by Renta
Jazzy closed the distance between them until she was standing directly above him. Without thinking she hiked her dress up a little so that she could be comfortable in her attempt, then she sat down behind him. She pulled him close, embracing him to her bosom, wrapped her legs around his waist, and held him as he heaved and released the pain he harbored. Due to her being at his back, he couldn’t see the tears spilling from her eyes like lava from a volcano.
Jazzy loved her brother deeply, as she held and rocked Assata’s pain away, the rain camouflaged her tears. She made a vow, that she’d help Assata find her brother’s murderers and punish them. After it was all said and done, she’d make Assata fall in love with her in the process.
***
Destiny awakened to unfamiliar surroundings, she was disoriented and cold, she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there. There was a dim light flickering on and off above her head, as she tried to move, she was stunned at the realization of her wrists tied behind her back.
“Where the hell am, I?” She questioned as panic surged through her veins.
As if needing assurance, she glanced down at her bare breasts and stared horrified at her protruding nipples. All at once the nightmare came rushing back to her. Tears cascade down her pretty face as not only the tainted visions but also the tingling sensations between her legs reminded her of her current situation.
Destiny now vaguely recalled being stripped out of her clothes, dignity, and power. She could still hear the sadistic laughter of the monster who mounted her. She could feel him as he bombarded her with his filth into her essence. She remembered hearing a door open in the distance, and as the monster was yanked off her, another horror played before her eyes. His brains were blown out of his head at point blank range.
She began weeping harder, as she recalled her hair, face, and clothes being splattered with blood and brain matter. Her heartless savior gazed deeply into her eyes and delivered his craziness.
“You need to pray that your husband is loyal to you, if not—” He absently pointed the gun at her. “It’s lights out, lady.” She passed out after that.
“I gotta get the hell outta here,” she panicked.
Destiny attempted to sit up, but without her arms shit was useless. Suddenly, she felt a cool liquid pooling around her face, the dim light made it hard to determine where it was coming from, or what it was. As if her sense of smell kicked into overdrive, the distinctive smell of rust, filmed around her mouth. Due to her face laying against the floor it was hard to maneuver, so with all her might, she used agility to roll over onto her back.
In this position, she could see her surroundings better. I guess you can say, this small blessing was also her curse because the old cliché, ‘Don’t go looking for answers you can’t handle.’ Became true right before her eyes.
No more than five feet away from her lied her rapist. His brains hung from his skull as puss and blood flowed like a river.
Her last thought before passing back out was, ‘Please husband, please love me like you say you do.’
***
The next morning, the courtroom was packed. Ice-Berg observed the scene, as the bailiff announced the judge.
“The State of Texas and the County of Denton, versus David Swanson, is now in session. Please stand for the Honorable Judge Carter.” The bailiff announced.
Everyone stood and the short white judge entered from his chambers. The courtroom was filled with spectators. Some anticipated a guilty verdict, while others were rooting for the home team.
Intensity swallowed the atmosphere, as the judge took his seat. “Be seated,” he spoke in his good ole boy drawl.
David knew he was doomed. Three counts of possession with an attempt to deliver, conspiracy to commit murder, and possession of a firearm. Not to mention, the feds still claimed to have the other shit at his head.
Mark Schutz his attorney sat poised as if he had no worries, but the actuality of the situation was that he had no faith in beating the case. He’d tried his best to get Berg to take the deal of twenty years state and thirty years feds but with them type of numbers, shid. Why not hold court? The cards were stacked against him. Schutz felt sorry for the young man because he was a good dude. He was twenty-six years old, with a whole lifetime ahead of him.
“Lord, have mercy,” he whispered. He leaned over to his client’s ear. “How do you feel, David?”
From the look he received he could tell, that was a stupid question.
