Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  I intended to say just that, I turned my attention to Belle, but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, fire rushed through my lungs and my words escaped my lips in a whisper. Fear bathed me and I guessed she saw it cause she did this calming gesture with her hands while filling a glass from an ice pitcher. She handed it to me and looked at me with a gentle smile.

  “Drink—chu feel mosh better. Chu been through a lot and me know tu wan explanation. So, drink and ask chu questions.”

  I sip the cold water gingerly, without taking my eyes off of her, and as it slid down my throat, relief was a beautiful companion. “Wha—what’s—going, B—Belle? Wha—what’s happened—to—to me?” I croaked.

  I guess some shit was better left under the dirt cause the shit she told me, fucked me up so bad I damn near passed out. She said I’d been out of it for thirty days. That night in my room shit got ugly, I was hit three times, once in the shoulder, once in the stomach, and once in the thigh. Two of the henchmen that came with Russia were laid down, but Russia got away. She said she got me out of there and we’d been in Guayaquil, the largest city in Ecuador.

  She said my face has been plastered all over the news in connection to a drug enterprise and the kidnapping of a federal attorney’s wife. Fuck! The F.B.I and the D.E.A wanted me, and I was number ten on their most wanted list. The next bomb the bitch drops on me put me out for the count, as hurt raced through my veins like it was my life’s blood itself. Nutz was dead—killed! My heart turned cold at once, froze over like the Atlantic. Dead—my nigga, my baby brother? My mind tried to put the pieces together, that’s when she fucked me up like a mental patient! Literally, she told me, that she’d had a private doctor to do reconstructive surgery on my fuckin’ face. She changed my identity to help me elude the laws back in the states. She said, she knew my drive and knew I’d never find peace here. She finished by telling me the spookiest shit ever!

  “Santa Muerte saved us that night in chu room and we owe her what we’ve promised instead of me husband’s blood, it will be ours that becomes the sacrifice for the Holy Death. Chu mos go back and kill our enemies or we will both die!”

  Chapter Five

  Wake Up—We Need You

  ~Twisted~

  As I walked into the trap on Ruth Street, it was like walking into one of them white boy’s meth labs somewhere out in the middle of the country, except this shit right here had straight hood niggaz with millions on their mind. As soon as I hit the kitchen, my mans Lil’ Joe handed me a face mask. I watched as four naked bitches capped and bagged that ‘Boy’ up as my loc’s observed and directed. ‘Boy’ is what we call heroine out here in the streets, it’s the strongest and most addictive narcotic ever discovered.

  The streets know me as Twisted, Hoova Crip nigga off Hic Street, and the lil’ cousin of Ice-Berg and Nutz. My right-hand is Lil’ Joe also Hoova. Ever since my loc Ice-Berg disappeared from the face of the earth, we’ve been running shit. The spot pumped that ‘White-Girl’ at first, but I’m assuming someone fucked up the shipment and added two bricks of ‘Boy’, and since then—well—the streets been jumpin’.

  “Sup, Cuz?” Lil’ Joe locked the hood with me and our fingers connected into two capital C’s.

  “Shid, grooving loc, what’s crackin’ over here?” I inquired, as I watched the packaging of my shit. One of the girls looked up at me with lust dancing in her pupils.

  “Sup, Tessa?” I acknowledged lil’ one.

  We’d fucked around a few times and lil’ baby was a troopa. Even though she fucked with them niggas on the otha side of the hood, she kept it funky wit’ me. She was a jazzy lil’ bitch, the only reason I ain’t wife her was cause the bitch had me skeptical of her get down. Any bitch that rocks wit’ the enemy of where she’s from has the potential to be a snake. So, for the time being, I just watch her and prep her to be Queen one day. That’s exactly why I checked her and Joe, not on no sucka shit, but it’s levels to this shit. I’d already told both of ‘em, I didn’t want her in none of the spots, but for some reason, she thought she needed to hustle.

  “Fuck, I tell you, ‘bout bein’ up in the spot, Tessa?” I gritted, as my eyes bore down onto her. She frowned as she stood up and her titties saluted a nigga as she walked over to me.

