by De'Kari
“You know Clark stayed in the town 24/7. He used to run into her. He told me she asked about me a couple of times. But you know I been moving a thousand miles an hour.” Voorheeze answered him, then reached for his drink.
“That’ll be some real shit if that’s her.” Levell told him as he picked up his Tokyo Tea again.
(A Tokyo Tea is like a long island ice tea except you use 7-up instead of cola and you add melon liqueur).
Voorheeze was thinking the same thing, how could it be her. As far back as he could remember, Danika was a cutie pie, but she was a gangsta to the core, even for back then. She was a real tom boy. Hence, she was his Ace Boon Coon, aka, his A-1. Another thing was Danika just like Nolyn, was flat out skinny. But then again, he thought in elementary everybody was skinny. Well except for Salieh, but that’s a whole notha story.
The waitress arrived and took their order and it’s a good thing that she was butt ugly or Levell would have had to sit and wait while Voorheeze spit game at her too. Not that he minded one bit watching his nigga do his thang, but he really wanted to know what was up with the distress call.
Levell was strictly about business. Whatever the business was he gave it his full, undivided attention. It was funny because she was uglier than dog shit, but she was full of confidence. Levell damn near shitted on himself when he saw the way she kept licking her lips and eye fucking Voorheeze. The nerve of the little mud-duck. She did have some big firm tits, but they couldn’t make up for her face. After she took their orders, she turned to leave and they both yelled out at the same time, “God Damn!” They couldn’t help it.
Her ass was twice as big as the hostess. It was so big and round it looked fake. She looked over her shoulders and said, “I know, huh”, with a smile on her hideous face and kept walking.
“Rogue, that ain’t right.” Voorheeze was slowly shaking his head while reaching for his drink.
“Shut-up! Nigga you’d still hit it.” Levell teased.
“I know! Nigga dats why it ain’t right!” They both erupted in loud cold, gut-wrenching laughter.
Life or Death, if you were friend or family he would give his all to protect you. If you crossed the line the reaper would appear. That's who Levell was.
“You know I’m with you.” He told him. It was that simple.
“Vell, this ain’t no hood shit, brah.” Voorheeze tried to warn him. His conscience told him to keep it real.
“Nigga, what I just tell you!” Just that quick, Levell’s temper reared its ugly head. “Nigga you my mothafuck’n brotha! I don’t care if we go to war with the motherfucking president of the United States of America, nigga! If you need me, I’m there!” But Voorheeze already knew this. That’s why he loved Levell so much.
They were just alike. Two rabid dogs who just wanted and needed to be loved. Loyal to a fault to the ones that loved them. Deadly to those that betrayed them or went against them.
Voorheeze looked around to make sure no-one was paying them any attention then he dug something out of his pocket, it was wrapped in a handkerchief. He slid it across the table. Levell was careful himself to survey the area with his eyes before barely lifting the handkerchief and looking. To his surprise, he was looking at a police badge. He looked up at Voorheeze confused.
“I got six more just like it.” Voorheeze told him with no emotion. Before Levell could respond at all, the waitress arrived with their food and a refill for their drinks. She also had a big ass Kool-Aid smile on her face.
“I know you’re feeling Danika and y’all bout to hook up and everything, but I know you got some good dick. I can tell just by looking at you. Yes, lord I can spot good dick a mile away. Here’s my number. And yo ass better call me.” She smacked herself firmly on her gigantic ass and said, “I know yo fine ass ain’t scared of this big olé ass. Not with them big ass arms you got.” The look she gave him was somewhere between “I’ll fuck you until you have a heart attack” and “Nigga, if you play with me, I’ll fuck you up.”
After she left he filled Levell in on everything that was happening now, and everything that had transpired since T’Rida’s funeral. Gunz had already gone to Philly and was doing his thang. A.J. had stepped up to the plate and so far, he was knocking shit out the park. With Big-Roc supporting him as his enforcer they were in the midst of a full scale all out overnight take over.
