Moth to a Flame

by Antoinette, Ashley

  “I would really love for you to come home. We are all we have left. We have to stick together, Justine said solemnly. She turned to Ethic. “Thank you for rushing here to be with us, Ethic. You were like the son Benjamin never had, and he trusted you.”

  “Do you need anything?” Ethic asked.

  Justine looked to the floor as her bottom lip quivered. “What I need you can’t give me, Ethic. No one can.” She walked away, holding Morgan’s hand.

  Ethic turned to Raven. “How did you get here?”

  “I rode in the ambulance with my daddy.”

  “Let me take you home,” he said. He removed his Sean John hoodie and wrapped it around her shoulders, then led her outside to his car. Raven’s nerves were shot, and she breathed deeply, trying to calm down. She desperately needed a line of coke to take the edge off. She needed it to take her away. She sniffled loudly as her nose ran, and she became antsy. Ethic noticed her erratic behavior, but he dismissed it. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, and assumed that she was grieving over what had happened. They did not speak as he took her back to Mizan’s. Her world had been turned upside down and she was sure that it was her fault. Something had gone wrong. Mizan told me that this would be easy.... that nobody would get hurt, she thought.

  Ethic could see that Raven was deeply affected by Benjamin’s death. Everyone knew that she was the apple of her father’s eye, and he was sure that this would affect her more than anyone else. “I’m sorry, Raven,” Ethic said. The way he spoke her name reminded her of her father, and she put her face in her hands and sobbed quietly. Ethic rubbed her back gently with one hand as he steered the car with the other. “Let it out, ma. You don’t got to play tough. Let it out.”

  As soon as Ethic pulled in front of her house, Mizan stepped out onto the porch to make his presence known. Ethic turned Raven’s face toward him, his touch like electricity running up and down her spine. “You sure you don’t want to stay with your moms tonight?” he asked. “You don’t have to play this game anymore. You can go back home.”

  “Raven!” Mizan called, causing her to jump in her seat.

  “I’ve got to go, Ethic,” she said nervously, her wide eyes filled with emotion. She opened the door and Ethic grabbed her hand gently.

  “Just because your father is gon’doesn’t mean you don’t still have an army of niggas behind you. All you got to do is say the word. I don’t like your nigga. The only reason he’s still breathing is because of you,” Ethic whispered.

  “Rae!” Mizan’s voice was like the bark of a pit bull.

  Raven pulled back her hand. “I’m sorry, I got to go,” she said again. She walked up to the house, never looking back as she went inside. Mizan put both of his hands up as if to tell Ethic that he was ready to pop off anytime.

  Ethic bit his inner cheek as he tried to control his temper. He had never been the type to start a fight, but if Mizan wanted to push him to the edge, he would have no problem finishing one. He got his money low key. He avoided the flash and the spotlight so that he could keep a low profile and avoid unwanted attention from the police. Mizan, however, was pulling his card and provoking him to start a beef. Ethic knew that Mizan was intimidated by him. The look in Raven’s eyes when she looked at Ethic infuriated Mizan, which is why he was itching to take him off the map. I don’t want your bitch, Ethic thought as he backed out of the driveway. Ethic did not have to prove his gangster. He had only been in Flint for a few months and his name already rang bells in the street. As a man of few words, he didn’t speak unless he had something important to say. At first, the hustlers in Flint had taken his passive personality as a weakness, but after he proved that he was about his gunplay, he commanded the respect of his peers. Ethic hoped that he didn’t have to make an example out of Mizan, because once Ethic pressed “go” on his murder game, there would be no stopping him.

  Mizan stepped back into the house and approached Raven. Before she could say a word he wrapped one hand around her throat. He pushed her head against the wall so hard that the drywall dented behind her. “Fuck is wrong with you? I’ve been calling your phone all fucking day. You were too busy out fucking with that nigga to answer my calls, bitch,” he said harshly as he chastised her with a finger in her face. Raven grabbed at his hand for release. She couldn’t breathe and her eyes bulged from the lack of oxygen. “This the second time that mu’fucka done came to my house on your behalf. You fucking him?” Mizan yelled through clenched teeth as he pounded her head against the wall repeatedly.

