“C’mon Rell, let me get my daughter, man.” Rome tried to stand up, but his body weight was too much pressure for his wounded limb. He slouched back down to the floor. He attempted to crawl to the back room, but Tyrell stopped him with a harsh, soccer player kick to the ribs and Rome curled into a fetal position on the cold tile.
Leo came from out the kitchen holding two giant Ziploc freezer bags filled with money. He was sweating and agitated with terror. “Rome,” he whined, shaking his head. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do wit’ this.”
Tyrell turned the pistol on Leo. “Shut yo’ stupid ass up and wait by the door,” he tossed him a shopping bag. “Put the money in that bag.”
The baby’s cries grew louder as the minutes passed, and Rome continued to lose blood. “Yo, Rell you got everything, man…” he cried. “Jus’ go… please let me get to my daughter.”
Tyrell glanced down at the blood on the floor and then looked at Rome begging for his life. There was no way he could leave this apartment without killing him. He knew if he let Rome live, as soon as he was able to walk, he would come gunning for him. He raised the revolver and leveled it to Rome’s head. He bit down on his bottom lip until he split it and tasted his own blood. He was so focused he didn’t hear Leo’s cries for him to not shoot.
“Please, don’t shoot him,” he begged.
Tyrell strangled the pistol’s hair trigger and unloaded a slug into Rome’s head and then he pumped the last three in his chest. Besides the gunshots, the only sound was Essence in the back room, screaming her baby lungs out.
Leo fumbled, trying to unlock the door. His nerves were rattled. When he finally got it open, he took off running toward the staircase and Tyrell was right behind him.
“Hold up…” Tyrell yanked the back of Leo’s shirt preventing him from continuing down the steps. “Let’s go up to the roof and go over.” When Leo turned around, his face was wet from tears. “What the fuck you cryin’ for nigga?”
“You didn’t have to kill ‘em Rell.” Leo bawled. The teardrops were flowing freely.
Tyrell took the bag of money from him and snatched him up by the back of his shirt. “Get the fuck up the steps nigga.”
They hurried up the stairs to the roof of building 70 and crossed over to building 81. They were the only two connecting buildings in the projects. Before they reached the lobby in 81, Tyrell pushed Leo against the wall in the staircase and pressed the snub nosed barrel to his cheek. “If you say a word about what happened, to anybody… I’ma kill you. You hear me?” Leo nodded. “Go to the crib, act like nothing happened and I’ma come see you tomorrow wit’ some money.”
Leo couldn’t care less about the money; he was pleased with walking away with his life. Him and Tyrell spilt up and went their separate ways.
TWENTY
July 1st 2011…
The sun was beating down on the project bricks at a sweltering 98 degrees when Mox hopped out the United taxi cab and tried to rush into his aunt’s building. Halfway there, he got stopped by his uncle Wise Earl. “Playboy…you goin’ upstairs, I need to holla you at real quick.” Uncle Wise was getting old, but he was still as sharp as a scorpion’s stinger and his smooth 70’s style had yet to be modified. He was an ol’ school player who played by the ol’ school rules.
Earl had come up in the era of the “Real Gangsters” where if somebody was caught stealing, depending on the value, either your hand would be chopped off at the wrist or a few fingers would go missing. It was the time when guys in the streets had morals and principles. If something got done, it was with a reason behind it and not “just because” Although this new generation didn’t abide by these rules anymore; Uncle Earl did.
“Wassup, Unc… how you been?” Mox could see he had fresh track marks from shooting heroin into his veins. Earl had kicked the habit for a few years, but the monkey was back for revenge.
He followed his nephew into his sister’s building. “Maintainin’… tyrna dodge these goddamn suckers as usual. Hey, you heard about that boy, Rome?”
“Nah, what happened to him?”
“Young boy put somethin’ hot in ‘em. They found him in his apartment shot up last night. Police came and snatched up that young nigga, Leo.”
“Get the fuck outta here, are you serious?” Mox had just bailed Dana, Tyrell and Leo out of the county jail. “You fuckin’ around again, Unc?”
Earl glanced down at the marks on his arms. “Listen, nephew. You let me worry about this bitch on my back and let’s continue to take care of that business. You hear me?”
They stepped off the elevator and Mox put the key in the door. “You full of shit, Unc. How you expect to conduct business and you noddin’ off n’ shit?”
Earl frowned. He disliked when people told him the truth about his addiction. “Aight, keep your voice down, Sybil don’t know I’m getting’ high.” he closed the door behind him.
“Oh, word?...” Mox peeked his head in the kitchen looking, for his aunt. “Auntie!” he shouted.
“Yes?” Sybil came from out the back and saw Earl and Mox standing in the living room. “What you want Mox, I’m watchin’ my stories.”
“Your brother is back out there getting’ high.”
Earl was shocked. He couldn’t believe Mox would do him like that.
