The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “Okay, let’s do this! Ol’ girl in there.” Justice pointed up the stairs. “Come on!”

  Cree followed his boy’s lead, finding NayNay bound and gagged on the living room floor. Hopelessly still squirming in an attempt to get free, she’d somehow managed to knock over the coffee table and tip over a bottle of warm, half-drunk Pepsi. Realizing the one intruder who originally attacked her had now multiplied to two, her eyes widened with fear in anticipation of what exactly they had in store for her.

  “Yo, bitch! When that fake baller of yours coming through to check dat ass?” Justice yanked at NayNay’s hair, which was now tangled and all over her head. “Huh? What damn time?” Obviously not getting an answer, especially since her mouth was covered, he callously pushed the barrel of his pistol to the side of her temple. With his gun clutched in his sweaty hand, he dared NayNay to mutter one solitary word. “I don’t give a damn if this shit hurt like a motherfucker! You better not scream or else!” he ordered with authority, roughly snatching the gray duct tape off her mouth, which also ripped her hair out by the roots. “Now answer my damn question,” Justice repeated with anger. “When that dude Moe Mack gonna be here?”

  “I dunno.” NayNay trembled, fighting back the tears as it dawned on her exactly what this blatant and sudden invasion of her home was about. “I dunno.”

  “Don’t lie to us and you won’t get hurt!” Cree furiously advised, looking at his watch to check on the time. “We ain’t come here on no dummy mission!”

  “I swear I don’t know,” she whimpered from the floor as both guys towered over her.

  Justice found NayNay’s Metro PCS cell phone on the couch and flipped it open while still gripping the handle of his gun. “Well, guess what, dumb bitch? You about to call that guy and tell him there’s a damn emergency or some shit like that with his bastard son. And then you need to tell him to rush his punk ass over! Ya feel me?”

  “But he ain’t gonna answer,” NayNay said, trying to talk her way out of calling her child’s father. “He’s busy doing some stuff.”

  “Well, you better hope he answers, because if he don’t, then trust that’s ya ass!” Cree was trying to go in extra hard informing the now-hysterical, crying female, hoping to intimidate her. “So ya best get ya game face on!”

  Justice scrolled down the long list of names in her address book, and he finally came up with the letter M. There he found what he was looking for: Moe.

  “All right, trick,” Justice fumed with the cold steel pressing into her jawbone. “I’m about to call this faggot! And when he pick up, you better play it off, or I’m gonna let one of these hot ones loose right into the side of ya face! Ya follow?”

  Just as Justice was about to push the button calling Moe Mack, the doorbell rang, and the sound of three knocks on the gate followed. Cree’s, Justice’s, and NayNay’s eyes all met, and the room grew silent. Whoever was at the door waited no more than a good five seconds before they knocked once again. Scared half to death that the scheme they’d so quickly planned was going down so fast with unforeseen obstacles, the guys froze, not knowing what move to make next.

  “Yo, is you expecting company?” Justice pushed his gun deeper into her jaw. “Who at that door?”

  NayNay shrugged while praying that whoever it was would come to her rescue. As the mailbox slot opened up and a couple of small pamphlets were pushed through, hitting the floor, it became apparent to all of them that it was no one of any great importance or any detriment to the ongoing crime.

  “Them motherfucking Jehovah’s Witnesses gonna get killed one day coming to niggas’ houses with that dumb shit!”

  “Yeah,” Cree agreed. “Why they be coming on them dummy missions anyhow? Ain’t nobody in the hood be listening to that shit!”

  Getting back to the business at hand, Justice once again focused on his hostage. “Okay, bitch, get ready to make that call. And remember, no slick shit!”

  NayNay was terrified but managed nodding, indicating she understood what he was saying. After a series of rings, the voicemail continued clicking on each time they placed a call. It soon became painfully obvious that Moe Mack had no intention whatsoever of accepting any more of his worrisome baby mama’s calls. Oh, well. Too bad! So sad! Unfortunately, neither Cree nor Justice had any idea that the whore they picked to use as human bait was infamous for pestering their connect so bad that even if she called a hundred times, Moe Mack wasn’t gonna pick up that motherfucker until he got good and damn ready.

