Trap House

by Sa'id Salaam

  Instead of Kierra getting what she had coming to her, my baby sister Tori, who was only fourteen at the time, was the unlucky one to catch that bullet. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and to top things off, that son-of-a-bitch also tried to kill me. I know you probably can’t believe what I’m saying. Hell, if I wasn’t there myself, I probably wouldn’t believe it either, but every word of it is true—and it only got worse. One of the contract killers my father hired to take us out was the love of my life, Jermaine Williams, a.k.a. “Maine.” That’s fucked up, ain’t it!

  See, it all started after Tori was killed. I felt alone because I had no one, and I felt the dope game was responsible for it, at least in some fashion. I had to do something about it, so I did what I thought was best. I took to the streets with one thing on my mind: to shut down the game one dope dealer at a time! The only way for me to work my plan was to become a major player on these mean and corrupt Detroit streets. I had an Italian connect named Frankie, whom I knew from my days working as a call girl, and he supplied me with the best product for the low-low. I operated under the alias “LB” instead of my government name, Lovely Brown, for obvious reasons. Besides, women get no love or respect in the game, and I didn’t need my girly name giving me away. Whoever said “It’s a man’s world” sho nuff wasn’t lying!

  My team consisted of me; Meechie, an old-school nigga who knew his shit; my play brother, Do It; and his chick, who was also my good friend, White Girl. On top of that, we had the help of a few other niggas from ‘round the way. Our shit was solid, and we were bringing in more money in one hour than some could imagine getting in their lifetime. Our days consisted of poppin’ tags and livin’ the good life, and our nights consisted of scratching names off our list and shuttin’ shit down. Everything was everything, but not everything was gravy, because while on our mission, we ended up making enemies with the Feds for our drug empire and massive income. That wasn’t a huge shocker, but it was a minor setback. At the same time, we were placed on Lucifer’s shit list for being in the way when he broke out of prison, ready to reclaim his throne as king of the streets, and we also managed to piss off the mafia, who placed a million-dollar bounty on my head for some shit I didn’t even do. Like I said, everything was not gravy.

  When shit started getting crazy, I was ready to bounce and put Detroit in my rearview mirror, but after all my trap houses and stash houses were robbed simultaneously, I needed just one last package to make some more money to get me wherever it was I was going. I called Frankie and was sent to pick up the package from his nephew, but when I got there, the entire place was shot up, and everyone inside was dead! Somebody had set me up! They wrote “LB” on the wall in blood and stole a million dollars from the safe as well. I hauled ass to get out of Dodge, but my plan was stalled when my play brother, Do It, who was my driver and my right-hand man, went missing and White Girl went into premature labor. I couldn’t leave Detroit without my people. Before I took off, I was going to find Do It no matter what, and we would snatch White Girl up and hit the road. Of course, my plan was derailed again, because right in the middle of all the chaos and confusion, I received a phone call from someone who demanded I say my last words to my brother. Not a word had left my mouth before I heard the two shots popping off on the other side of the phone, and then my phone died. Although my heart wouldn’t let me believe the obvious, my mind told me my brother, a die-hard nigga that had been around me my whole life, was gone and never coming back.

  Figuring that no one was safe around me, I decided to leave White girl in the hospital. I would have died if something happened to her or my little niece in the womb, who was already fighting for her life. I needed some getaway money, so I made a stop at my office because I was sure I had a nice stash of cash in my floor safe; as luck would have it, I was right. I loaded the duffel bag like a mad woman and was caught off guard by my sister Kierra, who I almost shot, thinking that she was an intruder. Earlier that day, I had seen her down at the hospital while I was visiting White Girl. She said she had something important to tell me that just couldn’t wait, so I told her to meet me in the office. In all the melee, I guess I had forgotten that.

  She ended up confessing to me that she led those killers to my house, but she swore it was not on purpose. She said she had hit a lick and wanted to do something nice for Tori, so she broke into my apartment put money on Tori’s bed, then slipped out quickly. She didn’t know she was being followed by the men who were hired to take her life—a result of that same lick she had just hit. The men waited inside my apartment, ready to do some damage, thinking Kierra would return shortly—but I don’t have to tell you how that story ended.

  She told me that after I disowned her and blamed her for the death of Tori, she immediately checked into rehab. She wanted to turn her life around, but it was too late, because she was soon diagnosed with AIDS. God only knew what my sister was going through, and I wanted to stay there and consoler her, but if I didn’t leave right away, we would both be dead. So I gave her some money for her medicine and told her I had to go. I also warned her to stay away from our father since he was the madman behind the whole nightmare. Right on cue, I noticed on the surveillance monitors from the cameras outside that we were no longer alone. About fifteen masked men surrounded the place, with their guns in hand, I knew it wasn’t good at all. I grabbed my sister’s hand, and we headed down into the basement. A few days after we bought the place, I’d had a tunnel built down there for emergencies just like that one. As she helped me move boxes from the wall, she asked what it was, and I told her it was a secret passageway with two paths. One led straight to the getaway car in the driveway, and the other was a ladder that would take us to the alley.

