A pretty girl with short hair and even shorter shorts opened his door for him. “Hi, handsome. What can I get for you?”
Before he could respond Messiah came walking out of the office. “His money is no good here. Hook him up. Detail the inside and out,” Messiah instructed as he slapped hands with Noah.
“Is that all you need hooked up?” the girl asked flirtatiously as she bit her perfectly painted bottom lip. She wore red, the devil’s color, and the look in her eyes let Noah know she was game for anything.
He scoffed. Thirsty women weren’t his type, so he declined. “I’m good.” He pulled a knotful of hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and handed one to her. “Go buy yourself some class, shorty.”
The girl sucked her teeth and snatched the money from his hands before taking his car to be cleaned.
“You selling pussy now, my g?” Noah asked with a chuckle as he followed Messiah into the office.
Messiah laughed. “These hoes in here selling themselves, man. I just hire the pretty faces with the fat asses. What they do on the side is their business,” he said honestly.
“I’ve got some news for you, though, fam. The nigga I laid flat in the club last night was from the south side. You know a nigga named Keon?” Messiah asked.
The name registered with Noah. He would never forget the name of the first man he had killed. Bleu’s face popped into his mind. He had done it all for her and would do it again in a heartbeat. “Yeah, I blew the nigga head off,” Noah said frankly as he stared Messiah in the eyes without apology. Noah wanted Messiah to know that he would put his murder game down whenever necessary.
Messiah smirked. “We about to be legends in these streets, my g,” Messiah said. “Follow me.”
He unlocked a steel door that led to the basement and Noah followed him down the stairs. A single lightbulb barely lit up the underground space, but Noah saw the outline of a body hanging from the ceiling.
“My man that I left slumped in the club was Keon’s cousin. Apparently his people got a beef with you. I don’t know how they know it was you behind the trigger, but it’s a problem. Homeboy here is Keon’s little brother,” Messiah said. “I thought you would want to have a talk with him.”
“Who saw him come down?” Noah asked.
“Not a soul. He been down here since last night,” Messiah said smugly. “The basement is soundproof.”
Noah pulled the tape from the boy’s mouth. “What’s your name, little nigga?”
“DeMario,” the boy replied.
“How old are you?” Noah questioned.
“Fourteen.”
Noah could tell the kid was trying to be tough, but his voice betrayed him. It shook at the thought of death. Messiah had already gone to work on the kid. He was bloodied and beaten. Noah could smell the scent of piss in the air from where the kid had emptied himself. Fourteen years on the streets of Flint were different from the life a normal kid lived. Noah knew that this type of warfare came with the game. It was the mentality that crippled his city. A life for a life. Age didn’t beget sympathy in the hood because there was no finger too young to pull a trigger.
He turned to Messiah. “Close the car wash. Clear this bitch out,” Noah said.
Messiah nodded and then headed up the steps.
“Please, man, don’t kill me,” the kid said. There was fear in his eyes. Noah knew that it was necessary for the streets to fear him, but the look of dread in this boy’s eyes made Noah feel like a monster.
“You know who I am?” Noah asked.
The kid nodded his head. “You killed my brother.”
“Who told you that?” Noah asked.
“Keon’s baby mom,” the kid said. “Keon told her he was meeting up with you. Next thing you know he ends up dead and his stash was gone—Man, I don’t got no beef with you. Please, man, I swear I won’t say shit, man.”
“Who tried to clip me in the club last night?” Noah asked. His voice was stoic.
“I don’t know. I’m not in the streets, man. I just hoop. I play ball at Southwestern. I don’t be on the block like that. That’s my brother, man. I don’t have nothing to do with that!” the boy shouted. He was crying now, like the kid he was; he was terrified.
“Your brother who?” Noah asked.
The kid’s lip trembled as he stifled his cries. “It’s my brother, man,” he said, pleading because he realized he was being asked to sell his own flesh and blood out.