Sybil looked at her brother’s face and then at his arms and when he tried to hide the scars, she knew Mox was telling the truth. “I don’t know why the fuck you tryna hide ‘em for Earl. Anybody with eyes can see that shit is in you. I was just too naïve. I got blinded and so caught up on believing in you and knowing you could make that change that I forgot who I was dealing with. You know how that saying goes, ‘once a junkie always a junkie’.”
Earl got defensive. “I know I fucked up, but don’t act like you this goddamn angel who fell from heaven and you ain’t never did wrong. We all done did some shit we regret. Fuck it.” Earl threw his hands in the air. “Since my shit is all out on the table, we might as well put everything on the muthafuckin table!”
“You right, Unc. We gon’ put everything on the table today. I got some questions and I need ‘em answered.” Mox glanced at his aunt. He saw her discomfiture in the shift of her demeanor. “When’s the last time you spoke to Cleo, Auntie?”
Sybil walked into the kitchen. “I was just on the phone with him. He’s across town.”
“Call him back.” As soon as the words came out of Mox’s mouth, the front door opened and Cleo walked through it. Mox hadn’t seen him since two nights prior when they had to rush Susan to the emergency room. “Cleo… wassup, you right on time,” he smiled.
“On time for what?” he was confused.
Mox wasted no time. “Auntie, I know you been holding secrets from me about the night of my parents murder. I’m not leaving this living room until you tell me the truth.”
“Mox, I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Earl cut in. “Yes you do, because if you don’t, I will.”
“What the fuck are y’all talkin’ about?” Cleo was still lost.
Sybil stayed silent and kept her eyes glued to Earl.
“Cat got your tongue, sis? Let me help you out…” Earl turned to Mox. “That nigga Reginald ain’t your real father, we been lying to you your whole life. Your—”
Sybil pulled a picture out the Bible that was sitting on the coffee table and passed it to Mox. “That’s your real father.”
Mox looked down at the picture and his body froze. He couldn’t believe the person he was staring at was his biological father, but he knew it had to be true because his eyes told him so.
Sybil tried to explain. “Me and your mother used to go out a lot. They knew us at damn near every club in the city when we were younger. Both of us were gorgeous, but your mother had that ‘talk’. She could convince a nigga to do anything she asked, just by having a formal conversation. Dudes went crazy for my sister. The day I met him,” she pointed to the picture. “Me and your mother was in some club and h
e approached me. Wanda kept telling me to go talk to him and eventually, I did. That night, we had all been drinking and smoking so everyone was intoxicated and I did something I probably wouldn’t have done had I not been drinking. That was the first and last time I had a one night stand.”
“I never heard from him until three months later, when I saw him leaving out of your mother’s apartment. Later on, I found out he was a close friend of Reginald, who had been your mother’s boyfriend for two years at that point. At first I didn’t think anything of it, but when he came around I could see she acted different. When she got pregnant no one ever questioned who your father was because we all assumed it was Reginald, but when I saw your eyes, I knew she was lying. Those eyes are very rare and only a few people living have them. Your father is one of them.”
Mox rubbed his head. He was trying to absorb all this new information he was being told. It made perfect sense when he thought about it. His eyes were distinctive and Reginald sure didn’t have eyes like his. He thought back on him and Reginald’s relationship and how they never really bonded like a true father and son. They had no similar qualities and nothing in common.
“So what happened the night my mother got murdered?” he asked.
Sybil went on. “Reginald and that man in the picture did a robbery at the World Trade Center a week before your mother was killed. They stole two million dollars in cash, and one million in jewels. Reginald convinced your father to stash everything in Wanda’s apartment. The night before the murder, your mother and I got into a huge fight about some money and a lot of foul things were said. That was when she came clean about going behind my back and lying about who your real father was. She told me she was sorry and she said that she would make it up to me by giving me some of the money that was in her apartment. I didn’t believe her until she showed me what was really there, and I tell you, I had never seen so much money in my life.” Sybil’s eyes filled up with tears. “Wanda left out to run to the store and I went back into the apartment and stole the money.”
“What?” Cleo wanted her to repeat herself. “You stole what?”
Sybil ignored her son and finished her story. “The next day they came to get the money and it was gone. I heard him torturing Reginald that night, asking him where the money was. I stood by the door and listened to my sister’s cries for help while she was being crucified and it was my fault because I could have helped her, but I didn’t.” A waterfall of tears flooded her face as she confessed her deepest sins.
Mox kept on staring at the picture. He knew this man. “Are you sure this is my father?” he questioned.
“Yes I’m sure, Mox. Why?”
The room was silent.
“Because… I know this man.”
Earl was surprised. “What?”
Mox studied the photo. “His name is Priest and I shared a cell with him when I was upstate.”
“Oh, my God!” Sybil broke down and tried to cover her face from humiliation.
“So, what you tellin’ me is… my father is the one who killed my mother that night?”
Sybil’s wails became gut wrenching screams for forgiveness and Earl tried to embrace his nephew to console him.