  * * *

  “Man! Didn’t I just hang up from that good-begging NayNay a little while ago?” Moe Mack turned the head-banging sounds down as he headed toward the far east side of Detroit to meet up with some of his criminal-minded cohorts. “Now she back calling like there ain’t no tomorrow! I swear if she didn’t have my seed, I’d stop dealing with the worrisome bitch! A brother sure hate the rubber busted that night!”

  Keith posted back low profile in the passenger seat. Seriously as he could be, he preached, schooling his boy on art of training renegade hoes. “Dawg, kid or not, what ya need to do is chin check her ass. Don’t call back or go around for a week or so. She’ll straighten up and fly right then! That’s the recipe for putting a li’l act right on ’em!”

  “You’s about right, my dude! I might just do that on the real if she keeps blowing my cell up!” Moe Mack considered as he hit the IGNORE button on his phone once more then pushed the steering wheel’s side switch, increasing the radio’s volume again.

  After devouring something to eat at a Greek Town pizzeria along with a couple of stiff drinks, soon the pair, born and raised on the west side, were pulling up at an apartment building near the corner of I-94 and Harper. They had a meeting scheduled for four o’clock with a dude from Ohio whom Moe Mack had previously purchased some weight from. It seemed the connect unknowingly sold a couple of kilos to a few major ballers from the D who were, of course, understandably pissed off about the quality of the dope, which was weak as hell. And needless to say, the streets were talking. Not wanting to suffer the inevitable wrath of their retaliation or sever business ties, the connect wisely decided to make things right, blessing Moe Mack, Flipper, Chase, Big B, Li’l Tone, and of course Keith with a new, fresh, strong, uncut package for half the regular price.

  The entire time Moe Mack and the rest of the fellas were at the meeting counting money and making sure the weight was correct, NayNay never once let up on calling her son’s father. This chick is really bugging out over a pack of Newports. He shook his head in deep thought as he and Keith discreetly pulled out of the rear of the building’s trash-littered alleyway and headed toward Jefferson Avenue. As soon as I get back around the way, I’m gonna go over there and stomp a mudhole in her ass. Trying to keep his baby mama off his mind and concentrate on safely transporting the dope stashed in his car, he turned his constantly ringing cell phone to silent.

  As he drove back to the neighborhood, he and Keith unanimously decided to look out for each one of their loyal crew members who had ridden the bullshit out, from the mid-level hustlers directly under them who bought big eighths to the small-time street soldiers who sold double-ups to survive on a day-to-day basis to feed their families and put new sneakers on their feet. They’d all been forced to weather the storm of having bad product, but now in a matter of hours, Lady Luck herself was about to shine her light directly on their asses. That no doubt included his new-school moneymaking team of Justice and Cree, whom he’d seen earlier up on Linwood trying to do their thang.

  But as Maurice Javon Johnson Sr. drove down the Lodge Freeway dirty as hell feeling generous to the troops, little did he know the brazen renegade duo didn’t have time to wait for a blessing from him or any more runaround blasé explanations about this or that they’d heard in the previous weeks when they complained. Justice and Cree were going for what they knew right now, in real time, and they definitely planned on getting that shit how they lived, which was like most Detroiters who were ’bout it, ’bout i
t! Rowdy! Rough! Raw! And without a bit of doubt un- motherfucking-cut!

  Chapter Twenty

  Cree calmed down, regaining his composure after he and Justice forced NayNay to call their ultimate intended victim a few more times. They still got no satisfaction of him picking up or confirming he was on his way. Kicking two or three good-size holes in the house’s walls, then stomping some toys that were scattered around the filthy home, relieved a little tension for Cree, but not much. Pacing the floor, trying to figure out what their next move would be if Moe Mack didn’t show up soon, was causing him to sweat and get thirsty. Not to mention that NayNay’s light green contact lenses seemed to be glowing, throwing him all off his square. Damn this is some real fucked-up bullshit. He swallowed a lump in his throat, realizing it was now a quarter past six and he was late taking his pregnant girl some food. We should’ve been outta here by now.