“Your brother sent somebody to blow my head off last night. I’ma off that nigga on switch. You can die quickly or I got all day. Choice is yours, kid. Now I’ma ask you again. Who is your brother?” Noah asked.
With tears streaming down his face the kid broke down. He was blubbering, but it was clear that he wouldn’t tell on his family. Noah respected it, but he didn’t show it. If the kid wanted to let his pride lead him to the grave then who was Noah to stop him? Noah looked at the torturous instruments that Messiah had already laid out for him. He picked up the hunters knife and walked over to the boy and placed it against his pinky finger. “His name or your finger, which one it gone be, lil’ nigga?” Noah asked.
The kid played tough until Noah began to apply pressure to one of his digits. The first sign of blood made him yell out, “Demarcus, man! His name is Demarcus!”
Noah placed the tape back over the kid’s mouth. He didn’t want to hear the screams to come. The kid broke down. He was crying like a newborn baby as he realized the Grim Reaper was standing in front of him. Bile filled the back of Noah’s throat and his stomach felt hollow because he knew that he was about to do one more thing that moved him further away from God. Murder wasn’t something he could take back. He knew that with each life he took his soul darkened more and more. It was the price to pay for street fame. On the rise to the top, the bodies of his enemies would be left in his wake.
Messiah came down the stairs with plastic tarp and duct tape in hand.
“We don’t need that,” Noah said.
“Fuck you mean?” Messiah asked.
“Sometimes you got to fight hate with love,” Noah said.
“Love? You gone show love to this nigga family? These the same mu’fuckas that tried to murk you. You’ve got to make the city fear you, my G.”
“Nah, I got to make the city love. A scared nigga will kill you, but a nigga who got love for you will kill over you,” Noah said, hoping he wasn’t making the mistake that would cost him his life.
* * *
“You sure about this?” Messiah asked as he pulled up to the small one-story house on the south side of Flint.
“We playing by new rules. No women, no kids, no innocents. I’m with the gangster shit, but it’s time to end the nonsense. This little nigga ain’t in the game. You snatched him off the hoop court. If he not a part of this life he shouldn’t die behind this life,” Noah said sincerely.
“That’s some real shit,” Messiah said as he palmed the gun that sat in plain view on his lap. “It’s your move. I got the back. I got the goons behind us in case his people want a problem.”
Noah climbed out of the car and pulled his chrome 9mm from his waist before popping the trunk. He looked behind him and saw the two cars that parked behind him. All it took was a head nod for bullets to fly. With Messiah as his right hand, he acquired an army by default. He was a street king with an army of killers.
He pulled the kid from the trunk and walked him toward the porch. The kid tripped up the steps he was so nervous.
“Relax, homie,” Noah said. He knocked on the door hard, and a short fair-skinned woman with silver hair answered.
“Oh my Lord,” the woman said with a gasp as she covered her mouth.
“I have something that belongs to you,” Noah said as he pushed the kid toward her.
She opened the screen door and hurriedly ushered him inside. “I mean no disrespect by coming here, ma’am, but I’ve got a message for your grandson Demarcus. You tell him that I don’t want no smoke.”
; The woman’s eyes watered as she nodded her head in understanding before she slammed the door closed in haste.
Noah turned around and headed back to the truck as Messiah followed. They got inside and pulled off with a caravan of shooters trailing behind them.
“Fuck was that, bruh? You know we got to find this nigga now,” Messiah said.
“It’s already taken care of,” Noah replied knowingly. “I got somebody on it as we speak.”
“I’m lost, fam; I can’t even lie. It would have been easier to put two in that little nigga head you just let go. Send a message to anybody else out here thinking shit sweet,” Messiah said.
