“Answer me. How many men, Halleigh?” Malek repeated, trying to maintain his composure.
Halleigh just stood there shaking her head.
“How many men?” Malek finally yelled.
Malek’s booming tone startled Halleigh and she quickly said, “I don’t know. I don’t know how many, Malek. I lost count,” Halleigh confessed. “When I’m doing it, I just blank out and try to imagine that I’m somewhere else.” She closed her eyes. “Somewhere else . . . with someone else . . . like with you.”
Malek was silent as he tried to process what she had just told him. “What’s the nigga’s name that got you out here like this?” he asked. He knew that he could call in a favor from Joe and get the situation handled, but this shit was personal. Malek was gonna take care of the dude that had Halleigh trickin’ on the streets himself, he thought as his nose flared.
Halleigh could practically hear his thoughts. “No, Malek. Please . . . I don’t want to pull you into anything else. I’ve already messed up your life.”
“What’s his name?” Malek asked her again, his tone hard. “What’s his name, Halleigh?” he yelled.
“Manolo,” she whispered.
The look on Malek’s face said it all. “You a Manolo Mami?” he asked in disgust. He knew Manolo’s reputation in the pimp game. He knew Manolo was all about the paper and kept his girls working. He couldn’t help but think of all the niggas that Halleigh had given herself to. How did I let this happen to her?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me. I know you probably think I’m dirty now, but please, Malek, please . . .”
Malek wanted to embrace Halleigh, but he couldn’t move. He was sick just thinking about how many niggas had been with her. He gagged inside as tears rolled down his face.
“Malek?” Halleigh said. “Please say something . . . anything.”
Malek swallowed his tears and regained his composure. He wiped his face dry and then sniffed, standing there as if he had never been crying. He then looked over to Hal leigh and softly summoned her. “Come here.”
Halleigh almost didn’t hear him, so he said it again.
“Come here, girl. You don’t have nothing to be sorry about.” They met each other halfway, and once again, he held her tightly in his arms. “I shouldn’t have let this happen to you. But don’t you worry. I said I’d always be here for you. That ain’t changed. I’ma handle this,” he responded, glaring off with a look of hatred and revenge in his eyes. “You best believe I’ma handle this.”
“Malek, can we get out of here? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this.”
“I got you, Halleigh. You leaving with me. I’ma take care of you this time.” And he meant it. He pulled her close to him. If he had to use every dime he had saved up since working for Joe, he was going to take care of Halleigh. He wiped the tears from her face, and she rested her head against his chest. “I’ma take you far away from Flint. Ain’t nobody gon’ hurt you again.”
Chapter Seven
“ I’m about to murder this nigga.” Lynch leaned up from the back seat, in between the front car seats, where Sweets and Manolo were seated. Lynch had been on a mission of revenge ever since his brother, Rah-Rah, was shot and killed at the Berston Park shootout. He took his initial anger out on the easiest target, Malek’s house. As far as he was concerned, the North Side/South Side war had just begun. Joe had taken out one of their boys, so in return, one of his boys had to get taken out. It was his brother, his flesh and blood, that had been killed. He wanted Joe’s head on a platter, and if he had to take out all of his crew just to get to the captain, so be it.
“Yeah, whatever. Just make sure you don’t pop off before I get the combo to the safe,” Sweets stated calmly to Lynch as they prepared to head to Joe’s.
The Shottah Boyz, Sweets’ young hit squad, sat in the back seat. Once a four-member clique, there were now only three young killers since the death of Rah-Rah, the craziest, stone-cold killer of them all.
Everyone’s eyes were concentrated on the luxury house in front of them. The lights were on throughout the house, and they could hear the loud music coming from within. The loud music seemed awkward in the suburban neighborhood.
The only person standing outside was Tariq. Every so often, he stepped outside and walked around to scope things out. And when he came around the house and spotted Sweets in an SUV, he nodded, giving them the green light to bring it on.