  “Nigga fuck I tell you ‘bout tryin’ to demand shit when you ain’t put a claim on none of this?” she said, rubbing her hands down her body.

  I looked at Lil Joe before I said, “Bitch go get yo’ clothes and go sit in the car before I wring your neck!”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically, but that ass turned and did what the fuck I told her to. She knew I believed in smackin’ a bitch when she failed to know her place amongst men. She also knew that I hate defiance. I was suddenly, snapped outta my thoughts by the sound of Lil’ Joe’s laughter.

  I turned my heated gaze on him. “Fuck so funny, Cuz? I told you not to let her in the spot, homie. This ain’t no place for my bitch. What if I let your gal in the spot and let her get naked?”

  The laughter never left his voice as he responded. “Cuz, my bitch is right there,” he pointed to Mena, a dark-skinned girl from the hood. She was naked as a newborn and as her eyes found mine. I diverted my stare from her succulent titties.

  “Cuz, a bitch gonna do what she chooses when you’re not around. That’s why I don’t sweat it but on the set, if you woulda told me you got tags on shawty. I wouldn’t have disrespected yo’ game like that, Hoova. You make it seem like she’s just anotha hoe, so I saw nothin’ wrong with lettin’ her hustle,” Joe rationalized.

  Even though I was still heated, I knew my nigga was speaking the gospel, so I let it go. “You got that ready for me?”

  Joe’s didn’t speak another word, as he turned and walked over to the cabinets.

  He pulled out a backpack and tossed it to me. “Fifty large.”

  I turned to make my exit and caught Mena eye fuckin’ me.

  I shook my head, “Say, Cuz, yo’ bitch being a slut indirectly. But how can you blame her, when you got her in a position revealing all that’s pose to be for your eyes only?”

  I kept laughing as I smashed out, but not before I heard the unmistakable sound of hand against face. Cuz could talk that playa shit all he wanted, but no nigga wanted his hoe to be a hoe outside of the bedroom.

  ***

  ~Jazzy~

  I walked into my house after spending the day at my baby’s bedside, I was exhausted. Me and Lovey had built a beautiful bond, and there was no more questions whether or not I was strong enough to stand by my man. Lovey told said she couldn’t blame me if I chose to move on with my life, and neither would Satta. She didn’t know Satta like I do, he would blame me.

  “Chile, a woman has to determine what loyalty means to her. If you choose to leave this man, it matters not how I feel or what I think, nor Assata. If a woman can find peace with a decision she’s made no matter how foul or dishonorable it is, then she is a woman that doesn’t walk by morale, but a woman who lives the life of a generation. A generation that slices the throats of the ones they vowed a lifetime to. Sugga, only thirty percent of women are who they say they are, the other seventy percent are exactly who they don’t say they are. I know you’re part of that thirty percent, and if you choose to move on. It wouldn’t be for any other reason, then this man right here not waking up before you die. You’re a woman, Jazmina, and you are a rare breed, baby. Pressure is always harder on women like us cause we love deeply.”

  I smiled at the memory of that conversation, as I stripped out of my pants. Gotta love women like Lovey. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I headed for my room with a burning desire to find my sleigh bed. I decided I would shower after I got a few winks in. At least that was the plan until his voice spun me in the direction of my dining room, that’s when shit got real.

  ‘Smack!’ Life became blurry, as my body turned with the impact of the slap. Before I could gather myself he was on me. He slammed my back so hard into the wall, that it caved in and I was
pinned inside it.

  “Bitch, you know not to disrespect me like that—ever,” he raged with slits for eyes.

  Tears spilled from my eyes as all the promises he’d made about never putting his hands on me again, was broken for the millionth time. The millionth time, that he vowed this would never happen again. Shy dying wasn’t the only reason I came back. I had to beg this nigga to let me attend my brother’s funeral because he didn’t trust me outta his sight. He’s the same nigga that told me if I didn’t return he’d find me and kill me.

  “What, you thought you could run away from home, huh? Bitch, I own you,” he spat, as malice did the tango in his eyes.

