by Askari
Agent Long scowled at him, but accepted the briefcase nonetheless. As he turned to leave the office he heard Clavenski say, “Mr. Gervino! How’s the Miami weather treatin’ ya?” The name caught him off guard, causing him to walk a little slower than usual. You gotta be shittin’ me, he thought to himself while heading for the door. I know this mutha’fucka ain’t talkin’ to Little Angolo. He stepped into the hallway and with the door slightly ajar, he eavesdropped on Clavenski’s conversation.
“Cut the shit Andy! Besides I’m not in Miami. I’m back in South Philly. What the hell is goin’ on up here? I got a call from Carmine sayin’ that you fucked up the situation with Smitty. Carmine’s pissed Andy. He claims to have a legitimate beef. You’re not holdin’ up to your end of the deal.”
“A beef?” Clavenski bitched up. “With me? For what?”
“This younger generation, fugget about it! They have a thirst for blood that hasn’t been seen since the days of Roy DeMeo. He’s frustrated Andy, and honestly I don’t blame him.”
“Mr. Gervino I’m doing the best that I can! Smitty was supposed to have testified before the grand jury, but Gervin whacked him!”
“I don’t give a shit!” Little Angolo shouted through the phone. “You had the perfect opportunity to finish this nigger once and for all, and you friggin’ blew it!”
Clavenski sighed. “But he’s always two steps ahead of me.”
“Bullshit! We started you, Andy! My Family’s the motivating force behind your success! We had to pull a lot of political strings to get you where you are today, and this is how you friggin’ repay us?”
“You’ve gotta believe me, Mr. Gervino! I’m trying!”
“Well you’re not trying hard enough!” Little Angolo continued shouting at him through the phone. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. His family and Clavenski’s family shared a long history together, dating all the way back to the 1940s when they controlled Cuba. His father and Clavenski’s grandfather were business partners, and together they built a criminal empire that generated millions.
“Listen Andy,” he lowered his voice a few octaves. “Carmine’s my grandson, but most importantly he’s the boss of this Family. There’s only so much I can do to hold him back.”
“I understand that, but just hear me out. Gervin has a grandson, and from the information that I’ve gathered so far, this kid is the key to bringing him down. I’ve got him on everything from drug distribution to murder. Now here’s the kicker, because he’s a Moreno, everything he does I can connect it to The Moreno Crime Family.”
“Listen Andy, I’m not calling the shots anymore,” Little Angolo said. “That’s up to Carmine. He’s losing his patience, and he feels as though you’re forcin’ his hand. I’ve said everything that I could possibly say. You’ve been warned.”
Click!
***
On the other side of the cracked door, Agent Long shook his head in disbelief. “This no good rotten son of a bitch!” He said to himself. “It’s cool though. I know just how to handle this shit.” He looked down at his lion head pendant, and then walked away.
***
In Upper Dublin, Pennsylvania
As always Sonny was awakened by the soft kisses that Daphney and Keyonti were placing on his face.
“Up, up dada! Wakey up, up!” The little girl demanded as she softly caressed his wavy hair. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes, and then sat up, resting his back against the padded headboard. He noticed that they were already dressed so he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Damn, it’s 11:40?” He yawned and stretched out his arms. “Where’s my mom? She good?” He knew that his mother was still devistated from Easy's murder, and he wanted to make sure that she was okay.
Daphney removed a piece of lint from his hair, and then kissed him on the lips. “Considering the circumstances, she seems to be doin’ okay. She’s been runnin’ around the house cookin’ and cleanin’ all mornin’, but how ‘bout you? Are you okay?”
“I’m a’ight.” His lips were smiling but his eyes told a different story.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Yesh!” Keyonti interjected, and then ran her hands up and down his abs. “Him want eat, eat,” she looked at Daphney, and then returned her focus to Sonny. “Right dada? You want eat, eat.”
