“You always think you’re so smart.” She towered over Joi, dizzy and out of breath. “I ain’t liked you since the day Mama brought your ass home from the hospital!”
Ten minutes after that wild confrontation, Elon, hyped that his plan was going down, pulled up in the girls’ front yard and ran up on the porch. He pushed open the unlocked door. To his surprise, he found Shauntae delirious, smelling like she’d bathed in liquor, and Joi unconscious alongside the china cabinet.
“Damn, bitch! What went on here? What’s wrong with your sister?” Elon tried getting a straight response from Shauntae. “Me and my people out there putting in that work and you clowning!”
“Leave me alone!” She raised her voice, forgetting who she was talking to, and she swung. She connected a right hook directly with Elon’s jaw. “Before I fuck you up too!”
“That’s it, ho! I done had it!” He rubbed the side of his face and then lunged at her. “You done hung out with them soft-ass niggas too long! Now daddy gonna really show you and your sister who’s boss in the D!”
Chapter Six
Just as Yankee bit into his cheeseburger, an infuriated Terrell turned into the parking lot with murder on his mind. Disloyal and having his own separate agenda that Wahoo was working on, Yankee couldn’t waste any time getting a handle on who or what the cause was of these sudden bat-wielding niggas who had declared war on them.
“What up doe?”
“What up doe with you, my dude?” Terrell nodded as he leaned out the open window. “What’s the deal? Ya heard anything more?”
“Naw. Them young boys say they lost they stash, but who knows if that shit true or not.”
“Yeah, true that. But yet and still they shit is busted, right?”
“Hell yeah.” Yankee tossed the sandwich on the ground, losing his appetite. “I stopped by Wahoo’s cousin’s crib, and it was blood all over the porch!”
Plotting what moves to make next after about a good thirty minutes or so reliving what the young cats said happened step by step, they still were at a loss as to who their enemy was.
“Well, we need to gather all the fellas together and get strapped. At least that way if them hating busters come back, we’ll be ready!”
“Yeah, that’ll work.” Yankee looked nervously at the time on his cell phone, knowing he was on the clock for his plan to go off without a hitch.
“Anyway, where is Wahoo?” Terrell scanned the parking lot as his ever-present gun now occupied the passenger seat. “I know he said he out this bullshit, but right about now we need his ass. He gotta have our backs!”
“Oh, ummm . . .” Yankee had to think quickly. “I think he’s over on the deep west side, checking on some job.”
“Oh, okay. Well, get in touch with him and tell him we all need to meet up tonight. I’m about to go to the crib and see how much bread we working with now to re-up, ’cause my boy Juan is gonna fall through later to pick it up. I don’t wanna keep him waiting. I’ll holler.”
Here this nigga go again thinking he’s a goddamn boss! After me and Wahoo hit this lick in a few, it’s gonna be a pleasure telling his crippled ass to kick rocks! Yankee grinned at Terrell.
* * *
Terrell wasn’t experienced in really what to do next or what course of action to take. Everything Simone had said about him was true, and now that some dudes whose toes he and his friends had stepped on were obviously on their heads, the shit was fucked up. He wasn’t a gangster with that real hardcore gangster mentality in him. Prayer and Drake hadn’t raised him to be a killer despite his psychotic inherited bloodline. Even though he kept his gun with him at all times, it was for protection, not what he was now involved in.
Lost in deep concentration thinking about what in the hell he’d gotten himself into trying to prove that he was a man, a loud sound came from nowhere, snatching him from his thoughts. Turning down the radio, he heard the sounds getting louder and heard the thud of gunshots rip through the rear sliding door of the van. As he looked in his mirror, Terrell noticed a dark maroon old-school Regal turn off a side street and accelerate, coming up behind him. Reaching over for his pistol Li’l T put one up top and prayed for the car, whose headlights were off, to hopefully realize they were shooting at the wrong motherfucker and get the hell on.
Speeding down Jefferson Avenue then dipping in and out of the raggedy streets of Detroit, a few short blocks later they were still on his trail. The passenger of the car leaned out the window, getting boogie and shattering the van’s rear window with a shot that almost separated Terrell’s head from the rest of his body.