David leaned over and replied with as much integrity as he could muster. “Dig this, Mr. Schutz, I’m a man first and a gangsta second. I knew the consequences of my actions before I sat in this chair.” The two men made strong eye contact. Berg placed his hand on the older man's shoulder in a comforting gesture, “I didn’t complain when I was blowin’ big bread and fuckin’ bad hoes in some of the most expensive suits, so there ain’t no complaining now.” He paused, allowing his eyes to scan the crowded room until they landed on a group of men, that looked, as though they would kill everyone in the room to ensure his freedom.
Nutz sat in the midst of the group with a look of contempt on his face. As if he could feel his brothers gaze, he turned his eyes to him. Nutz saluted him before tapping his chest with a clenched fist. Berg nodded his head in acknowledgment, then turned his attention back to his lawyer. “These hoes gave me the opportunity to save myself, but that punk shit ain’t apart of the constitution I was bred under.” Ice-Berg leaned back in his chair and scratched his nuts. “Fuck it, I’d rather ninety-nine years, the chair, or the needle. You did yo’ job, that’s all me and my locs could ask for. I’m Gucci.”
“Is the State ready to proceed?” Judge Carter acknowledged the D.A.
“Yes, your Honor, the state is ready.” The D.A. responded.
Judge Carter turned his eyes toward Schutz and Berg. “And you, counselor?”
“Yes, your Honor, as ready as can be.”
Nutz sat on the back row in the courtroom smiling. He and his brother made eye contact. Ice-Berg had no idea of Nutz sacrifices. It was agreed there would be no communication, so he wouldn’t get tied up in the sinking ship. The diamonds in his mouth glistened, as he wondered how his brother would react in the end.
“Fix yo’ face, nigga—lil’ bro on deck. Blood in my eyes, until you touch the ground.” He whispered, then stood and walked outta the courtroom leaving behind an observer, so he’d know if the District Attorney really loved his bitch.
***
The courtroom erupted in complete pandemonium. Never in the history of the state had an attorney retracted his argument, claiming upon further investigation, that the evidence he submitted was built on lies submitted by witnesses. Who weren’t credible based off their run-ins with the law. As far as the wiretaps were concerned, David ‘Ice-Berg’ Swanson’s voice was never actually recorded.
The judge was furious. “Order in the courtroom!” he screamed. He fixed his glare on the district attorney. “So, you mean to tell me, not only are you saying this man isn’t guilty of any of these heinous and unlawful crimes. But, you’ve also allowed this trial to continue due to a personal vendetta?”
“Uhh—uhhh, Your Honor—I—” Sa’Mage tried to explain, but his thoughts were indecipherable and crazed.
What happened next confused, as well as stunned, Judge Carter. Sa’Mage Kendricks’ crumbled to the floor and cried like a child. Nevertheless, the verdict was in.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” A balding Hispanic man stood for the judge.
“Yes, your Honor—we the jury finds the defendant, David Swanson not guilty of all charges he has been accused of.” The juror states.
The courtroom erupted once again. Ice-Berg and his lawyer sat speechless. Never in a million years did they expect this outcome. Ice-Berg turned in his seat just in time to see his little brother Nutz making his exit, right before he turned, and locked eyes with him. The small wink he gave let Ice-Berg know everything he needed to know. Real
niggas do real things!
***
Destiny awakened for the second time. This time she was well aware of her predicament. Even though she was still a little boggled, her instincts told her she was not alone. Suddenly, a tall figure stepped from the shadows. Destiny’s breath caught, as the intruder descended upon her. He was dressed in all black attire, complimented by a black ski mask, hiding his facial features, he squatted down and sat her upright. Now eye to eye, the man’s eyes became beautiful to her.
For some strange reason, she lost herself in the turquoise pupils, as she did her breath quickened. Anger flooded her veins, as she questioned herself, asking how she could allow herself to lust after a man she hadn’t even seen? Thirst for a man, that was possibly going to take her life?
“Listen,” he began. “This was all bidness, love. What this sucka did to you—” he nodded his head at the corpse. “Was never part of my plans. Your husband just chose the wrong profession.” He then allowed his eyes to travel the length of her slender frame.
