out, I guess.”

  “Or shootin’ somebody.”

  He snorted at his friend’s words. They were true.

  “It was that weapons charge that fucked me up, Ethan. Got caught with that Glock on me.”

  “Yeah, it was fucked up, bro. Anyway, I’ll call you before we head that way. Just don’t forget!”

  “I won’t. Talk to you later.” Hunter ended the call, slid his coat on, and headed down to the apartment parking lot to open up the U-Haul truck he’d rented. He spent the next several hours single-handedly hauling furniture that he’d gotten out of Noah’s storage facility up to the second floor of the apartment building. Covered in sweat and the pieces arranged to his liking, he jumped in the shower, his arm muscles on fire. He stood under the rushing water, needing the cleansing in the worst way. He was glad he’d thought ahead and taken care of some tasks beforehand.

  He’d picked up a cheap shower liner from down the street at some Family Dollar store, as well as a couple bars of soap, deodorant, hair brush, toothpaste and toothbrush, mouthwash, two cheap but soft body towels and matching washcloths, a bottle of shampoo and a few snacks, as well as fixings to make sandwiches and beer to last him a day or two. As he stood inside the shower, the warm water running down his body, his mind drifted to how little regulation he had over the water temperature he’d had in prison.

  Sometimes it was super-hot, almost scalding. Other times, it was ice cold. He liked it somewhat in the middle. It felt good to finally have more jurisdiction over his own damn life. Not taking any orders. Not wearing a jumpsuit with a number. Not being treated like an animal.

  He stepped out and walked into his bedroom without bothering to dry off. Perhaps he hoped the cold air hitting his wet body would make him feel alive, somehow invigorated? His new sense of freedom came to him in spurts; he was doing things he wouldn’t normally do, simply because now, he could. He stood there dripping wet, forgetting that he hadn’t put any damn curtains up. Thankfully, he had the blinds closed. He checked his closet where he’d hung the few items of clothing he had. After snatching a pair of jeans off a hanger, he made his way to a large plastic grocery bag in the corner of the room. After rummaging through it for a couple of minutes, he found a pair of clean boxer-briefs. He slid them on, and then the jeans. To go with those, he chose a white wifebeater, socks, and a black hoodie. He returned to the bathroom with his phone, and selected some music from his playlist. Luniz’ ‘I Got 5 On It’ began to play. He raked his fingers through his hair, noting the length on top.

  “Damn… my hair grows super fuckin’ fast.”

  He checked himself out from various angles, making a decision to keep it long on the top and perhaps taper it in the back in a day or two. Taking out his beard comb, he raked the small teeth through the slightly wavy dark brown strands, a few of them golden brown and an odd silver one that continued to pop up no matter how many times he pulled the fucker out. Hungry, he chowed down a bag of chips, chasing it with a swig of beer, then grabbed his car keys. He wanted to go to the auto parts store and then the junk yard to see what they had in the way of fixing Noah’s classic ride. As soon as he got in his car, his phone rang. Miranda…

  “What’s up, sis-in-law?” He figured the kids were acting up or she just wanted to vent about Justin, as she’d done on occasion.

  “Hunter, Justin got jumped and robbed!”

  “What?! Is he all right?”

  “No, yes… I mean, he can talk and everything but he’s bruised up real bad! Black eye, swollen lips. We just left the hospital. He can barely walk.”

  “Who did this? Does he know?” His head began to throb.

  “He said they were some guys he used to be friends with… or thought they were. I don’t know what happened, but they were all at some party at a bar and got a hold of the money you’d given him.”

  He fell back against the car seat and closed his eyes.

  “What the hell happened exactly, Miranda?”

  “Well, he’d put some in the bank, but kept like over half of it on him ’cause he was going to pay up some bills we had overdue. He had the money and I think one of them saw him take it out. He said he didn’t show it, but they must’ve been watching when he reached in his wallet to pay for a drink. He then paid for some of their drinks. He told them his brother helped him out… He was braggin’, but not on himself. He was just so happy about what you’d done so we were looking for new apartments and everything, even some rental houses… He’s feelin’ terrible, Hunter!”

  Hunter sighed and shook his head.

  “Damn! I told Justin when I drove off from y’all the other day to not say shit to anyone about this. I called him two nights ago and said, put that shit in the bank till you need it.” He banged on the steering wheel in angst, his heart beating painfully within his body as he filled up to the brim with rage. His little brother was so damn predictable, he could set a watch to his movements. “Just so I’m clear, Miranda, are you sure this had nothin’ to do at all with him selling that dope? Because Justin has—”

  “No, I really doubt it, Hunter. It was all about that money. In fact, he told me he was going to look into going to trade school for welding with some of the money. He said you made him think about that more. What happened was they thought he had more money than what he had in his pocket, so they drove him to the ATM but got spooked when the bank manager was looking at them through the drive-thru and then a police officer was close by. That’s when he said they took him behind some building and beat him up real bad. They left him there. They took his phone, too.”

