Family Over Everything

by Paige Green

  If you have any information on this massacre, please contact your local law enforcement officials.”

  Deion shook his head in disbelief as he turned the television back off and directed his attention back toward his cell phone.

  “Who the fuck did this shit?”

  “Jewels, man. That nigga going to get his, though. But lay low for the next couple days or so and keep your heat on you,” Day’onne stated, firmly, before ending the call.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Mercedes sat in between Sugar’s thick legs as Sugar flat-ironed her long hair. She closed her eyes tightly as the hot tool ran through her hair and almost burned her scalp. They were the only two there; the other prostitutes were on the corner making that money.

  “What the hell is up with Corrine?” Sugar asked, finally breaking the silence.

  The mention of Corrine’s name brought Mercedes to tears, but she held them back. She couldn’t believe how bad the streets of Northview and the cocaine had turned Corrine and Tessa completely out. From the very beginning, all three of the girls had vowed that they’d stick together, but to Mercedes it felt as if the promise was being broken. She hated how Corrine took all the pain and frustration she had against the world and let the hard poundings of her clients’ penises and the peaceful feeling that cocaine gave her, help her to escape her reality. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she allowed her mind to drift to all the money she was making. Even though she despised the fact that she was opening her legs up and letting any man deep in, the money somewhat soothed the feeling.

  The moment she’d started making money, she’d started to stack it, refusing to touch it and hoping one day to get Corrine, Tessa, and herself out of Northview and off the streets.

  She had saved more than fifteen grand and counting.

  “I don’t know, Sugar. She’s going through some things.”

  “Well, um, that trick about to get the boot. Corrine and Tessa,” Sugar said harshly.

  Mercedes tensed up and turned around to face Sugar. “What? Why?” she asked.

  “Those bitches fucking with my money. They’re out there smoking that glass dick and spending my half of the money on drugs and shit. They got to go; I’m sorry.”

  For the past couple of weeks, Corrine and Tessa would disappear for numerous days. They were out in the streets smoking Sugar’s half of the money they’d earned from prostituting. She was fed up. She’d accepted the girls with open arms and could be nice at times, but when they messed with her money, that’s when she had to draw the line.

  “Sugar, please give them one more chance! I’m sure they just going through things!” Mercedes pleaded.

  “I know you might not want your friends out on those streets, but I’m sorry, both of them got to go. They’re fucking up my money; they lucky I didn’t dig in their asses yet,” Sugar snapped. “But I’m going to be cool about it only because I feel sorry for those little girls. All they got to do is get their shit and get the fuck out of my crib.”

  A couple of tears trickled down Mercedes cheeks. Standing, she said, “Well, if they go, then I go, too, Sugar.”

  “What? You’re my number one money-maker now!”

  “Oh, well. Those are my sisters and we’ve always vowed to stick together no matter what. Like I said, if they go, I go, too,” Mercedes said firmly.

  Sugar shook her head and threw her hands up in surrender. “Alright, they got less than a month to get their shit together, Mercedes. If they don’t have any of my money up front, they’re out of here.”

  A couple of hours later, Corrine staggered into Sugar’s apartment tired and high out of her mind. Mercedes, who was already dressed for her shift, fought back her tears as she looked at her. Corrine was a far cry from the person she used to be before prostituting. Her once thick frame was now very petite and she almost looked as if she was suffering from anorexia. Her long, wavy hair was now brittle dry and broken off and her frail knees buckled with every step she took.

  Mercedes pulled Corrine into her arms, sobbing and the two sank to the floor.

  “What are you doing to yourself, sister? Why are you doing this?” Mercedes cried.

  “Please help me,” Corrine said through her dry, cracked lips.

  She broke down in Mercedes’ arms, wailing out a low, agonizing scream. Mercedes rocked her in her arms, assuring her it would all be okay.

  “I’m going to get you and Tessa some help, girl.”

  “Where is Tessa?”

  “I don’t know. Do you want me to check upstairs?”