Destiny feared he’d have predatorial thoughts, so she spoke the first words that came to mind. “Please, don’t rape me again, just kill me.” Tears escaped her eyes all over again.
The masked man laughed. “Rape you? Look, lady—wrong, nigga. I just told you, I’m not with that shit. Why do you think, ole boy’s brains are all over the place?” He smiled as if he’d done something romantic.
Destiny was beyond angry at this point. “What the fuck do you find funny?”
The masked man smiled. “You.”
She couldn’t believe his audacity. As she decided to give him the lashing of his life, her eyes were drawn to the gigantic .357 he gripped with his gloved hand.
“Why don’t you just let me go?” she whispered. Looking into his eyes she trembled at what had his attention. He stared, lustfully at her pussy. “Please, let—me—gooo—” she cried.
In one swift motion, the man stood to his feet and placed his pistol in his waistband. He bent slightly over and placed his arms under her armpits, lifting her to her feet, effortlessly.
“Turn around—” he demanded.
Fear consumed her, as she thought of a million excuses to give him, in order to stop him from doing whatever it was he had planned. “No, please don’t,” she pleaded.
The man seemed impatient and tired. He spun her around quickly. All the while, she screamed, trying to resist, but the rope binding her ankles and wrists only tightened.
“Shut the fuck up, woman, and be still! Please.” Something inside his voice stilled her.
Suddenly, the ropes binding her wrists was cut loose. Surprise surged through her, as her mind tried to wrap around what was happening.
The man turned her facing him, so that they were eye to eye, without turning his gaze from hers. He squatted, then sliced through the rope restraining her ankles. He raised his head just enough to be eye level with her crotch. Gazing up at her, he planted a soft kiss on her kitty.
“Get dressed, Ms. Lady.” He pointed to her neatly folded clothes, resting on a wooden crate in the far corner of the room.
“What’s going on?” She asked in disbelief.
The masked man stood to his feet and replied. “I’m taking you home.”
***
Sa’Mage was distraught as he waited for the phone call. All sorts of thoughts surged through his mind. Him being disbarred from his practice. What every station and paper in the nation would say about him in the morning? His colleague’s opinions of him? Despite, all that nothing mattered more to him at this point, but the return of his wife.
“How did I get her into this craziness?” he wondered.
He could practically hear her as if she was standing there in his presence.
“Your job is gonna be the death of us.” She’d screamed during one of their many arguments.
This one caused by anonymous phone threats received due to a high-profile case he was prosecuting. The vibrating of his BlackBerry startled him from his memory.
“Hello?” He answered without the slightest glimpse of the display screen.
He could hear her whimpering and incomprehensible gibberish. Chills ran down his spine as recognition flooded his spirit. “Destiny, baby, where are you?”
“I can’t—do—this—anymore, I’m—I’m so—” The crying became hysterical.
He heard the phone crash to what he assumed to be the floor. “Destiny, baby, where are you? Let me know so that—”
“Hello?” A voice interrupted his pleading.
“Baby, I’m so, so sorry that—”
“Hello?” The feminine voice interrupted once again.
Something conversant about this voice brought tears to his eyes as recognition set in. The voice belonged to Destiny’s mother. The same mother who talked her husband into loosening his grip on his baby girl’s life.
“Sa’Mage?” she hissed. “How fucking dare, you allow this to happen to my youngest daughter? Sa’Mage—you’re a poor excuse of a husband. Even if it takes my last breath, I will keep you away from my child. You better pray, my husband has a good heart because you have disgraced this household, as well as your own. Don’t try to contact Destiny ever again!”
“But, Mrs. Black, I—I—” That’s when he was introduced to the dial tone.
***
Ice-Berg stared at his younger brother admirably. He was at lost for words as Nutz told him the lengths he went through to recapture his freedom. Nutz acted nonchalant about the whole episode. To him, loyalty was everything his loyalty to his big brother, held no limitations.
