Trust No Man 3

by Cash

  The self-proclaimed grand hustla himself, stepped out next and climbed up on the hood of the stretch limo. “Nigga, it ain’t but one king of the south! You tryna jack my title?” TI said into the mic he held.

  The crowd went ape shit!

  TI and Swag battled back and forth for an hour. It was a lyrical heavyweight fight that left both opponents spent. The crowd roared its respect for both rappers’ freestyle mastery. Then, TI, the city’s prodigal son, took over the show. Swag noticed shawdy and me in the front row and sent two of his bodyguards to invite us on stage. I wasn’t one to bask in another nigga’s glow, but I went onstage so I could tell Swag that everything was gucci with us. Ava remained in the crowd. I climbed on stage, walked over to the side where Swag stood amongst his mans, and we embraced.

  “’Sup, fam’? You clowned on the mic. That shit you said about TI’s girl, Tiny was stupid slick.” I congratulated him. I knew it had all been in fun because TI and Swag fucked with each other.

  “Yeah, I ate his ass up with that one. But Tip knows he’s my nigga. Just like you are. I’ll always fuck with you the long way.”

  “That’s what’s up. Just don’t try to change me, unc. I’m on a mission that can’t be stopped. Real talk, I been living gully ever since they stuck that needle in my pop’s arm.”

  “It’s all love,” he replied. “Fuck with ya boy. Why don’t you and your girl hang out with us tonight?”

  “Nawl, fam’, I promised shawdy some one on one time tonight. I’ma get with you next time you’re in the ‘A’. I just wanted to square things away with us in case it’s the last time I see you, my nigga.”

  “Man, what you talkin’ about?”

  “I’m just saying, fam’—you never know. Niggas die and get cased up in these streets every day. You never know when it’s your time.”

  “Is that really all it is? Or is it something deeper? ‘Cause if you got beef out here that’s hot like that, I got goons who move on my command. Just say the word, nephew, and they’ll ride down and dirty with you,” offered Swag.

  I knew that he wasn’t frontin’, in his entourage were killas and thugs. I could do nothing but salute that. I gave him a gangsta hug and hopped off stage.

  Ava and I weaved through the crowd, making our way back to the well-lit parking lot. There, we bumped into the last person I wanted to see. “My baby!” she cried. Then she smiled, showing a bare front grill. Besides her mouth, she didn’t look as tore up as I expected her to look, but her head was shaved as bald as a baby’s ass and she was very thin. Some old school nigga was with her. Shan reached out to hug me, like we were good with each other, when we weren’t. I stepped back.

  “Lil T, please. I’ve been trying to find you so we can fix our relationship. You’re all I have left now. Mama’s gone, Laquanda’s gone—”

  “My pop is gone. Don’t forget that!” I reminded her.

  “I know, and I’m sorry for what I’ve done. If I could go back and change things, God knows I would.” She sobbed over the music that thundered out to where we stood.

  I felt no pity. “But you can’t change shit. You can’t take back the phone call that you made. Because of your trife ass this is all that’s left of a good nigga!” I lifted the urn around my neck and pushed it into her face.

  She wept. “Please find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “What? I should spit in your face!” I blared.

  “No, baby, she’s still your mother! You don’t have to like the things she’s done, but respect her! Don’t do that to her!” Ava begged me.

  “Lil T, I wasn’t in my right mind back then. You don’t understand, I loved your father. But the more he rejected me, the more that love turned into hate.”

  “Miss me with that fuck shit. You fucked his partna; he should’ve murked ya ass. And what about Laquanda? Were you in your right mind the night you tried to prostitute her for a muthafuckin’ rock? Get out of my face before I thrash your trifling ass!”

  “Youngin, don’t talk to your mother like that. She’s already going through enough,” old school said and stepped into some shit that wasn’t his business.

  My banger came out instantly. “Nigga, stay the fuck out of mine!” I pointed it in his face.

  He threw up his hands in surrender.

  “Step, nigga!” I slapped him in the head with the banger and he ran off in the other direction.

  “Let’s bounce, shawdy. I get sick every time this gutter snipe is in my presence,” I said to Ava while sneering at Shan.

  When we turned to walk off, Shan yelled, “Lil T, I’m dying! I have cancer and it’s real bad.”

