Wrath of a Side Chick 4 (Side Chick's Wrath)

by Tamicka Higgins

  “Hurry the fuck up,” Dante said, now feeling nervous himself. He’d been in the building longer than he’d really planned. The last thing he needed was for one of the employees to come looking for Mr. James and find that he wasn’t where he would normally be.

  Dante stood against the door with his hand in his inside coat pocket. He watched as Mr. James scurried around the office, going from filing cabinet drawer to filing cabinet drawer. A few minutes passed when he’d looked up at Dante and pointed into the drawer. “In here,” he said, pulling a stack of files out. “In here.”

  “I don’t need to know where the shit is,” Dante said. “I just need the nigga’s information. That’s all. Hurry the fuck up so I can get outta here.”

  Quickly, Mr. James searched through the employee files until he came to Breon’s. He picked it out and tossed it to the other side of the desk, toward Dante. Dante looked down at the file, shaking his head. “You wanna get your white ass killed?” he said. “I’m not lookin’ through that shit myself. Get that nigga Dante’s address out so I can get the fuck outta here and so you ain’t gotta die.”

  Obliging, Mr. James did just that. Within seconds, he’d pulled out Breon’s information –his application as well as some tax forms – and handed the pieces of paper to Dante. Dante snatched the documents and looked them over, holding them out in the light. He quickly found Breon’s address. “Hmm,” he said. “That nigga live in Park Lake Apartments, Apartment 603. Well, ain’t that somethin’. I know exactly where that shit is.” A mental image quickly popped up in his mind as he smiled. Now, he needed to make sure that this old white man before him didn’t go causing even more problems. “Okay, listen here,” Dante said.

  Mr. James nodded, terrified that now that this guy had gotten the information he’d come for, he’d have nothing to lose by putting a bullet in him and ending his life. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, nervously.

  “Give me your ID,” Dante demanded.

  Quickly, James reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet then produced his Illinois state driver’s license. “Perry James,” Dante said. “13573 Swan’s Lake Terrace. Sounds like you live in a nice place.” He then stuffed the ID into his own pocket. “Say a word about this to anybody, the police, the workers out there — anybody, and I swear to God, I will come back here and there will be another mass shooting to make the news. Okay? Say a mothafuckin’ word to anybody and I will make you wish that you’d never said shit, understand me?”

  Mr. James nodded. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing. Are you going to kill Breon? You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

  Dante snickered, seeing that this old white dude was too used to his white privilege to realize that you just don’t ask an angry black man with a gun that sort of question. Rather than answering, he decided to let his actions speak for him. He folded Breon’s human resources’ documents and pushed them down into his pockets with Mr. James’ license. He then pulled his gun out of his pocket and began to beat the older man over the head. Mr. James, succumbing to the sheer force of someone younger and stronger than him, slumped down onto the floor. Blood gushed out of his head, spreading about on the desk then down the sides.

  Dante looked down at the moaning man. “Thanks,” he said and smiled.

  Dante turned around and flipped the office light off, leaving Mr. James on the floor, injured, in the dark. After slowly opening the office door and looking out into the hallway to make sure that nobody was coming his way, he slipped out of the office and pulled the door closed behind him. Checking to make sure that his coat was not bulging from his gun, he casually walked back to Mr. James’ office. He picked the Johnson & Pearl application up off of the office floor and headed back out onto the floor. Within seconds, he was back out into the parking lot. He held the application up to a group of workers that were sharing a cigarette off to the side. “Thanks, y’all!” he said.

  The workers nodded and waved as Dante made his way back across the parking lot. He passed Fasil, who was heading back into the building as his break was coming to an end. “Thanks, man,” he said, smiling.

  “No problem,” Fasil said. Little did Fasil know, of course, he was saying no problem to a person who had evil intentions – to a person who had a gun, locked and loaded, with Breon’s, and Nikki’s, name written all over its bullets.

