Voorheeze & Clarkola

by De'Kari

  He walked to the trunk of the Lambo and retrieved a black Gucci bag. When he made it back to the front of the store Nina was right by his side with a new clip in her pistol.

  He entered the store, he looked around and then called out “Youngsta where you at?” After a few seconds they heard a rustling from the back of the store. A few seconds after that the youngsta call back out “Brah that’s you?”

  “Yeah Rogue it’s me” Voorheeze assured him.

  The young clerk came out of the back holding an old beat up rifle shaking in his hands, he was scared but he would do what he had to if needed. At age 16, life had already taught him many lessons. When he saw the man that handed him the money he started to lower the rifle.

  Seeing the youngsta’s hesitation Voorheeze spoke, “you don’t need that, you and me good unless you changed your mind and wanna be a hero then that little shit aint gone help you.” The two Dragoons in Voorheeze’s hands solidified his statement.

  “Naw big Homie, I ain’t no hero. I just ain’t no dumb nigga either! I done seen your face, Lil Mama face”, he nodded his head towards Nina. “How I know y’all aint gone just kill me?” The fear evident in the young man’s voice and what he said was true. It told Voorheeze that the kid was smart.

  Voorheeze took the Gucci bag off his shoulder and tossed it to the youngsta. Fuck the chit chat, they had to get out of there before the place was swarming with police. “I like your style youngsta but it aint no time foe conversation. That’s a hundred racks up in that bag. That’s yours if you stick to our agreement. Now if you don’t want it, Lil Mama as you called her, gone knock yo dick in the dirt. I aint into killing kids but I aint into going to prison either.”

  “A hundred racks! Shit Big Homie hold up let me get that for you.” He ran to the back so fast and retrieved the bag wit everything in it that Voorheeze and Nina barely had time to exchange glances.

  Grabbing the bag the kid brought, Voorheeze checked it. He then told Nina to check the back and make sure the youngsta didn’t forget anything. Then he instructed the youngsta to put the money in the trunk of his car. It would be hard to explain a bag with $100,000 inside of it to the police.

  Trina didn’t find anything in the car but a cell phone. She took it for good measures and turned it off before stuffing it in her pocket.

  After giving the kid an airtight story for the shooting, they got the fuck up outta of there.

  CHAPTER V

  (Oakland, CA)

  The Koffee Shop was hardly ever quiet. 24/7 it ran a pretty smooth, detailed and accurate ship. Tonight, happened to be one of them rare moments that some quietness was found, 1:15 in the morning. Gunz was thankful for the peace and quiet. He had too much shit on his mind. The death of T’Rida not only hit Gunz hard. It happened to come at the wrong fucking time. Gunz loved T’Rida like a blood brother. T’Rida had helped them all bring out their “A” game and be the best that they could be.

  A couple of years back Gunz played around with the idea of branching out to Philly. He had some cousins who kept telling him how good it was out there. Gunz took a trip out there at the suggestion of his cousin. He liked what he saw out there enough to bring the idea to the round table. When his plane landed back in Cali from his visit, T’Rida had been shot before he had a chance to go over the plan with his brothas. Gunz put his idea on the back burner and answered Voorheeze call to arms.

  Gunz neva forgot about Philly, he was just waiting for the right time. He started reconnecting dots to make the move happen, when T’Rida was killed. Gunz knew the Philly move would be a good look for the family but even a better look for himself since Natasia was staying out in Philly.

  Natasia was this sistah he had met at the airport years back. She was the definition of elegance, beauty and grace. While shit was hot he neva once contacted her ever, though he thought of her all the time. But when he finally did reach out to her she grabbed on. They stayed in constant communications and whenever time would permit Gunz would go see her or Natasia would come and see him.

  As he sat in his back office with his drink in his hand, Gunz knew T’Ridas death was about to send Voorheeze over the edge which would only fuck everything up. Everyone always calls Gunz the loose cannon but Gunz simply believed that you “get off where you get mad at”. So, he would bust on sight, middle of the night or broad daylight! That’s just how he was.

  Voorheeze on the other hand, it took more to set him off, especially with him always pushing safety and security. But once you successfully got him to go off his square, he was an animal of a completely different breed.

