Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  For the first time since he’d been wheeled into the courtroom, Nutz looked up and straight into my eyes. An ocean covered within his—mine resembled the Great Lakes. Silence was as thick as rubber as we all awaited his admission. Slowly a lone tear dripped from his left eye before his eyes landed on our mom’s.

  “They set this up, they told me I’d walk—Berg didn’t give me those drugs. The prosecutor told me I’d—”

  “Objection your Honor—objection!” the prosecutor screamed over the chaos that erupted in the courtroom.

  I neva took my eyes away from my brother as he cracked that diamond smile, he always gave me when he knew I’d be proud of him, but he didn’t know I was about to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Death Game

  ~Goose~

  It had been a week since we obtained the info from Snow. That night I had found a writ envelope sealed by a string. I waited until me and my brother was safely away from the scene before opening it. It contained pictures of a woman that was clearly of Jewish descent. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, beautiful—innocent. Two kids that seemed loved, and well taken care of were captured leaving school, playing in their front yard and even leaving the church. Then, there was the man of the hour, the Tiger didn’t look so much like a killa around his fam. The only contradiction that told the story of his insanity were the tattoos. As I studied a photo of him kissing the lady on the porch, I wondered if she knew her dude was a murderer.

  “Sup, bruh, we gonna sit out here all morning or go put this work in?” Assata asked.

  I knew time was of the essence, but I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be walkin’ into a trap. This Russian fool wasn’t like them lil’ street punks we’d laid down, so we had to be ‘bout or business when getting at him. I nodded my consent. We’d watched the house all night and morning but there was no sign of the Russian. I began to doubt the address we’d found in the envelope until seven that morning. The front door opened, and two small children ran out. A boy about six years old and another around eight raced to see who would get the front seat. The woman exited shortly after. I took a gentle gamble and assumed she was taking the kids to school. The Tiger didn’t seem to be the type to let his woman work, so rather than follow her. I decided to wait for her return.

  As we waited, we went over our plan and not even thirty minutes later my patience paid off, shawty returned. Assata slipped a hat on his head that read: ‘Season of Bloom’. It was a flower delivery hat that matched the delivery uniform that my brother hated. He grabbed the dozen roses off the back seat and got out of the car. I watched him walk up the driveway and up to the door. Once he rang the doorbell I pulled my infamous scalpel out of its cases. I watched the door open and the woman smiled at Assata—I had to pray that we didn’t have to kill her. The woman had a beautiful smile.

  ****

  ~Assata~

  “Good Morning, Ma’am, I’m looking for a Mrs. Cardova?” I use the name that was listed as the Tiger’s wife. She had big dreamy eyes that first studied my features—the gold teeth, the storm that played inside my pupils. She looked skeptical until I broke the ice. “I know—I know, flower delivery doesn’t usually look like this, but my employer is a friend of the family and took a chance at getting me out of the streets.” I lifted a dozen roses up higher so she could see them. “If you don’t take these, I may end up back at the burger joint.” I smiled.

  She took the bait—I guess it was better to have a black man delivering her flowers than making her food. She placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

  “I’m so sorry—I—I just didn’t expect—um—” she fumbled over her words.

  What she didn’t expect was a gangsta with diamonds in his mouth delivering her a dozen roses. She took them before pulling them up to her nose and inhaling deeply.

  “Who are they from?” she inquired.

  I handed her the card and she did exactly what I thought she would—she opened the card and read the words I’d written.

  They’ll look beautiful on your grave.

  First—confusion, then fear etched into her facial expression as her eyes slowly rose to mine. I had slipped the burna into my hand so swiftly that she hadn’t noticed my movements. “Don’t be stupid, ma, Jesus may have fucked with the Jews, but Hitler incinerated six million of ‘em. I’m more like the latter.”

  ****

  ~Agent Harrison~

  I couldn’t believe the nerve of the two wise guys. David Swanson, aka Ice-Berg, had literally beat the system again! The strange part was rather than walk, his lawyer had stepped over to the prosecutor's table and proposed the oddest thing ever known to the world—a life for a life. David Swanson was willing to not only plead guilty to all counts but also give up all that he knew on the Russian. All this for his brother to be able to walk free. I still couldn’t believe it—talking about love! I was just about to call it a day when my desk phone rang. I hated when people waited to the last minute to chat.

  “Yello?” I answered.

  The noise on the other end of the phone let me know that my partner was on the chopper. “Heyya, Harrison, I have some good news for ya, bud. You need to burn ass to the nearest chopper and get to Denton, Texas. We have a tag on the Assata Lamar perp,” He spoke over the wash of the chopper blades.

  I wasted no time hanging up and running from my office—my marriage had ended because of those scum and it was time to return the favor.

  ****

  ~Assata~

  “If you hurt her, I’ll murder your entire bloodline.” The icy voice spoke through the receiver. We’d tied the Tigers wife up and secured his spot. After we’d searched the entire house, I forced her to give me the number to reach him. She was loyal, but pain had a certain typa effect on people.