  CHAPTER 6

  As Breon drove back to his and Trina’s apartment, he drained his brain trying to think of what he’d say. Yes, he was definitely going to keep the Nikki part of the story to himself. That was a given, no matter what happened. However, he felt like honesty might really be the best policy with Trina, as in telling her just how far Dante had gone, in so many words, would be more to her benefit. If Breon could have his way, he would have Trina go stay with one of her family members until all of this blew over, which would be tonight if everything went right.

  Breon pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex and took his sweet time to pull up to his building. Upon pulling into a parking spot out front, he saw that Trina was indeed home. He put his car into PARK and pressed his head back, into the headrest of his seat. He looked up at his bedroom window, where the light was on. After taking a deep breath, he yanked his keys out of the ignition, pushed his SUV’s door open, and headed into the building. Once he let himself into the apartment, he found Trina sitting on the couch.

  “I’m home,” he said.

  “Oh, okay,” Trina said. She looked Breon up and down, noticing that he wasn’t in his normal work clothes. “So, when are you going to tell me what is really going on with this Dante guy?” she asked. “I mean, Breon, you might as well tell me so I can tell you what I just found out because I can see that you not even in your work clothes.”

  Breon looked at himself, happy that he didn’t tell another lie – another lie that would only make his situation worse. “I didn’t go to work today, Trina,” he admitted. “Listen, I just ain’t want you to worry or nothin’ like that. But, no, I ain’t go to work today.”

  Trina stood up, having changed into some blue jeans and a pink Wisconsin shirt she’d bought in a shop at the Wisconsin Dells fun park a couple of years back. She walked over to Breon. “What the fuck is going on, Breon?” she asked in a very demanding voice. “And just how dangerous is this Dante guy?”

  Breon sighed as he slid out of his coat. “That’s the thing,” Breon said, “we – me, Ray, and Wayne, went over to this dude Charles’ store over by where Wayne stay to see if he knew somethin’ about how we could catch up with Dante. Of course, he ain’t really know except that his family used to own some of the houses in the area and shit like that.”

  “Wayne?” Trina asked, realizing that there was a part of the story that had been left out thus far. “Didn’t the Dante dude just go over his house and see if he could find you and stuff, right? Why would he be so deep into this that he would be ridin’ around with you and Ray?”

  “They did more than just get into it,” Breon confessed. “Much more.”

  Trina watched as Breon rushed past her and into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of orange juice before coming back out into the living room, knowing that Trina was not backing down from this conversation. It was written all over her face. “Like what?” Trina asked.

  Breon groaned, not knowing how Trina might take all of this and really wishing that it didn’t have to come home to her. He went on to explain how Dante and his boy had rushed up into Wayne’s house and whooped him with a belt, adding at the end that all of it had been recorded. Trina put her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “You cannot be serious,” she said. “What is this Dante dude that mad at you for that he would go through all of this effort to do something like that?”

  Breon explained, in the best way he could, how Dante had been upset about going down when the two of them worked under Pablo. Trina sat on the couch as she listened and processed it all. She couldn’t help but feel some type of way when listening t
o how Breon and Ray had gone over to this Dante guy’s house at night and gotten Ray’s back window shot out. The very thought of how that one bullet could have hit Breon saddened Trina. However, she was more concerned with how Breon had kept all of this from her.

  “Breon,” Trina said, “why didn’t you tell me that all of this was going on from the beginning?”

  Breon, who had been avoiding eye contact for much of the story, looked at Trina. He knew that the real reason was because Nikki, a chick he’d messed around with, had been kidnapped. “Well,” he said, thinking quickly. “’Cause I ain’t want you to get scared and stuff. Tonight… Tonight, we supposed to be meetin’ up with Dante so we can stop all this shit for good… Me, Ray, and Wayne.”

  “Y’all not talkin’ like y’all are going to kill him or something like that, are you?” Trina asked.

  Breon nodded. “Trina, think about it,” he said, knowing that Trina wouldn’t be in favor of doing such a thing. “If we don’t do this shit, he gon’ either put that tape of what he did to Wayne out on the internet for the entire world to see or he gon’ finally catch up to me and put a bullet in my head or both. Think about it. We ain’t got no other choice, Trina. No other choice.”

