by K'wan
“So, who is running things now?” Animal asked.
“The Hand,” Kahllah said in disgust. “Khan claims to speak for the Elders now and anyone who contests him either turns up missing or found guilty of some phantom crime against the Brotherhood.”
Animal had heard the name Khan before, but he didn’t know much about him except that he was a part of the Hand. “But you’re part of the Hand too. Don’t you have a say in what goes on?”
“Yes, I am a member of the Hand, but I am still a female . . . the first to ever be given the honor, but it’s more in name than anything else. I don’t sit very high on the food chain in the eyes of the rest of the Hand.”
“Bullshit, Kahllah. I’ve seen you in action, and you’re one of, if not the best, at what you do. You earned your position!” Animal insisted.
“I appreciate your confidence in me, little brother, but that isn’t how our world works. For as many strides as the Brotherhood has made over the years, it is still a very sexist order. I have a higher kill rate than any active member of the Brotherhood, except for Legion, but my induction into the Hand wasn’t due to my success rate, but father’s insistence. I am what you would call a token,” Kahllah said in disgust. “I could break every record, held by every member, and my gender would still limit my authority,” she explained.
“Sounds like a load of bullshit to me,” Ashanti spoke up. “Maybe it’s time for some new leadership in the Brotherhood.”
“You aren’t the only one who feels that way, Ashanti, and maybe pretty soon we will see the balance of power shift,” Kahllah cast her eyes at Animal when she said this. “But enough about murder and politics. We’ve got places to be.”
“Speaking of that, do either of you plan on filling me in on what this job is all about?” Animal asked.
“I’ll explain to you on the way. We’ve got a schedule to keep,” Kahllah said and started back across the sand, with Ashanti behind her.
As Animal made to follow them, his cell phone went off. He looked at the caller I.D. and saw that it was Gucci. She hadn’t been happy when he left the house. Animal understood why, but he didn’t feel like hearing it at that moment. He had to keep his head in the game. With a sigh, he hit the ignore button and dropped the phone back in his pocket before catching up with Kahllah and Ashanti.
TWO
GUCCI SAT MOTIONLESS; WORDS pursed on her lips but no air in her lungs to push them out. T.J. sat on the floor a few feet away, happily playing with his toys. He waddled over to offer one to their guest, but the little girl simply glared at him as if she wanted to kill him. Gucci had seen that look a million times, but it was unnerving to see it on the face of a child.
Across from Gucci sat her uninvited guest, the one person who could turn her dream into a nightmare – her husband’s mistress, Red Sonja. Seeing her in person for the first time, Gucci could almost understand why Animal had fallen for her. She was a pretty Puerto Rican girl, with flawless skin, steel grey eyes and hair the color of a burning forest. She sat in the middle of the living room, Gucci’s living room, staring at her as if she was the stranger who had intruded. Gucci had a good mind to pop her in the chin, but she had to maintain her composure in front of the children. Knowing Animal had been with another woman while they were apart hurt her, but when she found out that they’d conceived a child together, it devastated her. She couldn’t even look at Celeste because every time she did she saw Animal, and it made her want to vomit. They were almost twins, except she was lighter.
Gucci wondered for the millionth time since Red Sonja had shown up if Animal had known about the child all along and kept it from her. She would’ve liked to have thought better of him, but she knew first hand that her husband was a man of many secrets, and she could put nothing past him.
“How?” was all Gucci could manage to ask when she finally found her voice.
Sonja cocked her head as if she didn’t understand the question. “Animal and I fucked, sometimes with condoms and sometimes without. One of those without times produced Celeste. That’s how babies are made. Damn, don’t they teach you hood rats anything in public school?”
Gucci felt her anger rising, but remained calm. “If you insist upon insulting me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave my house.”
“I’m going to leave, but not before I’ve spoken my piece. Unless you think you’ve got the nuts to make me leave?” Sonja asked in a mocking tone. She watched Gucci open and close her fists and it made her smile. “You thinking about trying me, Gucci? Nah, you couldn’t be thinking that because you and I both know how it would play out.”