  “I—” I sniveled— “I hate you so much! I’ll never belong to you again—you-you promised not to do this again!” I had raindrops falling from my eyelids.

  I could see the tornado in his eyes die down just a little bit. His dreads were laid across his face making him look like a sexy ass madman. Only if sex appeal could override abuse, I’d fall back in love with him, but since it couldn’t, I merely stared at him with the deepest hatred.

  “Miss me with all that broken promise shit, J. You make me do this shit to you. I told you to bring yo’ ass back home, but you tried my gangsta anyway. You even tried to play tough when Mar was here. Now you don’t sound so tough,” He smiled sinisterly, as he used his knuckle to wipe my tears away.

  His head was tilted to the side and the insanity laced within his words told me, he meant every—single—word.

  “Baby girl, you know, I’m ‘bout that murder shit. So, take my words as serious as you took your brother’s death. You have twelve hours to have yo’ shit together and be ready to get back West or I’ma kill that nigga you been visiting at that hospital. Then I’ma whack the old bitch that be there more than you. You’re coming back home, or you’ll be the death of him. I almost got him on that freeway. But if I must say so myself the boy is a gunslinger,” he revealed the missing pieces.

  The pieces of the puzzle I’d tried to put together, well, those mu’fuckas had just fallen in place. I felt chills running down my spine, as I came to the harsh realization, I was the reason Assata was laid up in that cold room. The devil had followed me to the people I love, now the man I had always envisioned being mine was in a coma.

  Immediately guilt spilled from my eyes. “You—you will never take me away from him. Why, Shotta, why would you want a woman that can’t love you? Why won’t you let me be happy?”

  He gave me the deepest truth an animal could ever give a person. “I guess, I’d rather see you dead, than happy with another nigga. You got twelve hours, Jazzy, play with me if you want. Please don’t be stupid, love, let’s leave peacefully. Nobody has to die, ma, but they will if you test my shit,” he said, as he took his pistol from his waist and aimed it at my head.

  The first thing that came to my head was Assata’s poem, ‘Ocean of Grief’, when he said, “I can’t say I’m happy for you—in fact, I wish I knew magic, so I could conjure up something tragic for you!” I wondered if somehow, he’d learned magic.

  ***

  ~Assata~

  Four Months Later

  What’s the use of a bulletproof vest if the nigga aiming at your thinking cap was the same nigga you allowed close enough to your thoughts? They say that the best way to determine the value of ones potnas was to bring money or a bitch into the equation. Money can cause a hungry niggaz stomach to blindfold him to his morals. I learned that a bitch with a little bit of ass and titties will drag the serpent outta a nigga that lacks the ability to control his dick. That’s the weakness that stole the definition from a man. A nigga must see beyond loyalty and what sounds real. Loyalty is the fibers of a righteous man’s foundation, yet the actual foundation is his beliefs, his morals, and his limitations.

  A man with no beliefs has no balance. A man with no limitations will do anything. How can he trust the next man when he can’t even trust his very own limits? That’s why I fucks with a cat based on his beliefs. If his beliefs are righteous, how can his loyalty be tainted? If I questioned somebody, I’ve already allowed into my cipher, that meant I needed to tighten the fuck up! My decisions affected my life. My bitch’s life, the wellbeing of my seeds, as well as my whole structure and fam. A man gotta make good decisions cause if the vibrations become hazardous to the shit he loved, he becomes a dangerous man.

  The type of nigga that will accidentally kill himself by way of his very own decisions. I gotta be a boss cause my castle—my woman—team—and child depends on my decision making. That’s what I was thinking as Lovey lit candles all around me and placed her hand against my forehead. My limbs sparked a flood of her spirit and I could feel the ole lady stepping into her love. It’s as if a gravitational pull guided my feet until I was stumbling through the fog. It’s as if my feet had a mind of their own, as they led me like a navigational system.

  Unexpectantly, I stepped from the fog and into a bright sunlit cemetery. Its familiarity paused me cause without having to be told, I knew where I’d end up. So, that’s where I headed, I spotted Lovey at the tombstone laying down a fresh vase of roses. As I walked up behind her, I read the engravement on the marble headstone— ‘Ruth Ridge, A Mother, Sister, and Daughter-1967-2002, Always in our Hearts.’