  “His phone should be trackable.”

  “They turned it off.” Hunter put his car in reverse and maneuvered out of the parking space. He noted the time. Almost six in the evening.

  “Did he give them the passcode?”

  “No. They just took it and drove off.”

  “They didn’t think this shit through then. They’ll eventually turn it back on. They’re going to try to jailbreak it, probably. His phone is pretty new. Keep checking it like every five to ten minutes to see if it pops up on the tracker on your laptop.”

  “Okay.” Miranda understood. She’d been in the game too long alongside her man to wonder about these things. The truth of the matter was written clear as blood.

  “Where is my brother right now? In the bed?”

  “Yeah. He’s lyin’ down. The doctor at the hospital gave him some prescription that we picked up at Walgreens on the way back home. My mom is watchin’ the kids right now until I get him settled today.” A few moments of silence passed. “I think they might have sold the phone, Hunter.”r />
  “They can’t sell it without getting it open first. Well, they can, but they’d get much less for it. They know as soon as they turn that phone on again it’ll be trackable. Justin has a hidden app on it that even if they figure out the password and disable the find phone feature, they can’t see the app automatically and it will still trace it but these guys sound stupid as fuck.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because they stole a phone and didn’t demand a passcode first. But more notably, they took him to a bank in broad daylight, one with cameras, cops and witnesses, during business hours. On top of that, he knows who the fuck they are and they left him alive. Just fuckin’ stupid. These are felony charges, not a slap on the wrist. They couldn’t even do this shit right and they had the advantage so trust me, they’ll fuck this last part up, too. While they’re bumbling around tryna get into the phone, that’s plenty of time for it to be traced. Traffic isn’t too bad right now. I should be there in less than eighty minutes.”

  Hunter got to a light, then made a right turn to jump on the expressway. He could hear the woman sniffling, as if she were crying.

  “How’s the new place, Hunter? Justin wanted to come and see… looks like that won’t be for a while now though.”

  “It’s cool. Look, call or text me as soon as you get tracking on where the phone is, all right? I mean, like right away.”

  “Okay, I will.” He disconnected the call and thought things over. He drove in silence, no radio, no music, just the sound of the wind and traffic around him. When he was about twenty minutes away from Justin’s apartment, his phone rang. He picked it on the first ring.

  “Yeah, Miranda. Got news?”

  “Yeah, you were right. They just turned it on! I’ve got the address!”

  “Don’t text it to me, just say it verbally.” After a slight hesitation, she gave him the information. Then, he busted a U-turn and headed off in the opposite direction…

  “I understand that, sir, but you had the truck for an additional day so that is why your invoice has an additional charge of $33.15.”

  “I called up there and they told me I could keep it. It would only be an extra five dollars! You all need to get your shit together!” The man raged on and all Nita could do was grit her teeth, close her eyes, and say a tiny prayer while he called her everything but a child of God. The customer was not always right. In fact, more times than not, they tried to get over. She’d worked in customer service as well as reception work for most of her adult life. She’d learned to appreciate those who kept their cool during upsetting situations. So she begged God to help her not resort to the old ways of her youth when she’d been known to buck up, fight, and beat the living shit out of someone trying to jump bad in her face.

  She liked her newer, more mature self.

  But sometimes the Devil still tries to use me… And I let him.

  She smirked as the man continued on.

  “…And that’s why your reviews are so bad! You people suck!”

  “Mmm hmmm, sorry you feel that way—”

  “Do you hear me?!”

  “Yes…” …and everyone sitting next to me hears you, too.

  “So, are you going to refund my money or not?!”

  “I don’t have the authority to do that. I can tell you that it is not our policy to offer an additional rental day for only five dollars. Do you recall who you spoke to?”

  “Why don’t you ask your own asshole?! I’m sure it’ll pucker up and have the answer, bitch!” The man abruptly hung up. Nita looked to her left and caught her co-worker and friend sniggering, then they both burst out laughing.

  “Girl, I’m getting too old for this shit!” Nita removed her headset and got to her feet. “I’m going back up front to put those files away. I’m so glad I don’t do this full time anymore. These people are enough to drive someone over the edge.”

  “I know. I heard him yellin’ from all the way over here.” Kenya shook her head, then took another call as Nita grabbed her purse. She left the customer service area and headed to the front of the office where Jenny, a temp, was answering the phone and taking messages while she helped cover in the back.

  “Thanks, Jenny. I got it now.” The young, frumpy lady grabbed her purse and stood.

  “You’re welcome. I guess I can go to lunch now?”

  “Yeah, go right ahead. Did Tyrell tell you if your lunch is forty-five minutes or an hour?”

  The woman shrugged.

  “Take an hour. If I’m wrong, I’m sure he’ll tell me later but at least you’ll return full and relaxed.”

