by Styles, T.
The man looked at Farah and then at the dude who was holding her against her will. He had a younger boy with him, whose skin was also chocolate. “Slade, what you doing?”the boy asked. “We gotta go meet our brothers. Fuck that bitch, man!”
“Give me a second, Audio,” Slade said, examining the scene from where he stood. He was trying to figure out if he should get involved.
Kirk grabbed Farah’s arm tighter and didn’t seem to be phased by the dudes, who stepped into the hallway. “Bitch, you better tell my girl who the fuck you are before I fuck you up!”
Now Slade was involved. He walked up to him and said, “I don’t know what’s going on and I’m not trying to step into your business—”
“Then don’t,” Kirk interrupted. “This between me and her.”
Slade looked down and, for some reason, his eyes averted toward Kirk’s butter-colored Timberlands. There was a large stain on the left boot that looked as if it was dried blood. He fought enough niggas and seen enough blood to know the difference. He wondered why this dude would wear shoes like that. “I hear what you saying, but I know you not about to hit no female. In front of your woman and a kid?”
“Man, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you better mind your fucking business,” Kirk rallied. “Anyway, this bitch just lied on me, and I’m not letting her go until she tells the truth.”
Farah’s eyes focused on Slade. She could smell the scent of his fresh leather black coat. Now she wished she had done more to make herself cute before walking into the hallway. “You not about to hit her in front of me.”
“Slade, we gotta bounce,” Audio said. Although he didn’t want his brother involved with Farah, his eyes moved toward her toes and he wondered what they’d taste like in his mouth. His fetish for feet was heavy. Slade gave him one look which silenced him immediately.
“I think you better listen to your little bro,” Kirk added.
“Nigga, fuck you!” Audio yelled. “You don’t know shit about me or my brother!”
Slade seemed irritated with Kirk so he slammed his fist into the wall next to their door. It folded under his knuckles as if it were wet paper. Kirk released the hold he had on Farah and she fell to the floor. The pudgy kid rushed into his apartment for fear that Slade would flatten him next. Oh, my God! And he’s strong! She’d seen Zone punch at that wall a thousand times, never denting it once.
“If you want to hit somebody ...” Slade said, removing his fist from the hole he just formed with his bare hand. White powdered plaster covered his chocolate knuckles. He stepped so close to Kirk his bitch got scared and rushed into the apartment to save herself, leaving him alone. “Then how ’bout you hit me.” Slade looked into his eyes and challenged his manhood. “I guarantee you I won’t be as vulnerable as the chick on the floor.”
Kirk looked at Slade and then at Farah. He backed up to get out of Slade’s way and said, “Don’t fucking come to my house again with no more bullshit.”
When the door slammed, Slade reached over to help Farah up. She was about to take his hand when he quickly removed it as if she spit in his palm. Farah was confused as she plopped back to the floor. He tucked his hand in his pocket and looked at her. “I’m ... I’m sorry. But I gotta go.”
Farah watched him and Audio walk away before disappearing into the stairwell. Was it something I did wrong? Maybe it’s this fucking ring. She decided from then on to only wear it when Randy was in the room. Standing on her own, she picked her cup up and brushed off the back of her jeans. When she made it to her apartment, there was a beautiful girl standing at her door and the moment Farah saw her she knew she was the one. Her hair was the same length as Farah’s. The only difference was the girl’s was black and curly. Her lashes were long and she wore a short black leather jacket and tight jeans with a pair of high black boots. She was fly and she was the twentieth candidate of the day. Maybe twenty is my lucky number.
“Hi.”The girl smiled. “Are you okay? I saw what happened over there. That shit was crazy!” Farah wondered why she didn’t help her out, but she ignored that sign.
“I’m cool,” Farah said. “I didn’t know we had so many wild-ass people in this building.”
She laughed. “You sure? You seem out of it.”
Farah turned around to see if Slade for whatever reason came back. He hadn’t. “I’m sure. It’s just that it’s been a long day.” She paused. “You here to see the room?”