  Gunz' cell phone rang, bringing him from his thoughts.

  “Yeah, what’s good?” He answered seeing Trina’s number in his caller I.D. “Brah look, I know its late, but I’m guessing that you might wanna meet up?” She spoke first.

  “Is something wrong?” Gunz already knew the answer to the question. Trina wouldn’t be calling that time of the night unless there was something wrong.

  “Naa, I just wanted you to know that we couldn’t wait any longer. We were too hungry, so we already eating. Oh, big brah saw us at the restaurant and stopped by and ate with us. He complained about the food afterward”. The phone was silent for a moment…

  “Where you at”? He asked her.

  “W.R.” was all Trina needed to say.

  “I’m on my way.” Gunz hung up the phone and smiled to himself.

  He shook his head from side to side and downed the glass of Remy XO he had before making the call. Still shaking his head, he stood up and grabbed his two 40s. Placing both on his waist band he spoke out loud, “That’s what the fuck I get for thinking negatively about shit. If there was a possibility for some shit to go wrong, that shit gone go wrong as fuck” he chuckled to himself. Referring to her telling him that they killed Wendell and somehow Voorheeze was there. Gunz knew he was going to be pissed.

  Even though Trina was talking code, Gunz knew exactly what she told him. Their method of talking in code was something Voorheeze came up with. You could use the exact same sentences for different meanings. Deciphering the statement depended solely on what the topic was. They called it “spit talk”. They’ve been using the system for so long that they could hold a full-on conversation about the 49ers football game and be talking about a new shipment or some funk or even how the blocks were maintaining.

  Wendell was dead, that was inevitable. What he hadn’t expected was for Voorheeze to get involved in the shit. Gunz grabbed his keys and locked up the shop, double-checking that everything was on point. Then he jumped into his Aston Martin and drove to the War Room ready to meet the confrontation that was guaranteed to be waiting for him from Voorheeze. No doubt he was going to be hot about the situation, but Gunz had to make a decision and figured he made the best one given the situation.

  Gunz pulled up to the house on Santa Elena Way. He couldn’t help but to think that this was the type of neighborhood where a nigga could raise a family. Nina answered the door when he knocked. Without saying a word, she stepped aside, let him in and locked the door after closing it. Gunz was used to Nina’s quiet persona and stand-offish attitude. The shit didn’t bother him one bit. She didn’t know it, but Gunz was the one person who understood her, they were just alike in a lot of ways.

  Trina was her usual cheery self and greeted him in the living room with a hug.

  “Where he at?” Gunz asked referring to Voorheeze.

  “In the living room”, she replied as she let him go.

  Gunz smiled at Trina and winked his eyes before turning to Nina and asked, “What Nina, I can’t get a hug?”

  “Boy please you better go somewhere!” The roll of her eyes and snap of her neck when she said it, made both Gunz and Trina laugh.

  “Naa for real. Y’all ok?” Gunz demeanor turned serious.

  “We good! Hell, we always gone be good. I don’t know about him though. He over there with an attitude like we didn’t just save his life or something. Ugh!”


  Although Nina stayed with an attitude 24/7. She couldn’t ‘stand it when someone showed attitude to her. It really drove her crazy. Big brah or not, Nina wouldn’t hesitate to get off on Voorheeze’s ass if he didn’t turn shit down.

  “What he know?” He asked Nina, who was fuming. “He don’t know nothing! That’s why he got that little funky ass attitude! We told him we weren’t going to break the chain of command. Protocol was protocol. If he wanted answers, he had to get them from you.”

  “Aight bet. Y’all hang out and let me go deal with brah.” He turned to go to the other room but paused and then turned back around. “I thank both of you from the bottom of my heart. Bullshit is bullshit, but real shit is real shit and I couldn’t have lost my otha brotha”, Gunz revealed a small window of vulnerability.

  To him, death was death, but a loss was everything and he was losing it all. Voorheeze was all he had left from the beginning.