  Kierra took the way to the car, prepared to throw them off so I could escape, even though I begged and pleaded with her not to. “Keep going, Lovely. My life ends here. One sister died because of me already, but this time, one sister will live because of me.” We exchanged “I love you’s” while I climbed the ladder to the alley, and in seconds, she was in the car, ready to save my life.

  It looked and sounded like being on Jefferson for the annual fireworks display when they shot up my sister, killing her instantly. Although I was unbearably sick to my stomach, I knew there was no reason to stop and turn around. Going back would have been useless, because there was nothing to go back to. My big sister was gone, and once they realized it was her instead of me, the man hunt—or the woman hunt, for that matter—would begin.

  I ran as fast as I could through the alley, jumping over trash and dodging stray cats. I made it to a main street just as a city bus approached, and I was thankful for that. Finally feeling safe and secure, I didn’t think twice about getting on. I dropped my duffel bag and caught my breath, and then I paid the driver a stack to take me as far as he could go without stopping. Just then, I turned around and saw a face I recognized. It was Lucifer himself, dressed as a homeless man. He applauded me for a job well done.

  Without hesitating or skipping a beat, I went for my piece just as he went for his. When our guns were pointed at each other and I was about to blow his muthafuckin’ head off, he started talking shit, trying to mess with my mind. “Baby girl, don’t you miss Daddy?” When I had nothing to say, he continued, “Lovely, they had to go. They were liabilities,” he answered, reading my mind. I still didn’t say one word, so he went on, “Your mother was a fucking crack head, and you know I don’t condone that shit. She was sucking and fucking every nigga or bitch with a dollar. Her ass was dirty and disrespectful, and everybody knew she was my wife.” He pointed to himself, and I caught a glimpse of a bezel diamond pinky ring and Rolex watch. I cursed myself out in my head because had I been on my game, I would’ve noticed that shit and the brown Gucci loafers he was wearing under the dingy get up when I first stepped on the bus. If I would’ve been paying attention, maybe my ass would’ve gotten right off that damn bus. “She was supposed to hold it down until I came back for her, but sh
e fucked that up in the most disrespectful way, Lovely. She had to go!” he barked and then took a step toward me.

  “Forget Lena! You right. She was a junkie, not to mention a poor excuse for a mother.” I gave him no grief about my mother because it was no secret that she was not my favorite parent. When I was younger, there were so many days when I went hungry and many nights when I went to bed dirty because of lack of running water. My father had given her a huge amount of money to hold us over, but the only people to see most of it were drug dealers. “But just tell me one thing…why would you kill your own flesh and blood, your baby girl, Tori? She was just a kid, and she never did nothing wrong to nobody! She had her whole life ahead of her,” I said, holding back the tears as I thought about how much I loved my fourteen-year-old sister and how she was so much like my baby. I was only five years older than Tori, but she was indeed like a daughter. I was too young to be her mother, of course, but I would’ve done anything to make sure she was happy and well taken care of.

  “Tori was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those bullets were meant for Kierra, and I‘m sure you know that by now,” he said without a shred of remorse, like “Oops! It was an accident, but what‘s done is done.”

  “Shit! Kierra was your blood too. Hell, she was your firstborn!” I snapped.

  “Muthafucka, I’m your blood, and you standing here with a gun pointed at me like I‘m a nigga in the street,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Lovely, the day Kierra became a crack head was the day I disowned her as my daughter, and she fucking robbed my guy, so you know she had to pay. Family is family, but baby, business is business—and it don’t matter who you are. She put herself in a fucked-up situation, and she knew the consequences. Junkie, prostitute, dealer, worker, lookout, narc, judge, or lawyer—when you play in these streets, you got an expiration date. Baby, that girl’s time was up, and that’s just the way it is! As for you, LB—that’s what they callin’ you these days, right?”

  He looked up at me with a smile that could melt hearts and the most beautiful emerald-green eyes that always seemed to amaze me. When I was younger I used to love to stare into them because they were the exact shade as mine. I always thought my father looked a lot like actor Terrance Howard and was perfect and could do no wrong. So, it puzzled me when people in the media downed him, calling him names like “murderer” or “monster” or “the Devil.” It angered me, and I couldn’t understand why so many people said those untrue things about my daddy. Every night, I prayed that people would see the beautiful, kindhearted, giving man who tucked me and my sisters in bed, smothering us with Eskimo kisses and telling us bedtime stories. However, standing there on that bus looking his cold-hearted ass in the face, I could’ve sworn he had horns coming out of his head and a pitchfork in his hand, but the more I stared at it, the more reality told me it was really just a Desert Eagle aimed right between my eyes.

  “Well, as for you, it’s simple, baby. I’m home now, ready to reclaim my position as GOD on these streets.” He raised his arms up like he was the king of kings and the lord of lords. “Unfortunately, I can’t do that with you in my way. You got the connect straight from the muthafuckin’ MOB, and I want it!” he said through clenched teeth.

  “How do you know about my connect?” I asked, as it all began to make sense. I knew I had been set up, but I didn’t know who had done it, so when Lucifer told me he knew about my connect, I had my culprit.

