The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “Oh, yeah,” Drake said, playing off what Simone was saying as his overweight wife looked on with anticipation with news of Li’l T. “Is that right?”

  “And I know you wouldn’t want a chick to catch a cold all up in my perfectly trimmed kitty cat, now would you?” Simone grinned.

  “Ummmm.” Drake shivered at the thought. “Why don’t you have him call home when you get a chance?”

  “That’s not a problem.” Simone laughed at his nervous reaction. “And by the way, he’s already at home!”

  No sooner than Drake hung up, he glanced up, telling Prayer, who was now stuffing her mouth with barbeque potato chips, to sit down and expect Terrell’s call shortly. As she happily waited, still crunching away, hastily the alpha male of the household slyly headed back to the steamy confines of the slick, marble-wall shower to beat his meat, lustfully imagining what it’d feel like to have his wife’s former best friend and Li’l T’s mother on her knees in front of him with her lips wrapped around his pipe.

  * * *

  Joi and Terrell spent a few hours in deep discussion about his childhood and why his mother was the way she was. Then Joi felt it was best for her to go home and check in on her big sister, who she knew was in some serious pain, which her overzealous mouth had gotten her into. Even though she hadn’t totally forgiven Terrell for his inexcusable actions, Joi knew he was troubled, and her trusting ways made her want to solve the problems of the world, including her boyfriend.

  Standing near the rear kitchen door, waiting for Terrell to get his van keys and drive her home, Joi was once again met by Simone, who was fully dressed with her purse dangling off her arm. With a lump in her throat, the young girl knew she had to say something, but at this point, she was at a total loss for words. Scrambling around in her own small handbag, fumbling with a pack of Big Red gum, Joi finally spoke up, breaking the ice. “So, Miss Harris, do you happen to have any old pictures of my mother and you?”

  “Ummm naw, I don’t think so, sweetie.” Simone took a deep breath while lying through her teeth and trying to control her emotions at having her son’s tactless girlfriend question her about her no-good mother. “I used to, but I think someone stole them out my photo album.” As if I’d really let that dirtball Monique hang out with me and my crew! Simone thought as she faked a smile.

  “Oh.” A disappointed Joi sighed as Terrell rolled into the room with his navy blue Detroit Tiger cap twisted to the side and his cell phone on his lap.

  “Are you ready to go or what?” He leaned his wheelchair backward, doing one of the many tricks he’d learned over the years he’d been stuck in it. These tricks often caused many others, including his family, to cringe while their hearts skipped a beat, hoping he wouldn’t lose control, flip out, and bust his head wide open.

  “Where are you about to go?” Simone asked with her hands on her hips as if she were really concerned and not just plain nosy and a straight-out hater. “And I done told you to stop doing that dumb shit!”

  “Dang, Ma! I’m about to shoot her to her crib,” Li’l T fired back as he let the chair assume its correct and safe position. “Is that all right with you or do I need you to sign my permission slip?”

  Truly not wanting her son anywhere near Joi, not to mention her sister, Simone volunteered to drop the young girl off since she was leaving anyway. “Why don’t you just go relax and let me take her home? Besides, it’ll give me and Joi a much better chance to get acquainted and you a chance to call Drake’s pesky ass. Shit, he done called me twice checking up on you!”

  Knowing it would be like pulling teeth to disobey his mother’s overbearing actions, Terrell grudgingly gave in against his better judgment. After suspiciously watching his half-baked mother and his girlfriend disappear into the garage then pull out of the driveway, he rolled back into his room and called Yankee to check up on the ticket that was out in the street, then followed it up with a call to Drake.

  * * *

  Shauntae checked the mirror, hoping some of the swelling had gone down, before she flung the door open to let Elon come inside. “Hey, love.”

  “Damn! Who mollywopped ya ass up like that?”

  “Ain’t nobody do shit like that to me,” she protested as she walked away from the door, switching. “Thangs just got a little out of control at one point, but a bitch like me is down for you and only you! I took one for the team!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Intrigued by her blasé attitude to the obvious stomp down she encountered, Elon cautiously sat down on the couch with his best friend, his nine, on his lap and waited for what Shauntae had to say that was so relevant to his and Donte’s current problems.