  “Yea—yea—yea, dick sucka. You can speak all that gangsta shit you choose, but when you took Lovey, you took all that I loved.” I used the tip of my tool to wipe his wife’s tears. “Now I’m gonna return the favor—your life or your bitch. Either or, don’t matter to me, homie.” I smiled into the phone.

  “Let me speak to her, you piece of shit nigger!” he spat.

  The Tiger’s accent was thick, I could tell he was beyond angry, but I also could hear the fear just beyond the surface. I looked down at the weeping woman—she looked even prettier with tears streamin’ down her face.

  I put the phone on speaker and stretched my hand toward her. “It’s for you,” I proposed.

  Lil one’s arms and hands were secured by a thick rope, so of course, she couldn’t hold the phone. I laughed at my own sickness.

  “Jacqueline—baby, have they hurt you—are you okay? Talk to me!” the Tiger screamed.

  Through her tears, the woman revealed to us all that she had no idea what kind of husband she had.

  “Joseph, wha—what is this? These people—who-who are they?” she asked between cries. “They say you’re a—a killer, Joe, is this correct?” she cried but my soul was black—I think the loss of Pain was the last piece of good I had.

  “Don’t listen—they’re liars, Jackie, I’ll save you, baby,” he vowed. “Where and what time, nigger!” he demanded.

  I smiled in anticipation—death was in the air when I replied. “At your house, fuck boy, there’s no place like home.” I disconnected the call before I looked down at the tear-streaked face of the innocent—it was a fucked-up reality.

  Casualties of war were the worst part of the game, yet, sometimes it took innocent blood to be shed in order to obtain the undivided attention of your enemy. Revenge was best served cold as I thought about how cold Lovey’s grave was, I looked up at my older brother before looking back at shawty.

  “Tell Lovey we’re sending her some company,” I spoke to the confused expression on her face. Before she could respond, Goose sawed so deep into her neck with his scalpel that her head almost swung free from her body. I had to look away—that shit didn’t look that fucked up in the movies.


  ****

  ~Ice Berg~

  “All rise for the Honorable Judge—” the bailiff announced.

  It was two days after I’d confessed to all counts in my indictment. Two days since Nutz signed for fifteen years for the murder of Destiny Kendricks with a suspension of twelve of those years for my cooperation and guilty plea. Those white folks only cared about my guilty verdict. They didn’t give a fuck about guilt or innocence—anyway, they could prove that they sentenced somebody, they were good wit’ it. It was my sentencing and I already knew my destiny was bleak, but I could live with it. I was repayin’ my brotha for givin’ me a chance at life when he snatched up that DA’s bitch. Plus—my lil’ nigga deserved a chance at life. I knew niggas didn’t respect me turnin’ on the Russian’s, but how I saw it—he was done either way. The fuck boy would neva be caught anyway—his bread was too long.

  “All may be seated,” The judge spoke before pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Does the jury have a verdict?” he looked to the jury box.

  The foreperson stood. “We do Your Honor!”

  I looked over at my moms—my niggas. Some shit just had to happen in order for life to operate in perfect order. I smiled as the white boy sealed my fate.

  “We the jury find David Swanson—”

  Boom!

  The doors to the courtroom blew apart. Before anyone could react, Mexicans with tattoos covering their faces rushed the room brandishing big guns. One ran up the aisle and before they could take cover, he sprayed the jury box with bullets. The judge disappeared inside the judge’s chambers, but the bailiff wasn’t so lucky—MS-13 were in raw form when I was snatched up and rushed out the courtroom.

  ****

  ~Assata~

  It was pitched black in the house when the door cracked open and the Russian rushed in with a pistol in his hand. I was surprised he’d come alone.

  “Stop right there and toss the gun down,” I spoke from the darkness.

  The Tiger kicked the door closed and though I couldn’t see him through the darkness, the soft thump of his metal hitting the carpet told me he’d complied. His shadow moved toward my voice—the man knew his house. The darkness didn’t disturb his mission to save his wife, he made it to the den where I stood and reached to the wall for the light switch. As soon as light flooded the room, the Tigers eyes captured the horror movie that Goose had created with the sharp ass blade he’d become so surgical with.

  Blood stains canvased the interior of the room—puddles of the sticky substance of his wife’s life source congealed within the soft flooring. His wife Jacqueline was in so many pieces that the coroner wouldn’t have a hard time finding the cause of death. The Tiger’s first reaction was stunned silence as his eyes digested the slaughter—his wife’s remains. What happened next was the type of shit out of a Jason Bourne Movie. Without warning, the Tiger’s arm thrust forward—a flash of silver sliding from underneath the sleeve of the black trench coat he wore sliced through the air. I attempted to dive out of the way, but I wasn’t quick enough—the sharp blade sliced through my flesh before lodging itself in my left shoulder blade.

  Instinctively, the gun I’d held slipped from my grip as an animalistic roar escaped my lips. At the same time, the Tiger rushed in my direction midway to me, he leaped, spun around and kick into my chin. I crumbled to one knee, I was dazed, but when his right leg reared back for another kick that would have surely sent me to a dark place. I mustered every ounce of strength I could and lunged myself into his midsection. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I held on for dear life as we crushed into the wall so hard that his back crashed through it. Sheetrock and dust showered us—but that wasn’t enough. The man was beyond himself with rage.

