by Renta
I took her hand, interlocked my fingers with hers and pulled her to my side. I guided her towards the truck. “Who you come with, Kamika?” She rolled her eyes dramatically, seeming as if my question bothered her. She diverted her eyes to stare into the distance, it seemed as though she had something heavy on her mind.
“Just some bozo I call my boyfriend. He got mad at what I’m wearing, and as soon as my feet touched the ground, he pulled off and left me here. I’m so pissed—like really! I don’t even know anyone here. I’m new to the city and this son-of-a-bitch pulls a stunt like this. I’m so through!”
I’m glad she said that, cause I’d hate to have to add more beef to an already full plate. Yet, I’m a killa, it ain’t shit to me—Weatly Kourts stand up!
***
~A face in the Dark~
I knew this bitch from somewhere. I never forget a face and this bitch was looking real familiar! As I kept my distance from the crew, I had to fight to stay semi-incognito. Even though I adorned these baggy clothes and hat, some assets just couldn’t be hidden. Especially, my most prominent feature, so you know the vultures were out. I lost sight of Assata when he was whisked away by that hoochie, that was out here damn near naked. I won’t lie though the bitch knew how to make naked look good! I had a plate of bar-b-que in hand, as I took a seat on the hood of my car, still watching the crew through the oversized designer glasses. As I bit into a beer link, I couldn’t help but observe the dude with the dreads that I’d learned was Assata’s older brother.
He looked dangerous and knowing Assata if they’re anything alike, I knew he was a ladies man. A sudden shock caused me to pause in midbite, my plate tumbled to the street, and my mouth hung agape—naw—couldn’t be! It seemed as if she stared straight at me. Yet, that’s not what fucked me up and set flame to an already chaotic situation. Even though, she’d dyed her hair, trying to pass as sexy—well, she’s always been sexy, but circumstances robbed her of her flare long ago. The point was—I knew the bitch, she’s a cop!
***
~Armani~
“You asked for five minutes of my time away from my girls. So, here’s your claim to fame, don’t waste it because I’m not average and I don’t need no nigga!”
He smirked and looked at the activities of the block party, Assata acted as if my statement was never made. “It’s crazy ain’t it, ma? How we can burn for the opportunity—take the ghetto for instance—we yearn to escape oppression, but when the opportunity to seize that desire presents itself. We don’t know what to do with it—so what we do? I’ll tell you—we find pleasure in the idea of what it would be like to possess it and become comfortable within a promise that one day we will.” His eyes turned to me slowly, through the designer glasses I felt how intense his stare was.
“Ma, I saw you the other night at the after-hours. How you was checking for me. I saw when you leaned into Tessa, no doubt askin’ ‘bout me. So, yeah, I asked for five minutes, but it’s been ten and you ain’t walked away yet. Physically, you get my attention, but baby girl, physical attraction only lasts so long, we all grow old.” He lifted his hand to the part of my exposed breasts.
I slapped his hand away and he chuckled. “That shit right there, the way you carrying it, ma. A nigga will only respect what you show him. The way a woman dresses speaks a lot about that woman.”
“So, what you saying, Assata? I’m a hoe or something, because—”
“Miss me with that,” he interrupted. “Don’t put words in my mouth, fam. I just jeweled you, earth, but what I am saying is, don’t find pleasure in the idea of what it would be like—we have the opportunity to make it a reality.”
Chapter Eleven
Plans, Blood, Betrayal
~A month later~
Nizhny Novgorod, Russia
Russia sat on the terrace of his ninety-five-hundred square foot home, staring out at the Volga River. The table before him was set for Kings, well—in this case, Russian drug lords. There were cultural dishes adorning the table, such as Frittata an open-faced omelet with cheese, mixed into the eggs rather than as a filling. Tonnarelli, Orecchiette, Trofie, and Mezzemaniche were merely a few of the cuisines on the menu. He sipped his white Negroni, as he waited for the arrival of the last member of the Black Mamba Mafia. A branch of the Russian underworld, the five present members spoke in their native tongue, as he absently rubbed his hand over the newest addition to his war wounds.