Sonny and Daphney fell out laughing. He picked her up, and climbed off the bed. He kissed her chocolate cheeks, and then handed her to Daphney. “Take her downstairs and keep an eye on my mom for me. I need to hop in the shower and get dressed.”
She sighed and looked at him with a concerned expression. “Okay, but you’re sure you’re alright?”
He kissed her on the forehead, and then tapped her on the ass. “Yeah ma, I’m good. Just keep an eye on my mom for me.”
As Daphney and Keyonti headed for the door, he grabbed his iPhone and called Rahmello.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Yo bro,” Rahmello answered. “What’s poppin’?”
“You already know,” Sonny replied. “I was callin’ to make sure y’all cleaned up that mess from yesterday.”
“Yeah bro. That’s a dead issue.”
“A’ight, now what about the young buls? Did they hold it down?”
“Yeah, them lil’ niggas played they part, especially Heemy. I ain’t gon’ talk crazy over this jack, but from here on out we callin’ that nigga Leather Face,” Rahmello chuckled. “You shoulda seen the way his lil’ ass was goin’ to work wit’ that chainsaw!”
“More or less,” Sony replied halfheartedly. “But on another note, how you feelin’ about this pops situation?” He knew how close Rahmello and Easy had become over the past year and a half, and he needed to make sure that his younger was okay. Rahmello just sighed. “I ain’t gon’ hold you brozay,” he paused and searched for the right words to express himself. “A nigga kinda fucked up right now. As soon as me and pops got tight,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that he was gone. It’s almost like our bond wasn’t even real. Like it was only a figment of my imagination.”
“Nizzaw,” Sonny quickly corrected him. “That shit was definitely real, bro. Pops loved you and don’t you ever forget that.”
“I won’t,” Rahmello sighed. “But dig bro, I’m goin’ back to sleep. I’ma holla at you later.”
“A’ight, lil’ brozay. Just be easy you heard? I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Click!
***
Rahmello laid the phone on his nightstand, and continued running his fingers through Olivia’s silky hair. Her head was resting on his chest and she was quiet. She was too quiet. Her warm tears were pelting against his skin and he could feel her body trembling.
“What’s wrong mami? Why you cryin’?”
His concern for her well being made her cry even harder. She desperately wanted to tell him the truth about his father, but she couldn’t. Her loyalty to her family wouldn’t allow it.
“Damn Oli,” he sat up to get a better look at her face, “tell me what’s wrong.”
“I feel so bad for you and your family,” she sobbed. “I hate to see you hurting like this.”
“Don’t even worry about it, mami. We’ll be okay.”
“No,” she shook her head defiantly. “You don’t understand. I’m so confused and afraid!”
“Afraid?” hHe screwed up his face. “Afraid of what?”
“My papi,’” she continued sobbing and placed her hand on her stomach. “He can never find out about this baby.”
Rahmello placed his hand over her’s. “Listen Oli, you love me right?”
She looked at him like he was stupid. “You know I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you! Ever since then, I knew you were the one for me. But it's papi,” she shook her head from side to side, “he’ll never accept you.”
“Well, if you love me the way you say you do, then marry me. If we get married ya pops won’t have no other choice but to acce
pt and respect our relationship.”
She silently weighed her options. Either she could marry the love of her life and complete their family union, or she could honor her father’s demands to only marry within her race. She wiped away her tears, and then looked him square in the eyes. “I love you Mello, and there’s nothing in this world that would make me happier then to be your wife. But this is something that could never happen. There’s no way I can disappoint papi. I’m sorry.”
***
When Sonny entered the dining room, he spotted a plate of food at the head of the table, but the room was empty. “Yo Daph! Mom! Where y’all at?” he called out.
“We’re in the white room!” Daphney replied in a shaky voice.
When he stepped into the large room, he was immediately greeted with the demands of Keyonti.
“Up, up dada! Up, up!” She extended her arms toward him and he scooped her off of the white carpet. He carried her over to the white suede sectional where Daphney and his mom were sitting in silence. “Why y’all lookin’ like that?” he asked, immediately taking notice of their distraught facial expressions. “What happened?”