Mox pushed him back. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. Y’all knew this shit all this time.” He crumbled the picture up in his hand. “I asked you over and over again; both of y’all lied to me. Both of y’all knew the truth from the beginning and you had me runnin’ around killin’ myself tryna figure this shit out. You don’t know half the shit I went through searching for something that was right under my nose.” He squeezed the crumbled photo harder in his fist.
Suddenly, ‘Breaking News’ flashed across the screen and caught their attention.
Casey Daniels was a prominent prospect out of Westchester County and was headed to the NBA before his life was so suddenly cut short. At twenty one years of age, Casey was shot dead and robbed of his money and jewelry, here at the Marriott hotel at New Roc City last year.
In the winter of that same year, the body of Tamika Hutchins was found on the side of the road by the Roanoke River in Virginia. Police say Hutchins and an accomplice lured Daniels into a room at the hotel and robbed him at gunpoint and then shot him six times, ending his life.
Police have found a missing security tape from the night of Casey Daniel’s murder at the hotel and they have identified Hutchins’ accomplice as this man,
They showed a mug shot of the shooter on Sybil’s 37 inch flatscreen.
Twenty six year old, Cleo Daniels. Authorities are advising anyone with information on Mr. Daniels’ whereabouts to please contact our crime hotline immediately at 914 -555-5555. Beware, Mr. Daniels is considered armed and very dangerous.
By the time they all turned their heads to look at Cleo, his pearl handled, chrome .9 millimeter Ruger was pointed in their direction. He saw Mox reaching for his waist. “You try to pull that shit out and I’ma empty this clip.”
“Cleo, why?” Sybil cried.
“Nephew, calm down…”
“Fuck that nephew shit. I know the truth!”
“What truth? What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Earl tried to get Cleo to settle down.
Through sobs, Sybil uttered, “He’s adopted.”
Mox and Earl replied in unison. “Adopted?”
Cleo waved the gun at Mox. “Yeah, adopted.” he pointed his finger at Sybil. “That’s not my mother, he ain’t my uncle and you damn sure ain’t my cousin.” He clenched his teeth and gave Mox the coldest ice grill he could muster. “I never did like you nigga.”
“Why you do it, Cleo?” Mox had known there was another person present at the shooting, but he would have never imagined it to be someone he thought was family.
Sybil and Earl could do nothing but watch as Cleo put the barrel of the gun to Mox’s head. “Because, I never liked that lil’ nigga, he stole my dream. I was supposed to be the one going to the league, not him.”
“That’s what this shit is all about. You killed my little brother. He loved you Cleo. We all love you.”
“Fuck your love Mox! From day one you always thought you was better than me. Every girl I liked wanted to be with you…” a tear fell from Cleo’s eye. “You knew I liked Priscilla and you still went after her!”
Mox was dumfounded. “Priscilla? Nigga, since we was babies I been holding your punk ass down. Everything you was scared to do, I did… and I always gave you the credit. I showed you genuine love, Cleo. Fuck if we ain’t blood family, we grew up together. We struggled together. We ate and fought together, but all this time you had larceny in your heart towards me. People always told me that, too. They used to say, ‘watch your back because your cousin is a snake’, but I never believed it. I see for myself now. It’s always the ones closest to you that hurt you the most.”
“Don’t bitch up now, nigga. I wouldn’t have to do this if those fuckin’ Italians would’ve done what they were supposed to do.” Cleo cocked the weapon back. “Yeah… I was the one who paid drunk Sunny to shoot up the bar and say your name. I figured they could take care of you and I could take care of them, but things didn’t go as planned so I gotta do this shit myself, just like I did Casey.”
Mox jumped up and tried to grab the gun out of Cleo’s hand and a tussle ensued. They wrestled until they hit the ground, but Cleo still had a firm grip on the pistol. Mox tried to bend his wrist so that he would drop it, but nothing was working. Cleo was using his 100 pound weight difference to his advantage.
“Cleo stop!” Sybil begged. Earl tried to help, but Cleo backed him up by aiming the gun at him.
The butt end of the Ruger came down on Mox’s jaw and the struggle turned one sided.
Cleo made it to his feet and stood over Mox as he lay on the floor, wounded. “Since you miss your brother so bad, I’m ‘bout to send you to meet him.” He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger.
__________
The livery cab could barely make it into the parking lot because of all the po
lice cars that were lined up. Priscilla looked out the window as she waited for her change. Paramedics and EMT’s were rushing someone to the ambulance on a gurney. She hadn’t paid it too much mind until she saw Mox’s aunt Sybil and his uncle Wise Earl running alongside the men pushing the small bed on wheels.
She quickly pushed the cab door open and sprang from the seat. All she could see were tubes coming out the mouth of whoever was lying on the gurney. As she got closer, her heart beat faster and faster. She looked at the horror on Sybil’s face and knew something was wrong.
When the paramedics whizzed by her, it was as if a video frame was playing in slow motion. She saw the only man she ever loved, stretched across a thin mattress, fighting for his life. She reached out to grab his hand, but could only brush his finger-tips because they were moving fast.
The Union Page 16