  Trina looked away as she wondered what kind of man she was in love with. Even though she knew about Breon’s past and whatnot, as he’d talked openly about the way he used to work out in the streets, she never knew he would do something like kill somebody. “Breon,” she said, “why don’t you just call the police and let them handle this stuff?”

  “’Cause,” Breon snapped back, quickly seeing that he needed to watch his tone. “’Cause you know them racist ass cops gon’ find some way to bring up something and charge me, even though I’m the victim here. And we got these guns that we usin’.”

  “What guns?” Trina asked.

  Breon filled Trina in on how he and Ray had gone to a friend of Ray’s to get a couple of semiautomatic handguns. Trina instantly expressed her concern—concern that Breon subsided by telling her that the guns were being kept at Ray’s place since he already knew how she felt about guns.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry,” Breon said, walking over to Trina and sitting on the couch next to her. Right away, he could feel her cold vibes, as she made no efforts to hide them. “I know how you try’na move up at that insurance company and stuff and I just ain’t want for you to get caught up in nothin’ that could hurt you or somethin’ like that.”

  “Breon,” Trina said, “you coulda just told me from the start what the hell was going on. I mean, it would have been nice to know that this Dante guy was that much of a fucking nut. But no, instead here you are… Trying to hide it from me and stuff. I had to find out from Monique just how crazy this guy is.”

  “From Monique?” Breon asked, alarmed. “What the fuck does she know about Dante? And why would you have been talkin’ to her about somethin’ like that?”

  “I didn’t bring him up,” Trina explained. “She brought him up. As a matter of fact, he was the reason that we were even meeting up downtown today. She was downtown ‘cause she had to go to the police station because that nigga is harassing her.”

  “Harassing her?” Breon asked, shocked, as he stood up. “Trina, I’m so sorry. I mean… I don’t even know how the fuck Dante would even know that I know Monique in any kind of way. It ain’t like we cool on Facebook and stuff.”

  “Naw, it wasn’t you, Breon,” Trina said. “Apparently, and I don’t even remember this happening, Monique used to talk to the Dante dude and was tellin’ me today that he wasn’t the kind of guy to just let go and move on and stuff. She said that since he, apparently, done got out of jail and stuff, he been hittin’ her up and stuff, already acting crazy and stuff.”

  Instantly, Breon felt his nerves jump in his body. It was very unsettling to know that Dante had a connection to Trina’s sister Monique – so unsettling that their apartment suddenly felt even more unsafe than it had felt before. Filled with anxiety, Breon demanded that Trina call Monique and tell her to be careful with how, and if, she talked to Dante. Just as Trina was getting her phone so she could warn her sister, Dante felt his own phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing that it was Wayne calling.

  “It’s Wayne,” Breon said.

  “Answer,” Trina told him.

  “Yeah, wassup?” Breon answered.

  Trina watched as Breon held a brief conversation with his cousin Wayne. Without a doubt, there was a sense of urgency – a layer of fear that covered Breon’s face. This was so much so that Trina hesitated calling her sister Monique, waiting until Breon got off the phone. Breon stood in the middle of the living room as he finished up his call, shaking his head as he then looked up at Trina. “Okay,” he said to Wayne, “I’m on my way, I’m on my way. We gon’ get this nigga tonight like we said. We gon’ meet up with this nigga and get him.”

  Breon hung up the phone and looked at Trina, almost looking as if he were at loss for words. The guilt from knowing that Trina had been dragged into this was eating him up, not to mention that the fact that Dante had kidnapped Nikki was still under wraps. He looked at Trina as he was thinking of his next plan of action.

  “What, Breon?” Trina asked. “I don’t want any more secrets. What?”

  Breon looked at Trina, knowing that one part of this entire situation would always be a secret. “That was Wayne,” he said. “I’mma have to go. We gotta find that nigga Dante tonight ‘cause he’s gettin’ ruthless.”

  “What?” Trina asked. “What happened? What did this Dante dude do?”

