Voorheeze & Clarkola

by De'Kari

  Voorheeze looked like hell! He hadn’t been eating or sleeping much. He was still massive, but he’d lost considerable weight and it showed. He would sit around drinking all day blaming himself for not being there for T’Rida. His conscious was telling him that when he first learned of T’Rida’s drug usage, he should have taken it more seriously and done more to help him.

  “I wasn’t there when my nigga needed me the most! What kind of brotha am I? I was too busy worrying about money to see that my brotha was crying out for help! I should’ve seen that something was wrong!” The guilt was eating Voorheeze alive.

  He’d always been big on loyalty and was questioning if he was loyal to his brotha. In his mind, not helping T’Rida meant that he wasn’t loyal.

  “Brah, you can’t beat yourself up over that shit. You couldn’t have been there for him if you didn’t know that he was getting high”, Clarkola spoke for the first time. Hearing his little brother profess his love and loyalty to another nigga was starting to get to him. Fuck that other nigga! He was his blood.

  “Fuck you know bout it nigga? You aint neva been there for nobody when they needed yo ass! So, what the fuck can you tell a nigga bout beating himself up?” Rage flashed in Voorheeze’s eyes.

  Brother or not, Voorheeze was hoping that Clark acted stupid. He wouldn’t hesitate to let his older brother feel a little bit of the pain that he was feeling. After all, Voorheeze’s need to be there for his people stem from a lack of his older brother and family being there for him when he needed them growing up. He vowed he would neva treat the people that he loved the way his family had treated him.

  French Tip knew that if she didn’t jump in things were about to get very explosive. So, she spoke up.

  “Look, no matter what we Family! And us, we’re Family twice!” She said pointing her finger to the three of them. “Now Voorheeze I know that you are hurting. Baby, I can see pain all over you. But “T” wouldn’t want you to carry on like this.” She pointed out his appearance to emphasize what she was talking about then she continued. “And he damn sure wouldn’t want us at each other’s throat! Yeah! None of us knew T’Rida like you did, but I knew him enough to know that he would be on you tough right now for what you are doing to yourself. This ain’t the answer, baby. You gotta find another way.” It killed her to see him like that.

  Voorheeze knew that French Tip was right. Hell, she was always right. Even when she wasn’t he would still listen to her. He loved her more than life itself. But, being around his brother was only opening old wounds making him think of his inner pain. He needed to get away from the restaurant before shit got real ugly.

  He stood up, “look it’s good Booger you’re right. I love both of y’all but I gotta get up outta here before I Beni somebody’s Hana.” Clark knew his brother well enough to know that the comment didn’t have anything to do with him. He knew his brother didn’t send subliminals, so he didn’t say shit.

  Even though Clark would neva admit it to anybody he knew that he hadn’t been a good big brother. He was too busy running the streets with his two cousins trying to make a name for himself.

  “V rogue I’m here if ever you need me, lil brah”, Clark declared as he stood up. The two embraced.

  “I know rogue, it’s good.”

  French Tip stood and hugged her brother tight as hell.

  “I love you brother.”

  “I love you too, sis.”

  Love, vows and promises were non-verbally spoken as the brother and sister shared an intimate hug. Voorheeze turned away to leave. He thought about something for a minute, then turned around and said, “I’mma see y’all at The War Room this week. Clark, Friday is on you. Don’t pick no more bootsie ass restaurants.”

  “Nigga what you talking bout, nigga Nation’s is the shit.

  Clark would spend lots of money on clothes, cars, jewelry and everything else but he was cheap as hell when it came to food. Since coming back together in each other’s lives as adults, the three of them made a pact to always hang out on Fridays no matter what. It was their way of making up for so much lost time as children. Voorheeze and French Tip always chose something extravagant like Benihana’s. Fucking around with Clark they’d be eating at Nations or Jack in the Box next week.

  When Voorheeze left Benihana’s he drove to a liquor store and got himself a bottle of Remy Martin. He knew everything that his sister just told him was true, but it still didn’t take away his pain or guilt.

