by T. Styles
“I…I…don’t know where he’s at,” she answered. Her bottom lip trembled as she wrung her hands together absent-mindedly. She looked at Tommy with a petrified expression as he suddenly keeled over onto the floor with a thump. He hit his head on the wall and just lay there panting on his stomach.
“Oh, God, Jesus. Jamal! What have you done?” She asked in a high pitch voice that made me feel like she was calling my name for a reason.
“Bitch! Where my mothafucking daughter at?” I aimed the gun at her head.
“Ohhh, I’m so sorry, baby…I’m so sorry.” She began to cry causing her shoulders to heave.
“Where is she? Where is Shamika?” I raised my voice looking around the house. That’s when I thought I heard a floorboard crack, and as Tanya continued to cry she cocked her head to the side like she heard it too. The entire time, Tommy made gasping sounds as he struggled to breathe.
“Shamika and Steve are gone…I’m so sorry, Mal,” Tanya cried some more, with her conniving ass.
I couldn’t be certain the tears were real. I didn’t feel a pang of sympathy for her. What I did feel was the hair on the back of my neck stand up; something wasn’t right. My conscience was telling me to leave but my heart was telling me to look for my child. My gut told me she was there.
“Shamika,” I called out just as Tommy stirred on the floor in a puddle of blood. His body convulsed violently, and then he stopped moving. He took his last breath and died on living room floor.
“Daddy! Daddy! Help me,” my child cried out from someplace near. It sounded like it was in the next room.
Tanya cut her eyes at me fearfully.
“Where she at?” I asked.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it-”
Wham!
Before she could get the words out, I punched her in her mouth like a man. She flew across the room like she had been shot from cannon. I rushed over to her and placed the gun to her head.
“You didn’t have nothing to do with what? You lying ass bitch. You left me in the joint for dead and got pregnant by my best friend and set up your own child for what? For what?”
That’s when I heard a floorboard creak again. I pressed the gun to her head, prepared to kill her trifling ass and rescue my child. Her intuition must have warned her I was about to push the expiration date on her life because she began to confess. Most of it was inaudible because she was frantic and didn’t want to get shot in the head.
“I told you it was Steve and Tommy’s idea! They killed your mama, tortured her trying to make her tell them where the money from the Brinks truck was stashed,” Tanya was screaming at the top of her lungs now.
“Daddy! Daddy,” my daughter called my name. That time I was certain it was coming from the next room and it sounded like she was trying to warn me.
“Shamika is in the next room. It was Steve and Tommy’s idea to do those terrible things to her…They wanted the money—”
“What terrible things?” I prayed she wasn’t talking about the rape.
“They…hurt her.” Tanya began to cry harder as she flailed her hands. I pushed the muzzle of the gun to her temple. My finger shook terribly. I pressed down about to squeeze the trigger. This was the chick I had been dating since grade school—I took her virginity at thirteen and she stole my heart. By the time she was fourteen, she was pregnant with my child. At fifteen, I was a proud father hustling in the streets.
Call me a sucker for love but as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t pull the trigger and squeeze on my baby mama.
Instead, I punched her in the face again with all my fucking might; despicable bitch let some nigga molest her own fucking child for the sake of money.
Semi-conscious her eyes twitched, moving around in the back of her head as her leg jerked. I stood up, ears alert. A shadow danced across the wall. At first I thought it could have been the shadows of a birds flying across the window, but then the floorboards squeaked again.
I listened closely with my heart pounding in my chest; a trickle of perspiration ran down my spine.
“Daddy! Pleeease…come get me!”
I took off down the hallway with the floorboards squeaking under my feet as I waved the gun from side to side. There was a door on my right. I opened it and the smell inside the room was awful. But to my relief, there was my daughter, tied to a chair. She looked disheveled and uncared for. Her hair was uncombed and matted to her head. Someone had placed a worn sheet over the window, but some sunlight peeked through and cast a yellow glow across her pretty face.
With the quickness, I rushed over and began to untie her feet with my back to the door. My baby was just a teenager, but time and abuse had aged her incredibly.
“Oh, daddy, they raped and beat me. Mama let them,” she cried hysterically, placing her face in the crook of my neck as I reached behind her to untie her arms. I placed the gun in her lap so I could use both hands.
“Shhh, baby, I got you. I’ma take you far far away from here. I promise,” I cooed as I kissed her forehead. That’s when I heard a floorboard squeak behind me too close for comfort.
Shamika whispered with a frightened quiver in my ear. “Daddy, Steve is behind you…. He’s behind you.” Her eyes darted. I felt her entire body begin to shake.
“Fuck, nigga, I got your bitch ass now. Let me see your hands,” Steve said with a dry cackle that sent chills down my spine. My first instinct was to reach for the gun on Shamika’s lap but that would have only placed her in harm’s way. Instead, I did as he insisted and raised my hands.
“My nigga, this what kind of time you on? Raping children and shit? And you killed my mama! What part of the game is that?”
“You always taught me it was better to catch bees with honey, so I just used your honey.” He chuckled again and then added, “I knew it was just a matter of time before you showed up looking for this little bitch but I didn’t think you would be this fucking bold.”
