It wasn’t long before they were heading down Pershing Road and coming into the neighborhood where Byron’s dead grandmother’s house was located. Juan calmed down, not only feeling good from getting some of that vintage vagina, but also from knowing that he didn’t have to drive very far to get to Byron's grandmother’s house. Byron said that he would be pulling up shortly with the key after they got there.
The house, which was small and in a neighborhood that the police were probably scared to enter themselves, was actually well-kept in its appearance. The house was on a particular block that had a lot of older people, helping it to be a little calmer compared to the surrounding blocks. They waited outside in the van for about fifteen minutes before Bryon came pulling up in his black Bugatti. When Juan opened the van door for Byron, he pointed at the two scared prisoners.
“Here they are,” he said. “That’s the nigga’s father,” he pointed at the man, “and that’s his step mama.”
Byron smiled and reached inside. He ran his fingers along the woman's calf, seeing how thick she was through her pants. He liked what he saw, happy that Juan had gone off and brought something back to him that was actually of use. “Damn, this old bitch is thick as fuck,” Byron said. He then looked up and down the block. “Okay, enough fuckin’ around. Let’s get them inside so we can call that nigga Tramar and let him know about the company we got. I’m sure he’d like to know so maybe he can come and pay a visit, and give me my money back.”
“Money?” Tramar’s father asked, looking as Byron's very cocky body. “Did Tramar take something that doesn’t belong to him?”
Byron looked at the man and nodded. He chuckled for a moment. “Yeah,” he answered. “You could say something like that. He got something that belongs to me, and he did some shit that can’t be forgiven. I need to see him ASAP. But, as you can imagine, he not answering the phone nowadays. That’ll change soon enough.”
Bryon grabbed the man, then the woman, and told them to walk up to the door. With Knight and Juan trailing at the back, Byron led them up into the house, letting everyone in the side door. The inside of the house, while somewhat dusty, was laid out well. There were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a nice-sized living room/dining room combination. At the back of the house was a kitchen and what looked like a back porch.
Byron pushed the older couple toward some couches, causing them to stumble and nearly fall to the dusty carpet. When they got up and turned around, they saw what they’d feared: the front door was being closed. And, to make the situation even worse, the door was equipped with the kind of lock that required not only a key to unlock it from the outside but also a key to unlock it from the inside. Their hearts jumped as they wondered what was about to happen to them. The woman said silent prayers, only her lips moving as she tried to talk to the Lord about her situation.
“Bitch, shut up!” Byron commanded. “It ain’t church up in here,” he told her. “Why the fuck you prayin’? You betta be happy I ain’t kill your ass. Be happy that I’m a nice guy and ain’t gon do that shit.”
Byron pulled his phone out of his pocket. He quickly took a picture of the couple, as they cowered in his deceased grandmother’s living room. The looks on their faces were priceless. He stood back at just the right angle, took a picture, and sent it to Jackson. When he’d finished, he put his phone away and smiled at Juan and Knight. “Now,” he said, nodding his head. “Now, all we gotta do is wait. Just wait.”
Juan and Knight looked into one another’s eyes. At that very moment, they realized how serious Byron was about getting Jackson and his boy Tramar to come out of hiding. When they looked back at Byron’s face, they could see the pure look of evil in his eyes. They knew that whatever had gone down in Byron's house on Monday morning was enough to really push him to the edge.
***
Tramar woke up with a morning erection that wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. He honestly felt better knowing that not only was his money staying in the motel with him, but so was his girl. In the early hours of the morning, unable to get his dick to go back down so he could fall back to sleep, he rolled over and grabbed Ayana’s waist. He smacked her ass, causing her to smile in her sleep as she slowly woke up.
“Stop,” Ayana said. “Boy, stop. I know you see that I’m sleeping.”
“Wake up,” Tramar said. “I wanna fuck. My dick hard. I gotta fuck.”
Ayana rolled over and looked into Tramar’s eyes. She smiled. “Nigga, what the fuck you think I am?” she asked. “I’m just supposed to jump up and bend over or something.”
Tramar shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “I ain’t sayin’ you gotta do anything,” he said, as he lifted himself up and leaned in toward Ayana, kissing her neck. He loved her scent, taking a big whiff of it before he backed away from her. “I just want some of that pussy.”