  NayNay, who was still on the floor, was now in an upright position, leaning by the fireplace. Seeing Cree’s rage firsthand and the promise of Justice’s bullet, she opted to do as she was told in hopes of living to see another day. “Excuse me, but can you please check on my son?” She was humble in her request. “Or bring him to me?”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with that li’l dude,” Cree reassured her, trying his best not to make eye contact after closing all the open windows in the house. “I was just back there and he still sleeping on the floor.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Justice came from the rear of the house with NayNay’s jewelry box, her bootleg Coach purse, and an armful of men’s clothes, which had to belong to Moe Mack. “But what, bitch?” he cut her off, spitting on the carpet as if he were outside. “Don’t make me put that tape back over that complaining mouth of yours!”

  Still tied up, praying for nothing except her and her child to survive this ordeal, NayNay didn’t argue. Even when Justice dumped the contents of her bag onto the floor, rummaged through her wallet in search of cash, then called her several broke-ass hoes, she still refrained from her customary rude and most times obnoxious outburst of putting a person in their place whether they be young or old, black or white, or even male or female. Yet, this was a much different circumstance from the normal controversial, petty crap the self-proclaimed Linwood Hood Diva found herself usually caught up in. This time around, Miss NayNay losing control of her well-known short temper could cost not only her life, but also that of her small son. She had no choice. Seething as her baby daddy’s formerly insignificant worker stuffed his pockets with her many ten-karat rings, three pair of gold hoops, and a diamond tennis bracelet she received for a birthday present, NayNay still kept quiet.

  “Hey! Where’s all that other gear you and your wide-assed sister be flossing, acting all high profile?”

  “Excuse me?” NayNay timidly spoke, trying to loosen the tape that was cutting off the circulation in her hands. “You got my stuff!”

  “I mean hey, let’s keep it real. All the time when you was riding down Linwood past me and my boy, acting all stuck-up and high post and ya black ass is broke as we is!” he vindictively teased. “My bottom bitch be all on my back trying to get me to buy her outfits like she see you rocking at the club, and your house looking like this!” he cruelly judged, turning his head from side to side. “No wonder my man ain’t picking up checking for you! How in the hell he end up with a baby mama cut like you? If his ho ass ain’t owe me and my manz some loot, I’d kinda feel sorry for him!”

  “Go fuck yourself,” she arrogantly mumbled under her breath as she burned a hole through him with her bitter stare.

  Justice lifted his head from searching through the pile of men’s clothes, trying to find something he liked, just in time to hear NayNay’s annoyed voice speak. “Did you say something to me?”

  “Yeah,” Cree blurted out, heading toward the window to investigate the noise of some kids walking down the block. “She said for you to get naked, go in the closet, chop ya dick off, then fuck ya self in the ass!”

  “What?” Justice dropped a shirt he was checking for the size and raised his hand, rushing in the defenseless female’s direction. “Bitch, I should smack the fire outta ya mouth!”

  “Naw, naw, naw, hold up, guy. I was just clowning.” Cree quickly stopped his boy, defusing the situation before a strong-armed meeting with Moe Mack turned to something much worse. “Slow down. She ain’t say shit! But real talk, y’all, two little kids is coming up this walkway. Do they stay here or something?” He directed his question to NayNay.

  She took a deep breath, trembling with fear. “Yessss,” she stuttered. “Those are my nephews. I’m watching them until my sister gets back in town. Please don’t hurt them!”

  “Shut up, bitch!” Justice demanded, rushing up on her.

  “Yeah, just be quiet.” Cree raised his gun barrel up against his lips. “Ain’t nobody here to be hurting no little kids, so chill!”

  The roguish kids’ laughter and boisterous voices imitating old Last Chance, whose buggy they’d just maliciously flipped over, echoed throughout the silent house as they pounded their small fists on the gate. “Somebody open the damn door!” The children had no respect or regard for the elderly neighborhood busybody Mrs. Perkins, the long-time block club president, as they cursed loudly, acting as if they didn’t even care she was in her front yard working in her garden.