  It took all of twenty minutes for her to give him the complete rundown of the events that had taken place over the last couple of weeks since she’d been hanging out with Stuff and Terrell. Not leaving out the fact that they not only had a gang of weed in their possession but they were rich as a motherfucker living on the other side of the Gates and out far into the suburbs, Shauntae gloated, thinking she had led Elon to the motherland.

  Even though that plush lifestyle they were living and Shauntae constantly yearned for meant absolutely nothing to Elon, who was raised with just as many advantages as Terrell and Stuff, he still had to knock them out of the picture so his and Donte’s business could continue to flourish at a rapid pace. “Dig this here,” he said, plotting as his dick got hard at the thought of money, murder, and mayhem. “Find out their plans for the next week or so step by step, hour by hour if you can. Then when they asses least expect the bullshit, they’ll regret the day they wanted to play with the big boys!”

  “I know, baby.” Shauntae, horny as hell, tried to snuggle up on Elon, massaging his thick dick. “They ain’t got shit on you!”

  Elon took one look down at her bruised-up mug and started to lose his erection. “Damn, bitch!” He pushed her back across the couch. “A nigga want some of that pussy, but you gotsta turn over and let me hit it from the back so I don’t have to see ya busted smile!”

  “Oh, it’s like that?” Shauntae, who was turned on by his disrespectful bad-boy demeanor, raised her skirt, revealing that she had no panties on, and turned over, propping her ass up into the air so Elon would have no trouble getting to her dripping wet kitty cat.

  After slipping a rubber on, Elon went to town, pounding all his frustrations from the Detroit streets out on her body. Shauntae was in seventh heaven as her face, already in pain, continuously hit the arm of the couch.

  * * *

  Getting out of eye and ear range of her son, Simone turned the music up loudly, halting any more thoughts that Joi might’ve had of making petty conversation. No sooner than Simone drove through the black steel gates, she sped up, almost pushing the gas pedal to the floor in an attempt to get the goody-goody mother-in-law act over. Unfortunately for Joi, the act was over sooner than she thought as Terrell’s mother slammed down on the automobile’s brake, bringing the car to a sudden stop on a dimly lit corner near the liquor store down the street and three blocks over from her house.

  “Listen,” Simone said, “is this good enough? Because I’m running late, and I don’t have time to creep down them pothole-filled streets on the block you said you live on.”

  Hesitant to make waves or disagree with Simone, Joi politely nodded, gathered her things, and got out of the car. Before she could say goodbye and shut the door good, she heard the automatic door locks go down, and she watched the taillights of the car peel off as she stood on the litter-lined curb. Dang gee. Everything Terrell said about his mother really is true. No wonder he acts the way he does.

  She headed off down the block, cutting across a couple of vacant lots. Making a left then a quick right, she was a few yards from home when she noticed Elon’s truck pulled up in her unpaved driveway. “Oh, my God! Not him! He’s so rude!” Standing in front of the abandoned house next door, Joi got herself together. She could only imagine what her sister looked like, and she wondered why in the world she wo
uld let Elon, or anyone else for that matter, see her in that state.

  “All right then.” Elon suddenly emerged from the house with his always-present gun down at his side.

  “Hi,” Joi softly spoke, walking up toward the porch.

  “Hey, baby.” Elon openly flirted with her, knowing he’d pay almost anything Shauntae’s sister wanted to be able to hit them guts like he’d been yearning to do for months. “I heard you got a little boyfriend and shit!” he taunted. “Just in case something ever happens to that crippled lame, just remember a nigga like me always in the game of needing some young, pretty, tight-pussy-having chick on my arm!”

  “Excuse me?” Joi paused. “Don’t talk to me like that. Plus aren’t you dating my sister?”

  “Dating?” Elon laughed as he stuffed his gun in the front of his jeans and grabbed Joi up by her waist all in one smooth motion. “I don’t date hoes. I regulate they punk asses!”