They all felt the adrenaline pumping in their veins. The group of men made sure that the safeties were disabled on their weapons. They didn’t want to take any chances. Whoever got in the way would get popped that night.
Lynch was especially ready. Since the death of his brother, he hadn’t been the same. His murder game had become out of control as he tried to quench his thirst for death. He was taking out niggas left and right just for looking at him funny. He was like that dude Larenz Tate played in the movie Menace II Society. He felt as though he didn’t have anything to lose. When he lost his brother, he lost everything, as far as he was concerned. And even though he had been leaving a path of death behind him, the only death that would truly mean something to him was Jamaica Joe’s. He wanted Joe’s head and knew that nothing would stop him from getting his revenge. Joe had been extremely careful, but Lynch knew that sooner or later he would get at him. The day had finally come.
“Yo, you sure this ain’t a set-up?” Manolo asked Sweets as he stared suspiciously at the house, with Tariq casing back and forth.
“Shit, there’s only one way to find out. Either way, I’m trying to get to what Joe got in that safe.” Sweets pulled out a Blow Pop and stuck it in his mouth.
They slipped on their black ski masks and hopped out of the stolen SUV, leaving the ignition running for an easy getaway. They strolled up to the back door where Tariq was standing guard and eased right past him.
Tariq smirked and entered the house behind them, but instead of following them down the steps, he made his way upstairs and went into the bathroom. He waited patiently for shit to pop off.
Sweets bum-rushed the basement, his hit squad behind him.
As soon as Joe and his guests saw the masked intruders, screams erupted and the party came to a standstill.
“Put your mu’fuckin’ hands up. Y’all already know what time it is,” Sweets stated in a nonchalant tone as he pointed his 9mm at Joe and his guests. Manolo and the Shottah Boyz held all the guests at gunpoint.
Caught slipping, Joe gritted his teeth furiously. He immediately regretted throwing the party at his spot.
Sweets snatched Joe off the leather sectional and put the pistol to his head. “Where’s the safe?”
Twenty minutes earlier, Mimi would have been sitting there clinging to Joe’s arm, but she had to run out and get condoms. She had brought regular condoms with her, but Joe required Magnums, of which she had none. And if she’d learned anything from her years of trickin’, it was never to let a nigga run up raw . . . no matter how much he was willing to pay.
“What you talking about, man? Ain’t no safe in here.” Joe was sweating bullets on the inside, but he wouldn’t give anybody the pleasure of seeing him panic.
“Okay, so you wanna do this the hard way?” Sweets jammed his gun in Joe’s neck and jerked him by the collar as he turned to face Lynch. “You see that nigga right there? He’s waiting for me to give him the go-ahead. He is trying to get at you, for real. You took something away from him that he can’t get back, nah mean?”
Joe stared at the man before him, but he couldn’t see his face. It wasn’t until he looked at his forearms that he saw the word Shottah tattooed in black ink. Fuck, he thought, knowing that the young boy before him was the brother of the nigga he’d murdered at Berston.
“Now, let’s try this again. Where’s the safe?”
Joe stood strong and still didn’t respond.
Lynch, growing tired of Jamaica Joe’s games, ran up on him and split his nose with the butt o
f his gun. “Nigga, you thinks this a game? Where the mu’fuckin’ safe?” He whipped Joe across the face with the pistol two more times.
Jamaica Joe dropped to his knees in pain. He held his face and blood seeped in between his fingers. He weighed his options and knew that he would have to reveal his safe to his intruders. I got a pistol in that safe, he thought. He knew that he was outnumbered greatly and began to regret not letting his boys enter his house with their pistols. One gun didn’t amount to much, but he knew that it gave him a better chance of walking out of the situation with his life.
“It’s underneath the floor,” he stated as he got up and walked toward a bookshelf in the corner of the room.
“Hurry up.” Sweets pushed Joe slightly, urging him to speed up the process.
Jamaica Joe pulled up some loose floorboards in his basement and revealed a steel combination safe. He paused, trying to buy more time. How the fuck am I gon’ get out of this? And where the fuck is Tariq?