  “We never know when it’s our time, chile. Sometimes God comes at a time none of us expected and maybe that’s why the bible says He’ll come like a thief in the night. How you doing, baby?” She said, without the slightest indication of her knowing I stood behind her.

  This was one of the many tricks she’d mastered over the years. I didn’t take my eyes off my T-lady’s tombstone, as I nodded my head like Lovey could see me.

  “Maybe—but I think if there’s a God, he’s just a thief period. He’s too cool with the devil and sometimes while they’re playing chess, he sacrifices some good people in order to win a game that he could win in one move. I’m coolin’ Lovey, how are you, beautiful?”

  Turning to face me she smiled at how I viewed shit. This lady raised me to be a man, and to never hide the true me from nobody. So, I gave it to her from my gut. The raw truth of how I felt. She’s the typa woman that respected the real in a nigga.

  “Chile, you’ve been mad at God ya whole life, but I can promise you, if you wouldn’t have Him in your life it woulda been you buried under all this dirt, instead of Him taking your mama to get your attention. You’re not God, Assata, no matter what you’ve read in them crazy books,” she laughed softly at my facial expression. “What, you didn’t think, I’d be snooping around your house, while you’ve been here in this dark place? Boy plaaease—I’m a woman, chile,” she said in a sista girl way, with an arched brow.

  I loved this lady. I laughed at her silliness but knowing her like the back of my hand, I saw the storm in her eyes. Something wasn’t right! “Lovey—why did you come here, mama?” My question seemed to strike a nerve because she cringed slightly.

  “Why would something be wrong, chile, can’t I just want to spend time with my baby boy?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Lovey,” I whispered, as I gently took her face into my hands. “You’re my world—you’ve stood beside me through the good, bad, and the ugly. We don’t fake nor keep secrets from each other, mama—tell me! Tell me what’s happened, Queen.” The resolution was a powerful element, as she placed her hands on top of mine.

  “Assata, you have to answer the question, you have to baby.”

  I was confused, as I looked at her, searching her eyes. “What question, Lovey? What are you talkin’ ‘bout, Queen?”

  She smiled bitterly. “Do you care if you live or die, chile?”

  For some reason this time she asked just felt different. I thought about all the shit I’d done in my life, the few people that had actually loved a nigga. All of ‘em I thugged for—my nigga Shy—he gone—gotta live for him. Jazzy, even tho, she fucked over me wit’ Nutz, I still fucks with her. My big bro Goose—the nigga will kill the world f
or me. I couldn’t die on him. My other brother, Pain? Damn, and Lovey? All this shit sunk into my soul and slipped from my tongue in the form of absolute truth!

  “Yes, Lovey—I think, I do care.”

  Lovey looked at me quizzically and shook her head amazed. “You think? Well, rather you do, or you don’t matter not at this moment. Things has changed, chile, and people need you, their lives depend on it.” She then turned to my mom’s tombstone, “Wake up Assata—you have to wake up—now,” she demanded, as she began to fade away.

  “Nooo—not yet, Lovey—I need more than that! Who needs me mama—who?”

  “Wake up baby—we all need you! Wake your behind up!”

  ***

  ~Ice-Berg~

  She unwrapped the gauze from my head slowly. I hadn’t seen my own face in almost two months. Yet, I’d obtained all of my energy back. The wounds healed nicely even though, I gotta deal with this shit bag from the hit I took in the stomach. But, shit coulda been worse though. Anticipation and fear exuded from my pores as she got to the last wrap. All sorts of shit rushed through my head. What if the surgery didn’t sit well with my face? What if the hoe got me lookin’ like Gary Coleman’s lil’ brother? The breeze that fell over my face let me know that it was free from the cotton cage, it’s been hiding behind for the last six weeks. I studied her facial expression as a slow smile blossomed into her features.

  “Chu are a brand-new man. You are handsome and beautiful all at once. We will be victorious, hmm,” she said, as she walked over to the dresser and picked up a handheld mirror.