  If it wasn’t for T’Rida they neva would have gone out jack’n that night and came up on that lick that started it all so long ago. After killing Bamma in West Oakland, it was T’Rida that came up with the idea of putting things together and building some shit. They all worked their asses off to make it happen. But it was T’Rida that had the vision.

  Voorheeze took a long gulp of the sweet poison, screwing his face up as it burned going down his throat, then drove off. As he was driving his mind continued to fuck with him and so did his guilt. It’s like his mind and his guilt played tug-of-war over what could make him feel more like shit! Because the truth of the matter was, if it wasn’t for T’Rida, Voorheeze wouldn’t be alive!

  Voorheeze turned 19 when he was incarcerated at Duel Vocational Institution in Tracy, CA. Also known as DVI. Though he was in prison nearly a year by the time he got to DVI, he was serving a three-year sentence for a dope case. Not too long after arriving at DVI it was decided by classification that Voorheeze could no longer be housed in dorms due to all the violence he was involved in.

  He was sent to J-wing to serve the remainder of his time in cells. They put him in the cell with a big-time gang banger nigga named Dawoo. He was a lifer who had been down already for almost twenty years. Dawoo was known for bringing most of the dope into the prison and messing around with the homosexuals. He also had a thirst for raping young niggaz.

  He was a huge dude. He stood six feet three and weighed almost three-hundred and fifty pounds. The first night Voorheeze moved in, they didn’t have any problems.

  At lights out, while Voorheeze slept on the top bunk Dawoo laid on the bottom bunk and jacked off thinking about what he was going to do to Voorheeze. In his sick and twisted mind Voorheeze was his new woman.

  The second night Dawoo came in from night yard drunk off pruno (jail-made alcohol). After lights out Dawoo attacked Voorheeze! At first Voorheeze didn’t know what was going on, he thought it was a normal fight. But being the sadistic, sick twisted fuck, he was, Dawoo was talking to Voorheeze while trying to overpower him. He made his intentions very clear. Voorheeze fought like a man possessed. He wasn’t big at the time, so it took all he had not to become a victim. The other cells could hear what was going on but were used to it. Dawoo’s sick habits were well- known.

  After what seemed like forever, Dawoo grew tired and let out a mighty roar-like laugh, finding amusement in the fact that Voorheeze held him off. He’s neva been challenged physically, most of his prey simply folded. For the rest of the night he taunted and tormented Voorheeze telling him tomorrow night he wouldn’t go easy on him. Tomorrow, Dawoo declared, Voorheeze would be his bitch!

  Voorheeze didn’t know what to do. He was skinnier than a toothpick. He couldn’t tell the police or else he would be labeled a snitch. But he wasn’t about to let the faggott take his manhood! He refused to go to sleep or even lay down for that matter. He had to figure something out. The next morning all eyes were on their cell when the doors were opened for breakfast. This was the first-time convicts saw a bruise on Dawoo’s face. Silently everybody’s respect level for the youngsta elevated, no-one had ever stood up to the rapist before. But fuck respect, Voorheeze needed a solution. It came in the form of a childhood friend he hadn’t seen in years.

  T’Rida like everybody else in J-wing knew all about Dawoo’s activities.

  T’Rida was sleep when Voorheeze moved into the cell that night. Then the next day, he was at work. He didn’t know that it was Voorheeze that was fighting for his life that night.
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  That morning when T’Rida saw Voorheeze come out of Dawoo’s cell he knew he had to do something, the two embraced like brothers. After they embraced, T’Rida went back into his cell and grabbed one of his many knives. The 9-inch piece of metal was sharpened to a very sharp point. The handle consisted of a piece of cloth wrapped and black electrical tape wrapped around it. Grabbing the knife, Voorheeze felt a surge of confidence. What had happened the night before was something new and unusual to him. He heard about weird mothafuckas like Dawoo but had neva encountered one, but a young Voorheeze was no stranger to murder. Instead of going to breakfast he and T’Rida stayed back and discussed what Voorheeze was going to do. T’Rida was willing to lend Voorheeze a hand but Voorheeze knew that it was something that he had to take care of on his own. Dawoo was so big, he really wanted help, but he couldn’t look like no bitch in niggaz eyes. Knowing this, he declined the help.