  “Yeah, can you go get her? I want to ask her something.”

  Mercedes nodded and unwrapped her arms from around Corrine’s body.

  “You stay here, I’ll go see if she’s upstairs.”

  Corrine watched through bloodshot, glassy eyes as Mercedes ran upstairs. When the sound of her sister’s footsteps faded, she turned and ran out of the house, digging into her pocket, making sure her nickel bag of cocaine was still there.

  Running into the usual crack house, she went into a corner and squatted, shaking uncontrollably. Repeating her normal routine, she grabbed a dirty needle and bent spoon from the ground. When she was done preparing the drug and was ready for her injection, she heard a faint sound coming from the next room.

  Slowly standing, her body trembling, she cautiously walked into the next room. Squinting, she saw a familiar emaciated, light-skinned girl sitting in a corner with her long legs pulled up against her chest and mumbling under her breath. The small girl’s eyes appeared dark and empty.

  “Tessa? Is that you?” Corrine cried, kneeling next to her.

  “I need some, Corrine. I need it now!” Tessa mumbled in a daze.

  She fell to her side and vomited, her slim hands clutching her stomach.

  Corrine sighed and grabbed Tessa’s arm. Amid the numerous needle track marks, she found a small vein protruding. Taking the needle that she’d already prepared for herself, she breathed deeply and slowly injected Tessa with it.

  Tessa’s body tensed, then went limp. Her head falling back, she went into a nod.

  Tears falling, Corrine wrapped her slim arms around Tessa’s frail frame. “Things will get better for us, sister. Things will get better.”

  Jewels sat in one of his old safe houses with Respect and the rest of his former workers.

  All twelve men sat around a table, counting the money they’d taken during the shoot-out and robbery at Club Majestic. That night, Jewels and his team had stolen over a million dollars worth of jewelry, money, and even drugs.

  “Who the fuck keeps bricks at their club? They’re some of the dumbest niggas I know,” Jewels’ worker, Brooke, laughed as he fingered through the money.

  Jewels, who sat at the table in deep thought, couldn’t fathom the thought of Day’onne still breathing. Even though Jewels, Respect, and the rest of his team had killed a dozen of Day’onne’s workers, Jewels still wasn’t satisfied because Day’onne was still alive.

  “You good, man?” Respect asked, noticing something was bothering him.

  “I still can’t believe this nigga is still breathing. How the fuck did we miss? How the fuck did we let him, Menace, and Troy get away?” Jewels growled, standing to his feet and shaking his head.

  “Don’t stress it, boss. That nigga going to get his, believe that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but we’ll get him,” Brooke said.

  “No, I can’t sleep with the thought of that nigga still alive. I got to get him before he gets me. I can’t sleep with the thought of how many times that nigga has violated me.”

  “Well, at least that bitch Relisha dead.” Respect shrugged.

  Respect didn’t have one care in the world for Day’onne. He was ready to get back on the streets and make that money once again. He was middle-aged now and it had been too long since he’d been at the top of his game. He wanted to be back up there. He craved to be.

  If they took all of the money they’d stolen and flipped it, they’d be mak
ing twice as much as they’d robbed them for in no time.

  “Man, fuck that bitch,” Jewels said, rubbing his salt-and-pepper goatee.

  As if he’d just had an epiphany, he snapped his fingers and flashed a bright smile. “Yo, don’t he got a younger sister?”

  “Yeah, but that bitch a crackhead hoe; the whole fucking Northview been in that.” Brooke laughed.

  “Yeah, I think I got her on video sucking some young nigga off,” Cash said.

  Jewels nodded and sat back down. He looked around the wooden table as he folded his hands behind his head. “Hmm, maybe we could get her next?”

  “What? That nigga don’t give a fuck about her! Day’onne’s a cold motherfucker. If he cared about her, she wouldn’t be out there fucking for money while that nigga sitting on millions,” Brooke said.

  “You right, young buck. But what about his twin? Deion?”

  “That nigga be low-key. How are we going to catch him?”