“That message would have cost me my freedom. I’ve been on the inside. I ain’t trying to go back. You kill a fourteen-year-old hoop star the police gone be on us. He go missing for too long and Granny back there calls the cops. The kid is innocent. He don’t got nothing to do with this. I dropped him off and declared peace so when his brother turns up missing no fingers will be pointed my way. The next relative I send home will be in a coroner’s bag, but we got to do it right,” Noah said. “Snatching homie in broad day light isn’t how I play. No slipups, no mistakes, no witnesses. It’s being taken care of as we speak.”
* * *
“Penny for your thoughts?” Naomi asked as she slid onto the barstool next to a man who sat, head lowered over the glass of cognac he swirled in his hands.
“No thoughts. I’m just chilling,” the guy said as he lifted the glass to his weed-darkened lips, finishing the liquid. He motioned for the bartender and said, “Another one.” He turned to Naomi. “And whatever she’s drinking.”
Never fails. Niggas smell pussy and get stupid, she thought. Her smile didn’t match her sinister thoughts as she replied, “Lemon drop martini please.… Thank you.” She had so much sugar in her tone that she thought she would get a toothache.
“Anytime, gorgeous. I’m Demarcus,” he said as he held out his hand to her.
“Lisa,” Naomi replied as she accepted it and shook it. “Thanks for the drink.” Naomi stood and grabbed her drink and her handbag as if she were preparing to leave.
“You just gone take the drink I bought you and dip?” Demarcus asked.
Naomi turned, her forehead wrinkled in contest as she replied, “First of all, it’s only a ten-dollar drink. I don’t owe you anything. Second of all, I knew I was going to leave this bar with you before I even sat down. So we can play this game or you can follow me and take me back to a room. Fair warning: I only fuck with five stars.” She winked and he smiled, completely enamored by her candor.
He chuckled as he peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and placed it on the bar before sliding off his stool. She led him to the door as he placed his arm around her waist, palming her behind as they made their exit.
Naomi removed his hand. “Slow down, boy,” she said.
Her chest grew heavy once they were outside of the comfort of the crowded bar. She surveyed Demarcus, knowing that he had at least a hundred pounds on her. She knew that Noah needed her to come through. He needed Demarcus’s head served up on a platter in a not so obvious way. She loved Noah and this was a chance to prove to him just how much. Noah had been crowned king and she wanted to solidify her place as his queen. She didn’t want to just sit pretty and spend his money, she wanted to help him earn it and protect everything he had earned, but she had never killed before and the thought of it made butterflies form in her stomach. He has a hundred pounds on me. If it goes wrong, I could easily be the one going home with my toe tagged, she thought. They climbed into his old-school Chevelle, and while she was more intrigued by foreign whips, she had to admit that the restored car was attractive. He opened her door and she slid inside as she smiled uncomfortably. She wasn’t feeling being trapped inside the small space. She needed to hurry and get him to the hotel so that she could get this over with.
“Cat got your tongue, love? You was all talk in the bar. Now it’s time to get it popping and you like a church mouse over there,” Demarcus said.
“Just a little nervous. I don’t usually do this,” Naomi responded with hidden innuendo. Her manipulative nature came easily, but she had never murdered anyone. She wondered if she had what it took to get her hands dirty, because she was too far in to turn back now. The sick feeling that consumed her was hard to control. She just wanted to throw up. Her nerves were fucking with her and she took a deep breath to try to control her energy. She didn’t want to appear too jittery and throw red flags.
“So you’re a good girl?” Demarcus asked, intrigued as he licked his lips and peered at her briefly out of the corners of his eyes before focusing on the road ahead.
“I know how to be bad, though. Don’t misunderstand,” she flirted.
“I’m speaking your language fluently, my baby,” Demarcus replied. Naomi laughed at his play on words. “The casino hotel str8?”
Naomi knew that downtown Detroit would be too congested. Her face would be caught on cameras everywhere if they went to that location. She would have to lower her standards and choose a hole in the wall in order to remain low-key. “It doesn’t have to be fancy; I’m not tripping.”
“I ain’t gon’ take you to no bum shit, my baby,” he said. “Got to up the ante when you fucking with a queen, you feel me?”