“Sonja, I’m not a fighter but I ain’t no punk so don’t get it fucked up. You better ask somebody about Gucci Torres.” Gucci put emphasis on the last name to remind her that she and Animal were now married.
“Oh, I know all about you, Gucci. I heard about the little stripes you got when you popped off to save our baby daddy. It’s admirable and I’m glad to see you’re not a complete waste of flesh, but make no mistake about the difference in our two pedigrees. You’ve killed and I’m a killer, big difference. While you were sucking off local drug dealers in project stairwells, I was executing paid hits. Don’t test me.”
“What do you want, Sonja?” Gucci asked, tiring of her games.
“The same thing you want, what’s best for my kid.”
“Well if it’s money you want —”
“Have you not been paying attention?” Sonja cut her off. “I could buy you twice and it wouldn’t put a dent in my bank account. You and Animal are rich, but I’m wealthy. I’m not here for your food stamp card, so stop assuming.”
“Then stop playing games and tell me why you’re here!” Gucci demanded.
The smirk faded from Sonja’s face and she became very serious. “Well, I wanted to have this conversation with Animal, but I guess you’ll do for now. I’m calling in a favor that Tayshawn owes.”
“Animal doesn’t owe you anything. Any ties he had to you were left in Puerto Rico.”
“I beg to differ, love. If it weren’t for me, Animal would still be living on that compound, and under K-Dawg’s thumb. He owes and I’m here to collect, period!”
“If you don’t want money then what do you want?”
Sonja smiled. “The same thing everybody else wants from Animal. I want him to kill someone.”
THREE
“I AIN’T KILLING NOBODY,” ANIMAL said from the passenger seat of the Black SUV Kahllah had appropriated on her way from the airport.
“So you’ve said at least half a dozen times since we picked you up,” Kahllah said sarcastically from behind the wheel. She whipped the big truck like it was a Honda Civic, moving in and out of evening traffic on the 101 South. They were headed into the city.
“Fuck all that, I’m gonna blast on this pussy and everybody with him,” Ashanti spat. “I got no mercy for this coward, or anyone else who would fuck with little kids like that. He ain’t fit to live, and I’m gonna see to it that he rests in hell before the night is over,” Ashanti declared from the back seat. He was holding a .44 bulldog in his hand, absently thumbing the hammer.
Ashanti was always angry, but that night Animal noticed he seemed slightly more vicious than he remembered, and he was one of the few people who understood why. From what Kahllah had revealed to him, their target man was named Thad Klein. Klein was a high profile criminal attorney, who moonlighted as a flesh peddler and pedophile. When he wasn’t fighting top dollar cases in courtrooms across the state of California, he was trolling the internet for naïve children to have his way with or to connect with the members of the sick circles he serviced. His specialty was targeting the children of the clients he represented. Klein’s latest victim had been the daughter of one of his clients, Caesar “Gordo” Marquez. Gordo was a narcotics trafficker who had recently been sentenced to fifteen years in state prison, thanks in part to Klein intentionally sacking his case. Klein had been trying to lure Gordo’s fifteen-year-old daughter aw
ay for months, but he couldn’t officially put her on the market until he got Gordo out of the way, so he sought to bury him in the deepest, darkest hole he could find. He had it all planned out, but in all his scheming he didn’t encounter Gordo being a friend to the Brotherhood.
Klein’s crimes hit close to home for Ashanti, because he too had been a victim of abuse. When he was just a snot-nosed kid, Ashanti and his sister, Angela, had been handed over to some men by their mother, Annie, as collateral for a debt she owed them. When Annie couldn’t pay, the men sold her children. Ashanti was able to escape and made it back to the hood, but Angela was never seen or heard from again. Animal and Ashanti never spoke in detail about the things that happened to him while he was a captive, but Animal knew they weren’t pleasant. One day, maybe his friend would be ready to open up about it and Animal would be there for him when that day came. Ashanti was an adult now, but to Animal he was still his little brother.
