by Tranay Adams
“No, handsome, this is far from a joke. This is the real me.” He blew him a kiss as he fondled with the pearls around his neck.
“What the fuck, my nigga? Where is this coming from?” Zonyai eyes bulged as he paced the floor and clutched the sides of his head. He couldn’t believe it. His right hand man was a straight up fag. That shit was crazy to him. He thought he was in the Twilight Zone.
“Alright, I’ma keep it a stack,” He began, putting his hand on his hips and adjusting his weight over to his other foot, “I’ve been in love with you since we were lil’ niggaz, Cuz, straight up.”
“Since when in the fuck you been gay, Brolic? All the pussy I done seen you get. Hell, all the hoes we done flipped together!” he looked upon him with a face fixed with a frown. He was trying to grasp the fact that his homeboy was a dick sucker. He was fucked up behind this and didn’t know if he’d ever get over it. “When in the hell did you being a homo come into the equation?”
Right then, Brolic took a deep breath and began talking like his normal self.
“I don’t know.” he shook his head shamefully and sniffled, eyes rimming with tears. He pulled off the brunette wig and held it at his side. “I tried to...to fight this shit but I couldn’t. I kept fucking and fucking and fucking these trifling ass hoes, man, tryna cleanse myself of this demon but it stayed with me. I couldn’t shake it, Cuz. I just couldn’t escape this urge! This crazy fucking urge, Yai!” he threw the wig down at his black high heel pumps.
“What?” Zonyai scrunched up his nose. “What urge? What are you talking about?”
“The urge to fuck other men up they ass.” he shut his eyelids and a slight smirk formed on his lips. The thought made him grow hard in his dress and create a tint.
Zonyai’s scrunched up his nose further and smacked his lips like he tasted something bitter. He was utterly fucking disgusted by what he was hearing.
“The urge to suck a dick and feel a nigga bust in my mouth and his warm jizz coating the back of my throat, then swallowing it. Mmmmm.” he smiled happily and licked his lips, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back.
Zonyai gagged and doubled over, attempting to throw up but he couldn’t. Hearing him, Brolic peeled his eyelids open and looked at him with a balled up face. He went to approach him but he threw up a hand.
“Stay away from me; you stay the fuck away from me! Urrrgh!” he finally threw up and plastered the floor with some greenish pink goo with chunks of food in it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he then stood upright and looked at his man like he didn’t know who he was standing before him.
“You alright, homie?” he questioned with great concern.
“I’m far from alright. Do you know the bomb you just dropped on me? I don’t need this shit in my life right now!”
“I love you, man.” his eyes became moist. They looked like they were ready to bleed his sincerity. The last thing he wanted was for Zonyai to stop fucking with him. He would be sick. There’s no way that he could go on living without him in his life.
“Come on now. I ain’t gay and you know that shit. I love me some pussy; the feel of it, the smell of it, and on occasions, the taste of it. Can’t nothing on this planet beat the touch of a woman, absolutely nothing.” his finger jabbed the air as he was speaking his truth like a pastor on Sunday morning. “If you gon’ be gay, then be gay, cool. I ain’t never been the type of nigga to hate on a mothafucka for how he do. As long as you ain’t snitching, or on some slime ball type shit, we’re good. Me and you,” he moved a finger between the two of them. “we’re brothers. We’re always gon’ be family. I gotta go though, G. I’ll get up with chu later.” he turned his back and headed for the door, leaving Brolic looking off to the side thinking hard and trying to make a decision. Zonyai had reached for the doorknob and was about to turn it when Brolic called him back. He froze where he was and looked over his shoulder, not bothering to turn all of the way around.
“I got something I gotta tell you.”
“‘Sup with it?” he was facing the door now.
“That night Franklin busted you with Marbella...”
Zonyai’s face tightened and he whipped around to his brother from another. “What about it?”
“I...I did that, bruh, and I’m sorry.”
“Huh? Did what? Fuck is you talking about? Spit it out.”
He shut his eyelids and took a deep breath, summoning up the courage to tell him a secret and lift the weight that was on his heart.
“Franklin knew that you were there ‘cause I told him.”