  “Don’t mention it big brah! That’s what family is for to be there for each other and have each other’s back!” Trina meant every word she spoke, her grandma, Mama Butler instilled in all of them, the importance of family and the love of family when they were little kids. Nina was shocked at the rare display of emotion from Gunz. Granted it was a small show of emotion, she had neva seen or heard of him showing a single iota of emotion before.

  Voorheeze had blown a punk ass cops head off, only to find out that the twins had been following both he and the nigga the entire time and Gunz knew. Now he was out there in the front room playing “family reunion” instead of having his ass in the den and giving him a full report.

  “I mean god dam nigga”, its bout time you brought yo ass in here! For a minute I thought y’all was having a fucking picnic or something up in dis bitch. You wanna tell a nigga what’s going on?” Voorheeze told Gunz as they embrace.

  “What’s going on is, everybody’s been playing their positions making sure we don’t take no losses, while we’re all trynna get thru dis shit to da best of our abilities”. Gunz told him as he walked over to the bar and poured himself a double shot of Hennessey.

  “I see that, but don’t act like you don’t know what da fuck I’m talking bout! What’ sup wit dat shit tonight! I’m talking bout, why I spot dis bitch ass nigga following me, then find out the Twins been following me or him or both of us, the entire time! When I stepped to dem after the shit popped off dey tell me some shit about protocol! But when Trina picked up the phone she didn’t call French Tip or Cantelope, she called you nigga! You not a She-Wolf, so where the hell is protocol?”

  By now Voorheeze’s voice began elevating. It was beyond rare for him to lose his cool, but he was losing it.

  “First of all, big brah, I think you need to lower yo voice some. Sit down, relax and let me break it down to you”. Gunz wasn’t worried about the neighbors hearing the yelling. The house had been sound proofed after they had bought it. He was just getting tired of being yelled at and spoken to disrespectfully. Brother or not, he would only allow so much.

  He expected Voorheeze to be hot behind the situation, but blood was still doing the most and Gunz wasn’t about taking no bull shit.

  “Lower my tone…. Mothafucka who the fuck you think you talking to, nigga?”

  Voorheeze jumped up from the leather sofa spilling his drink in the process. He was working with emotions because he still couldn’t deal with the pain of losing T’Rida, so his anger was misplaced.

  Before Gunz realized what he was doing or could even stop himself, his instincts kicked into gear. He shot off the bar stool, drew one of his pistols from his waist and had crossed the living room in two big strides. He was now directly in Voorheeze’s face, breathing like a mad animal.

  Gunz was so close they could each smell the alcohol on the others breathe.

  “Nigga you got me fucked up, V! Blood I know you going through some shit right now! My nigga, we all going thru some shit! But, nigga don’t ever forget who the fuck I am, nigga, straight up! I ain’t yo bitch and you aint bout to talk to me like I am!” Spit was flying from his lips, he was so furious. “Like I said nigga, lower your mothafuck’n voice when you speaking to me!” Gunz was beyond pissed off. He loved Voorheeze but if he had to remind Voorheeze about how his gangsta was, then so be it.

  “Or what nigga? Fuck you gone do with that?” Voorheeze knew that he had gone too far and crossed the line out of anger. But he wasn’t about to bow down like a bitch to nobody.

  The Twins couldn’t believe what they were hearing as they waited.

  Fuck it! If this was how Voorheeze wanted to play it, Gunz was ready to play! He cocked the 40 back putting one in the head.

  Voorheeze stared deep into Gunz eyes, neva blinking as he pulled one of his dragoons slowly out of its holster. It didn’t’ matter to him that Gunz had 30 shots and he only had six. This close to each other, neither was going to miss!

  “This nigga got me fucked up”, Voorheeze thought as he pulled the dragoon out.

  “Nigga, you brought it to some gangsta shit! Bust a mothafuck’n move!” Voorheeze challenged Gunz.

  BOOM!

  The bullet smacked hard into its intended target.

  The sound of the gun going off continued to echo inside of the sound proof house. Neither one of the gangsta’s flinched, nor looked at the hole in the wall just above their head where the bullet landed.

  “What’s the hell wrong with y’all?!” Trina yelled at both of them as Nina stood by with her smoking pistol in her hand.