“Man, this my child and that was my mama you killed.” I said and glanced down at Shamika. I was startled at the expression on her face. It wasn’t fear anymore, but something else that was hard to describe. It was as if her beautiful brown eyes had turned black as coal as tears streaked her ebony cheeks.
“Nigga, save all the fucking rap. This shit ain’t based on sympathy, it’s about that paper. Now turn your ass around and walk back this way. Keep your fucking hands up where I can see them.”
I slowly turned around. All Steve had on was some white sweat socks, gray boxer shorts and a wife beater. He sneered as he pointed a chopper at my chest. Sirens blared in the distance.
“This going to be the part of the story where the student outsmarts the teacher, nigga,” he said with a gloating grin as he gestured with the assault rifle for me to move and get against the wall so he could see me better in the dim light. I moved as directed.
“So this is the deal, right fucking now you gonna tell me where that money at— ”Blocka! Blocka! Blocka! Blocka!
Suddenly shots rang out, causing me to duck out the way as bullet casings landed on the floor. Steve was hit in his chest multiple times and he landed on one knee, using the AK-47 as a crutch to support himself. A bubble of blood burst from one of the gaping holes in his chest, staining his shirt red. He was staring at Shamika with a twisted frown on his face, almost like he wanted to cry.
I turned around and saw my daughter, still sitting in the chair, holding the gun with a look on her face that wasn’t of a child, but a young woman forcibly pushed into adulthood.
“Naw, mothafucka!” She shouted at him as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. A ribbon of gun smoke billowed from the muzzle of the gun. My right leg was shaking so badly, as if it was telling me it was time for us to leave. Steve slumped over, dead, on his knees like a Muslim during prayer.
“Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s move,” I said jumping up and taking the smoking gun out her hands.
“Mama put my little sister up for adoption! She let them do these things to
me she said because I reminded her of you.”
“Your mama ain’t going to harm you anymore, I promise,” I said kissing her forehead as I eased her out the seat. She stood on wobbly legs. I glanced out the window just as a cop car pulled up.
“You gotta go. There’s a white SUV parked outside with a lady in it. Tell her you’re my daughter. She will help you,” I said walking her briskly to the front door.
When I opened the door, I saw more police cars pulling up. I slammed it shut. Fuck! Carefully, I pulled the curtains to the side and eyed the stolen SUV. I didn’t see Lourdes inside. Maybe she found out the cops were coming and left. Or, maybe she got fed up and left me. Either way, my mind was messed up.
Since we couldn’t go out front, I decided we needed to make an exit from the back. When I opened the back door, surprisingly, I saw Lourdes. What was going on? “Go with her. I’ll be right back,” I instructed my daughter.
I turned around and went back in the house. I grabbed my AK and aimed at Tanya. I squeezed the trigger and shot her in the forehead.
The police were at the door so I dipped back outside to meet Lourdes and my daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LOURDES
A LITTLE EARLIER
I was halfway up the block on foot when I heard a series of gunfire. I’d been with Preacher long enough to know that he was somehow involved. Everything in me wanted to turn around and help him but I made a decision when I got out of that truck. He was no longer my problem.
I was tired of the violence and gore that seemed to surround him everywhere he went…everywhere we went. But I would be a fool if I didn’t say that even through all of it, he saved my life in some strange way. I at least owed him a favor in return. One last favor and in my mind and heart, I’d be able to leave him for good.
I was prepared to jog back up the block to the truck but when I glanced up the street, I noticed a sea of police cars. They were closing in on the house Preacher went in to and I knew if I didn’t think quickly he would go to jail for the rest of his life. Especially if he killed the niggas who hurt his daughter.
When I gazed down the street the other way I noticed a dude about to get inside a black Navigator. He was talking on the phone and he appeared oblivious to the fact that I was rushing up behind him. There was one problem, I wasn’t armed. How could I convince this guy to not only let me into his truck but to also let me drive away with it?
I thought back on all the skills I’d acquired from Preacher over the past weeks. If there was one thing I learned it was that the mind was the greatest weapon. If used correctly, it would be the only weapon I needed. So I took a deep breath and strutted up the block like I did back in the day. My hips swayed from side to side like a woman of the night.
When I made it to the back of the dude, I forcefully jabbed two of my knuckles into his lower spine. I needed him to think I had a gun, and that I was fully prepared to use it.
“I don’t want to kill you, but right now I ain’t got shit to lose,” I said calmly. “You hear them cops up the street? They looking for me ‘cause I just killed my husband and left his body on the windshield of our car.”
“W-why?” he stuttered.
“’Cause I got tired of hearing his fucking mouth. Now all I want is this truck. If you don’t want to end up dead on this windshield, throw the keys on the front seat and walk away.”
“Please don’t take my truck. I just got—”
“Nigga, you think it’s a joke?” I yelled. The base in my voice rose from the pit of my stomach. “Throw the fucking keys.”
“Shit,” he exclaimed before following directions.
“Good, boy. Now I want you to take four steps up without looking back. If you look at me, if you see my face, I’ma have to slump you. Now walk. But do it slowly.”