A.J. was seriously re-inventing Oakland. He’d even tried expanded out in Emeryville and had a small part of Berkeley on lock.
The little beef with Young Nigga Mafia was now a full-fledged war. They were taking losses every day. Bodies were turning up every day. And true to their title “Young Nigga Mafia” were nothing but little niggaz! Real live kids. But they took to this street shit like veterans of the game. Shit got so hectic that Clark had to bite his pride. At one of the War Room meetings he requested the help and support of the Wolf Pack.
No-one could figure out where these little motherfucka’s came from, but it was hell of ‘em. Even the Al-Qaeda niggaz were going crazy dealing with these little niggaz! Things had gotten so bad with shoot-outs and bodies stacking up, that the police stepped up patrols and formed a new special task force. Niggaz had to lay low for a while. “Little Bitty Bhag Dhag” looked like a ghost town.
He'd saved the best for last in honor of T’Rida’s memory. Voorheeze personally took it upon himself to declare war with the Milpitas Police Department. His sister’s words that night at Benihana’s had played in his head the night he killed the first cop in Milpitas.
“I knew him well 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.” Those were the words that sent him on one.
Voorheeze had found another way! REVENGE was that way! He even had a couple cases of T-shirts and hoodies made with a picture of T’Rida on them and R.I.P. written above them. On the back the definition was spelled out ‘Revenge Is Promised!’ Each and every time he went to kill a police officer he would wear one of the black hoodies. So far Voorheeze had killed seven cops. His plan was to take down the entire force. Or at least as many as it took to ease his pain.
He told Levell about the dope he’d started back snorting and all of the alcohol he was consuming. What he didn’t tell him about was the dreams. The dreams were really the reason he called Levell. Sometimes he didn’t know what reality was and what wasn’t. Sometimes he would see shit that wasn’t there. Silently Voorheeze believed he was losing his mind. He just wasn’t gone tell anybody that shit.
“Look, let me go home and tighten up some shit with my wife and make sure the house is secure. Then it’s whatever you need, big brah.” The two of them have been over this for years. Levell is older than Voorheeze but he respects Voorheeze just as much as Voorheeze respects him, so they both refer to the other as Big Brah.
Voorheeze didn’t want to bring Batman out of retirement, but he knew that in order for him to win the war that he’d started he would need the aide of the best. Batman was the best. The two of them had gotten so close and were so much alike that everyone began calling them Batman and Robin, the Dynamic Duo. But once Batman met Rochelle he quickly changed in the name of love. When everyone else felt some kind of way about the change, Voorheeze was the one to encourage it. They were truly brothers.
“Big Brah, I love you, blood! And I’m sorry I did this to you.” Voorheeze knew what was coming.
“Nigga what good is family if they don’t get you into some shit?” Levell joked as he always did.
With that they got up to leave. They neva even asked for the bill. Voorheeze just dropped $200 on the table and that was that. They approached the front and Danika was there, ready to go.
The two exited the doors of Texas Road House together. Levell didn’t know exactly what to expect when he first got the call from Voorheeze telling him that it was “Safety and Security” and he needed him. As he walked through the doors, he knew this he walked into the restaurant as Levell,
but it was Batman who was walking out.
CHAPTER XI
“Ooh boy, you better stop playing! You know this ain’t yo car!” Danika told him as Voorheeze approached the Lambo.
“It ain’t? Whose is it then?” He smirked as he dug into his pocket to pull out the key fob. “I don’t know, but you better get away from it. Out here trynna get me shot by fronting like this yo car!” She was looking around the parking lot dead serious, all nervous and shit. Making sure nobody was watching them.
Danika had met her share of broke ass niggaz who fronted like they were ballin. She didn’t think he was one of them at first, but now she was starting to get mad that she took off early. She’s happy that she wasn’t dumb enough to take him serious enough to quit. Fuck this she thought to herself, getting ready to walk away.