  I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned around to face her. “It’s called karma. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ve been dead.”

  Now my whole mood was thrown off. Ava said nothing as we followed traffic down Boulevard. My mind wasn’t on my surroundings, and that’s how I almost got caught slippin’.

  “Trouble, watch out!” screamed Ava. I glanced over to see that a car was side by side with us and a nigga was leaning out of the passenger window with a shotgun aimed at me. Ava snatched me down just as dude let the gun blast. My driver’s door window imploded into a thousand tiny pieces of glass. The second KABOOM peppered the door, and then my assailants sped away.

  I rose up and flicked the dome light. “Shawdy, you okay?” I looked over in the passenger seat. Blood covered Ava’s entire upper body.

  “No, I’m going to die,” she moaned.

  “Nawl, shawdy don’t say that. You’re a survivor, just hold on to my hand.”

  Ava gripped my hand. I raced towards the nearest hospital, which was Atlanta Medical Center. As I glanced over at shawdy, I could see that the shotgun blast had caught her in the neck and upper chest. She was bleeding badly, and the blood was pouring out alarmingly fast. Her grip was weakening on my hand.

  “Sol . . . dier . . . Boy,” she groaned.

  “Soldier Boy?” I repeated, honking my horn to bypass traffic.

  Ava nodded her head to confirm that I had heard her correctly.

  “I’ll get him, shawdy,” I promised, but I don’t think she heard me because her head went slack and her hand slipped from my grasp.

  Ava was pronounced dead upon arrival at Atlanta’s Medical Center. I was totally fucked up. Leaving another enemy alive had cost someone else close to me their life. Death was a bitter pill to swallow when the enemy struck back.

  To prevent this from happening to yet someone else close to me, it was time to turn all the fuckin’ way up.

  I buried Ava a week before Easter Sunday. Inez and my sisters attended the services as well as Criminal and Hadiya. Before we laid shawdy to rest we released twenty-two white doves. One for every year of Ava’s life.

  The service was beautiful but heart-wrenching. Back at the crib that I had shared with Ava, memories of shawdy were in every room. I could even smell the scent of her familiar body wash in the air. I knew that I could not remain living there long. The memories were too intense.

  I smoked loud all night and thought about shawdy. In the wee hours of the morning, I strapped up. I knew where to find who I was after. I got in my whip and pushed in an old Lloyd Banks CD, programming it to my favorite track before pulling off.

  Nobody here knew that they would die before they awoke/ they probably started out a few days before they were smoked/ out last night high be that murder she wrote . . .

  Ava’s absence squeezed my heart. Shawdy was gone. I was gonna miss her like crazy. I blinked back a tear and my pop came to mind. The smell from my nigga a couple of weeks soften/I raise hell but I speak softly/ caught in the mix . . .

  My thoughts went from my pop to Swag and Criminal, two niggas who were proving that a few of us keep it all the way one hundred. Both had my back in different ways.

  My nigga ‘til the end/ fuck the bills the freaks the Benz/ let’s toast drinks ‘til we die/roll up the weed blow the smoke in the sky/da da da . . .

  I knew
that with one phone call Criminal would be riding shotgun, but I could handle this on my own. I pulled into the parking lot of the strip club where Erotica danced at now. It was closing time and customers milled out in groups. I waited until the parking lot was empty except the vehicles that belonged to the dancers and other employees.

  A while later, a very familiar looking, dark colored sedan pulled into the parking lot. I strained my memory trying to quickly recall where I had seen that car. Then it hit me . . . it was the car that I had seen screeching away the day Inez’s house had gotten sprayed up while I was inside. It was also the same muthafuckin’ ride that the shooters were driving when Ava was killed.

  Soldier Boy got out of the car and posted up on the front hood waiting for Erotica to come outside, I concluded. Damn, I had slumped Fat Stan for something he hadn’t done. Oh well, he was a hater anyway. Fuck him.

  Erotica came out of the club and walked toward Soldier Boy’s car. I pounced out of my whip on some ‘don’t give a fuck’ shit. My banger was down by my side as I crossed the street ready to take it back to the Wild, Wild West!