  He brought his knee up fast—the impact of it caused air to explode from my lungs as I doubled over. He’d kneed me in the nuts and without hesitation, he used his hands like a sledgehammer and brought them down on the butt of the knife. The blade drove deeper into my flesh and bone. I howled in agony—I knew I was finished.

  The Russian stood over me with a menacing stare. “You took her from me—my dear Jacqueline,” he cried before reaching down and yanking the knife out of my shoulder.

  A wicked smile curved his lips as he raised the serpentine blade high above his head, but before he could bring it down, my foot shot out and connected with his groin.

  “Arrgh—” he blurted as he doubled over.

  I crawled to my hands and knees—self-preservation raced through my nature as my fingers wrapped around the handle of my fallen pistol. As I rose to finish him off, the Tiger was regaining his composure. The only thing that stopped me from putting one in his melon was the torture my heart had incurred since he’d taken Lovey from me. I wanted to make him physically feel what he’d made me live with mentally. I brought the steel down across his nose—blood squirted a foot high as he stumbled backward. Surprise registered on his face when Goose’s arm wrapped around his neck and pulled his head back to expose the soft flesh that hid his esophagus. Before the Tiger could react, a flash reflected within his pupils as the scalpel ran across his throat and left a smiley face in its wake.

  Goose released him—the Tiger staggered before his hands shot to his throat in an attempt at stopping the blood flow. It wouldn’t help though—his soul was spilling from the wound at an alarming speed. The man fell to his knees and stared up at me with hate in his eyes. I stumbled to my feet before placing the burna between the windows of his soul. Blood poured from him and seeped through his fingers as I stared back at him.

  “Tell my, nigga, Shy that I sent you,” I spat.

  “Fuck you, nig—” Before he could get the word out, I molested the trigger.

  His face exploded before the slug exited the back of his head. His body rocked slightly before tilting forward. The silence was thick when I looked over at my older brother.

  “Fam—fuck took you so long!” I growled.

  Goose shrugged before replying. “I wanted to see if you could still fight.”

  I stared at him with a puzzled expression on my face before laughter erupted from deep inside me. Once I stopped, I did the most logical thing a man that just escaped the fringes of death could do—I fainted.

  Chapter Twenty

  Who Shot Ya

  ~Marcella~

  ~Weeks Later~

  “May—may I speak to, Jazmina?” I whispered into the receiver.

  There was a long pause before the person on the other end answered, “Yes, this is she. May I ask who's speaking?” she responded.

  Fear surged through me at the sound of her voice—not fear, uncertainty. I was second guessing myself. “Um—it’s me, Marcella—” I paused to adjust the phone to my ear before continuing. “—we have a little misunderstanding and now you don’t know the voice of your best friend? That’s hurtful, Jazz.”

  Another pause greeted me, I thought she’d hung up until she exhaled a soft breath. “Uh—hi?” she responded skeptically. “How are you, Mar?” she whispered.

  I could hear rustling and it sounded as if she’d gotten up before speaking again. She probably didn’t want Assata’s punk ass to know she was speaking to me.

  “Fake bitch,” I whispered.

  “Did you say something?” Jazz inquired.

  “No!” I responded a little too loud. “No, I was commenting on this episode of Empire—Cookie can be such bitch sometimes.” I laughed it off. “Um—listen, Jazz, I’m just calling to let you know that I’m sorry. I—I was wrong and—” I paused to be dramatic and gritted my teeth as I spoke again. “I miss my girls—” Another pause allowed silence to become uncomfortable. ‘Maybe the damage was too deep to find our past within,’ I thought. “Jazz—you still there?” I inquired before looking at the screen to make sure the call was still connected.

  “Yea—yea, I’m still here, Mar. I was just thinking, that’s all,” she whispered. “Listen, Mar, I’ve been knowing you since barbie dolls and our first period. You’ll always be my girl
but look—maybe we can talk tomorrow.”

  I had the impression that I’d interrupt something. I hated the thought of Assata fucking her, it made me sick to my stomach. I honestly couldn’t explain why my emotions were so powerful for that man, but I knew he was supposed to be mine!

  “Oh—okay, am I interrupting something?” I fished. I needed to know where she and Assata were.

  “Oh—no!” she answered. “Well, not nothing too important, me and Assata are at the house about to go to the cemetery to visit Shy and Lovey before going to see that new, Taraji P. Henson movie.”

  ‘Bingo!’ I thought. Women were so predictable. “Oh—okayyy!” I laughed. “Well, I won’t hold you, I know you and your boo doing y’all. Just call me tomorrow, Mami, and we can do lunch,” I proposed.

  Jazmina accepted and we said our goodbyes before hanging up. As soon as she was off the line, I sent a text to someone.

  //: Peoples Cemetery

  ****

  ~Jazzy~

  I stepped back into the house after I’d gotten off the phone with Marcella. I sat on the couch before sliding my feet from the flip flops and tucking them underneath me. That call had rubbed me wrong for some odd reason. Marcella was a snake that felt like she was too big to apologize.