She was grateful when he turned up the radio. It stopped them from having to interact. She didn’t want to get to know details of the life she was about to end.
When they pulled up to the popular casino and hotel in the heart of the city, she tensed. She tried to keep her head bowed slightly to avoid the camera picking up her full face. On top of the city seemed to be alive; everyone was on the scene. He would bring me to the most popping spot in the fucking D. With all of these people out here, somebody is going to be able to I.D. me once they find his body, she thought.
He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to the front desk. She played the back as he acquired the room key.
“You a’ight?” Demarcus asked as he walked up on her. “We ain’t got to do this if you’re uncomfortable. We can keep it casual or we go to the room and turn up. Whatever happens tonight, you’re in control.”
Naomi wished he could have been more of an asshole. It would have been much easier for her to deceive him.
“I’m fine. I just need to get in the room and get a drink,” she said.
“You sure?” he asked.
Stop being so nice! she shouted in her mind. He was really trying to kick it with her and she was trying to run game. His sudden charm was causing her conscience to come into play and Naomi didn’t like it.
When he hit the penthouse button Naomi felt guilt weigh on her shoulders. He was trying hard to impress her. He had no clue that she was a snake in his grass and her bite was deadly.
When she stepped into the room, she was in awe at the view that greeted them. The darkness of night was illuminated by the Canadian bridge that sat over the Detroit River. It was beautiful from this height and she was drawn to the window to admire it. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Here is that drink, my baby,” he said as he handed her a small bottle of vodka.
“This is poison,” she replied with a chuckle. “I like my drinks pretty, like me. I’ll whip something up. You just relax.”
She sashayed over to the bar as his cell phone rang. He looked down at the screen.
“Please don’t tell me I’m out here bopping around town with another woman’s man. Is that Wifey calling?” Naomi asked with a smirk.
“Never that. I’m not that kind of nigga,” Demarcus replied. “But I do have to chop it up with my nigga real quick. I’ma step out for a second.”
She gave a polite smile, and as soon as he walked out Naomi popped open her purse. She pulled the Rohypnol out of her purse. She popped the pill into the cognac and Coke drink she had prepared and quickly snapped her handbag closed just as he walked back into the room.
“Everything okay?” she asked as she
carried his drink over to him.
“Yeah, just a little business,” he said. His body language was tense and his brow furrowed.
“Look, I don’t know what the call was about, but we can end the night early if you have to shake. Your mood seems off,” she said. She grabbed her handbag, bluffing as she prepared to leave.
“Nah, it’s cool. My apologies,” he said as he grabbed her bag and slid it off her shoulder, setting it on the counter as he held both of her hands. “I’m all about what’s in front of me right now.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Bitch niggas trying me right now, that’s all. They can’t touch me, so they fucking with the people closest to me. My baby brother in high school. I hustle so he ain’t got to fuck with the streets like that. He still getting wrapped up in the middle of my shit, though. I got a two-year-old baby boy at home, my granny, and my bro. I was hustling with my people until my other bro got killed a few years back. Now it’s all on me. I don’t get this money, my family don’t eat,” Demarcus said.
Naomi didn’t know what to say. “Well, hopefully I can distract you for the night,” she said.
“You can most definitely distract me,” he replied as he sipped his drink.
Naomi watched his Adam’s apple lower as he downed the drink. A pit filled her stomach. She hadn’t expected herself to empathize with the other side. He really seemed like a decent guy. Suddenly it felt awkward to be in the business of men. Perhaps she should have let Noah handle this beef in the streets. Trying to end it in this way no longer felt right. She wasn’t heartless, and although she was a hustler, she wasn’t a killer. That had never been her M.O. By trying to prove her loyalty she suddenly felt like she was crossing her own lines of morality. She never minded getting over on a nigga. She felt like if somebody got “got” he or she deserved to get “got,” but she didn’t know if she was down to go this far.
A LaLa Land Addiction Page 8