“Yes ... if it’s still available.”
Putting Slade behind her she said, “After everything I been through today, you could be the worst roommate ever and I’d still let you live here.”
The girl giggled. “Well, you won’t have no problems with me. I’m all fun and games, minus the drama and the bullshit.”
“That’s what’s up. So what’s your name?”
“Lesa Carmine.”
“Well, Lesa, welcome to my crazy-ass world.”
Chapter 18
“I know we need money and we gonna move on that when we can. But that ain’t the priority now.”
—Slade
It had been two years since Slade Baker touched his mother, for fear he might hurt her. It had been even longer since he touched a woman. So when he saw the baddest bitch he’d ever seen in his life in need of help, he almost forgot the “no touch” vow he pledged many years ago.
“There go a gas station right there.” Audio pointed. “Why don’t you stop so I can get something to drink? Plus I gotta use the bathroom.” Nineteen-year-old Audio Baker, despite his wild disposition, was easy to look at with his dark-chocolate skin and wide eyes. All throughout high school Audio was popular because he said what was on his mind and let people sort it out. In an age of everybody biting their tongues, to some, he was appealing.
“I saw it, Audio. I ain’t blind.” Slade couldn’t get the chick off his mind and he was vexed. The last thing he needed was to be thinking about anything other than the trouble over his head.
“I’m just letting you know ’cause I thought that bitch still had you wrapped up.”
Slade shook his head and pulled into the station. When he found an available pump, he parked his green Ford Expedition. Slade’s ride was on its last leg and it was a wonder how they made it all the way from Natchez, Mississippi, to Washington DC without breaking down on the highway. He knew that somewhere his mother, Della Baker, was praying for the safe arrival of her sons.
“Go inside and pay for the gas,” Slade told Audio, handing him a twenty dollar bill. His eyes lit up, as they always did whenever he saw money, no matter the denomination. “Audio, don’t make me hurt you. Put this on gas only. I got a lot of shit on my mind and ain’t got time to be fucking with you. The gas.” He pointed. “Go.”
Audio walked into the station while Slade sat back and watched everyone around him make moves. He didn’t like DC any more than DC liked him, but for now it would have to do. He knew the moment niggas heard his heavy accent that they’d count him off as slow. He would make a fool out of anyone who ever got in his way. Leaving a town that didn’t want him or his brothers anymore didn’t make him slow, it made him stronger.
Firing up a blunt, flashes of the woman he met earlier ran back through his mind. She reminded him of his girl back in Mississippi, who died in a car accident some years back. When he first saw her in his cousin Markee’s building, he thought God was fucking with his mind, because of all the bad things he’d done in his life. But she was real and he felt the connection.
“What the fuck you doing, Audio?” Slade said to himself as he looked at the clock on the console of his car. He smashed out the blunt in the ashtray and was preparing to get out, when through the store’s window he could see his little brother being pummeled by two niggas like he was an open quarterback on a football field. Slade’s heart kicked up speed and his fingers covered the door handle, which was held in place by duct tape. But it didn’t open because he broke it by accident awhile back. Every other gadget in his ride was destroyed
because he could never gauge his own strength.
Finally making it out of his truck, he rushed toward the store in a sincere hurry. People who were hanging in the doorway quickly moved as Slade barreled inside. His presence seemed to fill up the entire store and everybody took notice. His fists were clenched tightly and his jaw flexed when he saw strangers lay hands on his kid brother. Ideas of mass homicide were on his mind if one follicle was harmed on his brother’s head.
When Slade spotted Audio, a grin rested on his face when he saw him handling his own with blow after blow. But when Slade made it to the brawl, he lifted one of the dudes off of his brother by the back of his coat, and tossed him across the counter. Then he grabbed another and threw him into the store window, which shattered against his body weight. The third man he tossed into the air and he flew into a rack of potato chips. When a fourth tried to help out, who had nothing to do with the shit, Slade grabbed his arm, broke it, and he screamed out in pain. When it came to wrecking with the hands, not too many dudes had shit on him. If they wanted to put him out of commission, it was best to use a bullet because he’d been hit with the best, from bats to knives, and he always came out on top. His body reflected injuries from battles won ... never lost. He enjoyed inflicting pain on people who did him wrong.
