by Wahida Clark
Satisfied with the work I just put in, I went into his bathroom to wash the blood off my hands and my blade. I pulled the ski mask off and stuffed it inside my pocket. I then took off the hoodie, turned it inside out, and put it back on. I smiled at myself in the mirror.
After slipping out of this nigga’s hospital room and bypassing the elevators, I entered the stairwell. I rushed down six flights to the second floor and then decided to get on the elevator. Just as I anticipated, when the doors opened, it was full. I stepped on, blending in with the crowd, and as soon as the doors reopened, I made my way out of the main lobby, passing security.
Outside, I started walking down 168th Street, thinking how that last move was done purely on emotion. Never a good thing, but it sure had me on a high. I hopped on the first bus I saw, the M4, and rode for a few blocks, got off, and flagged down a taxi. I gave the driver an address down the street from my apartment building.
Mission accomplished.
• • •
After enjoying a long hot shower, I lit a blunt and sat on the couch. I wanted to soak in and enjoy the peace and quiet around me, especially since I knew it was only the lull before the storm. The storm that I brewed up.
I also wanted to bask in my glory for a just a few moments. Old Kyron made Treacherous Trae come back out. That was my own nickname for myself back in the day. Being in the game wasn’t easy. I had to take a lot from niggas and I had to give just as much by sending a lot of niggas to where I just sent Kyron. Straight to hell where I was sure that I would see all of them muthafuckas. But no nigga ever got what he didn’t deserve. I almost went back down memory lane before Kyron went to jail and we was all out here lil’ niggas trying to get it. But fuck that. I looked straight up at the ceiling and tried to think about nothing. But this apartment wouldn’t let me. It was too dear to me for many reasons. I looked around my living room. I was attached to this apartment because it held so much history of where I came from and who I am now. That’s why I would never sell it. I got this apartment as soon as I started seeing real money. Owning real estate on New York’s Park Avenue back in the day let us know that we had arrived. Kay and I used to call this spot ‘“The Honeycomb.”’ I remember how good it felt to get into my bed after weeks of nonstop hustling. We would rest for a day or two, and then we were right back at it. Those were the days.
I laid my head back and stared up at the ceiling. My thoughts drifted back to when I first brought Tasha here. She was the icing on the cake. Kay and I had a rule: No hos allowed. But as soon as I laid eyes on Tasha, I knew she was the one. I knew that she was going to be my wife. I will never forget the euphoria I felt to have snatched her up right when we were on our way out of the game. I was ready to settle down with that special someone who’d make me feel as if all that grindin’ and throwing bricks at the penitentiary was well worth it. My baby stepped up to the plate and made me feel just right.
I’ll always remember when I got shot, at Angel’s wedding, getting out of the hospital and having Tasha nurse me back to health, right here in this very apartment. What used to be my bachelor pad now had tampons under the sink. My weight room was now the kids’ bedroom, with bunk beds and Transformer curtains hanging over the windows. Damn. Nothing stays the same.
I had dozed off, not knowing how long I was asleep, when somebody woke me by knocking on the door. When the knocking got louder, I sat up, and in walked Kay. He had a key, so why was this nigga knocking as if he was the police?
“Yo, nigga, you slippin’ tough,” Kay teased.
“I knew ya ass was coming through.” I held up the .380 I had tucked under my thigh. “She’s never far from me. I keep my bitch close,” I teased back.
I knew he would be stopping by, which was one of the reasons I didn’t retire in the bedroom. I got up and went to the bathroom to piss, wash my face, and brush my teeth. Wide awake, I was now ready to face the music.
I went back into the living room and glanced at the clock. Three thirty-three in the morning. I sat down and watched Kay walk into the kitchen and come back into the living room with two Heinekens. He passed me one of them as he looked around, smiled, and sat down. I knew he was reminiscing about old times, too. You had to have been rollin’ with us to understand what we were feeling. It was a rush to hustle nonstop and have to constantly look over your shoulders. I relit the other half of my blunt, took a few tokes, stood up and passed it to my main nigga.