It was a three-inch scar running from the corner of his mouth, inching towards his chin. He’d acquired it during his haste to escape the brutality in Ice-Beg’s room that night. He’d underestimated the young killa and lost two of his best men for the blunder. He’d almost lost his life to a fucking nigger! Every time he thought about it, the scar began to itch.
“Vor, you seem to tink hard, hmmm? Please share—” a short dark-skinned member trespassed into his thoughts.
His eyes burned into Russia’s as he gorged on everything he could bet his hands on, Russia’s eyes were pitiless. “I’m thinking that if you and the tiger ain’t successful in the states. I’m gonna have you both castrated!”
“Guud—I’ll be luuking forward to it, but until then, why don’t you tell us how the son-of-a-bitch escaped you!”
***
~Assata~
A lot of niggas took life altering chances for things that will never justify the means. They found themselves buried under them white folk’s prisons with the typa number that out of the seven billion people here on earth, only five or six will ever grow ole enough to see, or wind up sharp as a thumb tack with their people standin’ over them sayin’ their last goodbyes. All because being broke is the worst reality in the world. We go head first into shit without a limitation, and that’s how niggaz find themselves doing eighty-five percent in the feds, cause they tried to make trappin’ a career, rather than a means to an end.
Everybody wanted that one lick that would set them straight for life. That was exactly what I’d been plotting for the last thirty days. As I sat here with my back against my mama’s headstone, I stared out at the last dying rays of sunshine. That time of the day when the Heavens were several different colors at once? More pink than blue—slightly purple—a touch of red, beautiful!
“What’s good, mama? I know, I ain’t been by to fuck with chu in a minute but things been crazy, Queen. Shit, honestly, I don’t know where to begin. Since I’m not too sure ‘bout Heaven and Hell, I don’t know if you’ve been watching your boy. But, either or—I’m still above ground, mama. Still that same lil’ nigga you left behind. It’s just that now—that lil’ boy is trapped in the body of a beast. Can I tell you a secret, mama? Something in me died when that nigga took you from me.” Soft winds blew, as I used my fingers to unearth a handful of soil—it may be mental, but just as I pulled that little bit of dirt off of the six-feet that hid her from the pain of a gangsta, I felt just a lil’ bit closer to her. I rubbed the dirt back and forth in my hands and continued to watch the sky bruise.
“I’ve lost a lot, ma—done a lot of shit, I wish I could rewind, but I guess life don’t work like that. Yo’ kids good though—we ain’t close as we used to be. I guess sometimes life draws up its own conclusion. It’s life, ole lady—heard you got some grandkids out there somewhere. I ain’t met ‘em and proly never will, but at least someone will carry the name, huh,” I laughed at my own lack of emotion.
The wind seemed to blow harder and I noticed it was now kissed with a slight chill. I busted open the Garcia Vega, I’d brought for this special occasion. I emptied the tobacco onto the grass. A sun-dried leaf slapped me dead in the face as the wind kicked up a notch.
I began laughing. “Mannn, Moose, where else I’ma dump it? It’s a plant too, chill,” I laughed a little bit harder at the thought of my moms being heated ‘bout me fuckin’ up her patch of earth.
I filled the cigar leaf with this Kush they call, ‘Blue God’. I twisted and put flame to it to ensure it was all the way dry before I spared it. I took a dee
p pull from the gut, the potency instantly made me regret not respecting it. It felt like my soul was on fire, as I choked and tried to regurgitate the smoke. Tears were in my eyes—I got back to my T-Jones.
“Me and ole’-man’s kids still thick as thieves. Pain ain’t changed, and Goose on some religious shit, but them my ridas, mama. Naw, I ain’t even met you no daughter-in-law. Shid, ma, I can’t even find the right woman, that I can respect enough to put my seed in. These females out here weren’t created to be queens mama. But, I think I’ve found a rida—I’ll let you know how it turns out. Beyond that, Queen, the real reason I came here today is cause I need a favor. I’ve been planning something in my head for a while, I’m ready to put it in effect. How it’s gonna turn out—that’s in God’s hand—or maybe the Devil’s. I don’t know, but what I need from you, is if you can see me—watch over me—talk to God if He’s up there. Any of these things, I need it, mama. It’s not a promise, I’ll walk outta this with my life, and I ain’t goin’ to nobody’s jail—never again! So, if you don’t hold me down, I’ma be on my way to see you—soon. Tell God or whoever running shit up there, this is my last ride. If I succeed, Ima do shit different. If I fail, shiid, I’m comin’ with a Draco and a hunnid on the drum. I’ma be mad as a bitch!”