  She fell to her knees when he released, her and grabbed the back of her head as an instant headache formed in of her skull. She sobbed as she braced herself on the floor while nursing her injured neck. She stared at him in contempt.

  “I’m not fucking him! He works for my father! He’s dead, Mizan! I’ve been at the hospital all day. Ethic just brought me home!” she yelled. “You told me nothing would go wrong!”

  Mizan’s rage melted away as he processed what she had just said. “Nothing was supposed to go wrong,” he said defensively. “What happened?”

  “When we showed up there were police everywhere! Daddy thought something bad had happened to my mom. He was just trying to get inside to see. They shot him, Mizan! He’s gone.” She curled up on the floor, lying on her side, her back facing Mizan. The immeasurable pain that plagued her heart was almost too much to handle. It was torture.

  Mizan smiled wickedly. He hadn’t intended for Benjamin to die, but now that it had happened, the reality of his situation was bittersweet. Bitter for Raven, but oh-so-sweet for him. Now he could take over the streets without fear of Benjamin’s retribution. He looked at Raven on the floor and lay down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “Everything’s good now, ma ... The world is mine, and as long as you are loyal I will share it with you.”

  Raven closed her eyes as she felt Mizan’s lips grace the back of her neck. To her it felt like the kiss of death. She loved him, but now it seemed like everything she had done to please him had turned her soul black.

  Chapter Nine

  During the week that Raven was picking out caskets and flowers, Mizan was scoping out corners and trap houses. He played the sympathetic boyfriend well, but his only concern was taking over her father’s empire. He knew that he would have competition from the low-level workers who had hustled beneath Benjamin. They would want to see an insider move up and take reign of the streets, but Mizan wasn’t having it. He had already killed the head of the operation; now it was time for the body to fall.

  He had a week until the funeral. It was street code that the next king could not be crowned until the one before him was put to rest. A meeting had been planned, seven of Benjamin’s highest lieutenants, to be held directly after the services, but unfortunately for them Mizan had other things in store. He had seven days to hit seven men, all of whom were in line to succeed their boss.

  The ruthlessness that it took to make it to the top was something that most men did not possess, but Mizan was the grimiest of character and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. No one would be spared. If anyone stood in his way they would be taken care of, including Raven. The fact that he had claimed Benny Atkins’ daughter as his prize made him feel superior, as if he had delivered the ultimate slap to the face of Flint’s kingpin. Everyone in town knew that Raven was Benjamin’s most treasured loved one, but she had chosen Mizan over him. He had plucked Benjamin’s most delicate flower and now she belonged to him. She was the perfect trophy as long as she stayed in check.

  Mizan was not green to the game, however. He had convinced Raven to betray her own father so he knew that her loyalty to anyone else would never be rock solid. If he even smelled the foul scent of disloyalty he would tie all loose ends. He had become soft on her, but even she was expendable. It was all in the game. She had wanted to live the street life, and now that she was in it, there was no walking away.

  Yul “Big Baby”Snell left his home at 2:00 A.M. He
had no clue that it was his day to die. His name fit him perfectly. His baby-boy features made him a hot commodity to the ladies around town, despite the platinum wedding band on his chubby finger. He had been working for Benny Atkins since he was fourteen years old and he had put in work over the years. A born hustler, he could sell sand to a beach. The way he moved weight he should have been a millionaire by now, but he was a known trick and couldn’t help but spend his money on maintaining his women. As Mizan followed him through the city streets, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to meet one of his A.M. jump offs.

  He followed him out of the city limits until he pulled up to a black-and-white cottage-style home. Mizan cut his headlights and parked a block away, then watched Big Baby exit the car. Mizan’s eyes scanned the house carefully, trying to figure out how many people were inside. The house was dark except for one room, and when he saw a voluptuous woman answer the door wearing skimpy lingerie, he knew she was alone.