“Trust me lil mama you ain’t neva in danger when you’re around me.” He pushed a button on the fob and the alarm disengaged, the doors lifted, and the engine purred to life all at the same time. Danika’s jaw dropped in utter amazement. She turned to look at him. When she started to say something, he shook his head no and moved to help her get into the car. Then he walked around to his side and climbed in.
Danika couldn’t believe it! She was actually riding in a Lamborghini. She could feel the power under her ass. The car drove so smooth it felt like she was floating instead of driving. She didn’t know if it was new or not, but it had that new car smell. The pure power that rumbled throughout reminded her that this was a powerful race car. The seats where so soft against her body, it felt like she was sitting on a pillow of feathers. The allure of it all was mind-blowing. She didn’t have anything to say now.
“You’re sure hella quiet over there, lil mama, you alright?” He kept that smirk on his face.
“Don’t tell me you’ve neva seen a nigga steal a car with the key.”
“Boy shut up. You know I’m over here feeling all embarrassed and shit.” She told him as she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted like a little kid.
“It’s all good, beautiful. But you’re too old to be judgmental and making assumptions. You should’ve learned that a long time ago”. Seeing that she was still acting uptight, he wasn’t trying to fuck the night off, he decided to smooth it out.
“But don’t feel bad, beautiful, assuming is a common occurrence. Especially when it comes to a young black man. Now some assumptions are actually accurate. But some aren’t. That’s why it’s best not to make ‘em.”
Look at this nigga, he just thinks he so smooth she thinks to herself.
“You’re sure putting it on thick with the compliments. So now I’m beautiful. What else you got? You must really be trynna get you a piece.” She laughed as she told him this.
“First of all, I can’t compliment truth. Secondly, I already told you at the restaurant that you’re mine. So, I don’t need a piece, I got the whole thing.” He took his eye off the road for a second and looked at her.
“Is that right?” She was playing stand off-ish but everything about his confidence and swag had her pussy screaming ‘nigga fuck me now!’
“Life is too short and far too hectic to bullshit and beat around the bush, I will always give it to you straight.” Experience taught him best.
“Since you don’t beat around the bush you won’t mind me asking you what do you do for a living that allows you to afford this car? Or is it a rental? And how do you know I’mma let you claim me?” She’s feeling herself now that he’s relaxed her.
“Naw I don’t mind as long as you can accept the answers.” His response sort of seemed like he’s playing games but the tone in which he spoke said he was dead serious.
“I can accept anything I ask for.” She was just as serious.
“Okay. I’m in da game, heavy, but let’s just say I manage people.” He didn’t have time to sugar-coat shit.
“Manage people? Oh, so you a pimp?” She cut him off with a look of disgust on her face.
“There you go again with that assuming. I can’t stand pimps so no I ain’t one. I’ve been a hustla all my life, one way or another. Now I’ve moved up to management. That should answer your question on that. I don’t rent shit. This is all me! I didn’t buy this, it was given to me as a gift from my brother before he was killed.
“As far as letting me claim you, you already did that the moment you came with me, you and I both know it. So, we can stop playing that game. The only question is do you have it in you to be wifey? Or are you gone show me something to ruin it?” Voorheeze reached inside of the compartment and grabbed a blunt.
Danika noticed the gun, but didn’t say anything, his comment had her at a loss for words.
“I know good when I see it, I know bad when I see it, but more importantly I know special when I meet it and you’re special; Period, point blank! On top of that, you’re beautiful and thick, just the way I like it! Why would I pass that up? Anything that you’re lacking I can teach you, because intelligence is learned. So, unless you’re scandalous or trifling, you gone be my wife!” Nothing else needed to be said.
This nigga is just too much. He’s fine as hell, got money and got way too much confidence. It’s only been two hours and already he was laying the law down. And hold up, did he propose to me? Before she could say anything to him, his phone rang.
“Yeah what’s good?” He listens for a second before stating, “Hold up brah, I don’t even know you my nigga. Put blood on the phone.”
