by K'wan
“What the fuck do you want?” Ma Savage barked.
“Package for the Savages, ma’am.” He nodded toward the box on the doorstep. “I just need your signature right here.” He handed her the clipboard.
Ma Savage snatched the clipboard, scribbled her name on it, and slammed it back into the delivery man’s chest. “Here, now, get the hell off of my property before I put a hole in you, ugly!”
The delivery man tipped his hat. “You have a good one, ma’am.” He smiled and left.
Ma Savage picked up the box and noticed that it was a lot lighter than she expected it to be based on its size. She carried it into the living room, where Fire Bug was sitting on the couch watching BET.
“What’s that, Mom?” Bug asked.
“How the hell should I know? Probably some shit Maxine ordered off the Home Shopping Channel. That child is always buying things she doesn’t need,” Ma Savage said, looking for something sharp to open the box with.
“Let me get that for you,” Bug offered, taking a box cutter from his pocket. He was nosy as hell and wanted to see what the package was. When he cut it open, he almost vomited.
“What the hell?” Ma Savage peered into the box. When she saw Big Money Savage’s eyes staring up at her from his severed head, she let out a scream that could be heard throughout the neighborhood.
EPILOGUE
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER.
ANIMAL SAT ON THE DECK of his beachfront Malibu home, looking out at the water. He giggled like a tickled child every time he thought of how far he had come from the slums of Harlem.
When he’d resurfaced from the dead, again, and the scandal hit the fan, Animal became a bigger celebrity than he already was. People were coming at him left and right with film and book offers. More important, his album sales had quadrupled when his story hit the media. Upon an audit of Don B.’s accounts, it had been discovered that Animal was owed quite a hefty sum for years of unpaid royalties. The Don was skimming Animal’s estate and figured he could get away with it, because a dead man couldn’t complain about fudged numbers. The unpaid royalties, coupled with the current royalties owed from Animal’s recent spike in sales, put Big Dawg in debt to him for several million dollars. He would never have to rob, hustle, or kill ever again.
The past few years had been a roller-coaster ride through hell and back, but he was still around to reflect on it. His mind went to the father he’d barely had a chance to know, and he found himself sorrowful. Priest had been a less-than-stellar father, but when Animal needed him most, he was there. Had it not been for his sacrifice, Animal would be six feet under instead of on top of the world. Animal had decided while he was in prison that he would lay the demons of his childhood to rest and focus on the future. If Priest had taught him anything, he had taught him what not to do with his own children.
As if on cue, T.J. came toddling out onto the deck. He was a beautiful chocolate little boy, with a mop of curly black hair and pretty lips. The spitting image of his father. T.J. was dressed in only a Pamper, a pair of Jordans, and Priest’s gold rosary.
“Come here.” Animal scooped T.J. onto his lap. “Where did you get this?” He removed the chain, And T.J. started crying. “No, this isn’t for you. You ain’t gonna be nothing like your daddy or grandpa, you hear me?”
In response, T.J. leaned in and hugged Animal. It was as if he knew his father was slipping back to his dark place, and he wanted to help pull him out of it.
“You’re a good boy, T.J. You ain’t gonna get caught up in none of this bullshit.” Animal rubbed his back.
“He sure isn’t.” Gucci stepped out onto the deck. Her hair was micro-braided and pulled back into a ponytail. The long sundress she wore blew in the warm breeze. She took T.J. off Animal’s lap and took his place, holding T.J. in her arms. “What you doing out here?”
“Just thinking,” Animal said, running his hand down her thigh. After giving birth to T.J., Gucci had gotten thick, and it was all in the right places. “Baby, me and you have been through some shit, and more than a few times it didn’t look good, for our relationship or our lives, but look at us now.” He motioned toward the view.
“Tayshawn, love is stronger than anything, including bullets.” Gucci kissed him.
Animal’s cell phone vibrated on the table, breaking their embrace. He picked up the phone and looked at the screen. It was an unknown number. “Speak on it,” he answered.
“What’s up, bro,” Kahllah said, greeting him from the other end.
“Black Lotus, what’s popping?” Animal’s face lit up. While he was in prison, Animal and Kahllah had gotten very close. She wrote him all the time and came to visit almost as much as Gucci.
“I’m in Cali, landed in LAX about an hour ago,” Kahllah told him.
“Kahllah, why didn’t you call me? I’d have come and picked you up from the airport. I’m sure your nephew would’ve been happy to see you,” Animal said.
“I appreciate that, Animal, but this isn’t a social visit. I’m in California on business.”
Animal got quiet. He gently slid Gucci off his lap and walked over near the edge of the deck, out of earshot. “Where are you?”
“About twenty minutes from your house. You feel like taking a ride for old time’s sake?”
“Kahllah, you know I ain’t ’bout that life no more,” Animal whispered.