  Struggling to get away from his grip, Joi finally broke loose, running up the stairs and into the house. As Elon jumped into his truck and hit his headlights, he drove past two different vehicles that were inconspicuously parked on separated parts of the block but both within view of Shauntae and Joi’s house.

  Well, damn. I guess Joi isn’t as innocent as she pretends to be. And all along I’ve been thinking I had the wild sister. Stuff sat silently, thinking, as he held on his lap a dozen red roses he’d picked up for Shauntae after dropping Marie off at home. And now that I think about it, that’s the same truck from the store that day! He read the license plate in his rearview mirror. I GO HARD. It is! Ahhh, man! I’ve gotta call Terrell later!

  Parked discreetly behind a huge, old cargo van, Simone’s car vibrated from the old-school rap music blasting from the truck barreling past with no regard for the dirt and pebbles its oversized tires kicked up on the sides of her doors. Slumping over toward the passenger seat of her Vette and out of sight of the mystery driver, she thought, ump, ump ump! She work quick! Ain’t this some foul bullshit! Homegirl was busy acting all “stand by my man” in love at my house, and she over here posted in the next motherfucker’s grill, getting her mack game on in full swing just like that! She ain’t no better than her dead-ass mama or that stank-mouth sister of hers! Simone read the truck’s license plate. I GO HARD.

  Simone was now glad that at Big Ace’s insistence she’d doubled back, braving the chance of bending her shiny rims on the dark road to see exactly where Monique’s kids laid their heads at just in case any of them chose to relive the day their mother and her crew were murdered and give the cops any additional information that could ultimately lead to his arrest after all these years. Catching Joi cheating with ol’ boy, who unbeknownst to her was one of Big Ace’s sons, was an extra bonus, icing on the cake to Simone. With her car lights still turned off, she crept out of the hood as quietly as she’d crept in.

  Chapter Four

  “I can’t believe that fool just had the nerve to call me and check up on me and what the fuck I’m doing out here in these streets,” Yankee fumed as Wahoo, still grief-stricken, listened. “His crippled ass got me twisted!”

  “Yeah, well, can you blame him?” Wahoo asked as he held his grandmother’s obituary. “Him and Stuff do have a lot of their own money still invested.”

  “So fucking what! That still don’t make me Terrell’s goddamn slave and shit. He ain’t no boss!”

  “Whatever,” Wahoo disinterestedly replied.

  “Plus that sucker Stuff just bogarted all up on Shauntae,” Yankee hissed as he pounded his fist inside his other hand. “I got some real plans in store for his punk ass! Then the script really gonna flip and I’m gonna be a boss around these parts!”

  Wahoo, still clutching the obituary and picture, looked up. “Dude, what you talking about now?”

  “I’m talking about hitting the ultimate lick of a lifetime and getting some of that serious bread for once.” Yankee was glad he’d finally sparked Wahoo’s interest because most definitely he needed a partner if what he was planning would work. “I’ve been thinking about this caper ever since we met dude, but I was just holding back.”

  “Met who, Terrell?” Wahoo asked with guilt in his tone as he quickly thought about all the nice things his boy had done to support him and his brothers and sisters since his grandmother’s death, including buying the dress she was buried in along with paying for the very paper he was holding in his hands.

  “Naw, that nigga Stuff! His rich ass could have all the hoes he wants and he down here in the D slumming with our bitches! I swear to God on my word, son!”

  “So what you saying?”

  Yankee grinned, rubbing his sweaty palms together. “I’m saying let’s follow that dude to the crib late one night and rob him and that high-profile family of his. After that lick, we should be set for life. I can get my own package and really step my game up, and you can shoot a move on the social worker and take the kids down South or someplace out of the way that don’t nobody know y’all and start over fresh.”

  “Maybe you right.” Wahoo thought about what it would feel like living in a new place where he and his family weren’t the neighborhood joke, and he quickly informed Yankee that he was all in for whatever.