As Tramar kissed on Ayana’s plump chest, Ayana giggled. She always tried to pretend that she was mad when he’d wake her up with morning sex. However, she loved it the most. She’d just never admit it or at least not to Tramar. Playfully resisting, Ayana turned over and opened her legs. Just as she could feel her insides being stretched by Tramar’s manhood, Tramar’s phone rang form the nightstand.
“Fuck it,” Tramar said, pushing himself all the way inside of Ayana. “I’ll have to call’em back. I’m bout to beat this pussy up, girl, Fuck this shit feel good.”
Ayana squirmed as she opened her thick thighs, giving Tramar as much room as he needed to really give it to her. As he got into his stroke, the two of them noticed that Tramar’s phone was literally ringing off the hook. Whoever it was that was calling had called so much that Tramar’s phone was vibrating enough that it slowly moved toward the edge of the nightstand.
“Answer it,” Ayana told him. “Answer it. That shit sound like a emergency. Why else would somebody be calling this early in the morning that many times? Answer it, Tramar. It might be important.”
Tramar grunted as he pulled out of Ayana and leaned over across the bed. Just as he was picking the phone up, it stopped vibrating. He saw that he’d had five MISSED CALL alerts. When he clicked to see the number, he saw that the person who had been calling him was his boy Jackson.
Tramar sat up on the edge of the bed and called Jackson back. “It was Jackson,” he said to Ayana. “I wonder what that nigga want to where he’d be callin’ me like that, especially this early in the morning and shit. This shit is crazy. He ain’t never did no shit like this.”
“Well, just see what he want,” Ayana said, pulling the bed sheet and comforter over her body. She turned over, closing her eyes
As Tramar was waiting on Jackson to pick up on the other line, there was a banging at the door. He looked back to Ayana, as if he wanted to know if she knew who it would be. Once Ayana had shaken her head, Tramar picked his pants up off of the floor and slid into them. He grabbed his gun and walked up to the door. “Who is it?”
“Nigga it’s me!” Jackson said. “Open the goddamn door, nigga. It’s me, Jackson, nigga. Open the door.”
Tramar lowered his gun as he pulled the door open. Without even being invited inside, Jackson entered the motel room. “Nigga, I been callin’ you ass for like the last ten minutes and shit,” Jackson said frantically.
“Yeah, nigga, I know,” Tramar said. “I was kind of busy. He pointed at Ayana, whose naked body was covered by the bed sheets. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”
“Byron,” Jackson said. “That nigga sent me a picture, and you need to see it.”
“What you talkin’ bout, nigga?” Tramar asked.
Jackson pulled his phone out and went to the text message he’d gotten from Byron about thirty minutes ago. He’d woken up out of his sleep from hearing his phone vibrate. He held the picture of Tramar’s father and stepmother, crouched down on the floor with the look of terror written all over their faces. When Tramar looked into the picture, his eyes opened wide.
“What the fuck is this shit?” he asked, loudly. “What the fuck
is this shit, nigga?” He pushed Jackson back. “Who the fuck sent you that? Where are they?”
“Byron sent me this shit in a text this morning,” Jackson explained. “That’s why I was callin’ your ass, nigga when you wasn’t answering and shit. Byron sent me that shit. He got your daddy and stepmother.”
“Oh no,” Ayana said, leaning up. She made sure to keep the sheet around her body as she stood on her knees in the bed. “What the fuck is goin’ on, Tramar? He done got your daddy and Vivica now? Are you serious?”
Tramar snatched Jackson’s phone out of his hand and handed it to Ayana. She looked at the photo, seeing their terrified faces. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Where are they?” she asked.
Tramar, feeling many different shades of angry, pushed his boy Jackson in the chest. He pushed him so hard that he practically fell back. “Nigga, what the fuck was that shit for?” Jackson asked. “What the fuck?”
“Nigga, I told your dumb ass that we shoulda killed that nigga,” Tramar said, pointing his finger. “I told you that we shoulda killed that nigga. I told you. And now he got my fuckin’ family. Where the fuck are they? That shit in the background don’t look nothin’ like the house we went to out north. Where the fuck is that nigga? What he say?”