  Peeping out the window from behind the dirty sheet, Cree made sure the kids were alone. He then gave Justice the signal to open the door, letting the boys, too grown for their own good, into the home and what would soon be remembered as their worst nightmare. Used to seeing different men around the house all times of the day and night caused the boys to not give the stranger who’d opened the door a second thought as they playfully breezed past Justice with not so much as a glance. It wasn’t until the two got all the way into the living room that they noticed something was wrong.

  “Dang, G! Why you on the floor taped up?” the eldest asked his aunt as the door slammed shut. “And why is the table flipped over?”

  “Yeah, why?” The little one wiped snot from his nose as Cree unexpectedly snatched him up, tossing him onto the couch.

  Realizing what was going on, the older boy tried to backtrack bolting toward the door. Instantly, he was stopped by Justice grabbing his wrinkled T-shirt up by the collar, dragging him across the room over to join his brother, who was now in tears.

  “Please don’t hurt them!” NayNay pleaded with a face full of tears. “Please, please, please.”

  After a few eerie seconds of silence, the older boy locked eyes with Cree as if he were grown, then once again tried unsuccessfully to break free and run for the door. “Forget y’all!” he screamed at them both. “Y’all ain’t shooting me!”

  “Ya better go sit ya motherfucking, bad li’l behind down!” Justice stuck out his arm, clotheslining him. Laughing, he proceeded to smack the child across the face twice before brutally body slamming him to the carpet, knocking all the wind out of the young boy. “Don’t make me really beat that ass! Now stay the fuck down!”

  As NayNay’s one nephew lay balled up on the living room floor with a small gash above his eyebrow and a rapidly swelling lip, begging for his mama, the other was now posted at her side with his arms wrapped around her neck, terrified. “I’m scared, Auntie Nay. Make him stop hurting my brother!” the littler one begged, turning his face away. “Make him leave!”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” she repeatedly shouted, fighting to break the gray duct tape still holding her captive. Still out of control, Justice towered vindictively over the youngster. “He ain’t nothing but a kid!”

  “Yeah, ya right, a kid with a smart-ass mouth who can’t follow directions.” He kicked the boy in his leg then kicked NayNay. “I get enough of that bullshit at my girl’s crib!”

  “What’s wrong with you?” NayNay hollered, still fighting a losing battle to break free. “Who in the fuck does that to a kid? What’s wrong with you?”

  “What’s wrong wit
h me? Bitch, what’s wrong with you?” Justice took one of the rolls of tape off the fireplace mantle. Half out of his mind, he yanked the boy from the floor, throwing him in the oversized chair in the corner of the room. “You need to teach these little bastards some damned manners before I do, ’cause that ain’t a problem.”

  “Calm down, guy. Damn.” Cree saw things were quickly getting out of hand as he watched his partner demand that the other child sit in the chair with his brother. “And you shut the hell up.” He pointed his pistol at a hysterical NayNay. Confused, they both watched an enraged Justice start peeling the tape off, wrapping both kids tightly to the chair before stuffing sweat socks in their mouths.

  Cree couldn’t believe his eyes and what the hell he’d gotten himself into. This definitely wasn’t what he’d planned when he and Justice decided to have Moe Mack make their package right. He’d just played Madden all night, kicking back with the fellas getting high as hell. Earlier he’d thought about what outfit to buy to go with the new Jordans that came out Monday. And damn, the usually mild-mannered small-time drug dealer planned on going to the doctor come morning with his girl, who was seven months pregnant with his firstborn. Now here he was, just like that, caught up in breaking and entering, kidnapping, child abuse, assault, and from the looks of things, possibly murder. Why did I even think this bullshittin’ plan would work? Things don’t ever work out for me! Justice is nutting all the way up! Damn this shit going too far!

  * * *

  Moe Mack drove down Joy Road, heading toward Dexter Boulevard. It was now close to six-thirty in the evening, and the hot July summer sun was still beaming as if it were high noon. With plans of meeting back up with his boy Keith, hanging out at one of the strip clubs on Eight Mile, he smiled. Celebrating their latest strong product that was sure to take their crews off of craps was in order. He had only a few more deliveries to make to some of his street teams before finally going over NayNay’s, who by this time he knew was beyond irate.