“So you heard,” I said to him as I sat back down. I looked over at him, and he looked tired as hell, as if he had been out in the streets for days. His eyes were bloodshot, and he wore the same clothes from the day before. “Nigga, you dumb. Of course, I heard. Do you know where the fuck I just came from? I’m just leaving the muthafuckin’ precinct, a place where I said I was never stepping foot in again. I was one of the last niggas to leave the hospital room, so you know the police had to question me.” Kay paused. “Your ass slipped up big time. You did that shit in a public place. You know they got cameras everywhere in a hospital.”
“Who did you mention it to?” I was more elated with my deed than caring about some damn hospital cameras.
“Man, they got you on camera, I told you. You on the news. And you know me better than anybody. Who the fuck you think I mentioned it to? At the station, I only answered what my attorney, Harry, told me to answer. But you know I had to tell Angel bits and—”
“Damn, my nigga! Why did you have to say shit to her? You know she gonna run and tell Tasha. Tasha needed to hear this shit from me first.” Hearing that took some of the fun out of what I did.
“Nigga, I told her not to tell anybody, especially Tasha. And what the fuck do you mean, ‘why did I have to say shit to her?’ Who do you think answered the door when the police came by? Who do you think called Harry? In your mind, you may think you did, but you ain’t pulled off the perfect crime. Not this time. Actually, you may have fucked yourself, and my hands are tied.”
I thought about what he said, and he was right. So I said, “For what it’s worth, I apologize for putting you in this situation. I owe you for this one.”
“You owe me more than an apology!” Kay barked. “You really got me in a fucked-up situation. Anybody else, you know we wouldn’t be sitting here talking,” my partner-in-crime said as we locked gazes.
They don’t make niggas like Kay anymore. When he said that we were brothers, he meant that shit. Here I done killed his blood brother for fuckin’ my wife, but because of our history, the circumstances, and him respecting the game, we didn’t have to go to war. Of course, he didn’t like what I did. Me and him being the same age and with Kyron going in and out of jail, Mama Santos raised us up as brothers. She is like a mother to me. And to this day, I know Kyron hated me for that. But Kay understood that this was some man-to-man shit.
“So what’s everybody saying? What’s Mama Santos saying? You and she were the only ones stopping me from totally wildin’.”
Kay sighed. “Mama is disappointed. And do you really think that stabbing my brother in the throat wasn’t wildin’? Angel said there was a mention over the local news. But shit, you ain’t going to be able to keep it a secret. Angel and my moms is up at the hospital now. He’s in critical condition. Hell, Harry said that’s the only reason they let me go. But if he dies, Trae, you gonna have a hard time getting out of this one, in more ways than one. And you did all of that and ain’t even kill the nigga. Don’t get me wrong, that is my brother, and I love him. And I want to really do something to you for making my Moms hurt. But you really slipped up big time. Because if he doesn’t die, when he gets out of the hospital you will be consumed with trying to get him. And we both know Kyron, he’s coming for you. You need to get your lawyer Benny’s ass on this ASAP.”
Time felt as if it stopped. What the fuck did he mean, in critical condition? I was there when that pussy took his last breath. How the fuck can a nigga survive a stab to the throat? Hell, I know I cut the jugular vein. Real talk.
“T
rae! Trae! What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you hear me talking to you?” Kay yelled. “Yo, you looked like you spaced out over there.”
I leaned back into the sofa and shut my eyes. I was not gonna let this nigga tear my family to shreds.
Kay chuckled. “Oh, I know what your problem is. You thought you deaded him, didn’t you? The Higher Power obviously ain’t done with neither one of you niggas yet.” My eyes popped open just as Kay stood up. “Not yet. But we’ll see what happens. The next six hours the doctors say are the most critical. However, I know that he’ll be alright. I don’t know if you remember. But years ago, I told you about that dream that I kept having that was spookin’ me out. Well, I had it again. But this time, it was crystal-clear. Before, I didn’t know the ending. I know now. I shot my own brother in the head.”