  “Good point. But I’m sure he be with Day’onne at times. If we get Corrine and get in contact with him for some ransom money, we could get both of them bitches.”

  “Sounds good. Kill two birds with one stone!” Respect laughed evilly.

  “Indeed!” Jewels smiled, nodding his head and rubbing his hands together.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “What’s up, bro?” Deion asked as he hopped into Jarell’s silver Benz.

  “What’s up? How you holding up, my brother?”

  “Man, not good. I need to clear my head,” Deion said, shaking his head.

  He pulled out a blunt and lit it.

  “Damn, when did you start smoking?” Jarell laughed.

  “A couple of months ago. But, what’s good with you? You good?”

  “Oh, yeah, you already know. I’m glad that I decided to get out of the streets when I had a chance. It isn’t the same anymore. Niggas snitching on they own people and shit? No, I had to go.”

  “I feel you. That’s what’s up, though.”

  “Thank you. But what about you? What’s good with your book? I don’t hear you mention it anymore.”

  “Man, I don’t even know. I don’t think I’m going to write again. There isn’t any money in the writing industry like in these streets,” Deion said, shrugging.

  Jarell’s Benz came to an abrupt halt, startling Deion. Jarell looked at Deion as if he’d lost his mind. “What the fuck you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I—”

  Jarell’s deep, baritone voice boomed, surprising Deion. “You what, Deion? You what? Too caught up in these fucking streets? The money?”

  “I guess. But—”

  “But what, man? I’ve never seen anyone in the fucking hood that was so career-driven like you were. You had so much potential, bro. You wrote a fucking book and you made it out of the hood! Then you came back hustling for that nigga, Day’onne? Talking about you done with writing? What the hell is wrong with you?” Jarell growled angrily.

  “Man, fuck all that. Day’onne is my family and he needed me!” Deion yelled.

  Sighing, Jarell pulled over to the curb and parked. Turning to Deion, he said, “Look bro, get the fuck out of these streets before it’s too late. These streets don’t love anyone. Not you, me, or Day’onne. The streets are talking, and they’re gunning for your brother and the rest of your team.”

  “Who?”

  “Jewels! That nigga want y’all heads on a platter. Get out of this game, Deion. I know he’s your family and you want to be there for him, but sometimes you got to think about yourself. Sometimes, family isn’t everything. Day’onne’s nothing but a cold-hearted motherfucker that’ll run over anybody to stay on top. You’ve got too much talent and brains to be on these streets, bro. You’ve got to use them,” Jarell said firmly.

  “How the fuck you going to tell me all of this when you always wanted me to work for you?”

  “That was back in the day, Deion. Are you fucking listening? This world is cruel like your brother! Wake the fuck up! He doesn’t give a fuck about you nor anyone else except himself. If you don’t get out now, you’ll regret it later.”

  Deion put his head down into his hands. “Man, I don’t know, Jarell. It’s like I’m already knee-deep into this shit. The money and fast life, it’s addicting.”

  “Let me tell you this, when you were younger, everyone in the hood spoke highly of you, even the hustlers. You weren’t in the streets, you graduated from high school, and then you wrote a book. Successful! How many people do you know make it to see eighteen, living in Northview, Deion? Everyone wants the best for you, bro. Like I said before, Day’onne’s your twin and you want to be there for him, but sometimes you have to do what’s best for you.”

  Deion nodded, soaking up and digesting everything Jarell was spitting to him. His friend was right.

  “Speaking of family, you know your little sister out here strung out? I saw her the other day up Northview and shit. She out here selling her body and on drugs. She needs you, bro. You talking about you need to be there for Day’onne, but you need to be there for your younger sister.”

  Deion nodded again, holding his tears that were itching to fall. Every time he thought about Corrine, he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

  “Alright, bro. Thanks for the talk, I needed this. I’m going to catch up with you later,” Deion said, getting out of the car.

  “Alright, don’t forget what I said. I really hope you take heed to my advice.”