Some nigga named Johnny was on the phone claiming that he knew Fernando and that Fernando told him to call. When Fernando finally got on the phone, Voorheeze began speaking.
“What’s up lil homie, long time no hear! But brah, you know not to let somebody I don’t know call my phone.”
Fernando is saying something on the line as Voorheeze is exiting off 880 onto Tennyson. It’s good blood only cause it’s you, don’t trip. But what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Oh yeah, say no more on the phone, what time?”
“Aaight, where at?”
“Tell yo peeps I’ll be there.” Voorheeze hung up the phone and dialed a number.
“Hello?”
“It’s the What Dat Do King. What it do?”
“What’s up brother?”
“I need you and Chiba to dress the kids for church and be ready for choir practice.” He tells French Tip as his mind is racing.
“Alright, when we going?” Was all she asked.
“In da morning. Meet at the W. R. by 9:00am.”
“Alright brother, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Aaight, one.” After he hung up the phone, he made a U-turn and jumped right back on the 880 heading south. Since he had to meet French Tip at the War Room he figured he might as well stay at his place tonight.
Fernando was a Norteno that he knew from prison. Blood was a solid little nigga with heart. Fernando would have been a good candidate to set up shop in Redwood City. But them niggaz were too busy gang banging to make some money.
“So, you really do manage people, huh? Her question brought him out of his thoughts.
“One thing I’ll neva do, Thickems, is lie to you. No matter the consequences I’ll always keep it real with you. And I’ll only ask that you do the same. No matter what I’ll neva judge you unless you lie to me. So, you’ll neva have a reason to lie to me.” She could understand and respect that.
The two-story house they pulled up to wasn’t anything spectacular. It wasn’t even something to write home about. Danika was expecting something way more extravagant considering the car. But she wasn’t the type to be attracted to a nigga because of money, anyway.
It was a good thing she didn’t say anything either. The inside of the house took her breath away. Everything was brand new and state of the art, from the furniture to the appliances. The floor plans were identical to the War Room as far as the first floor.
The second floor consisted of three bedrooms and a third living room. There was marble floor and mink
carpet throughout the house. Danika neva even knew a person could have a mink carpet.
There were six bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms and three living rooms. Every single room had eighty-five-inch flat screens. The master bedroom had a smart T.V. in it. The T.V.’s in the living room were 3D. These were T.V.’s that weren’t scheduled to come out for another couple of years. The kitchen counters and the center island were made of marble. Butter soft leather sofas were throughout the house.
The best room was the back den. It had three televisions that sat on three different walls. The fourth wall which was the wall facing outside was made of very thick glass. There was a heated swimming pool directly in the middle of the room that led under the house out into the back yard. The east corner of the pool had a waterfall. When he hit a button on the big ass remote in his hand the waterfall split to reveal a fully stocked mini bar. A fully stocked refrigerator and a cooler full of beers sat on the side of the bar. There was a pool table on one side of the swimming pool and poker table on the other, inside the den.
“Since you couldn’t make your mind up on what you wanted to do, I figured I’d show you your new house and then we could get acquainted. Gone and make yourself comfortable while I throw on something to relax.” He showed her how to use the remote and was gone.
She did exactly what he said and got comfortable. Now with her jacket off, (her shoes were already taken off at the door), a wine cooler in her hand that she got out of the refrigerator. Danika was sitting on the couch relaxing and listening to the O’Jays on the iPod she'd found that belonged to Voorheeze. She connected it to the music system that was set up. The system was so expensive and so clear, it felt like Eddie Levert was in the room singing to her.
Her eyes roamed around the room. She glanced at the swords hanging on the one wall briefly. Then became interested in the adjacent wall which was covered with photos.
Giving in to curiosity, Danika got up and walked to that wall. She noticed that Voorheeze was in almost every photo. Most of them were different events. As she paid closer attention to the photos, she noticed the other people in the photos.