They exited the freeway at North Highland Avenue and took it to Hollywood Boulevard. For as long as Animal had been living in California, he could count on one hand how many times he’d ever ventured far into any of the neighboring cities. He went into L.A. whenever he needed to or if Gucci wanted to go shopping, but those trips were rare. California was so culturally different from where he was from that it never felt like home. For as close as Los Angeles was to New York, Animal always felt like an outsider; when Kahllah drove them into West Hollywood he felt especially out of bounds.
Animal could hear Ashanti behind him shuffling uncomfortably when they crossed into the section of the city called Boy’s Town. Boy’s Town was the hub of Hollywood’s gay community, and it was obvious from the time you crossed into it. Rainbow flags hung proudly from shops and windows. Same-sex couples sat at tables, holding hands and chatting over meals or coffee, enjoying the night breeze, while men dressed in outrageous outfits walked the streets, peddling their wares or trying to coax people into one of the bars that lined the streets. To outsiders it would’ve looked like a circus, but to those who frequented Boy’s Town, it was just another Friday night.
“Disgusting,” Ashanti said under his breath, as a muscular man wearing a pair of booty shorts waved at him from the doorway of a bar.
Kahllah spared a glance over her shoulder. “I never took you for a homophobe, Ashanti.”
“A what?” he didn’t understand the phrase.
“She means someone who is uncomfortable around gays,” Animal explained.
“I ain’t uncomfortable around them, I just don’t like them,” Ashanti said. “When I was growing up, boys liked girls and vice versa. Now it’s like these chicks be on dick one day and pussy the next. To me that shit is like trying to play X-box with a PlayStation joystick. It’s not a natural fit. Look, if God meant for men to be with men he wouldn’t have given the pussies to women. Personally, I blame rap music for all this.”
“And what does rap music have to do with it?” Kahllah asked.
“Because these days the rappers dress more like bitches than the bitches, and because they on T.V. people think it’s trendy. These niggas are gender confused. Bet you wouldn’t ever see Rakim on stage in no fucking dress!” Ashanti laughed.
“I swear you are the most ignorant little son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” Kahllah told him.
“That’s because you’ve never met Cain. Now that’s one ignorant muthafucka,” Ashanti joked. “So what you think, big homie?” he asked Animal.
“What do I think about what?” Animal had only been half listening to the exchange.
“About all this gay shit,” Ashanti motioned around him. “How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t feel anything about it, because I’m not a homosexual. That’s like you asking me about hockey, I’ve never played it nor am I a fan of the sport so I don’t have an opinion about it,” Animal explained.
Ashanti shook his head. “Still the coldest nigga to shit between a pair of shoes. Nothing moves you. Anyhow, Kahllah, what the fuck we doing down here? I thought we was gonna go whack Klein? His office is in downtown L.A.”
“I know where he works, but I’m going to catch him where he plays,” Kahllah said, pulling over at the curb where a group of women were standing.
The women tensed when they saw the SUV. They were obviously working girls. Kahllah rolled the window down and made eye contact with one of them, a tall blonde with tanned skin and big breasts. The blonde excused herself from her girls and approached the car. Ashanti openly ogled the white girl. The red dress she wore hugged her like a second skin and left very little to the imagination. He watched as she slunk around the car to Kahllah’s side, leaning in to whisper to her, giving him a full view of her cleavage. Ashanti’s mind immediately dipped into the gutter. He didn’t mess with prostitutes, but the white girl did give him food for thought.
Kahllah and the blonde spoke in hushed tones. Every few seconds the prostitute would look around cautiously, as if she was expecting someone to jump out behind her. After a few minutes of conversation, Kahllah thanked the blonde and handed her an envelope which Ashanti assumed contained cash. The blonde waved goodbye to Kahllah and was hustling back around the car to the curb, when Ashanti decided to try his luck.
“Yo, ma, how much you charging for that?” Ashanti called after her.