When the fight was over Slade yelled, “Let’s go, Audio!” He helped him off the floor.
Audio grinned at one of the men lying by his feet and spit in his face. “Fuck you, nigga!”
“It’s time to bounce!” Slade said. “Later for all that other shit.” Slade looked at the men who stirred on the floor due to the damage he caused to their bodies, and stepped over them on his way out the door. “I knew some shit was gonna happen.”
“But what about the gas?”Audio asked.
Slade didn’t feel like talking because his brother disobeyed him. So Audio, without another word, ran behind him as they jumped into the truck and sped out of the parking lot. The sound of sirens indicated somebody called the police and that was the last thing they needed. Wanted already in Mississippi, they weren’t trying to add Washington DC to the list. After getting far enough away, he looked for another station.
Slade drove in silence for five more minutes before finally looking at Audio. His breaths were heavy and he felt like checking his chin. He didn’t have to ask to know that whatever happened in that store was Audio’s fault. Slade took his coat off and threw it in the back seat because he was so mad he was dripping in sweat. Rolling the arms up on his black thermal shirt, the tattoo that read SLADE on the back of his left forearm was scratched lightly. He didn’t even feel it when it happened. The tattoo was in capital black letters except the letter “A” which was red, with the end of it forming a sword. It was one of many he had on his body. When Slade thought he was calm enough, he decided to check Audio for the fight back at the station. Audio was looking out the window, trying to avoid his brother, when Slade asked calmly, “Where my money?”
Never looking at him he said, “What money?”
“You want me to pull this truck over? Or do you wanna stop playing games?”
Audio looked at him, reached in his pocket, peeled a twenty dollar bill from a small stack of cash he somehow inherited, and placed it in Slade’s hand. He had more money on him now than before he stepped out of his truck. “What happened back there?” Slade’s eyes moved over him slowly before focusing on the road. “And don’t hold shit back. You never were good at lying.”
Audio turned the radio on and Kanye West’s voice sounded in the background. “The nigga bumped into me. He shrugged. “So I stole his ass.”
“Fuck is wrong with you? We ain’t come out here for this shit! We came out here to keep low.” Slade looked at Audio and then back at the road. “You gonna get us hemmed up.” He huffed. “I gave you an order, nigga. A direct order at that and you didn’t follow it. Tell me why I shouldn’t crash your chest?”
Audio was trying to bite his tongue but he was growing up and didn’t like being the baby anymore. “So what I’m supposed to do? Let some DC nigga fuckin’disrespect me?”
“You always talking about respect but you never give none.” He turned the radio off and looked at his brother. “Matta fact, I don’t wanna even hear you use the word respect until you know what the fuck it means. If I do, I’ma crack your jaw.” He paused. “We on the run. Our brothers are out there looking for us. We don’t need no extra shit on the board right now.”
“I’m not a baby no more, man.”
“Then act like it!” Slade roared. “Tonight is big. We ain’t seen our bros in two weeks. You wanna fuck that up ’cause you think you not getting respect from a nigga you don’t even know?” He was going hard because he loved him and needed him to think more carefully. Audio was country to the core and whatever he wanted, even if somebody had it, he took. The brothers were trying to temporarily mold him while in DC, knowing it was a trait that could get him killed. But Audio didn’t understand because in Mississippi they ran their small town.
“You know I wanna see my fam, Slade. But I ain’t steal his money off the counter. Them niggas lied on me! Honest! Whenever Audio said “honest,” he was anything but.