  An hour later, Deion arrived at Day’onne’s condominium with his mind still on his conversation with Jarell.

  Walking into the front door, he saw Day’onne, Menace, and Troy sitting at the dining room table with empty bottles of Vodka in front of them.

  The three men looked as if they hadn’t bathed in days. They appeared rough and stressed out compared to Deion, who was clean-shaven.

  Day’onne glared at Deion. “About time you got here. Where the fuck were you at?”

  “I was handling some business. What’s up with y’all? Why y’all look like y’all haven’t washed your asses in days?”

  “Man, fuck all of that, we got to worry about getting this money and that nigga Jewels.”

  “We were been supposed to get that nigga, Day’onne. And getting this money? We got plenty of it!” Deion gritted his teeth.

  “What? Too much money ain’t enough money. And when those niggas hit us at the club, they killed most of our workers and took a lot of our product. Plus, the Feds closed my club and I’ve been losing money by the second,” Day’onne admitted.

  “Losing money? What were you doing having the product up in the club? How much they rob us for?”

  “They took over fifteen bricks and it’s only us four. Since we don’t have those young niggas on the blocks making the money for us, we got to do it ourselves,” Menace said.

  Deion shook his head in disbelief, taking in what he’d heard. At that point, he knew he was definitely going to take heed to Jarell’s advice. He was finally tired of the streets. “Four? No, man, I’m out.”

  “Out? What the fuck you mean, you out?” Day’onne barked, hopping in his brother’s face.

  Deion tightened his jaw and clenched his fists. He knew how dangerous Day’onne was and he refused to let him get a first hit. “You heard what the fuck I said. I’m out. This shit isn’t for me, yo. Y’all on y’all own.”

  “On our own? Oh, so when shit starts to fall down you want to bitch out like the pussy you always were?”

  Without warning, Deion drew his arm back and threw a massive blow at Day’onne, connecting with his right cheek. Day’onne grunted in pain as he tumbled to the floor. Hopping back to his feet, he ice-grilled Deion and pulled his .40 caliber from his waistband, aiming it at him. Deion charged at him. Since Day’onne was drunk, he wasn’t fast enough to get a hold on him. Taking the gun from him, he threw it across the room and began punching his brother. Stopping abruptly, he said, “I should beat the fuck out of you, nigga. Raising a fucking gun
at me? Next time, you better pull the trigger. Like I said, I’m out the game and that’s final.”

  “Fuck you, Deion!”

  Menace and Troy watched the two brothers, clueless, not sure what to do.

  They watched as Deion walked out the dining room and front door, refusing to look back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Day’onne sat in a bar on the Westside, slowly drinking his life away. His hair was wild and untamed, his clothes were disheveled, and his face was drained. He still had a bruise and a couple of scratches on his face from the fight he’d had with Deion a couple of days earlier. People who walked past him couldn’t believe their eyes. This was a far cry from the Day’onne they knew. He wouldn’t dare come out of the house appearing the way he was.

  “What’s up, ma?” Day’onne said to the bartender, Ly’Mia.

  Ly’Mia fixed her nose up in disgust and ignored him as she started to clean off the bar counter and glasses. Looking at her round assets, he licked his lips and rubbed his crotch.

  “I know you hear me, bitch! I said, what’s up?”

  “What do you want? Don’t you have a fucking bank to rob?” Ly’Mia spat cruelly.

  “Bank to rob? Bitch, I got millions,” Day’onne lied. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”

  “Millions? You could’ve fooled the hell out of me with the way you look! It barely looks like you got a pot to piss in. You don’t have any fucking millions, you broke as hell!”

  Day’onne looked down at his clothes, then back up at Ly’Mia. Slamming his glass down, he stood up. Ly’Mia shivered and swallowed the lump in her throat. Looking into his icy, blood-red eyes, she instantly regretted what she’d said.

  Day’onne wrapped his cold, beastly hands around her neck, trying his best to take the air away from her lungs. His face was the mask of a demon as he wrinkled up his nose and tightened his grip.