Hearing this, Zonyai’s forehead deepened with lines and he balled his hands into fists.
“I called him and told him you were there. I knew he’d act up, but I thought that he was just gonna throw you a beaten. I didn’t expect him to take your leg! There you go, Cuz. I did that. I did it outta jealously. I was hot that you ditched me that night to kick it with that bitch. That’s why I dropped dime on you. I’m sorry, Yai. I’m so, so sorry.” Zonyai’s clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles cracked. Red flashed before his eyes and his nostrils flared. “Yai, did you hear me, man? Did you just hear what I just told you?” the crippled hustler stared him down. He looked like a wild bull ready to attack and rip him to shreds. “Yai, Yai, Yai!” he called him over and over again but he didn’t react. That was because he’d snapped and was far gone from this realm.
Suddenly, Zonyai exploded in a rage.
“You fucking bastard!” Zonyai charged in his direction, arms up and fingers forming claws. He screamed aloud and spittle flew from his mouth. “Ahhhhh!”
Brolic snatched the nickel platted .32 from his bra strap. He’d stashed it there just in case his homeboy went ape shit on him like he was doing now. Lifting his weapon, he pointed it and pulled the trigger. Fire erupted from the weapon’s barrel and a shell casing flew from it slot. The bullet narrowly missed Zonyai. It nicked his cheek and left a red streak behind that ran with a slither of blood.
“Ah, shit!” The muscle headed hoodlum’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe he missed his shot. When the shell casing from his gun was hitting the carpet, he was getting tackled and slammed upon the kitchen table. The table broke in half and they fell to the floor hard, losing the small firearm.
“You cock sucka!” Zonyai’s gritted, veins formed on his temples and neck. He was choking the hell out of Brolic’s ass. His face was turned red. His eyes bulged and veins were coming from everywhere, as he tried to pry his hands from around his throat.
“Gaahhhh!” Brolic gagged, turning his maddening eyes on his aggressor.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you, you fucking faggot!” Zonyai’s entire form trembled as he choked his victim with all of his might.
“Ooof!” His eyes suddenly snapped open, turning glassy and hurt. His lips trembled feeling the jolts of pain shooting through his groin. Soon after, he was getting head butted. The impact broke the bridge of his nose and blood came spilling from his nostrils and grill. Brolic shoved him off of his person and he hit the carpet on his side hard. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He lay there bawling in agony and holding his aching crotch. Brolic jumped down off of the table. His head darted around looking for the .32 he’d dropped during the scuffle. Spotting it, he snatched it up and stood over his homie. He pointed that thang, thang at his dome piece. The light from the kitchen’s ceiling hit it and a gleam swept up its length.
“Wrong move, homeboy!” he made to pull the trigger but all of their history went ripping through his mind. Just when his finger brought pressure around the curl of the cold metal, he stopped himself. He couldn’t do it. He loved him like he loved the air that he breathed. There wasn’t any way in hell that he was going to murder him. And truthfully, he’d rather Zonyai be the one that killed him than the other way around. Brolic couldn’t stand living in a world where the man he loved didn’t exist.
“Get up!” he kicked him in his side and he scrambled to his feet winci
ng holding his family jewels. “Waltz yo’ black ass up outta here, nigga. I don’t ever wanna see yo’ mothafucking face again. You hear me?”
Zonyai mad dogged him for a time before staggering off holding himself. He shot him a dirty look and then pulled open the front door. Crossing the threshold, he slammed the door shut behind him. Brolic tossed the gun alongside the broken table. He hung his head and his shoulders shuddered like an ice sickle was sliding down his spine. His eyes misted and his vision was obscured as tears accumulated. His sniffled and flicked his nose as he tried to stop the snot from dripping. He focused on the carpet were the cracked portrait of him, Zonyai and Wayne lay. It brought back memories but it also symbolized that their street family had been broken.
“I loved you, man. I loved you soooo fucking much, ahahahaha,” Tears ran rapidly. He tried to snort the snot back up but it hit the floor before he could. Thoughts of Wayne rushed his mental all at once and he was overwhelmed. After being rejected by the love of his life and already having been dealing with the loss of his adopted son, he knew in his heart that he was ready to die.