Daphney began to speak, but Annie held up her hand, signaling for to be quiet. She then looked at her son and slowly shook her head. “Sontino, it's Brian. I just got off the phone with his mom, and she told me that his house was burned down and that they found him, Erika, and the baby. They’re dead.”
He lowered his head, and sat down beside Daphney. “Damn,” he said to himself as he closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Warm tears trickled down the sides of his face, and Keyonti kissed him on the cheek. She said, “Fat-Fat lub dada. No cry dada. No, no cry.” She used her small hands to wipe away his tears, and then rested her head on his shoulder and rubbed his back.
Sonny returned his attention to his mother. “So whatchu sayin’? Did they died in the fire? Like was it a freak accident or somethin’?”
“No baby,” Annie replied with tears in her eyes. “They found Erika hanging from the banister, and the baby,” her voice cracked, “somebody stuffed that lil’ boy inside of the oven, and burned him alive. That’s what they're started the fire.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Sonny snapped, and then broke down crying. Annie took Keyonti from him and handed her to Daphney. “Take this child upstairs. She ain’t got no business seeing her daddy like this.”
Daphney nodded her head, and then carried Keyonti out of the room. Annie returned her gaze to Sonny. “Sontino look at me.”
He wiped away his tears, and looked into her eyes. “What’s up, mom?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you got goin’ on out in those streets, but this shit is gettin’ outta hand,” she spoke to him sternly. “First it was your father, and now it's Brian and his family. They’re fucking dead.” She pointed toward the hallway. “Now your wife, she’s a very strong woman, and although she probably won’t admit it, that girl’s scared to death. So whatever’s goin’ on out there.you need to put an end to this shit. Do you understand what I’m tellin’ you? Make it stop!”
He took a deep breath and slowly nodded his head.
“Yeah mom, I understand.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Back In North Philly
Heemy was awakened by the soft taps on his bedroom door. This was the first time in over a week that he actually slept in his own bed, and he was glad that he could finally occupy his personal space without Pooky bothering him.
“What?”
“Raheem open the door,” Treesha stated from the hallway.
“Whatchu want? I’m sleep.”
“I need to talk to you. Can you open the door?”
Damn, man, she’s always burnin’ me the fuck out, he thought to himself as he climbed out of the bed and unlocked the door. As she stepped inside of the room, he sat down on his bed and picked up the remote control to his television. She leaned against his dresser and folded her arms across her chest. “I need to tell you something.”
“And what’s that?” he asked without looking at her. He turned on the television and switched the channel to ESPN.
“I need to talk to you about your father.”
“My father? Ain’t dude doin’ life upstate? Whatchu need to talk to me about him for?”
She approached his bed and sat down beside him. “When I was seventeen, my high school sweetheart was arrested for murder. A week later I found out that I was pregnant with you. I wrote him letter after letter, but they all came back, Return To Sender. Apparently, he was locked up under an alias and I didn’t know the name.
“About six months later, I received a letter from him sayin’ that he wanted me to move on with my life, and that he wanted nothing to do with me because I would only add more stress to his situation. I was crushed, and it was around that time that I started gettin’ high.”
“I’m sayin’ though,” Heemy shrugged his shoulders, “why is you tellin’ me this shit? This nigga’s been in jail my whole life, and he’s never comin’ home. Fuck that nigga.”
This was a defense mechanism that he developed at an early age. Whenever he was confronted with the issue of his missing father, to ameliorate the pain of not having him in his life, he would sike himself out by saying, Fuck that nigga or Fuck dude. But in all actuality, his natural instincts yearned for the love and affection of a father.
Treesha took a deep breath, and then sparked up a Newport 100. After taking a deep pull and exhaling a cloud of smoke she said, “He came home last year.”
“He came come?” Heemy perked up. “How? I thought you said he had a life sentence?”
“He did have a life sentence, but his brother paid some really good lawyers, and they beat his case on appeal.”