2
JAZ
“I feel so bad, Jaz. We need to be out there seeing what’s up with Tasha. You know she would be here for us. But it’s so much going on right now with this business, I couldn’t leave if I wanted to,” Angel revealed.
We were on the phone for the last twenty minutes, trying to justify why we weren’t there for Tasha. However, I was on my way to see my girl. She needed us. Angel wasn’t sure when she would be able to get away to get out there. She was doing something she said she would never do, and that was to let life come between our friendships. It didn’t matter that she was in New York; hell, I lived in Georgia, but it wasn’t stopping me. Tasha had just had a miscarriage and a fling that almost cost her her marriage and her family. We needed to be there for her.
“Let me go, Angel. I’m pulling up in front of my granny’s.” I disconnected the call and got out of the car.
Faheem had dropped us off at the Hartsfield Atlanta Airport at the crack of dawn. I had a six-and-a-half-hour layover in Jersey, so I went to visit my family, who were literally in the same place I left them years ago. However, I couldn’t have cared less about them grown-ass niggas. But the clincher was when I stepped inside my granny’s house. Her house was so caked with dust that I was choking and surprised that she was still breathing. Everything was neat and in place, but it was obvious that a dust cloth, broom, and mop had not been used in a long time. It was also obvious that no one was checking on her.
I rolled up my sleeves, found some bleach, a bucket, a broom, a mop and got to cleaning. Kaeerah entertained her grandmother with stories of her classroom, her teacher, her piano lessons, and her new brother. It took damn near three hours to get the house dust-free. I wiped the tears that welled up in my eyes as I wondered how they could allow her to live like this. Hell, this was the same woman who helped raise all of us. I put away all of the cleaning stuff and decided that I wanted to cook her a hot meal, but first I needed to clean her up. That pink, raggedy housecoat she had on was dingier than the slippers on her feet.
“Granny, I looked in your closet, and you have brand-new housecoats. Why are you wearing the raggedy one?”
“Don’t come around here sassing me, girl,” she snapped.
“Granny, I’m not sassing you. I just want to get you into something fresh and clean. And look, Granny.” I held up a new pair of slippers. “You have slippers in here that you don’t even wear. Now, let me help you get cleaned up.” I had cleaned up the bathroom real good, and Kaeerah ran her tub water. I took off her robe, balled it up, and tossed it into the corner. First chance I got, it was going into the trash can.
“Mommy, look!” Kaeerah was pointing down at Granny’s calf.
There was an open wound the size of a golf ball. I gagged. “Granny.” I gagged again. “What happened to your leg?”
“Now, there you go meddling. Get on out of here so I can take my bath.”
“Granny, no! I’m taking you to the hospital right now.” I had never seen an open wound that size before, and it was grossing me out. Now I really felt like shit for not coming to see my granny much sooner.
“Hospital for what?” she countered.
“Granny, your leg is infected, can’t you see it? This is not normal. It’s not good. I’m taking you to the hospital.”
• • •
So here I was almost twenty-four hours later, still in New Jersey, luggage probably still going in circles somewhere, never making it to California to check on Tasha. After eating all I could from the vending machine, I picked up my cell to call Angel. I needed to pass some time.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be at the hospital?” Angel asked me.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure they are going to admit her. I can’t leave her until I know that she’s squared away. She needs a nurse at home with her at least during the daytime. What about you? How soon can you get free?”
“Shit, I wish I knew. Lil’ E still likes fucking with them hood niggas. And because of that, the feds came and kicked down her door, had a search warrant and everything.”
“That girl is a white and a platinum-selling rapper. What dumb shit did she do now?”
“She ain’t do shit. It’s them hood niggas she likes to fuck with. Thank God her house was squeaky clean, because they didn’t find anything. She knows Kaylin don’t play that mess. So because of her, I’m stuck here babysitting her ass and trying to keep her squeaky clean. She’s scheduled to go on tour overseas week after next, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize that and have to cancel because of some bullshit.”