  Jenny seemed grateful for that and took off fast. Once Nita was settled in her chair, she began to look through all the messages and sort the ones that had been placed incorrectly. The temp had only been there two days and was supposed to help answer calls in another location, so she was shadowing for the time being. Nita reached into her purse to get a stick of gum and saw her phone flashing, notifying her of a text message or missed call.

  This is probably Tisha’s ass wanting something… She pulled out the phone and saw a text message from Hunter sent earlier that morning.

  Thanks for the discount on the U-Haul. I appreciate that. I’ll return it tomorrow as promised. I’ll see you Saturday night.

  She placed her phone away, got to her feet, and began the daunting task of filing old invoices that had been paid in the prior month. They still hadn’t transitioned fully from a paper system. Although she much preferred the computer to do such undertakings, her boss was old school and had trouble letting go of the old methods from yesteryear. Some habits were just too hard to break…

  Hunter parked across the street from the small house. The sun had set and darkness surrounded him as he smoked a cigarette and relaxed in his car. With one leg propped up and the other stretched out, his mind raced and his muscles twitched in anticipation. After waiting for what felt like forever, four guys exited the home, all laughing and talking loudly as they walked to a black Acura.

  There the fuck they are…

  After a short while, the bastards pulled off. Hunter waited about ten seconds, keeping an eye on them, then pulled away from the curb. This was his golden opportunity to strike like a viper. In a matter of minutes, the driver, a heavyset guy in an orange sweater, pulled into a gas station. Hunter decided to get alongside them at a safe distance. He pulled into a McDonald’s fast food restaurant within walking distance. Waiting.

  There are cameras all over here…

  He tossed his cigarette out the car window and watched the driver pump gas, laughing his head off while he spoke to the passengers. When they entered the flow of traffic again, he tailed them a few cars behind. Soon, they turned down a side street, one he knew all too well. A dead end. There was no sign indicating such, but he’d grown up in these parts – only one way out.

  The car pulled into the driveway of a small brick home. He parked a few houses back and killed his lights. Placing his hoodie over his head, he slid over to the passenger’s side, grabbed the gun he’d snagged from Noah’s collection from his glove compartment, jammed it into his jacket pocket, and discreetly opened the car door.

  The guys were still laughing, falling all over one another, cracking up. One of them was holding a beer bottle. Leaving the door ajar, Hunter glided out of the car like heated jam, and kept low to the ground as he got to a good vantage point. The last man got out of the car. Hunter sprung up like a zombie hand from leaping from the earth and hauled ass, barreling towards them like a rocket. All of them turned within a nano-second as they heard his swift approach, their faces a mixture of confusion and alarm.

  BAM! BAM BAM!!! BAM!

  He shot the beer bottle, bursting it to pieces, and emptied bullets into the legs of two of the men, making them drop to the ground. One took off running down the street while the driver tried to make his way towards the house he was parked at. BAM! He shot him in the ass and he tripped. By now, the moans and screams were echoing. He marched ove
r to the driver, who he was undoubtedly the ring leader, and yanked him by his orange jacket collar.

  “Where the fuck is my money and my fuckin’ phone?”

  The guy’s eyes widened as he shook his head.

  “I… I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man!”

  Hunter aimed his gun at his head.

  “All right! All right! In my pocket is the phone, man! Fuck!” Hunter shoved his hand in the fucker’s pocket and realized the phone was in fact Justin’s. Just then, the door to the house opened. He shot at it as soon as a stream of light peeked through and it slammed shut. “Kevin!!!” the big guy yelled towards the closed door, blood pouring out of his ass cheek onto the concrete. The other two lay close to the car, moaning and writhing about in pain.

  “Where’s my damn money?”

  “We spent it!”

  Hunter kicked the bastard in the side of the head with a vicious swipe of his sneaker.

  “AHHHH!”

  He quickly rummaged through the guy’s pockets, only retrieving a crumbled 50 dollar bill. He then raced over to the other guys, getting $200 from the other and about $300 from the other one.

  “Where’s the rest?” he asked, pointing the gun at one of them.

  “We ain’t got it! I’m tellin’ the truth! Don’t shoot me again, man!” Hunter removed a second gun from his pant leg and yanked the driver up, knowing the cops would be there any second. He looked him square in the eye.

  “I want my fucking money. You have twenty-four hours to get it. All of it.”

  “Maaaan, come on! We spent it!!! We got T.V.s, computers, phones and shit!”

  “Don’t fuck with me. I know where you live, motherfucker. I know where the mother of your kids’ lives, too. I know where your own mother lives, you stupid piece of shit, and all the people you care about. You get me my money and you put my money in an envelope, and then you drop it off in Justin’s apartment box. And add another thousand to it, too. You have twenty-four hours. Each hour you’re late, I will pick off one of your friends or family members. One by one. If you do anything else to Justin or his family, I will hunt each and every one of you down and blow your fuckin’ brains out. From the looks of things, there wouldn’t be much splatter.”