“So, now what? What’s the business from here on out? You know, that shit is gonna be turned all the way up, right? These crackers don’t like to see a nigga outsmart them. They’re gonna be aimin’ at your shower cap now,” Nutz questioned.
Ice-Berg nodded his head in agreement, as his life flashed before his eyes. “Dig, lil’ bro. You gave me breath again. I can’t repay you for that, a nigga was done for.”
Nutz watched something dark enter his brother’s eyes. Something like dark clouds seemed held in place by misplaced pride. Ice-Berg stood and glanced around the high-rise apartments. The plush white carpet felt thicker, the black and white décor, and marble finishing appeared more detailed.
‘When a man is shown, his life can be taken away in the blink of an eye. He learns to appreciate the small shit.’
Walking over to the large picture window he stared out at the rain slick street. “Bro— so, the least I can do is keep it one hundred with you, just like I always have. Bro, I’m right back at ‘em. Not only am I gonna flood the city worse than before. But, while I am doing it, I’m going to murder every one of them suckas who took the stand against me.” Ice-Berg vowed.
Chapter Four
A Beautiful Con
The owner of the Black Dodge Magnum stepped out of his house with a smile on his face. To the naked eye, he would pass as a Boss Nigga. True enough his grind allowed him the pleasures of splurging on his lavish lifestyle. Not only did he own a two-story, five-bedroom home, that was fully furnished with imported furnishings. He also owned a Lambo Diablo, a ‘G’ Wagon, two Jags, and the Black Mag that sat on 26s parked in front of his house at the moment.
To say that he was on money would be an understatement. To the average ears, the nigga would probably be considered, the realest nigga alive if judged by his cover. Yet, a book should never be judged by its cover, because when writing his own book, the fakest nigga can become one of the realest. This man was a prime example of the cliché, ‘there’s no loyalty amongst thieves’.
Just two weeks ago, he was summoned to pay his debt to the federal government. For his cooperation testifying against his then best friend, Ice-Berg. He received a pardon from his offenses of Interstate Trafficking attempting to distribute fifteen bricks of pure Columbian Coke and tax evasion. But to him, as well as, the Government’s horror, Berg somehow slid through the crevices. No one knew how he did it except the ones that needed
to know.
His written confession would have hung, Berg being as though he was his everyday accomplice. To make matters worse, he had convinced his girl, Tisha Swanson. The love they shared superseded the devotion she had for her own brother. It’s no secret that dick can blindfold a woman to some of the purest shit. Tisha was as weak for a fat dick and good game as they come. It killed Berg knowing his baby girl turned on him for a sucka, but God worked in dangerous ways. Because revenge was a fine cuisine and Berg planned on partaking of its pleasures.
The magnum idled at the curb as a woman stood beside it awaiting his presence. She was the temporary replacement, that his designated driver Big Moon appointed him. Being that he trusted Big Moon’s judgment he never even gazed at the woman until this moment. Now that she stood before him, he could at least say Moon had great taste. Even though she wasn’t his usual type, Lil’ Mama was sexy as she wanted to be. She stood about 4’9 and weighed about one-hundred, twenty pounds. Her dreads hung low in a very erotic design. Although she was small she was well compacted, from her posture one could tell she knew she was bad.
“Good day, Mon.” She spoke in a sultry Jamaican accent.
The informant strolled over to where she stood and towered over her with an intense gaze. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing drivin’ mu’fuckas around instead of mu’fuckas drivin’ you around?” he critiqued.
Lil’ Mama instantly peeped his game and replied. “Money waits fa no man. Meh, maybe beautiful to he but dat don’t mean meh don’t have to work to earn my keep just like everyone else, star. Now if you want to you can drive me around and show me de city,” she smiled seductively.
The man smiled. “Naw, mami, I’m good on that, but you dine with a boss later tonight, kool?”
She slyly moistened her lips. “Aye, mon tats cool.” She then opened his door and waited for him to slide in the backseat.