“Nigga, I came over here from my room to tell you and show you that shit,” Jackson explained. “I ain’t talked to the nigga yet.”
With his blood pumping, Tramar grabbed the phone back from Ayana. He looked at the message information then called Byron. Each ring seemed to last twice as long, making Tramar even more nervous. If anything were to happen to his daddy or stepmother, Chicago would see a real war. He didn’t care what he did to anyone or what they did to him. When a person came along and messed with his family, everything changed. He quickly, but vividly, remembered having to jump on a dude in high school for just calling his younger sister out of her name one time.
Byron answered the phone. “Good morning, nigga,” he said. “Jackson?”
“Naw, this ain’t Jackson!” Tramar said. “This his boy, Tramar. That’s my fuckin’ family you got, wherever the fuck they is. Let them go. Come deal with me, not them. They ain’t do shit to you.”
“Oh, wassup man?” Bryon said, in a nice voice – a voice that was almost mocking. “I thought I’d be hearing from you, but I wasn’t sure when. Yeah, your daddy and stepmother are just over for a little visit.” Byron slapped the woman so hard that Tramar could hear her scream for help and cry. “We just over here having a little chat and shit, you know. Nothing major. Anyway, I think you got something that belong to me, and I need that shit back as soon as possible.”
Tramar stood back as he put the phone on speaker phone. “Nigga, I swear to God,” he said. “I’mma kill your ass when I find you nigga. I’m on my way right now to that fuckin’ house and I’mma kill you, right on that front yard. Don’t you fuck with my family, nigga.”
“Nigga, calm down,” Byron said. “Ain’t nobody gon’ hurt them…if you do what I say, that is. Y’all pulled some bold shit the other day, coming up in my house and holding me and that hoe at gunpoint while y’all took all my money out my safe. God musta really been lookin’ out for y’all niggas for not one of them bullets that I shot out in the street to have hit at least one of y’all niggas.” He chuckled. “Maybe I need to get back to going to the gun range or something.”
“Nigga, fuck all that,” Tramar said. “Where the fuck is my family at, nigga? Where the fuck you got them?”
“They not at the house you came up in, so save your gas money, nigga,” Byron said. “Look here, it’s time I do some of the talkin’. I want my fuckin’ money back right away, niggas. Y’all niggas really did some dumb shit by comin’ up in here and takin’ my shit right in front of me. I knew I would get you. I heard you stayin’ at a motel out in Indiana, but that’s okay.”
Jackson and Tramar looked at one another. Their eyes asked the other how Byron would know that they were staying in a motel out in Indiana. There was a leak somewhere, and Tramar wanted to find out where it could be.
“Y’all there?” Byron asked, hearing their silence. “Listen up, you hoe ass niggas. Your family will be all good and stuff, if…you bring my money back with a little interest.”
“A little interest?” Tramar asked. Before Bryon could respond, Tramar could hear his father and stepmother beg him in the background to do whatever this guy told him to do. “Okay, what? What the fuck I gotta do?”
“Good,” Byron said, liking that Tramar was finally listening. “It’s good to finally have you at the table and listening. You got three days to bring back one million or else they each are getting a bullet in the head. One,” Byron shot his gun off, “Two.” He shot his gun again. “Y’all niggas got three fuckin’ days to get my money together or else you’ll be using the shit you stole from me to pay for a couple of funerals. Hope you got life insurance policies, nigga. Let me know when you ready and shit so we can coordinate.”
As Tramar was about to open his mouth and speak, the line cut off. He called Byron back a few times, but there was no answer. He threw Jackson’s phone down to the bed. With eyes as cold as glaciers, he look at Jackson. “Nigga, you got my fuckin’ family kidnapped and shit,” Tramar said. “Nigga, I told you we shoulda killed them niggas. Here you are, being all stupid and stuff and thinking that that nigga ain’t gon’ take the shit seriously. Nigga, we took more than a hundred stacks of his money, and you over there acting like ain’t shit gon’ happen.”
“Nigga, how the fuck was I supposed to know that he was gon’ go after your family and shit?” Jackson said. The two best friends were now clearly getting heated with one another. “Shit, I thought he’d come after mine and shit.”