  * * *

  As Joi entered the house, she saw Shauntae come out of the bathroom with a cold rag pressed to her face. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” Shauntae smiled as she removed the rag to reveal her face to her little sister.

  “Oh, my God! It looks awful.” Joi turned away.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Terrell is so sorry. He don’t know what came over him. He swears he’s gonna get some help!”

  “Don’t worry, it’s all good.” Shauntae kept smiling, knowing that one day soon Terrell along with Stuff and Yankee would all get what they had coming.

  The phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, Shauntae immediately changed her smile to a frown, catching a serious attitude as she saw Stuff’s name and number flashing. But knowing what she and Elon discussed about playing the role until it was time, she put on her best voice and answered. “Hello.”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Oh, hey. What up doe?”

  “You.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Are you still mad at me? How you feeling?”

  “I’m good. I just took some aspirin and Joi just got home.”

  Not wanting to let her know he’d been parked down the street and had seen her sister and the nigga in the truck have words before Joi came in, he kept quiet. Having no idea that Shauntae had just finished giving up the pussy to the same dude, naively Stuff asked her if she could come out to his car because he was about to pull up.

  “Naw, babe. I’m lying down.”

  “Well, can you send out Joi? I’ve got something for you.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Eager to please Shauntae, Joi went outside and to the car where Stuff was waiting. As he handed her the flowers through the window along with a crisp hundred-dollar bill, Joi noticed a strange look of disgust in his eyes. He drove his BMW away and down the street. She couldn’t figure it out, but she wanted to get back in the house as soon as possible before Elon’s roguish ass popped back up.

  Upon Joi’s return, Shauntae was overjoyed, snatching the flowers from her sister’s hands. The money was of no true consequence to her, but the long-stemmed flowers were a horse of a different color. No man had ever given her flowers, and she felt her heart slightly warm.

  I hope the swelling goes down before my birthday and that Barristers’ Ball dance thing Stuff promised to take me to, Shauntae prayed as if she just didn’t give Elon the green light to mash Stuff and his friends. I really wanna go.

  * * *

  Driving back to the house with the information he’d just gotten from Shauntae, Elon knew that his and his brother’s little slowdown in sales and productivity would soon come to an abrupt halt. He had not only the names of the rich mama-boy busters who w
ere trying to step on their toes but one of their addresses, too. Stopping by the store first to get a beer and a shot of Hennessy, he looked back just in time to see a brand-new Vette, which was sitting on the hottest rims he’d ever seen, fly by and head toward the freeway. I need to get one of them joints when business picks back up, he thought as he went into the entrance.

  * * *

  A solid week flew by after that twisted day, and all seemed calm on the callous, black-hearted, unfeeling streets of Detroit. All residents, having their own jobs to do, were hard at work making that shit go down. Copper thieves were stealing wire out of the lampposts, leaving the darkness of night to rule. Drug addicts were posted at the gas stations, begging for spare change. Hoes were tucked behind dumpsters, sucking dick for a dollar. Small kids were roaming the street in dirty diapers while their unfit mothers slept off hangovers from the night before. Niggas and true gator-wearing pimp players were out slanging that work, knowing the slow-responding police were busy kicked back somewhere with doughnuts stuffed in their mouths. It was business as usual in the D.

  All seemed well for an elated Prayer who was satisfied that in less than forty-eight hours she’d be reunited with Terrell, who was bringing his new girlfriend over for dinner. Her name was Joi, and that was all she knew about the girl.

  Busily she worked on the menu as Drake tossed an outfit in a bag for yet another unexplained, unexpected two-to-three-day trip. When Drake pulled out of the driveway, she never once said goodbye or even kissed him on the cheek. One could easily guess that it was that type of self-absorbed behavior that kept her once-loyal man up in the comforting arms of the next female.

  Drake had spoken to Li’l T several times during the week, advising him to stop what he was doing and finish his education, but since Terrell was hell-bent on following in his, Joey’s, and Kamal’s footsteps, putting in that street work, Drake had to let the youngster learn on his own exactly what the world was offering to an uneducated, young black male with a fucked-up criminal record: not jack shit!