Heemy smiled at her and hopped off of the bed. “Well, where he at? Why he ain’t come through to check on us?”
“He did,” she answered in a shaky voice. “But when he saw how cracked out I was he despised me. I was so caught up in my addiction that I didn’t even give a damn. I never even told him that you were his son,” she confessed, and then broke down crying.
“A’ight, well what’s his number?” Heemy asked, while grabbing his cell phone off of the dresser. “We can call him right now.”
Treesha’s face turned bright red and she lashed out in full force. “We can’t call him!” she screamed in his face. “You fuckin’ killed him! You killed my man motherfucker!”
“What?” Heemy asked, completely dumbfounded.
“Pooky!” she continued screaming. “He was your father and my first love, and you fuckin’ killed him!”
His cell phone slipped from his grasp and fell to the carpet. How the fuck was Pooky my dad? he questioned himself. This shit don’t make no mutha’fuckin’ sense. Just as he was about to ask her for clarity, two brown skinned men appeared at his bedroom door. Both were strapped with pistols and the barrels were aimed at his face.
“Sir, I’m gonna need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back,” Detective Sullivan stated in an authoritative tone. “You’re under arrest for the murders of Raheem McDaniels and Jamar Christie.”
Heemy scowled at the two detectives, and then looked at his mother. “What the fuck is this? You called the cops on me, and had ‘em hidin’ in the hallway all this fuckin’ time?”
“I had to,” Treesha cried. “I needed to protect you. What if his brother comes around here lookin' for you? Them boys will kill you. I’d rather visit you at somebody’s jail then visit you at somebody’s cemetery. This was the only way for me to protect you.”
Heemy shook his head in disbelief. “You triflin’ bitch!”
“Sir!” Detective Sullivan shouted. “I said turn around and place your hands behind your friggin’ back!”
Heemy thought about going for the Glock that was srashed under his pillow, but he remembered what Rahmello said about their high powered attorneys. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and his anxiety caused him to bite down on his botto
m lip. His eyes shifted from the pillow, to his mother, and then settled on the two gun toting detectives. Fuck, man! This nigga Rahmello better not be bullshittin’ about these fuckin’ lawyers!
“I’m not gonna say it again!’” Detective Sullivan warned.
Heemy shook his head from side to side, then reluctantly turned around and held his hands behind his back.
***
Around The Corner, In The Fairhill Projects...
Twany was sitting at his kitchen table eating a bowl of Apple Jacks when he heard a loud boom!
“Yo, what the fuck was that?” he asked himself as he hopped up from the table and ran for the Mack 11 that was laying on top of the refrigerator.
“Police! Get on the fucking ground!”
The first Swat Team member to storm inside of the small apartment was halfway through the living room when he saw Twany running toward the refrigerator. “Get on the fuckin’ ground! Now!”
Twany grabbed the Mack 11, then spun around with his finger squeezing the trigger.
Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc!
The hollow tipped slugs ripped through the officer’s body armor, sending him tumbling to the floor with his AR-15 spraying wildly.
Pdddddat! Pdddddat!
The bullets missed Twany and burned through the refrigerator and wooden cabinets. Twany crouched down and continued his assault.
Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc!
The second Swat Team member stormed inside of the apartment, and hopped over his comrade’s dead body. As he glided through the air, he let off a succession of gunfire.
Pdddddat! Pdddddat! Pdddddat!
His bullets knocked Twany backwards and spun him around 360 degrees. He dropped the Mack 11 and crashed into the back wall. As he slid to the floor, the only thing he could think about was retrieving the Mack 11 from the kitchen floor. He reached for the gun, but the police officer was already squeezing his trigger.
Pdddddat! Pdddddat!
Every bullet twisted Twany’s body in a different direction, leaving him wedged in between the refrigerator and back wall. The officer stood over the top of him and aimed the barrel at his face. Twany looked at him with a shocked expression as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. He gasped for air, and then looked toward the ceiling as his soul left his body.