  It was a good thing that T’Rida had given him the knife because Dawoo didn’t wait until night time. As soon as he came back from breakfast, he attacked Voorheeze again. Voorheeze decided at that point that it was kill or be killed, because he wasn’t about to be fucked. He pulled out the knife during the tussle and managed to stab Dawoo seven times. Still Dawoo didn’t go down! The knife had gotten so slippery from the amount of blood that leaked out each time he stabbed Dawoo. He couldn’t risk taking the time to wipe the knife or his hand off, so he just did his best to keep a tight grip on it. He swung his arm in preparation to stab Dawoo some more but Dawoo had timed the blow and deflected it when it came.

  The knife dropped out of Voorheeze’s hand and fell on the floor. After pushing Voorheeze out of the way Dawoo picked up the knife and let out a sinister laugh. Voorheeze knew his life was over but at least he had put up a damn good fight. Dawoo was humongous but still Voorheeze gave it all he had. Dawoo rushed at Voorheeze and brought his hand back to stab him.

  Neither Dawoo nor Voorheeze saw or heard the door to the cell fly open! T’Rida stormed into the cell with a knife as long as his forearm. He stabbed Dawoo under his left arm as he was in mid swing. Dawoo went down, instantly dropping the knife. Voorheeze rushed to pick it up and stabbed Dawoo seven more times! It wasn’t until T’Rida called him that he stopped. Voorheeze was in a fit of rage. His body was overcome with adrenaline from fear of being victimized.

  Both exited the cell and went to the back of the building where one of T’Ridas homeboys gave both of them some new clothes. Next, they rushed to the third floor and took a shower. Washing away any and all evidence. Voorheeze was still visibly shaken but he tried to conceal it. He didn’t want T’Rida thinking that he was a pussy or something. When they left out of the shower the last of the evidence was the bloody clothes which were now soaking in a bucket of industrial strength bleach and water.

  It was yard release when they exited the shower, so they went straight to the yard. Even though he didn’t have anybody to call, Voorheeze made sure to sign up for the phone three times.

  The phone logs would be hard evidence that he was on the yard. The two of them made sure that they passed in front of a few cameras’ multiple times and as final insurance they made sure to ask a few of the correctional officers a bunch of questions so they would remember them.

  They stayed on the yard the entire time until the alarm sounded, and the officers laid the yard down when they found Dawoo’s body. The second time the police laid the yard down it was to come get Voorheeze.

  After questioning him for nearly three hours they threw Voorheeze in the hole and charged him with murder. The police knew the sick shit that Dawoo did to young boys, but they didn’t give a shit. To them they were all criminals and niggers, which meant they were all animals! The guards knew that Voorheeze killed Dawoo they just couldn’t prove it. The time of death was estimated to be the exact time Voorheeze signed up for the phone and was on camera at the phones. He sat in K-wing for six months waiting to see if the D.A. was going to pick up the case but with the amount of evidence they had (none) the D.A. wouldn’t go near the case. Voorheeze was released from the hole and he and T’Rida became cellies. By then everyone knew what happened and the two youngsta’s respect level went through the roof!

  Voorheeze continued to hit the bottle as a single tear slid down his face. He was far from a bitch nigga or a soft nigga so shedding a few tears didn’t bother him the least bit. Nobody but the two of them had known what was really real! Had it not been for T’Rida, Voorheeze would have surely died that day back in that cell in Tracy. Along with, only God knows what, other sick humiliation he would have faced before he died.

  The fact of knowing his brotha was there for him when he really needed him, but when the shoe was on the other foot Voorheeze wasn’t there for him! This was fuckin with him! He wanted to pick up his phone and call his brother so bad, but he couldn’t. His brother was gone! Instead, he did the next best thing.

  “Hello?” She answered after the third ring.

  “What’s up sis?” Even if he didn’t slur his words, Monique knew Voorheeze was drunk and that he was hurting behind T’Rida’s death.

  “Hey Jason, how are you honey?” She did her best to mask her own grief.

  “Shit sis, you know aint no need asking a nigga that.” He told her truthfully.