***
~Detective Winslet~
It’s been two months since the day I met Goose, and things have been real intense. I hadn’t seen much, but the money I’d helped count had to have come from somewhere. Truthfully, I should have been bowed out of this insanity and went to the Board of Investigations about Hunter, but the threat he held over my head, was one I never want uncovered. I’d successfully infiltrated the circle of Bloods, and unearthed some interesting information. Just sittin’ around the traps and listening to the young boys, I’d learned that there was a small war brewing.
There was some new guy speaking and supplying Hic and Oak Street. He’s said to have no regard for human life. It’s hard to believe that Goose or Pain are the monstrous guys they’re said to be. Goose is attentive and smart, he’s God-fearing and to top it all off, he’s not gang-related. Pain seems kinda sneaky, always watching and quiet.
The dude Assata was never around, but his protégé, Tomorrow, seemed to be the wildest. He was the only one I’d seen deal drugs. The other day he got drunk and cried—blubbered out the shooting that transpired at an after-hours spot out on Teasley Lane. He cried and admitted to nutting up in an attempt at saving his own life, but couldn’t save his homeboy, Dino’s. I wondered how he’d react if he knew I was there.
“What’s on your mind, partner, you seem preoccupied? Listen, Winslet, I know, I kinda forced this on you, and I owe you one. I know these guys are a dangerous bunch, but I promise you when things get too deep, I’ll pull you out. You know I mean well—right?” Hunter stared out of the window as we exit the city limits.
I nodded my head in acknowledgment. The problem wasn’t how dangerous they are, it was now about how dangerous I am now that my heart was in the equation.
***
~Jazzy~
These past few weeks, things had been beautiful between us. Though Assata was a constant thought, I had to place him in the back of my mind. Now, that I thought about it, maybe things turned out how they should have. I mean, Shotta was a good dude, he just had a temper. He grew up watching his father beat his mother, so he acquired a sad trait. Yet, he loved me—he has to. How else can you explain traveling thousands of miles across the states to bring me back to him?
At least that’s the rationality he gave me, and it seemed quite logical. I never asked for this shit. I couldn’t get Assata and Lovey killed! I didn’t know how they felt. However, if there was a chance to go back to my man, I would. But, there’s consequences to actions and who’s to say Assata would accept me back? It’s too late now anyway, I’d gotten engaged. As I stared at the three-carat solitaire, a bitter smile quirked at the corner of my lips. Charla and mama loved it—I loved it—but my heart was way in Texas. Keeping that thought, I walked into the clinic with determination in every step.
***
~Pain~
‘Lil’ Boosie’ blasted from the boisterous speakers as Lil’ Joe and Mena sat at the light on Bonny Brea. The ganja smoke was so thick that it was a wonder he could see the road. Mena had her phone in her hand texting as the track changed to, ‘Oh Lord’, one of her favorite ‘Boosie’ singles. As they waited for the light to change, an elderly lady pushed an old grocery cart filled to the brim with her life possessions across the street in front of them. Due to the hunch in her back, she moved slowly as a snail. A long dingy pastel sundress flowed in the wind as she pushed along. No one noticed the backward wig on her head, but Lil’ Joe.
He burst out laughing at the sight of the vagabond having the nerve to have a little dog in the cart, with a small evidently broken television. Mena rolled her eyes at his silly ass as he slapped the steering wheel in humor. His jewels glistened through the cloud of smoke, and one could tell he was getting it in. The light turned green and the old lady was still trying to lug the heavy cart across the street. Horns could be heard everywhere, but it was useless because the wheel on the cart seemed to be broken, and the old lady seemed adamant about moving it. In frustration, Lil Joe stepped out of the car with a frown on his face,
“Damn, you, old hag. I don’t know why the fuck you tryin’ to move this busted ass shit anyway,” he growled, as he grabbed the front of the basket and yanked it out of her grasp.