These niggas act like they trying to kill me for real! His mind-set quickly changed, and Kamal appeared to take over. I ain’t going out like no punk. If they wanna do something, then fuck it! Suddenly Terrell picked up his leg and pressed his foot down on the brake and cut the steering wheel, making the custom van do a doughnut, resulting in him facing the old-school Regal head-on. Seeing his father’s face, Li’l T moved his foot onto the gas pedal and hit the custom buttons on the steering column, lowering his own window. The closer he got, the more Kamal’s spirit consumed him, and he just didn’t give a fuck about living or dying.
Several loud, thunderous sounds popped off. Kamal’s bastard son got off four rounds directly into the late-model car, causing the driver to swerve into an abandoned car. Li’l T got away unharmed. But that wasn’t enough as he swerved around once more, letting off three more “fo’ sho” shots into the driver’s side. Cautiously rushing to get back to the safety of the other side of the Gates and get a couple of his mother’s many guns she thought she had secretly stashed in the back of her closet, Li’l T was stopped by the security guard at the shack.
“What up doe, Mr. Johnson?” Terrell kept looking over his shoulder, keeping his gun on his lap just in case his attackers returned.
“Hello, Terrell. Somebody in a black truck left this package for you about an hour ago.”
“A black truck?” he asked, puzzled. “I don’t know anybody in a black truck.”
“Yeah, well, the young man said he was a new friend of yours, and I believe he said something like, ‘Welcome to the neighborhood.’”
“What the hell?” Hesitantly he took the long package, which had a huge black bow on it, and set it on the passenger seat. He drove through the steel gates with perspiration pouring down his face.
As he sat in the driveway, the crazy bullshit started to make a little sense of who might’ve been on their heads so tough. Slowly opening the mysterious box, Terrell was shocked to see one long-stemmed black rose with a card attached that read:
For ya mama to carry when I’m done with you!
I GO HARD
That’s the same dude I keep seeing! It hit him as he got out of the van and into his wheelchair. He rolled into the house. I need to get in touch with the fellas. Terrell first called Yankee, followed by Wahoo, getting no answer from either. Before he could put his cell back on his hip, a ringing sound signaled he had a text message with a picture attached from an unknown number. As his strong hands shook from all the drama that’d just jumped off, Li’l T grabbed some of his painkillers off his dresser and waited for the picture to download.
“Damn, I wish these pills would hurry the fuck up and kick in.” He went back into the living room.
Terrell’s nerves were starting to stimulate movements he couldn’t quite control in both the left and right legs. After setting his cell phone down on the marble table, he gripped both his thighs in an attempt to stop the trembling. The handicapped teenager momentarily forgot about the picture slowly downloading. He assumed it was only one of those junk texts that he received on the regular from his former classmates.
After calming down from being shot at and getting the strange threat attached to the black rose, he leaned up to try calling Yankee once more. He felt his blood pressure rise as his eyes bucked to almost twice their regular size. “Ahhhh, hell naw,” Li’l T yelled as he shook with fury. The picture
on his cell was now completely revealed, and he continued to process in his brain what he was seeing. “What kinda bullshit is this!”
It was Joi, lying back on what seemed like a burgundy and gray couch, with her eyes closed. Whoever sent him the text had a handful of Joi’s long hair wrapped around his hands and his dick stuffed down her open mouth.
I’m gonna kill somebody’s ass! If that sight weren’t enough to send Terrell off into an easy, predictable rage, not giving a fuck about the consequences, the next picture attached showed the foul-ass nigga with his hand shoved up into Joi’s pussy. The same caption under each picture read: I GO HARD. This ho-ass nigga done messed with my girl! Fuck that! He gonna die!
Without so much as a second thought about what to do next, Kamal’s son was in full lunatic effect. Raising back his arm, he slammed his cell phone against the wall of his house. Then he grabbed his gun back off the table, securing it into the rear of his jeans waistband. Opening the front door, Li’l T then rolled his wheelchair to the edge of the porch and slid out onto the cool concrete pavement. Tossing his chair down all five of the stairs, empowered with anger, he quickly used his arms for legs and followed it.