“Open it!” Sweets demanded.
Joe twisted the knob to the safe and opened the door, revealing the crystal-white cocaine inside.
“Load that shit up,” Sweets ordered Joe then looked over to Lynch. “Handle your business, man,” he stated, giving him the okay to shoot Joe.
Lynch raised his arm and aimed the .357 at Joe’s head. Just as he was getting ready to pull the trigger, they heard a loud banging on the back door.
“Flint Police Department! Is anyone home?” the voice yelled loudly.
Sweets, Manolo, and the other two Shottah Boyz looked at each other nervously. They quickly snatched off their masks. “Block that mu’fucka,” Sweets whispered, referring to the open safe, and Lynch quickly pushed the bookshelf over the missing floorboards.
Sweets put his finger to his lips, signaling for everyone in the basement to keep quiet.
Jamaica Joe never thought he would be so happy to have the cops at his door.
“Flint Police! We’re coming in!” they shouted.
Jamaica Joe heard his back door open and shut. Sweets and his crew tried to hide their guns as the police came down the steps.
Two white cops came into the room. One immediately went to the home stereo system and cut the volume, and the other one looked around the room, his hand on his holster, looking for an excuse to open fire.
Even though Jamaica Joe’s guests were afraid of Sweets and his crew, snitching was a no-no in Flint, so everyone kept their mouths shut and waited to see how the scene would play out.
“What seems to be the problem, officers?” Sweets asked, removing all traces of slang from his vocabulary.
“Are you the owner of this house?” one of the officers asked.
“No, sir,” Sweets responded.
“Then who is?”
“I am,” Jamaica Joe stated with a smile.
The officer frowned when he saw Joe’s busted nose and asked, “Is everything all right here? What’s going on?” He eyed the group of men suspiciously.
“I don’t know.” Jamaica Joe turned to Sweets. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s cool, officer,” Sweets responded. “Just a small gathering amongst friends, you know.”
“Well, your gathering is disturbing your neighbors. We got a noise complaint, and it looks like we came just in time,” one of the officers stated. The officers began their routine, separating Sweets and Jamaica Joe and questioning them to get to the bottom of the situation.
Jamaica Joe stared into the eyes of the white man as he used his shirt to wipe the blood from his nose.
“Now, if there is something going on here, you can tell me. If you need our assistance, all you have to do is nod your head,” the officer stated.
“No, sir, our party just got a little out of control. I’m not feeling too well, though. I would appreciate it if you and your partner could clear this out for me.” Joe stared intently across the room at Sweets and his crew. He was heated that they had the audacity to run up on him in his crib. The situation could have easily ended badly for him, so he was grateful for the lawful interruption.
“All right, it’s time to clear this out. Party’s over!” the officer yelled.
Joe’s guests flew up the steps as quickly as possible. Nobody was trying to be a part of the bloodbath. Joe was so infuriated, he didn’t realize that he was standing with his fists balled at his side.
The police officers stood and watched as Jamaica Joe walked over to Sweets and held up his hand, as if he were showing him love. Sweets looked at Joe’s hand and then at the cops and decided that he would play along with Joe’s little game. Nigga, you got lucky this time, but next time I’ma make sure there are no interruptions. He slapped Joe’s hand.
Joe pulled Sweets toward him discreetly, but with force. “You niggas is dead.”
Sweets and Joe stared each other down as they came out of their embrace. Sweets nodded his head to his crew, who were scared shitless. They all walked up the basement steps, while Joe remained in the basement, a cop on either side of him.
Rage overcame Joe as he witnessed Sweets and his crew walking out of his home with his bricks. He wasn’t in a position to try to stop them, and his insides were boiling. He knew that he couldn’t protest because of the cops’ presence. Sweets gave Joe a small smirk like, Yeah, I’m walking out with yo’ shit and you can’t do anything about it. It took all of Joe’s willpower not to grab Sweets up and take back what was his.