  Soldier Boy’s street instincts were fine-tuned. He sensed danger before I could get up on him, and his hand shot to his waist as we glared at each other from about thirty feet. Just then, a police cruiser pulled into the lot. I smoothly kept my Glock hidden from the po-po’s view. Soldier Boy eased his hand away from his waist, put his fingers to his lips and blew me the kiss of death.

  “Another place, another time,” I said.

  CHAPTER 38

  As the book was closed on one life precious to me, another began. A month after I buried Ava, Kamora gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He was born under the sign of Gemini, which meant that he would have the strength of two men. Add with that the strength inherited from our bloodline, and my newborn son was destined to rule.

  When I arrived at the hospital, Criminal met me in the waiting room. I was surprised that he was there but he explained, “Kamora called me because your new number isn’t programmed into her phone. Inez was with her during delivery.”

  I gave him a gangsta hug. “Thanks, bruh. You go above and beyond for a nigga and I’ll never forget it.”

  “Don’t get all mushy, nigga,” he exclaimed.

  A nurse pointed me to Kamora’s room. I went in and found Inez at her bedside. “Congratulations!” Inez beamed, passing me a box of Black and Mild.

  “Thanks.” I hugged her. “Where’s my lil nigga at?”

  “The nurse will bring him back shortly. Wait ‘til you see him. He looks exactly like you and your daddy.”

  “Does he?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I walked over to Kamora’s bed. “’Sup? How you feelin’?”

  “I’m okay. It wasn’t as bad as everyone said it would be, but I’m tired as hell now. What’s going on with you?” she asked.

  “You know how I do. Ain’t nothin’ changed but the time and date. I got a whole lot of things for you and the baby out in the car. I’ll bring them over when you’re released.”

  “That would be nice.”

  It felt strange holding a conversation with Kamora in this manner. The distance between us was obvious. I looked down at her and shook my head at what had become of the love we once shared. But I still felt what I felt and I knew deep inside that I was not wrong.

  “What do you want me to name him?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts with a foolish question.

  “C’mon, Kamora, you know I’m giving my son his rightful name. Terrence Whitsmith III. And I’ma call his lil ass Trey.”

  The nurse entered the room and handed my son to me. I looked at him closely and it took a nigga’s breath away. He was my mirror image. I couldn’t stop looking at him. “This is some amazing shit,” I remarked.

  “Now, aren’t you glad I didn’t get an abortion?”

  I looked down at Kamora with a frown. The question fucked up the moment. I didn’t respond. In fact, I said nothing else to her the rest of the time I was there. I blocked her out and enjoyed the time with my son. He smiled up at me like he knew who I was. And he gripped my finger tight with his tiny hand.

  Two days later, when it was time for Kamora to be discharged, I picked her and Trey up and drove them home. Inez brought my sisters over to see the baby and they took turns holding him.

  I was a proud father, despite how I had felt about Kamora’s decision. I didn’t have to be with her to be a good pop to my son, whom I loved instantly. I didn’t get to spend much time with my newborn son. A week after he was born, I was on a flight to Virginia. I used the same false name and ID to rent a car and register a motel as I used to purchase the airline ticket.

  I used the GPS in the rental to find my way to the address on London Boulevard that was embedded in my mind so deep I could call it off in my sleep. I had no trouble spotting Delina, the bitch had a recent photo of herself as her profile picture on Facebook.

  I watched her for a whole week, getting her routine down to a science. Lying in the hotel room one evening watching CNN, I was shocked to see that the top story was about the ‘A’. I turned up the volume to see what it was about.

  In the early morning hours, residents of this Atlanta community awoke to a grisly scene. A human head was stuck atop a STOP sign. Police have identified the severed head as that of Alejandro Martinez, a reported drug dealer.

  I recognized the name as that of the Mexican who supplied cocaine to most of the esés in the ‘A’.

  I shook my head in amusement. Criminal and ‘em had definitely made a statement by pumpkinizing Martinez. I hit bruh up. “Boy, you’re a beast,” I said in salutation.

  “Niggas better know—this right here ain’t what they want. I’ll turn everyday into Halloween. Ya heard me, fam’?”

  “Yeah, I heard you, dog.” I chuckled.

  “Get at me later. I gotta go slap a nigga around for scratching up my paint when he washed my car this morning.”

  “A’ight fool, I’ll holla.” I laughed.