After practically throwing the steel chair to the driveway, he finally got inside his vehicle and drove off en route to Joi’s house, not knowing what he’d find when he got there. The only thing the deranged teenager knew was that Joi loved him and would never ever do shit like that to disrespect him. And whoever the brazen nigga was riding around Detroit in the black truck claiming “I GO HARD” and causing havoc in Terrell Harris’s once-calm life was about to get fucked the fuck up! Period! No ifs, ands, or buts, he would be dealt with!
Chapter Seven
“Dawg, where is you at? I don’t see you.” Yankee crept around the corner to Woodward Boulevard near the far entranceway of the Fox Theater where the Barristers’ Ball was being held.
“I’m about to flash the headlights twice,” Wahoo stated as he stayed stooped down in the seat. “Look to ya left!”
“Oh, okay. I see you.” Yankee, making sure no one around was watching him, made his way to the car and jumped inside. “Have you seen him and Shauntae come out yet?”
“Naw, not yet. And dig this, he ain’t even bring that bucket head Shauntae with him.”
“Say word, son!”
“Yeah, dude was hugged up with some bad-ass model-type Mexican skank!”
“Whatever! Whoever he brought, he still getting got! And that ho-ass coward nigga Terrell keeps calling my phone like he done lost his mind.” Yankee took off his baseball cap, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I don’t know who got on those little dudes’ heads like that with bats, but ain’t nothing gonna stand in the way of us and this lick tonight.”
“Yeah, he been hitting me up too!” Wahoo kept a keen, watchful eye on the front door of the theater so when Stuff did leave they’d be right behind him and close on his tail. “I do kinda feel bad but . . .”
“But what? Fuck that. I know you ain’t going soft and shit!” Yankee said. “Stuff’s ho ass got enough of that cheese to share with us. Plus as much as we sit around taking orders from that crippled bitch Terrell, he owes us too, and later on, I’m going for that!”
Twenty long minutes later of the robbery-minded duo staring and avoiding the suspicious patrols of Detroit’s finest, Stuff and Marie emerged as the crowd poured out of the bright, neon-lit venue, setting their plan into action. Dodging in and out of traffic, Yankee and Wahoo maintained a safe, inconspicuous distance behind the clean BMW as it glided down the freeway ramp heading out of the city limits. When they thought they couldn’t drive any farther without running out of gas, Stuff and the female finally came up.
“Where the hell we at?” Wahoo tried to see if he recognized the area as he continued to stay several yards back. “Him and Terrell is out here in the for-real boonies!”
“That’s what I’m talking about! You know it ain’t shit out here but a bunch of white motherfuckers with that major bread!” Yankee smiled in anticipation of going back to the D with his pockets on bump. “Hold up, slow down a little bit. They about to make a turn.”
Following them down a back road, Wahoo turned off his headlights so Stuff wouldn’t become aware that he was being tailed. After passing four or five huge mini mansions, Stuff hit his brakes slightly as he made a quick left into a driveway of a brightly lit home with a cobblestone wall around it. Making sure the car was parked all the way to the side of the road, the two soon-to-be intruders got out, creeping toward the entrance. Before they could safely get near the wall, they saw Stuff get back in his car and drive around the horseshoe-shaped driveway and back in their direction.
“Oh, shit! Duck!” Yankee and Wahoo crouched near some bushes as Stuff, now alone, drove by.
“Hurry up,” Wahoo whispered as they rushed to the car before Stuff got out of their sights.
Less than half a mile later, once again the pair pulled over to the side of the road as their intended target entered another driveway that undoubtedly was his. Seeing him disappear through the front door, Yankee and Wahoo let at least ten or fifteen minutes pass before they both removed black ski masks from their pockets and went around back. They eased open a lower unlocked window.