The cops were too busy directing people out of the house. They didn’t notice the evil stares that Sweets and Joe were exchanging. If looks could kill, Joe and Sweets would both be circled in chalk.
As Sweets and his crew exited the door, Sweets looked back and held up the bags. “Yo, Joe, thanks for the party favors. That was very nice of you, buddy. Appreciate the hospitality,” he said sarcastically as he made his way out of the door.
Just as Sweets, Manolo, and the Shottah Boyz reached the top of the steps, Malek and Halleigh walked out of the bedroom and through Joe’s kitchen. With the loud music playing and their deep conversation, they hadn’t heard the initial chaos and were clueless to the fact that robbery and murder had been about to go down.
Malek and Halleigh were prepared to exit through the back door when they bumped into Sweets, Manolo, and the Shottah Boyz. Halleigh stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Manolo’s face. She tried to turn around, but it was too late.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Manolo asked Halleigh, trying to disguise his anger because he knew the police were within earshot. He attempted to snatch Halleigh up.
But Malek slapped his hand with force. “Whoa, homeboy, you might want to calm that down if you know what’s good for you. You don’t got no business here no more.” He pulled Halleigh close to him to show Manolo that he was serious. Malek could feel Halleigh’s hand become moist as he held it in his.
“This one of our bitches?” Sweets asked Manolo as he eyed Halleigh, looking her up and down, making her feel as if she were naked. The disapproving tone in Sweets’ voice let Manolo know he wasn’t handling his business, embarrassing him.
Halleigh’s breaths became shallow as she looked for an explanation. Finally she said, “Nolo, this is Malek. This is the guy that I needed the money for,” she tried to explain.
Manolo leaned in close to her. “You remember what I told you when I first met you? You already know how I get down. You might get out of here tonight, but I’ma get at you, and when I do, I’m gon’ kill the nigga right in front of you. I’m the Grim Reaper, baby girl. If you want this little nigga breathing, you better let him know who Daddy is.”
Backed up on the stairs because of the scene that was occurring at the doorway, the police finally emerged from the basement. “Let’s move it! Time to go!”
“Please, Manolo, don’t do this,” Halleigh begged.
Malek held onto her hand tightly as he waited for her to make a decision.
“You already know what it is,” Manolo stated coldl
y as he walked out the door with Sweets, the Shottah Boyz, and the police following. “The ball is in your court now, Sunshine,” he said, looking back at her over his shoulder.
Tears accumulated in Halleigh’s eyes as she let go of Malek’s hand. She knew that Manolo would kill him if she stayed. “I have to go,” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” she cried as she walked out the door.
“Halleigh!” Malek yelled as he stepped outside and watched her walk down the driveway, her head down. “Halleigh!”
The sound of his voice calling her name broke her heart. She looked back one last time. For a brief moment she contemplated running back into Malek’s arms. He said he would take care of her, protect her, but he’d also said it the last time and didn’t make good on his word. Could she trust him to protect her this time?
“Bitch, get in the car.” Manolo got into the front seat of the SUV.
Halleigh’s tears poured out of her eyes like flood waters as she hopelessly got into the SUV. She watched Malek stand there in disbelief as Sweets drove away.
“Halleigh!” Malek started running toward the SUV in one last-ditch effort to get his girl.
Joe stopped him before he could get past him and just said, “Not now, kid. But don’t worry. We gon’ take care of this.”
Halleigh had her face buried in her hands as she wept. She’d just done the hardest thing she ever had to do in her life. Turning her first trick wasn’t even this hard. She loved Malek with all of her heart, from the depths of her soul, but out of fear for his well-being, she left with Manolo. She knew Manolo would follow up on his threat about killing Malek and didn’t want that. What she didn’t know was that Malek was no longer green to the streets and could hold his own. Nonetheless, she left the love of her life standing in heartbroken disbelief.
Chapter Eight
Jamaica Joe came out of the house to make sure that Sweets didn’t try to double back. He walked to the end of his driveway and looked up and down the street, making sure that no odd cars were parked on the block.
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