Brolic wiped his nose from his fist to his arm and then scanned the carpet for the ratchet he’d discarded. Hurriedly, he scrambled over to it and picked it up as he dropped to his knees. Hesitantly, he peeled open his lips and showcased the cavities in his grill. Squeezing his eyelids shut, his unsteady hands brought the cold deadly weapon toward his mouth. Once the barrel had invaded the third hole in his face, his top and bottom teeth came down, biting down on it. The taste of the gun’s metal made him gag and its flavor made him nauseous. His finger trembled as he brought pressure to the banger’s trigger. That’s when he realized that he couldn’t do it. He had to get Franklin and his crew for murdering his little man, Wayne.
Chapter Eleven
Nicky sat before his “42 flat-screen watching Lassie as he took pulls from a Salem, burning the first half of his cigarette into ashes. Smoke wafted around him like he was at the center of an explosion. Smoking wasn’t exactly the best thing for the seventy eight year old mob figure being that he had failing lungs and a bum ass heart. Although he had no business indulging, old habits die hard and he saw himself lying in a coffin way before he saw himself quitting. The old nigga couldn’t help himself. It didn’t even bother him that he was damned to spend the rest of his days on an oxygen tank.
Hearing a knock at the door, Nicky put his cigarette out and hid it in a secret place. After clearing his throat with a fist to his mouth, he sprayed himself and the air with cheap cologne. He grabbed his oxygen tank by the handle and rolled it to the front door where he took a look through the peek hook. A smile spread across his thin ashy lips, seeing who it was he unlocked the door and allowed them to enter as he stepped to the side.
“How are ya doing, pop?” Jackie Needles crossed the threshold and removed his hat, pecking his old man on the cheek. Nicky patted his son on the shoulder and closed the door behind him. He was genuinely happy to see him but was hoping he didn’t discover his smoking. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, you don’t have a broad in here, do ya?” he headed down the hall and poked his head inside the bedrooms doors.
“A broad? Please, at my age you’d be lucky if you remember what to do with them.” Nicky responded in a low raspy voice, rolling the oxygen tank down the hallway and staggering along. He looked just as old as he was.
“Hahahahahaha.” Jackie laughed at his father’s response as he entered the living room. He stopped where he was and sniffed the air like an old blood hound. “You’ve been smoking again, haven’t ya?” he looked to his father.
“With this bum heart of mine? You must think I gotta death wish.” He waved him off and went about his business.
“You know, pop, you were always the worse liar. I could always tell by the way your left eye twitched that you were full of shit. You must really take me for a gag, old man,” Jackie shook his finger his father’s face, treating him as if he was a disobedient child. He picked up the Holy Bible from the coffee table and opened it. He turned through the pages until he discovered what he knew was already there. He found a pack of Salem cigarettes sitting in a square cut out of the pages. Jackie removed the pack of smokes from the Bible and shoved them into his coat pocket. He patted the pocket with the smokes to make sure that they were there. Next, he turned around to his father and wagged his finger again. “You lied to me, old man.”
“Well, how the hell did those get in there?” Nicky played stupid, lines spread across his forehead.
“Knock it off, pop. How many times do I have to tell ya about smoking? It’s bad for ya.” he lectured, holding his father’s face in his palms. He was angry with him about smoking because he’d lost his mother the year before.
“I know.” Nicky replied like a scolded child and hung his head.
Jackie pecked his old man on the forehead and patted him on the cheek. He then headed into the kitchen. “What do ya got in this joint to eat? I’m frigging starving.”
“How the hell should I know? That colored girl. The caregiver you got for me. She does all of my grocery shopping. I tell her the things I like and she gets whatever else she thinks I need.” He informed him. “Help yourself; I’m gonna go take a shit.” He picked up the neatly folded newspaper from the coffee table and headed down the hall towards the bathroom.
“Too much information, pop,” Jackie grinned as he rummaged through the refrigerator. He gathered all of the items he needed to make himself a sandwich and carried them over to the counter.