“Stop acting like that, Animal. This is easy money, and the mark is a piece of shit. He fondled the wrong person’s kid, and they want him gobbled up. There’s a quarter-million on his face, and I’d be willing to break bread with you for riding along. I’ll give you fifty-thousand of my take and all you gotta do is keep me company. No wet work.”
“No wet work?” Animal asked suspiciously.
There was a commotion in the background, like Kahllah was arguing with someone. The next voice Animal heard on the line wasn’t Kahllah’s, but it was an equally welcome one.
“My nigga, take the apron off and shake out real quick,” Ashanti teased.
Animal’s lips parted into a wide grin at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Oh, shit, what you doing riding shotgun with Kahllah?”
“Well, you stayed on my ass about getting off the streets and stop selling drugs, so I did. I’m trying my hand at something new,” Ashanti said in a mischievous tone.
“Same old Ashanti.”
“Ain’t shit changed with me, blood. Now, throw some clothes on. We’re a few exits away from your pad, so we should be there in a few minutes,” Ashanti said, and ended the call.
Animal stood on the deck for a few long moments, gazing at the water silently. He looked down at the rosary dangling from his hand, watching the cross swing back and forth. When Gucci saw him slip the chain around his neck, she knew what time it was.
“Animal, you can’t be serious,” Gucci said in disappointment.
“My father once told me that no matter how much a man changes, his true nature would always be there lurking under the surface.” He kissed Gucci on the forehead and went into the house to arm up.
Gucci didn’t even bother to turn around when she heard him go out the door. She just sat there on the deck, cradling T.J. and trying not to cry. She loved Animal more than anything or anyone except T.J., but deep down, she knew that she would always have to share her heart. It would always be him, her, and the streets.
When the doorbell rang, Gucci perked up. Maybe Animal had changed his mind, she said to herself, making hurried steps toward the door, carrying T.J. on her hip. “You’re always leaving your key,” she said, opening the door. She was surprised to find that it wasn’t Animal on the other side.
The woman was tall, taller than Gucci, and had an athletic build and fire-engine red hair. She was wearing a tight-fitting white tank top and denim shorts that stopped just below her ass. She removed the designer sunglasses from her face and gave Gucci the once-over with steel-gray eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“I don’t know yet. You Gucci B
utler?” the redhead asked with an attitude.
“It’s actually Gucci Torres now.” She held up her hand, showing off her diamond wedding ring. “And I don’t think we know each other.”
“No, we don’t know each other, but we’ve got someone in common. My name is Sonja, Red Sonja. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
Gucci flushed with anger when she heard the name. She couldn’t believe Animal’s mistress had the nerve to show up at her house. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. What the fuck are you doing at my house? I don’t know and don’t care what went on between you and Animal in Puerto Rico, but that shit is long dead and over with. He’s mine now!”
Sonja laughed. “Calm down, hood rat. I didn’t come here for your man. If I wanted him, he would’ve never left Puerto Rico. So pump your brakes.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” Gucci snapped.
“Just a little conversation, but I’m going to need you to watch that gutter-ass mouth of yours in front of these kids,” Sonja said seriously.
“Kids?” Gucci was confused.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners? Come here, Celeste,” Sonja said, calling to someone who had been standing off to the side.
A little girl appeared. She looked to be about two or three years old, with reddish-brown hair and almond-colored skin. She clung to Sonja’s leg and looked up at Gucci quizzically with dark eyes . . . eyes that Gucci was all too familiar with, because she had been gazing into them for years. Gucci’s mouth went dry, and she was suddenly nauseated. Had it not been for the fact that she was holding T.J., she would’ve fainted.
With a mocking smirk on her face, Sonja told the child, “Celeste, say hello to your baby brother.”
OTHER WORKS BY K’WAN
Gangsta
Road Dawgz
Street Dreams
Hoodlum
Eve
Gutter (Gangsta Sequel)
THE HOOD RAT SERIES:
Hood Rat
Still Hood
Section 8
Welfare Wifeys
Eviction Notice
No Shade
ANIMAL SAGA:
Animal
Animal II: The Omen
SHORTS/NOVELLAS
The Game
Blow
Flirt
Flexin & Sexin (Vol 1)
From The Streets to the Sheets
From Harlem With Love
Love & Gunplay (Animal Story)
Ghetto Bastard (Animal Story)
The Leak (Animal Story)
Purple Reign (Vol 1: Purple City Tales)
Little Nikki Grind (Vol 2: Purple City Tales)
The Life & Times of Slim Goodie (Season 1)
First & Fifteenth (A Hood Rat Short)
ANIMAL 2
Copyright © 2013 by K’wan Foye
Cash Money Content™ and all associated logos are trademarks of Cash Money Content LLC.
www.SimonandSchuster.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
First Trade Paperback Edition: November 2013
Cover Design: Baja Ukweli
www.CashMoneyContent.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013950119
ISBN: 978-1-936399-29-1 pbk
ISBN: 978-1-936399-30-7 ebook