  “Damn,”Mizan whispered as he admired the woman’s physique. “I’ma give you time to hit that one last time. You deserve that.”He shook his head as he screwed the silencer on to his ratchet. He hoped Big Baby had the best orgasm of his life, because it would surely be his last.

  Mizan slipped on leather gloves, got out of his car, and crept toward Big Baby’s shiny Denali truck. Unfortunately for Big Baby, he had been too preoccupied to lock his car doors. He had practically invited Mizan to hide in the backseat. Pussy make this nigga go dumb, Mizan thought, knowing that he would never give another man a chance to catch him slipping. To kill Mizan would be like hunting a lion: most times the lion ended up being the last one standing. He checked his watch and prepared for a long wait as he stretched out on the floor. The windows were tinted, so he didn’t have to worry about Big Baby seeing him before he got in the car.

  Fuck, dude taking all day to handle his business, Mizan thought after two hours of waiting. Finally, Big Baby emerged from the house. As soon as he entered the vehicle, Mizan popped off.

  Psst... .

  The gunshot was barely a whisper as it sent a hollow point flying through Big Baby’s skull. He never saw it coming. His head slumped forward and rested on his horn. The blaring noise erupted and Mizan saw lights coming on in the surrounding houses. He quickly hopped out and jogged to his car, then pulled away, disappearing into the night.

  One down, six to go.

  After the first hit, Mizan’s conscience took a backseat. He did not care what he had to do; he was determined to get to the top. No life was worth more than his potential reign over the city, and as he thought about the hit he was about to do, he smiled. Leslie Philips was next on his list. There was only one problem: he never traveled alone. Les always kept a bodyguard around him. This nigga on some real John Gotti–type shit, Mizan thought with a smirk. It was smart for Les to keep extra protection around him, but Mizan thought outside of the box. If he could not get close to his vic, then he was going to use the people who could. Les hired the best bodyguard in town, a hood nigga by the name of Mario, who wasn’t afraid to get it popping. Mario was a known shooter and had lay a few souls to rest with his gunplay. He was a gangster, but Mizan had graduated to goon status a long time ago, and even though he had no personal beef with Mario, he was a target by association.

  When Mario pulled away from his home to go put in work for Leslie, Mizan sprang into action and got out of the car. He screwed on a silencer as he made his way up the manicured lawn to the front door of Mario’s house. He knocked lightly, and when a dark-skinned beauty opened the door with her new-born in her arms, Mizan pushed her back into the house and pointed the gun in her face. She tried to run, but Mizan grabbed her forcefully by her hair.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he chastised as he pushed her toward the couch.

  “Please ...” she began to beg.

  “Bitch, shut up,” he said. “If you do exactly what I say, you and your brat will live to see another day.”

  She cried as she cradled her child to her chest.

  Mizan pointed his gun toward the phone. “Call him,”he instructed.

  “Call who?” she exclaimed through her tears, playing dumb.

  Mizan smacked her across the face swiftly. The weight of the gun in his hand caused her lip to burst on contact, and she whimpered as she put her hands up to shield her child.

  “Call him,” Mizan repeated calmly.

  His face was covered by a red bandana. All she could see were his eyes, and she noticed the crazed look in his stare. Her hand shook as she conceded and picked up the phone to dial. Mizan snatched the phone from the girl’s hand.

  “What up, Kim?” Mario answered.

  “Didn’t anybody tell you never to leave your wife and kid at home alone?” Mizan said mockingly into the phone. He kept his pistol on the chocolate-kiss beauty before him. She cried as she held her baby tighter.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Mario replied. “If you put one fucking hand on my wife—”

  “Look, I don’t got time for the rah-rah shit, my nigga. I’ve got a proposition for you. We both got a problem right now. My problem is riding shotgun in your car as we speak and can be handled with one bullet. Your problem is this gun I’m pointing at wifey. Somebody gon’die tonight, my nigga. One of us gon have to get it popping, but it’s up to you to decide if it’s me or you, n’ah mean?”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Mizan continued, “You’ve got a choice to make. You handle my problem and I can make yours disappear.”