  Breon took a deep breath. Part of him was thankful that Nikki had been mistaken for being his girl, because if she hadn’t been, then it could have very well been Trina in Dante’s grasp. “Charles,” he said, flatly. “The dude who me, Wayne, and Ray went over to his store down the street from where Wayne stay… Wayne just went around there,” he thought up a way to quickly change the story as to not mention that the only reason Wayne had gone around to the building was because Nikki had been seen walking down the street, “and found that he was shot dead. We just went over there earlier today, Trina.”

  “So, what are y’all going to do,” Trina asked.

  Wayne paused. “Tonight,” he said. “Tonight, we gon’ go get this nigga before he do something really crazy. I promise you, Trina. Put this on everything that I love that I am so sorry about this.”

  “But what if you get caught, Breon?” Trina asked. “What if…”

  “Naw,” Breon said, cutting Trina off. “We not gon’ get caught. Fuck that. And don’t even think that way, okay. We not gon’ get caught. We was already talkin’ about that shit earlier and how we gon’ do it. We not gon’ get caught. This nigga ain’t as smart as he think he is. Shit, he even fuckin’ stupid and a little messy with how he doin’ stuff. I’m ‘bout to go over to Charles’ store to meet up with Wayne then we gon’ go over to Ray so we can hook up with this Dante nigga tonight, when he least expectin’ it, since he try’na get at me, and take care of this shit. He killed Charles and Charles ain’t deserve that shit. He ain’t even do nothin’.”

  Trina felt her hands shaking as the urgency of the situation was just too much. “I can’t stay here,” she said.

  “Yeah, I don’t want you to,” Breon said. He stepped forward and grabbed Trina by the arms, leaning down to kiss her. “I love you, Trina. And I swear, after tonight, you not gon’ have to worry about nothin’ else like this no more ever again in life.”

  “Breon, you promise you won’t keep this kinda stuff from me no more, will you?” Trina asked. “There’s nothing else that I need to worry about, is there?”

  Breon quickly shook his head. “Naw,” he said. “You know everything there is to know.”

  Trina and Breon quickly decided that since Monique could possibly be in danger as well, it would be best if she get with her sister and the two of them figure out where to go from there. “Coo,” Breon said, heading toward the door. “Text me when y
ou get to Monique’s place and stuff and let me know what you and her gon’ do so I can know. No matter what you do, don’t tell nobody what’s goin’ on ‘cause I don’t know who this nigga Dante know, and he kinda hard to keep up with.”

  Breon hurried out of the apartment, with Nikki on his mind. Now, not only did he need to catch up with Dante, but he also needed to figure out where Nikki had gone after leaving Wayne’s place. He couldn’t believe that Nikki had, according to Wayne’s theory, possibly been held prisoner in Charles’ basement. It almost made him wonder if, by chance, Charles had been in on this entire situation – if Charles had been a friend of Dante’s, but in disguise. Something told Breon that this was not so, but he also wondered why and how Nikki would even come to being held in the convenient store’s basement. Breon climbed into his SUV and headed out of the apartment complex, rushing toward Wayne’s neighborhood.

  Once the apartment door had closed, Trina felt more alone than she’d ever felt. She’d never even met this Dante person and she was already filled with fear that he would be bold enough to come after her. Quickly, she rushed into her and Breon’s bedroom and packed some clothes to last at least for a couple of days. Her mind was literally everywhere, as she’d never been one to be in the street life or any situations like this. In fact, if this were Monique and some of the guys she dated, Trina wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

  Trina finished packing her bag then dropped it onto the couch. She called Monique, hoping to God that she’d answer because if she didn’t, there could now be numerous reasons as to why. Trina was in luck, feeling relieved at hearing her sister’s voice. “Hello?” Monique answered.

  “Monique? Where are you?” Trina asked.

  “Girl, I’m at home right now,” Monique responded. “Waiting to see if I’mma meet up with that dude in Gary or not tonight. He actin’ kinda flaky, so I don’t know. You know how these niggas be, they—”