  “Jason, I know you loved him, but baby you got to let him go. You have to stop blaming yourself! It was not your fault. My husband had demons that nobody knew about. Those demons eventually would have gotten to Tommy whether you were there with him or not”. Voorheeze didn’t know just how true Monique’s words were. As far as he was concerned, he broke his oath. He'd faltered at his comrade’s side.

  “Sis check me out! I know that you only trynna help a mothafucka out and believe me I love you for it, I do. But my job is safety and security period, point blank! From sun up to sun down I push safety and security and I push that shit to the fullest. Now if I would have really been on my shit, this would not have happened, because I would’ve saw my brotha falling”.

  “Instead I forgot about safety and security and was focused solely on money. So, it is my fault”! He hit the steering wheel as he spoke.

  “Now I aint gone let this shit kill me or even allow it to break me. What I am gonna do though, is let it do what it do! And right now, that’s kick my mothafuck’n ass! I gotta let it kick my ass so that I can absorb some of this pain. If I don’t, then believe me, the pain is going to kill me!” Monique heard the sincerity in Voorheeze voice and she understood the rationality behind what he had just told her.

  Voorheeze was T’Rida’s brother, but over the years she had come to see him as a big brother also. She didn’t want her big brother hurting. Voorheeze was always the strong one! She could only pray that after he went through, whatever he was going through, that he would be back to his normal self.

  They talked for a little longer on the phone before hanging up. By then Voorheeze was completely drunk and damn near out of it. Monique was completely worried about him. She was so worried that she called Gunz after they had gotten off the phone. Gunz assured her that he had everything under control. Which he did and would keep an eye on Voorheeze.

  Monique felt a whole lot better after she got off the phone with Gunz. T’Rida used to always tell her when he was alive, that he trusted Gunz instinct and judgment, hands down! Because he was always thinking and calculating, Gunz rarely made a mistake. He took this Neva Die shit way too seriously for him not to be on his square. And he’d be damned if he let anybody knock him off his pivot. Not even his other brother! After getting off the phone with Gunz. She grabbed a bottle of wine and cried herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER III

  (Meanwhile)

  As the pink rim’s road along with the jet-black run flats road along the asphalt, the illusion was that of melting starburst against the pavement. The big engine of the black and pink Camaro was so quiet it could barely be heard as it purred down the city street. It was a good distance behind the car it was following. Inside
of the Camaro its occupants rode silently with chrome hammers on each of their laps ready for whatever.

  “You gonna lose him if you don’t speed up.” The passenger’s attitude was evident.

  “How will I lose him when the car is in front of us?” The driver scolded.

  Nina just hated when people drove slow. “Man, we should’ve used my car! Your car is too slow”, Nina told her sister as she picked up the cannon off of her lap and caressed it involuntarily.

  “What? Nina, we got the exact same car!” Trina began cracking up, she knew that her sister was just getting bored.

  Nina was tired of following this mothafucka around. She was ready to get it poppin! Nina was like that, she was always ready to let her hammer speak for her. She believed deep in her soul that there were too many suckas in the world, and it was her job to exterminate them one bullet at a time.

  Club Carsjanaes was jumping! Tonight, was the night of nights! It was T’Rida’s birthday party and everybody who was anybody showed up to show out. Everybody in the building was having the time of their lives. The entire Neva Die family had pulled up in full force and shut the mothafucka down. T’Rida was currently on the middle of the center stage and was proposing to Monique.

  All eyes in the building were on them. People were either looking directly at the couple or watching them on one of the many flat screens that were located throughout the club. It was a memorable moment for all that were in attendance. But for Nina, the importance of that night was something totally different altogether while everybody else was on some “party bullshit”, she stayed on point. No drinking, no nothing. So, when she peeped a nigga eyeballing T’Rida she decided to make it her business to keep an eye on the nigga and see what was what.

  The She-Wolves would come to realize the best decision they ever made was recruiting Nina and her sister. The twins had been laying there murder game down for a long time by the time French Tip had reached out to them. They were so low key about their shit, that almost half of the bodies that they were responsible for were credited to other people. But those who knew, knew better.