  When neither one of them answered, Trina shouted again. “Voorheeze! Gunz! I know y’all hear me. We are supposed to be family and you standing there like two common mothafucka’s in the street getting ready to kill each other on some childish shit! “Where are the bosses that y’all supposed to be? We just buried our brotha! We supposed to be helping each other get thru this shit, instead you mothafucka’s trynna give us some more shit to have to get over!” Trina’s words were real as fuck.

  But it wasn’t the realism of what she said that got everyone’s attention, it was the fact that she was cursing. Hearing Trina curse is what got their attention.

  Voorheeze was the first to react. Still staring into Gunz eyes, he placed his cannon back in its holster. Gunz unclocked his 40 and placed it back on his hip. He walked to the bar then walked back over to Voorheeze and handed him a drink.

  “Look big brah…” he began, but Voorheeze cut in.

  “Ain’t nothing to speak on. I was way out of line, but you my brotha and I love you!” Voorheeze meant just what he said.

  He also meant every word that wasn’t said too! He wasn’t sure what caused him to spazz out, but he knew he was wrong. So, what they followed him. They were protecting him.

  The pain he was feeling had him fucked up. All the alcohol and coke that was in his system was fucking with his mind. It didn’t matter though, Gunz drew down on him! The moment he did, he became a threat and Voorheeze didn’t tolerate threats. Gunz had to go!

  “I love you too, big brah.” Gunz told him (glad he didn’t force him to take his life over some stupid shit). The tension subsided a bit. The twins took up places in the living room. They weren’t trynna hear jack-shit about their presence in the room. They were posted-up, to make sure shit else didn’t pop off.

  Over the next 30 minutes, Gunz let Voorheeze in on everything that had happened from the night of T’Rida’s birthday until now. Voorheeze’s anger subsided greatly after hearing he had been slipping for so long. Yeah, he knew that Wendell was following him. But he’d only known since leaving Clark and French Tip at the restaurant. Shit, Wendell had been following him since the funeral.

  “Fuck!” He thought, “I was really slippin.”

  Learning that it was Wendell who called the police on T’Rida that day made Voorheeze wish he could go and kill the nigga again. It also explained to him why the twins were reporting to Gunz instead of Cantelope or French Tip. If either of them received wind of this shit, they would’ve killed Wendell a
long time ago. There would not have been any debating whatsoever.

  Finding out that Wendell was feeding information back to some little cats from the Village in East Palo Alto was a good thing. Although, Gunz didn’t know just what to do with that information, he figured it might be important.

  Voorheeze agreed with him one hundred percent on that. At the very least it meant that somebody else was interested in the family. Voorheeze wanted to let the Dragon surface and breathe fire on them niggaz right then, but safety and security came first.

  They needed to know just what the fuck a Young Nigga Mafia was. Couldn’t have been too much because this was the first he’d ever heard of them. But Voorheeze knew it’s always better to be safe than to be sorry. With that in mind, he gave the twins their new assignment. They were to find out any and everything they could about these little niggaz. After that, the Twins left.

  Gunz and Voorheeze remained at the War Room clear into the next day discussing plans for the future of Neva Die. Gunz told Voorheeze about his plans for Philly and Voorheeze gave him his blessings. Gunz was shocked. He'd expected Voorheeze to argue with him about it. What Gunz didn’t know was Voorheeze only agreed with the idea so he wouldn’t have to kill him. He was serious about threats and pulling that Cannon was a threat.

  They agreed that they would lay everything out for the family in a couple of days at the next meeting.

  CHAPTER VI

  (A week later)

  Clark loved his little brother. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show it. All his life he had to fight just to prove himself and make a way. So, it was hard for him to show weakness. Love was a sign of weakness. Clark didn’t have time for none of that bullshit! He was always about his money and handling his business, but a mothafucka could get it quick, fast and in a hurry!

  He knew that there were a lot of things that he could have done differently but fuck it! It is what it is! He neva cried over spilled milk. Though the brothers were different in a lot of ways, in this area they were both alike. Neither one of them lived with regrets! Regrets were for the weak! Weak niggaz turn soft and soft niggaz got killed. There wasn’t anything weak or soft about Clarkola! That’s for damn sure!