  I hung up from Criminal and dialed Inez. We talked about what had happened without mentioning Criminal’s name. In the end, Inez said, “He’s not gonna last like that. Hadiya might as well get ready for those weekend trips to prison to visit him.”

  “Don’t jinx him.”

  “Hmmph! He’s making himself a hot boy.”

  Hot was definitely an understatement. I could just imagine how hard po-po was gonna come down on the hood, pressing niggas to talk. They wouldn’t get much cooperation though—not with those young GF dudes pumpkinizing muthafuckas.

  I said goodbye to Inez and stood in the window of the hotel looking out over downtown Norfolk. Rain came down in sheets, drumming the window pane like a baseline. My first trip to VA wasn’t for fun, so I welcomed the storm.

  As I moved closer to the window in order to see through the downpour, my pop’s urn clinked against the glass, reminding me what I had come to Virginia to do. Then I heard Big Ma’s voice in my head. Vengeance is mine, said the Lord. Wrong. I would avenge my father. It is what I had thought about everyday for the past seven years. Nothing mattered more to me than that. Not even my own life.

  Thunder clapped as I drove through the downtown tunnel headed back to Portsmouth. It took me all of five minutes to take the Effingham exit, make a left, and then make a second left onto High Street. I saw the high school, I.C. Norcom, which I used as a landmark to find her house. It was the perfect location for me to park the rental and trek across the boulevard to Delina’s. Her house was on the corner, so it was in my peripheral view. I parked close to the stadium, and then locked the doors as I headed across the street. I didn’t even feel the rain soaking my clothes—that’s how focused I was as I made my way up the street and into the backyard of the house where she lived. Having been there a few nights before, I had no trouble finding the basement window I had already broken out and taped up in preparation of what I was about to do. I removed the tape and reached a gloved hand inside and unlatched
the window lock. A minute later, I was in the basement using a pen light to find my way. I climbed some stairs that led up to the kitchen. There, I stood still for a moment and listened. I knew that Delina had a dude, but I had watched him leave for work half an hour ago. I had his routine down pat too.

  The floor squeaked with each step I took in search of the bedrooms. “Yusef, is that you?” I heard her call out. “Did you forget something, baby?” I followed the sound of her voice.

  We bumped into each other in the doorway of her bedroom. Delina shrieked. I grabbed her throat and silenced her with a stern threat. “Make another sound and I’ll blow your fucking brains out!” I pushed her back into the bedroom down on the bed and stood over her.

  The light from the lamp illuminated my face. She had not seen me in more than ten years, since I was a little boy sitting in court listening to her rat my pop out, but she recognized me instantly. It was like my face was haunting her dreams. “You’re Youngblood’s son,” she murmured.

  “And also his keeper, bitch!” I punched her in the eye.

  She put up a fight when I duct taped her hands and mouth, but nothing compared to when I pulled out a syringe. Her eyes bulged out in horror.

  I sat the syringe down and tied a length of cloth around her arm. A vein popped up. She thrashed and kicked, correctly reading my intentions. I duct taped her ankles together and cracked her across the head with my banger, knocking her unconscious.

  I picked the needle back up and twirled it between my thumb and forefinger, smiling maniacally. Inez had filled it with rat poison before I left the ‘A’. In the hotel room I had watched a medical instructional DVD numerous times to learn how to accurately inject someone. I did not want to kill the bitch fast; I wanted her sentenced to death by lethal injection—the same punishment her testimony helped my pop receive.

  I slapped her awake. She could only look up at me out of one eye because the other one was swollen shut. “Didn’t you know that you would have to pay one day?” I asked calmly as I skeeted a bit of rat poison up in the air to make sure the needle wasn’t clogged. “You violated the code of the streets. Had my pop gotten caught first he would’ve never snitched on you and your rat nigga. He trusted y’all with his life and you betrayed him. For that, I sentence you to death by lethal injection. I gripped her arm tight and slid the tip of the needle up under her skin. Blood trickled around the syringe as I pushed it deeper inside her vein. She fought to keep it out, but I pumped the poison into her arm and watched it slowly take effect. Her body convulsed and her head whipped from side to side. Muffled cries escaped from around the strip of tape covering her mouth. Her eyes grew big and her chest heaved rapidly.