She leaned against the car and looked in the window, sizing Ashanti up. She looked at Kahllah, looking for a sign from her as to how to respond. Kahllah simply shrugged her shoulders. The blonde smiled, showing off two rows of perfect white teeth. When she spoke, her voice was so deep that it almost startled Ashanti. “I’m flattered, baby, but I don’t sell fish. I sell sausage,” she hiked her dress up, giving him a glimpse of her tucked penis.
Kahllah and the prostitute both busted out laughing. Even Animal couldn’t hold his chuckle. Ashanti, however, didn’t find it funny. His eyes flashed embarrassment then pure anger.
“You freakish muthafucka!” Ashanti spat out the window, narrowly missing the blonde.
“Fuck you, little thirsty nigga! You’re just mad that my dick is probably bigger than yours,” the prostitute shot back.
“I got a dick for you, bitch,” Ashanti picked up his gun and grabbed the door handle. The prostitute made hurried steps back to the curb. Ashanti would’ve surely gotten out of the car and shot her had it not been for Kahllah hitting the child locks and trapping him. Even as they pulled off, Ashanti could still be heard screaming obscenities from the back of the car.
FOUR
“I’M GLAD Y’ALL THOUGHT THAT shit was funny,” Ashanti fumed from the backseat.
“You set yourself up for that one,” Animal told him, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. Every time he thought about the incident he was overcome with another wave of laughter.
“I should’ve popped on that nigga-bitch. That shit is entrapment,” Ashanti said.
“No, it’s thirst,” Kahllah corrected him. “It serves you right. You got a good chick at home and are out here chasing random women. How do you think it would make Fatima feel if she knew you were out here trying to pay for pussy?”
Ashanti immediately felt like shit. What Kahllah was saying was true, Fatima was a good chick and he loved her with everything he had, but Ashanti was still a man and susceptible to certain urges. He started to argue the point with Kahllah, but decided against it.
Kahllah drove down a few blocks, in the direction that the prostitute had pointed. She slowed as they passed a tattoo parlor at the end of the strip. The parlor was closed, but there was a light on in one of the apartments on top of it. Kahllah drove for another half block before making a U-turn and parking the SUV.
“The tattoo parlor is a front. Klein owns it, and the apartment above it. It’s where he conducts his extracurricular business. Ricky says he’s having one of his showcases tonight,” Kahllah revealed what the prostitute had told her. A showcase was when Klein invited a few of his other clients to his apartment for a private showing of his latest acqui
sitions.
Animal looked up at the window, trying to get an idea of how many people might be inside the apartment, but a thick curtain covered the window. Something about it didn’t feel right. “Kahllah, this shit feels funny. It’s eighty something degrees out here, but they’ve got the windows closed and the curtains drawn. I don’t see any air conditioners and the fact that the curtains aren’t moving means there’s probably not even a fan blowing. You expect me to believe that there are people in there doing anything, other than burning up from the heat? You sure you can trust Ricky?”
Kahllah thought on it. “I’ve known Ricky a long time, and he’s never given me bad information. If he says Klein is in there, he’s in there.”
Animal saw the uncertainty in here eyes, but didn’t question her. This was Kahllah and Ashanti’s mission, he was just tagging along.
“The longer we sit here talking shit, the more of God’s good air this bastard is taking up. Let’s go push these nigga’s shits back.” He was about to get out of the car when Animal’s voice stopped him.
“Kick back for a second, Blood,” Animal said, surveying the block. It took him a few seconds to spot what he was looking for. “In all my years of moving around the streets, I’ve never known a man dealing in Klein’s kind of business not to have some sort of security in place,” he pointed to the darkened doorway of the tattoo parlor.
None of them had noticed on the first pass, but there was a man dressed in all black pressed against the archway of the entrance to the tattoo parlor. Dangling at his side was a pistol.
“Shit, I didn’t even see him,” Ashanti admitted.
“Exactly, because you’re always looking before you leap,” Kahllah scolded. “Klein is going to die tonight, but we’re just going to have to be creative about it,” Kahllah told him and slid out of the car. She walked to the back of the SUV, popped the hatch and retrieved one of two duffel bags she kept back there. “Get in the passenger’s seat,” she told Ashanti. “Animal, take the wheel.”
