Dream Weaver

by Nene Capri

  Derrick stood at the other end of the room with two bags at his feet. He cringed inside with Chyna’s every step. He could feel her fear and her pain. Sherm and Tate sat off to the side, ready to hold court as each man took position. Dream’s blood boiled knowing he was only feet away from a man he had been wanting to kill more than he himself wanted to live. Chyna shivered as she felt the tension in the air become suffocating.

  “Y’all niggas square up, I got some shit to do,” Sherm yelled out in both of their directions.

  “Did you bring my shit?” Dream yelled over to Derrick.

  “I need to know that we’re straight.” Derrick tried to test his safety.

  “Look muthafucka don’t press your luck. This man assured your safety, not me. He got business with you, and that’s the only reason I’m not putting some hot shit in yo’ chest,” Dream spat, trying to hold his composure.

  “Here’s your shit.” Derrick reached down, grabbed the two bags, and threw them into the middle of the floor.

  “Muthafucka did you just throw my shit? When you took that from me, you got it from my hand. Pick that shit up and bring it to me.” Dream pulled his gun from Chyna’s back and pointed it at Derrick’s head.

  “Nah, we good, ain’t no need for that.” Derrick jogged up to the bags, picked them up, and brought them a few feet away from Dream and Chyna.

  “I want you to see the pussy-ass nigga you’re in love with.” Dream pulled the bandana off her eyes, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and shook her. “Look at the bitch in him,” he taunted.

  Chyna inhaled deeply when her eyes met with Derrick’s.

  Derrick’s heart skipped as the tears filled her eyes. “You can let her go, you got yo’ shit,” he said.

  Dream smacked her on the side of her head with the gun then lowered it and shot Derrick in the knee. He stumbled back in agony, trying not to fall to the ground.

  “Dream, please,” Chyna cried as blood dripped down her face from the small cut above her eyebrow.

  Dream pushed her to his feet. “You want this nigga’s life, beg for it.” He pointed the gun back up toward Derrick’s head.

  “You promised me my safety,” Derrick yelled over at Sherm.

  “I can’t promise no shit like that. You crossed this man, now deal with this man.”

  “Dream, please. He gave you what you asked for.” Chyna looked up with pleading eyes.

  Dream looked down at her and back at Derrick. He shot him in the shoulder. Derrick stumbled back this time, falling onto his back and holding his arm as blood poured through his fingers.

  “You ain’t got to do this!” Derrick yelled as tears rose in his eyes from the pain on her face.

  “You want this punk-ass nigga alive, you beg for his life.” He pointed the gun at the top of her head.

  Chyna interlocked her fingers and cowered down in front of them. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed. “Dream, please don’t kill him,” she mumbled and cried at his feet.

  Dream looked down at the wretched sight of Chyna and Derrick, begging for their lives.

  “Bitch, you ain’t worth my bullets, but this nigga brought this ass whoopin’.”

  “Dream, please, let me pay his debt,” she cried to replace him.

  “This bitch is crazy.” Dream looked over at Sherm.

  “These ho’s ain’t loyal, man,” Sherm said smoothly from his reclined position. “You started this, you gotta finish it.”

  Dream turned to Derrick and put a bullet through his hand, his other shoulder, and then a last one in his stomach. Chyna screamed, covering her head. Derrick winced in pain and his body started to shake. Dream laughed as he watched the agony on both of their faces. Chyna crawled to his side and cradled his head in her lap.

  “I think I’ll let these two sorry muthafuckas mourn for a few minute,” Dream stated, turning toward Sherm and Tate.

  Chyna silenced her cry. She looked into Derrick’s face. His eyes were falling into an emptiness, but the look in hers was rage. She rose from her knees, crying hysterically and talking in a mumble as if she hurt from her soul. “What is wrong with you?!” she screamed at Dream.

  “What are we going to do with this bitch?” Dream asked, walking over and grabbing her by the arm. He dragged her in front of Sherm and Tate.

  Chyna scrambled to her feet, resting her hands on Sherm’s knees.

  “Look at this bitch. Even in a crisis she knows how to get into position. You can have her, Sherm, she served her purpose,” Dream said, turning back toward Derrick. He stood over him, watching him struggle for air. He aimed his gun right at the center of Derrick’s forehead.

  “You have had your hands in niggas’ pockets for years. I guess you stuck them in the wrong nigga’s pockets.” He gripped the trigger, ready to unload.

  Chyna pulled her head up from her chest, made solid eye contact with Sherm, and smiled. Sherm winked at her and looked down. Chyna’s lips formed an evil smirk. She grabbed the gun from Sherm’s lap. Slowly, she turned to face Dream and eased up behind him. Dream took in some air, ready to bust off, but then he heard a pop and felt the burn in his chest. He swung around to see whose trigger had sought revenge and was met with his attacker and three more to the chest. Dream fell back, tripping over Derrick’s body, then slammed hard on his back.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled out to Chyna laboring for air.

  “Collecting my check.” Chyna stood over Derrick and looked deep into his eyes. “Every bitch that’s weak on you won’t be weak for you. Shouldn’t have built your bankroll on pussy. Sorry, bastard,” she spat as she pumped two in his chest with ease.

  “Sherm, what the fuck?!” Dream yelled out as he coughed up globs of blood.

  “Oh, you didn’t know? It’s a contract on both y’all heads. Me and shawty bout to break bread,” Sherm said and chuckled. “There’s rules to this game, number one never bring a beast his kill. And, always cover yo’ ass.”

  Dream’s eyes widened as reality set in that he had collapsed right into the hands of his enemy.

  Chyna gave Dream a hard stare, pointing the gun at his throat. “Can I tell you a story?” she asked, watching him struggle to hold onto life. “A little over ten years ago, my father made a mistake, but I learned from that mistake. Never leave an enemy behind and always look a man in his face when you take his life.” She paused and smiled at the look on Dream’s face.

  Dream stared back, trying to place who she could have been, and then it hit him. Smoke rang loud in his head.

  “Shocked? Oh, my bad. I thought you knew.” She paused staring coldly into his eyes pointing the gun at his dark heart. “I’m the Dream Weaver, Muthafucka,” she let off a few more shots in his stomach and chest.

  Dream choked and coughed up clots of blood pushing from his lungs, and then went limp. Chyna stood, looking at their bloody tattered bodies, and was over taken by relief. Here it is was, Dream thought he had a puppet, a woman he could master. When in fact, the man holding the stings, was actually a vicious bitch with a vengeance. Both men thought they had the perfect weapon swinging between their legs. How you gonna come up when your only strategy is dick, balls, and pussy? At the end of the day, loyalty can make your dreams come true, or be your worse fucking nightmare and the man who crosses those who are loyal to him, only really crosses himself.