Slade shook his head and pulled over to the side of the road. “I spoke to Ma earlier. She said Devon’s gonna come up and help us out. He got us some fake IDs and a little paper to tie us over. So we gonna be all right. I ain’t trying to get locked in with no DC fucking police. We can’t do nothing that’s gonna jeopardize bringing our family back together. You gotta remember the plan, Audio. To find Knox, link up with Devon, and get outta Markee’s crib. When shit die down, we back to Mississippi. I’m about family ... Don’t make me commit homicide because you made a wrong move.”
Della Baker, who gave birth to four of her five sons alone in her home, did her best to bring them up the right way, even though trouble followed them so much that they could never seem to do the right thing. They were caught up in so much shit back home that eventually she decided that if they were going to commit crime, she would at least teach them the proper way. None of her sons knew how Della was able to break the law so easily. For real, they didn’t want to know. Under her leadership they did everything from stealing cars to moving small amounts of drugs in the city they called home.
And when shit went wrong, and somebody needed bail, Della would throw fish parties to get her sons out. After a while if any crime was committed in their town Della’s sons would be accused, even if they weren’t anywhere near the scene of the crime. It wasn’t long before law enforcement nicknamed Della’s sons the Baker Boys. Although they mainly profited from the illegal alcohol operation she ran out of the house, each of her sons favored a different crime. Slade stole cars, Audio stole anything not bolted down, Killa, unlike his nickname, gambled heavily and loved weapons, Major sold weed, and Knox robbed houses. Although the police knew the Baker Boys were usually up to something, prior to what happened a few weeks back, they liked her sons. But that was before the Baker Boys signed a deal with the devil.
Things were in motion for Slade and his brothers and there was no time to stop. First they had to find their middle brother, Knox, who fled earlier with the evidence to keep them alive and out of prison. They all waited for his call, which up until this point hadn’t come. Not only were his whereabouts crucial to their freedom, but it was also necessary for the sanity of their family.
“Audio, if you didn’t steal from them niggas, where did you get the money from?”
“What money?”
“The money in your fucking pocket!” Slade shook his head.
“I ain’t got no ...” Audio was preparing to lie when Slade reached into his jeans and pulled out the dough. Then he hit him in his chest as lightly as he could, but hard enough to knock a few breaths out of his body.
Balling the cash up and putting it in his face he said, “This money.”
“I been had that,” he lied, rubbing his chest. His lightest punch was murder.
> “Where did you get this shit? When we left Natchez you were dead broke. Now you got paper? When I paid for your food and shit all the way up here?”
Audio held his head down. “I’m tired of never having enough.” A few tears escaped him. He hated crying in front of his oldest brother. “How come we can’t never have nothing? How come we always gotta take stuff from other people?”
“Shit gonna get better. I know we need money and we gonna move on that when we can. But that ain’t the priority now.” Slade peeled a fifty back from the stack and handed it to him.
“Hold up! Why you get to keep most of the cash?” he asked, examining the fifty dollar bill in his hand. “I’m the one who took the shit.”
“’Cause I know what to do with this and you don’t. That’s why.” Slade pulled back into traffic when his phone rang. “And that’s fifty more dollars than you had awhile ago, too.” Slade answered the phone. It was his mother. “Hey, Ma ... any word?”
“Slade, the boys not gonna be able to meet you today. They’ll call you when it’s time because they haven’t made it to DC yet. They can’t call me from this number anymore, because I’m about to move again ... I think them people found me.” His heart dropped but he was happy that, for now, she was safe. “But I got more news I’ma have to push on you that ain’t too good.”
His heart skipped, thinking his brother might be dead. “What’s up?”
“Son, it ain’t good.”
Slade frowned and drove slower. “You got word on Knox?”
“It ain’t about my boy.” Slade exhaled in relief. “They found your cousin Devon’s body roped to a car. He was dragged a few miles out on a dirt road before they finally killed him. We barely recognized him, Slade, ’cause his face had been rubbed off on the gravel. No nose or lips. Your aunt Betsy is beside herself. These mothafuckas done took shit to the next level.”