  Mario hesitated for a long time, feeling like a snake for contemplating the proposal; but when it came down to it he had to make sure that his family was all right. He couldn’t afford to pull any slick shit and fake the funk with Mizan. He had to kill or his family would be killed. He reached inside his jacket pocket and gripped his pistol discreetly underneath the fabric. He looked his man in the eye and said, “I’m sorry, fam.” He regretfully pulled the trigger.

  When Mizan heard the gunshot go off in his ear, he smiled deviously. “Smart choice,”he said as he hung up. Mizan looked down at the traumatized woman. She was so afraid that she had peed on herself.

  “Get on the ground,”he ordered.

  “Please don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  “Bitch, you got two seconds to get your ass on the ground before I pop your melon,”Mizan threatened. The girl reluctantly did as she was told and lay her baby on a pillow beside her. She closed her eyes and waited for the shot that would end her life.

  “Count to sixty,” he ordered.

  As she began to count, Mizan made his exit. By the time she was at twenty he was pulling away from the scene and thinking about a way to hit the next man on his list.

  Mizan ran through Benjamin’s lietenants like a john ran through whores on a Saturday night. With ease and efficiency, he touched each and every one of them except of Ethic. He knew that killing him would prove to be much more difficult, and he took his time, giving himself time to watch his prey so that he was fully prepared. Ethic was respected in the city, and Mizan knew that after he got rid of him, he would inherit the throne. He wanted to make an example of Ethic, and the perfect stage on which to murder him would be at Benjamin Atkins’funeral. Mizan could not wait for his time to arrive.

  The funeral came too quickly for Raven. A dreadful feeling filled the pit of her stomach because she knew that this would be the last time she would ever see her father’s face. The emptiness she felt inside mixed with the morning sickness she was experiencing had her on an emotional roller coaster. As she dressed in the bedroom mirror, tears slid down her cheeks like raindrops on a windowpane. There was no reason to wear makeup; her crying would only wash it away. She closed her eyes and gripped her stomach while she thought of the child inside of her. The black Donna Karan dress she wore concealed her baby bump well. She wasn’t ready to share her news with the world just yet. She did not want people judging her. She knew that her situation looked bad. She was a high school dropout who w
as pregnant and living with a man her parents hated. Everybody think I’m too young to know what I’m doing, but I know what I feel, and I love Mizan. They don’t understand. They don’t see what I see. When I turn eighteen everything will be good. They will have to respect my decisions then, she thought. She only had a month to go before she was legal, and decided it would be better if she waited until then to inform her mother of her condition. She tried to think of how she would tell Justine, and she instinctively pictured her father there to hear the news too. She quickly wiped a tear away, realizing that she would never again share a milestone with her father. He would never walk her down the aisle at her wedding. He would never hold her child or even be there to hold her hand while she gave birth.

  I didn’t even tell him he was going to be a grandfather. Why didn’t I just tell him when I had the chance? she asked herself. It was important for her father to at least know that she was about to be a mother. She had imagined them being one big happy family. Everything they had fought about seemed so petty now. She looked down at the photo of herself when she was a little girl that sat on the dresser. She removed it from the frame and placed it in her purse, deciding to put it in his casket before he was lowered into the ground. She felt like there was a piece of her missing. A huge chunk of her life had been removed, and now she was on her own. She took a deep breath and walked into the living room to find Mizan sitting on the couch, blazing a spliff.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked. She frowned at the sweatpants and T-shirt he was wearing.

  “Dressed for what?” he responded casually, as if her father’s death was insignificant in his world.

  “You know for what, Mizan,” she replied. “I need you there. I’m burying him today and I don’t think I can do it by myself.”