In the process of making himself something to eat, he heard the floor creak behind him. Thinking nothing of it, he shrugged and kept along spreading mayonnaise on the two slices of bread. Hearing the sound again, in one swift motion, he pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and spun around. The masked assailant, who’d been trying to creep up on him, kicked his gun from his grasp and lifted one of his own. But before he could pull the trigger, Jackie threw the jar of mayonnaise at his head and it shattered. The assault left the assailant dazed, causing him to drop his weapon.
“Ooof!” Jackie tackled him into the wall inside the living room and knocked a couple of framed portraits to the floor. He rained punches on his head and mid section, as well as every other part of his body that was left exposed. The intruder’s eyes moved around lazily in his head and he moaned in pain.
Jackie let the dazed stranger fall limp to the floor before dashing back inside of the kitchen. Seeing the mobster reaching for the banger on the floor made the home invader realize he was one bullet away from death. So he shook off his daze and ran into the kitchen, looking for something to defend himself with. By the time Franklin’s right-hand was wrapping its fingers around the gun, the assailant was wrapping his arms around his waist. He hoisted the red headed gangster over his head and slammed him on his back, sending his burner spinning in circles across the linoleum. The banger clanked up underneath the refrigerator, becoming wedged.
The brutal attack took a lot out the intruder and had left Jackie weakened, but he still had a flicker of fight left in him. Jackie slowly crawled on his belly towards the gun. The intruder dove over his shoulder and took a hold of the weapon. He clutched it with both hands. When he moved to bring it around, Jackie pressed his thumbs into his eye sockets. The pain sent shock waves throughout his skull, which caused him to scream in agony. There was a film of sweat on the gangster’s forehead. His face twisted into a mask of pure hatred as he tried to force the assailant’s eye balls in with his thumbs.
Jackie’s eyes darkened and the skin wrinkled around his nose. He clenched his teeth saying, “You cock sucking, motha...”
Blocka!
A look of surprise took his face. His eyes widen and bottom lip shivering.
Blocka!
His eyes widened further and he looked down at his shirt, two crimson dots were quickly expanding.
“Oh shit!” he murmured with blood stained teeth. The assailant shoved him to the floor and stood to his feet to f
inish him off, still gripping the smoking gun. He leveled the weapon at his victim’s head and that’s when Nicky leapt upon his back, applying the chokehold.
“Gaaggg!” the intruder tried to pry the old man’s arm from around his neck.
“You, cock sucker! You break into my home, hurt my boy!” He barked furiously and went into a coughing fit, bloodying his lips.
The struggle to throw Nicky from his back led the home invader into the living room. He spun around in circles wildly. He knocked over a lamp, the television and a table and chair. Although the geezer was old, his grip was one forged from diamond and it had brought the intruder to his knees gasping for air.
“Do you see him? Do ya see ya Lord and Savior? Remember to tell him who sent cha, ya son of a bitch...Ahhh!” Nicky howled in pain. His eyes bulged and his mouth quivered. He could feel his testicles being crushed in his opponent’s palm. He fell to the side holding his privates and cursing in Italian.
The assailant staggered down the hall, rubbing his sore throat and gasping for air. He opened the door and a bullet slammed into it right above his head, sending debris flying. He turned around and found Nicky. The old man had one hand holding his aching nuts and the other holding his gun, blazing at him.
Blocka! Blocka! Blocka! Blocka!
The stranger took cover behind the front door. Using it as a shield, he drew a bead on the old gangster’s oxygen tank and pulled the trigger. An explosion erupted that sent Nicky crashing through the window out into the streets below. He hollered at the top of his lungs as he plummeted to his death. The fire sent a roar throughout the apartment unit and into the hallway, rattling the neighbors’ doors.
****
Joey-T sat parked outside of Jackie Needles apartment arguing on the phone with his girlfriend as he waited for his friend to come down.
“What did I tell ya? I’ll get home when I get home. I’m out here throwing stones at the penitentiary trying to make sure we get our slice of the American Dream, and what do I get from ya? Yap, yap, yap,” he opened and closed his hand like he was working a sock puppet. “Ya a real cunt, ya know that?”