To his surprise, not only did it move easily, it was also light. The little dog yelped as Lil’ Joe turned his eyes to the old lady, by the time he realized the fix was in, it was too late. Granny came from under her dress with a Mac 11, equipped with a suppressor attached to it. Three short busts opened on him, flipping him. Blood erupted from the intimate wounds from the Mac, as Lil’ Joe fought to hold on to life while choking on his own blood. His eyes were to the Heavens as specks of red blood blended with the freckles on his face. The old lady stood over him in broad day and stared down, then attempted to empty the remaining inhabitants of the extend into him. Lots of screams could be heard from the car as granny took off in the direction, she’d come.
Mena screamed and screamed, as she called 9-1-1, yet fear held her in place as ‘Lil’ Boosie’ shook the interior of the Delta 88’. ‘Oh Lord/I ain’t—gonna do no mo’ wrong/ohh oh Lord—’ he rapped.
***
~Twisted~
Hours later
“Wait—hold up, cuz— Fuck you mean, Joe got hit?” I shouted into the phone.
“Baby, he was hit twenty-one times. He was found over there in Concrete City off Bonny Brea.” Tessa wept into my ear-piece. “He was barely breathing when the ambulance got to him. I’m up here with Mena as we speak.”
I was silent as a cemetery, as the devil forced himself into my veins. I couldn’t cry, as I pictured my nigga laid up on some cold slab of steel.
“Twisted—Twisted,” Tessa panicked in my ear.
“I know this nigga ain’t hang up on me—I know not,” she yelled.
“I’m here, ma,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry this happened, baby. I know how close you and Lil’ Joe was, but please don’t do nothing stupid.”
Even though I just boo’d her up, me and Tessa had been close since middle school. She’d been fuckin’ wit’ a nigga through it all, TYC, boot-camp, and three years in the big house. She’s kept it ‘G’ with me. Even though, she’s given her pussy to other niggaz. I knew, I always had her heart.
“Look, Tess—I’ll get wit’ you when I finish my issue. As a matter fact, I’ll meet you up there, which hospital you say he’s at?”
“We’re at Regional, but baby the laws are deep. Why don’t you wait till—” I hung up in mid-spiel?
Berg walked in at the end of the conversation. He was wiping his hands on a paper towel. “Who was that—fuck you lookin’ like that?”
“Lil’ Joe dead, fam. The ambulance picked him up on the
Brea,” I growled.
He looked at me like I had two heads. “Fam, dead people don’t take a ride on an ambulance!”
***
~Pain~
As I stripped outta the hot ass wig and dress. I laughed at how lame niggaz could be. Hoe’s couldn’t be trusted, and Lil’ Joe was a testament to that shit. The whole while he was fuckin’ the bitch Mena, he never took the time to observe the hoe. The thing about Mena was that it was more mental than physical. When Mena found out ‘bout her brother, she automatically turned to her nigga, Lil’ Joe, for solace. The nigga was so caught up in these heartless streets, he ignored her heart and guess who listened to it.
Yep! The same heartless streets. She called Tessa as she was doming me off, I heard the entire convo. From there, it was nothin’ to spread a little dirt out there, knowing it would get back to her. The streets told her that Lil’ Joe and Twisted rocked the nigga to bed cause he owed them some cake. Everybody knew he hustled for them boys, but what they didn’t know was that he kept his bread at his mama’s house, stuffed in the teddy bears his sister had all over her bed.
The dumb bitch told Tessa, thinkin’ she was her girl and Tessa told me during pillow talk and a mouthful of dick. Long story short, it was nothin’ to pull up on her during her moment of emotion and confusion. I offered her not only a friend but also a cold plate of revenge. She led his stupid ass to Concrete City and as I laid in wait, she texted me, and let me know their whereabouts—the rest was history!
“Damn, dawg—Kasha ‘nem gonna be fucked up ‘bout this shit. Lil’ Joe was a good nigga, bleed—that’s our, fam. I ain’t gonna lie, that shit gonna sit on me for a minute,” Satta said.