  “I run this shit, Lovely, and don’t you ever forget that! I been keeping tabs on you since the first day you entered the game, baby. I knew about Maine and how much he loved you, even if you didn’t know he killed your mom and was there when your sister was killed. I know about Do It and White Girl’s baby. Don’t shit go down in the ‘hood without me knowing about it!” he barked.

  “So you mean Maine isn’t working for you anymore?” I asked with a confused look on my face. Maine and I had been dating for a while, but we never really disclosed our line of business with each other. He didn’t know I was the notorious drug dealer LB, and I didn’t know he was the contract killer hired to take my empire down. He had tried to warn me about my father just hours earlier, but I thought he was out to get me, so I fled from the hotel we were hiding out in. From the looks of things, I should’ve stayed my ass with him, and maybe I wouldn’t have found myself in that position on that bus. “You set me up with my connect, and you put the Feds on me, too, didn’t you? You bastard!” I continued.

  “I may be a lot of things, baby, but you know damn well I ain’t no fucking snitch. After all, I got knocked because some snitch-ass nigga couldn’t keep his fucking mouth closed. So to answer your question and make it clear, no. You got the Feds on your ass all by yourself, baby girl. You was running major weight and clocking dollars, and if you caught everybody’s attention in Detroit, then you know you caught their attention. The Feds see everything.” He glanced down at his fancy watch. “Anyway, I’m glad we had this little chat, but it looks like our ride has come to an end,” he said, taking a step closer to me.

  I stepped back. “Don’t fucking come any closer to me, or I’m going to blow your fucking brains out!” I yelled.

  He stepped closer to me again, and again I stepped back. “Baby girl you ain’t no real killer, because if you was, you wouldn’t have warned me. You would’ve just pulled that trigger,” he said, taking another step toward me and putting his hand over my gun.

  I backed up but bumped right into the bus driver. He hemmed me up into a full nelson, causing me to drop my gun. “What you want me to do with her, boss?” he asked, as the bus crept along.

  I could’ve kicked myself. I hadn’t even noticed that the bus was barely moving. I looked up at his six-seven frame and noticed a huge slash scar across his entire face, starting from under his chin and ending right at his temple. I wished I had a machete so I could put another one on the other side to make an X. That bastard who had a hold on me needed crossing out. My hopeful gaze once again fell upon my father’s menacing scowl, as I waited for him to answer his goon, but I knew for certain that my life was over. There was no need to scream. It was two o’clock in the morning, and no one was out except bums, dope boys, and crack addicts, who were not about to play Captain Save-a-Ho for my ass.

  “Lovely, I’m sorry it has to end like this, but it is what it is—no hard feelings.” He brushed a piece of dangling hair away from my face and then planted a kiss on my cheek like some type of bullshit straight out of the movies. “Tell your mother and sister I said hello.” He put the barrel of his gun right up against my forehead, and I didn’t even flinch or close my eyes because I wasn’t going to give his sorry ass the satisfaction. There was no point in begging him to spare my life because I knew my father wasn’t cut out like that. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never changed his mind about anything. Once he said it, it was done!

  Chapter 1

  The federal agent watched Real get out of his lime green Lamborghini Murcialago LP 460 with his fiancée Constance and head into G-Spot, his high class strip club located on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta. Real had been under federal investigation now for six months, ever since a federal informant tipped them off about his illegal activities.

  Anyone who came into contact with Real would surely put him well beyond his actual age of only twenty-seven years. He was six feet tall with a medium built muscular frame that the ladies couldn’t get enough of. His smooth, charcoal black skin, wavy hair, and light brown eyes gave him an exotic look that would have any woman fawning over him.

  Real was a real charmer and a ladies man. He prided himself on his slick tongue and convincing rhetoric. Some people in the past had mistaken his easygoing manner for weakness, but in the end, they found out Real was an extremely dangerous individual.

  Constance, Real’s baby girl, fiancée, and business partner, was always by his side. Constance was three years older than Real, the spitting image of Lisa Raye with a little more hips and ass. Constance
grew up in the College Park projects, where she got down with the grimiest of niggas hustling crack to the project fiends. After a few run-ins with other hustlers, the word spread quickly that lil’ fine ass Constance would bust her gun at the drop of a dime.

  After graduating from Banneker High, Constance tried her hand at real estate. In no time, she became a highly reputable broker that only dealt in the most high-end homes. Constance became a millionaire virtually overnight.

  Constance and Real had met three years earlier at a mutual friend’s birthday party. They kept each other company throughout the party. Before leaving the party, they exchanged numbers and promised to stay in contact. A week later, Constance was selling Real a $4.7 million estate in North Atlanta—the one in which they now both reside.

  Real was a millionaire in his own right, raking in millions in the drug trade, more than he would ever make going legit. He supplied dealers from every coast. Moving over 100 kilos a week enabled him to live the lifestyle of some of the world’s biggest sports figures. After continuous preaching from Constance to put together some kind of legit source of income, he opened up G-Spot, an upscale strip club that catered to the rich and famous.