“Hold on! Someone is trying to get through. I’ll call you back.” I hung up on Angel and clicked over.
“Jaz?” It was a male voice that I didn’t recognize.
“Who is this?”
“Snell.”
“Snell? You sound different.”
“Jaz, you there?”
I didn’t like the sound of his voice. “I’m here. What’s going on?” My stomach began to knot.
“Fah told me to call you. He said to come home, now.”
“Is everything okay?” My voice cracked, anticipating some bad news.
“Just get to the house. He needs you. He’ll answer all of your questions when you get there.”
“Snell, is he okay?” I pressed. Hell, I was in Jersey, not just across the street.
Frustrated with all of my questions, he snapped, “You need to get your ass off the phone and get your ass home!”
“Snell, what . . . Snell? Snell?” He hung up on me.
“Mommy, who was that?” Kaeerah was following closely behind me. Even my daughter could sense that something was wrong.
“Your Uncle Snell.” I stood and began pacing back and forth. I called Faheem but didn’t get an answer. I had to get somebody up here to the hospital so that I could take my ass back to Georgia to see what was going on with my husband.
FAHEEM
My heart sank to my feet, and my body became numb as I struggled to accept the fact that my son was lying in there on the floor, murdered in cold blood. The paramedic was treating my wound. It was two bullets that hit my shoulder. He said it appeared that a piece of bone was shaved off and that I would survive. I didn’t care one way or the other.
“We need you to answer some questions first.” The detectives were standing over me, as if I was a prisoner trying to escape.
“Not before my attorney gets here. For now, I’m going in there with my son.”
“Sir, there are, from what we can see, at least three dead bodies lying in there. Your son is not going anywhere. You are shot, your son is dead, and you’re still telling us that you don’t know anything?” the detective asked.
I jumped up and headed for the club with the detective on my heels.
“Mr. Mujahid,” the lead detective called after me. “Cuff him!” I heard him yell out. Three officers surrounded me and pushed me into a corner.
“Look. I’m just trying to be with my son. You haven’t arrested me, my prints are on none of the weapons, so get the fuck outta my way. This is bullshit. I need to call my attorney.”
“Mr. Mujahid, this is a crime scene. We are gonna have to ask
you to sit right here and turn your cell phone off,” the detective who identified himself as Boyd said to me. “We just need to ask you a few questions. Please, sir I know you are upset. But let us ask you a couple of questions and then we can let you go.”
“That’s my son, man.”
“I understand. But this is a crime scene.”
“How y’all gonna just disrespect my son and leave him on that cold floor?”
“Sir,” the other detective with the limp interjected. “We need you to have a seat. You still have not answered our questions.” Hostility was evident in his voice.
“I’m not answering shit until I speak to my attorney.”
The muthafucka with the limp had the nerve to lunge at me, but Boyd jumped in between us. He mumbled something to Detective Limp and then asked me to have a seat.
“I need to call my attorney and my wife.” I reached for my cell, and they both charged at me, and Limp snatched the cell from me. They finally got me into some cuffs.
“I told you to sit down and stay down.” Boyd hissed. “I will place your phone right here. And like I said, we need to ask you some questions.”
“My son is over there on the concrete, dead. I’m shot, and you take my phone, won’t let me call my attorney, and you put me in cuffs?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Hey, Boyd! Guess who we got laying over here?” Another one of the officers rushed over to where we were having our altercation.
Boyd turned around, and I was all ears. “Who?”
“Morgan. Dwayne ‘The Gatekeeper’ Morgan.”
“No shit!” Boyd and the rest of the officers turned and looked at me. “Damn, Mujahid. You are running with the big dogs.”
“I don’t run with nobody. I told you, officer. I don’t know these cats. I need to call my attorney.” Just as I said that, who rushed into the warehouse but Oni’s cop brother, Ronnie.