He took the steps forward and I grabbed the keys, slid into the front seat and slammed the door. I pulled the truck out and rolled past the stranger who never looked my way. It wasn’t until I was away from him that I exhaled. It worked. It actually worked.
I drove up to the stop sign, made a right and then another right, headed for the back of the house Preacher went into. As I continued to my destination, more police cars converged in the area. The streets where congested with more cops than I had ever seen in my entire life.
In the distance, I could hear a barrage of assault weapons. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the steering wheel. My knuckles were white but I continued to drive like Preacher’s heart had some type of GPS leading me to him.
I ignored another officer waving at me to stop as I passed through some kind of badly constructed barricade made simply of two police cars with their lights flashing as they partially blocked the street.
I turned into the alley and was instantly greeted by a platoon of cops and a K-9 unit that was moving from garage to garage as several helicopters buzzed by overhead. That’s when, through the bushes, I spotted Preacher and his daughter leaving the house. I parked the truck, got out, looked around and hopped over the fence.
Preacher looked at me.
Time stopped.
We stared.
The moment was as fragile as life itself.
He smiled and told his daughter to go with me while he went back into the house. What was he doing? Didn’t he realize he was seconds away from being arrested? When I heard gunfire I got my answer. He was sending one last soul to hell.
Luckily, he didn’t stay inside too long. He rushed back out and we made it to the stolen Navigator. I took the driver’s seat, Preacher the passenger side and his daughter jumped in the back.
Instead of finding a street, I pushed on the gas and drove under a carport, startling Preacher when I brought the truck to an abrupt stop. I wanted to conceal us from the ghetto birds in the sky. I wanted them to believe that we had vanished.
From our viewpoint, we could see the cops with the K-9 unit preparing a sneak attack behind the house that Preacher was inside of earlier. It was obvious that the cops were prepared to stage and all out war. My legs shook because I knew I had to get us away safely. It was my sole responsibility and the reason I came back. Before I pushed off, I stared in my review mirror at his child. She was quiet and for a moment I saw Feather’s face. I felt like if I got us out alive, I would have a chance to right one of the wrongs in my life.
Before I pulled off, Preacher said, “Thank you.”
Those two simple words carried a lot of weight with me. He had my heart and there was no doubt about it. How a man could change your body and your mind just by looking into your eyes I would never begin to understand. All I knew was that this man was for me and there was no way I was letting him go.
Ever.
“Bend down, baby,” I told Preacher. “I’m gonna get us out of here. I don’t care what I have to do.”
****
Today was beyond rough. Somehow, someway, I was able to get away from the scene of the crime. The cops were looking for another Baltimore male thug who fell victim to the streets, instead of a woman.
Several blocks later as I navigated through traffic on Anderson Avenue, I expelled a deep sigh of relief.
“You can sit up now, baby.”
Preacher popped up and looked at me with a loving expression. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. His lips felt like butter-soft leather. “Thank you so much for coming back. Now it’s time to get the money and go far away from here. Just you, me and our daughter.”
He placed his hand on my inner thigh and tugged it firmly. My pussy moistened and I wanted him all over again.
Although my mind briefly separated from the drama of the day when he caressed me, I couldn’t help but think about the money he couldn’t seem to live without. Where was it? How much was it and what else would we have to give up to get it? I wanted all of my questions answered but a child was in the car. I didn’t want to fuck up her young mind with adult conversations any more than it already had been.
I looked back
at her and smiled. I wanted her to see in my eyes that I was real and I cared about her well-being. “As soon as I can, I’m going to do your hair real pretty and get you some nice clothes.”
Her eyes lit up and she said, “You promise?”
We came to a stoplight. “I promise,” I assured her with all of my heart. “I used to have a little girl who looked just like you. And I never got to do those things with her.” I hadn’t expected to feel this level of emotion and suddenly I was choked up.
Preacher rubbed my leg softly. When I looked over at him, he said, “I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it you.”
****
We’d just come back from a mall where Preacher bought me a bunch of revealing clothing and his daughter a few outfits. Irritated with my clothes, I tossed the bag in the back. When we were inside the mall, I told him I wasn’t wearing that shit out of the store and he said he didn’t want me to. Since they were my size and they were for me when did he want me to wear them? It wasn’t like we could get freaky with his daughter in the car.
I know I used to dress like that but the more time I spent working on the new me, the more I wanted to stay away from my past.
Moments later, we stopped at an old motel. I drove silently along the property. Eventually we were able to determine which room was vacant by looking through the open drapes. When I gazed at the doorknobs, I could tell that these rooms needed metal keys as opposed to key cards. This was good because it meant we could pop the lock and gain entry into the room, and that’s exactly what Preacher did. We didn’t know who was looking for us, so renting a room could get us caught.
When we were inside, Preacher took his daughter to the bathroom and cleaned her up. When he was done, he brought her back into the bedroom and tucked her in. I loved how he was with her. So caring and so attentive.
A ripple of resentment washed over me but I shook it off. It was unfair of me to think that he shouldn’t have his child simply because I didn’t have mine.