“Nigga, you ain’t even got a lotta family,” Tramar said. “I knew I shouldn’t have did that shit with you. That was just too good to be fuckin’ true. Fuck I feel so fuckin’ stupid for doin’ that shit.” He picked up the end of the dresser and pulled out the bag of money. After tossing the bag at Jackson, he said, “So now what? Huh? Mister fucking brains? Now we gotta come up with ten times the money we got from the nigga just to find out where the fuck my family is and get’em back. What the fuck we gon’ do about that shit, huh? What we gon’ do? I ain’t got no way to come up with a fuckin’ million dollars.”
“Calm down, Tramar,” Jackson said. “Calm down. We ain’t given that nigga shit, you hear me.”
“Okay,” Tramar said, picking up his gun. “It’s time we go find that nigga. I don’t give a fuck what we gotta do. You betta call some people you know or some shit so we can find out where his ass is at. I swear to God, put that on my dead mama grave, I’mma kill that nigga Byron.”
Tramar looked back at Ayana as she was frozen in her place. She’d never seen Tramar so angry before. It was very clear that this Byron person had really hit a sore spot with him. To make matters worse, Ayana now feared for her own safety. She’d heard how Byron somehow knew that Tramar and Jackson were staying out in Indiana, which is where she now lay in bed with only a sheet over her naked body.
Chapter 9
Ayana lay dressed on the bed while she waited on Tramar and Jackson to get back. They were riding up to Byron’s house, out north, to see if he was there. They’d said that if he wasn’t there, they would go check with some mutual friends that Jackson knew. Ayana was actually surprised they’d been gone for most of the day. The fact showed Tramar’s dedication to his family. However, there were so many places in the world where Ayana would have rather been. She knew that she couldn’t go home because of what had happened with her mother. As far as the rest of her family, they would likely be at work, meaning they wouldn’t be available to come all the way over to Indiana to swoop her up and turn back around.
Around five o’clock in the afternoon, Tramar came storming back into the hotel room. Only a few feet behind him was a clearly worried Jackson. Once the door was shut, Tramar turned around. “Nigga, I can’t fuckin’ believe th
is shit is happening,” he said. “Where the fuck is my fuckin’ family at? This is some fuckin’ bullshit.”
Jackson was at a loss for words. Quickly, Ayana climbed out of the bed to console Tramar. Not in the right mood, Tramar pushed Ayana back gently. “Naw,” he said. “Not right now, baby. Not right now.”
“Man, we just gon’ have to come up with the money,” Jackson said. “It’s just as simple as that.”
“Come up with the money?” Tramar said, almost wanting to laugh. “How the fuck do you suggest that we just come up with nine hundred and something thousand dollars in three days? Hittin’ them licks ain’t gon’ do shit. Ain’t no houses around here with that much shit in them that we can carry out. I ain’t got no rich uncle or trust fund that I can borrow from to pay no shit like a fuckin’ million dollars. Nigga, is you stupid?”
“Tramar, you know what we gon’ have to do,” Jackson said. “You know what we gon’ have to do. Remember when we talked about that shit.”
“Talked about what?” Ayana interjected. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, Jackson? What is he talking about, Tramar? What stuff is he talking about that y’all gon’ have to do.”
“Nigga, that’s a pretty big fuckin’ risk,” Tramar said. “Robbing banks and shit? A couple of niggas robbing banks and shit in Chicago? Man, they gon’ shoot us dead.”
“Oh, no,” Ayana said. “Y’all not talkin’ bout robbing banks for real, are you? Tramar? Is y’all seriously thinking about robbing a bank?”
Tramar’s head dropped down, his chin hitting the top of his chest. He really didn’t plan on having to seriously talk about this idea, let alone doing it in front of his woman. Tramar had tried so hard to keep her out of things that he cringed at the thought of Ayana being pulled into something so dangerous. “Yeah, baby,” he said, solemnly. “We was talkin’ bout hittin’ some banks and shit earlier when we was out lookin’ for that nigga Byron and my daddy and step mama. I swear to God I’mma kill that nigga. He just don’t know.”
When It All Falls Down: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady Book 1) Page 13