Not knowing what to expect as they crawled inside, Yankee slipped his gun out of his waistband. Tiptoeing around each corner of the expensively furnished home, Yankee led the way as he and Wahoo followed the voices of two women and Stuff, who was preoccupied telling them about his evening. Before the innocent women and Stuff knew what was happening, they were staring down the barrels of unmerciful pistols held by two masked gunmen.
“Yo! Don’t say a motherfucking word and ain’t nobody gonna get hurt!” Yankee tried disguising his Brooklyn accent as he pressed the muzzle of his 9 mm to Mrs. Spencer’s temple.
“What do you want?” Prayer begged as she instantly regretted coming over to keep her neighbor and Terrell’s best friend’s mother company. “Who are you?”
“Listen, you uppity, fat bitch! Didn’t I say keep your mouth quiet?” Yankee turned his gun on Prayer, causing her to flinch and draw up. He snatched her hand, twisting her wedding ring off her finger. “Now don’t make me hurt your ass!”
Stuff consoled his mother as well as Prayer as he attentively watched the mannerisms of the two cruel assailants. They systematically removed his mother’s rings along with a necklace his father had given her. It had a flawless diamond pendant that was worth more than Yankee and Wahoo would probably make in three lifetimes. It can’t be, Stuff thought. These dudes gotta be kidding me if they think I don’t know who they are.
Moving around the huge house from room to room, gathering anything that he thought was of value, Yankee left Wahoo to stand guard over their victims to ensure none of them made a move to get help. Stuff saw the weight of the gun causing Wahoo’s hand to shake. He took the opportunity to try to talk some sense into Wahoo.
“Wahoo,” he whispered as the women looked on in horror and shock that Stuff appeared to know at least one of their captors. “I know it’s you. Why you doing this? Do you wanna go to jail over a couple of dollars?” Wahoo tried his best not to pay attention, but Stuff’s words were getting to him. “I know your grandmother just died, and I know you’re confused, but why take a chance of your family losing you too? Wahoo, listen to me.”
“Shut up, nigga!” Wahoo said threateningly, trying to keep his voice down. He knew Yankee was already itching to turn a simple robbery into a murder. “I’m doing this to help my family. We ain’t got it like you!”
“So what, dude?” Stuff kept at him, attempting to work on his emotions. “Just think about what your little brothers and sisters are gonna do when you locked up in jail or dead!”
“What you mean dead? I’m the one with the gun.” Wahoo waved it around recklessly as the women huddled together and ducked, trying to avoid the possibility of getting shot if the pistol accidentally went off. “Now I’m the boss and ya ta
king the loss around here!”
“Listen, son,” Prayer calmly interjected, “it’s obvious that the other young man is the one calling all the shots. You can have everything we have and leave, but I assure you if you harm us, my husband and son will leave no stone unturned until they find you. Now, why would you want to live like a hunted animal the rest of your life because you let someone else talk you into something that you know is wrong?”
“Yeah, and if Terrell and his uncle don’t kill you, my dad is definitely going to make sure that you and Yankee spend the rest of y’all life in prison.”
“Terrell? Terrell?” Wahoo was confused. “What he got to do with this?”
“That’s my son.” Prayer spoke up, hoping Li’l T’s name would carry some type of weight with the young man and he’d opt to let them go free. “Do you know him too?”
“What the hell?” Wahoo was having second thoughts about the robbery because he had heard rumors about the legendary Drake Martin and his underworld big-name connections from back in the day, not to mention that Terrell had always kept it one hundred with him. Now he had his people backed up in a corner with guns to their heads and was robbing them blind. Damn, I done fucked up.
“Look, Yankee ain’t trying to hear shit y’all saying. So y’all need to shut y’all mouths before he comes back.”
“Dude, think for yourself. You’re smarter than that to let the next man mess you around.” Stuff could tell he was finally making headway. Wahoo lowered his gun temporarily while peeling back the mask that was covering his face. “It still ain’t too late.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Desperation fueled his tone. “It’s just that I wanted to get my family out of Detroit before the State snatches them up! I’m all they got!”
The System Has Failed Page 4
