“Listen, I’ma tell you what.” Moe Mack grabbed his bag after paying for his items and headed out the door toward his car. “Come by NayNay’s later and I’ma hook you up with all the empty bottles they got.” Satisfied that a few dollars would be adequate payback for the humiliating act of getting spat on and bested by two kids young enough to be his grandchildren, Last Chance agreed as Moe Mack, whom he’d taken on his family vacations years ago, bent the corner and went out of sight.
* * *
Cree and Justice had been arguing for what seemed like hours. NayNay and her nephews, who were all suffering from the agonizing torture of their circulation being cut off by the tightness of the duct tape, were forced to listen. As the clock slowly ticked, the two drug dealers turned kidnappers realized it was nearing eight. Knowing Moe Mack should be on his way, they put their petty beef to rest so as to concentrate on the real reason they’d spent their afternoon posted in a house with a loudmouth, perpetrating ho and three kids: money.
It was five after eight and the target was right on time. Turning his car into NayNay’s driveway, Moe Mack switched the loud, bumping music off, throwing the car in park. Reaching over, he snatched the bag off the passenger seat and was on his way to the front porch when he was stopped by nosy old Mrs. Perkins signaling for him to come over. Damn, now what she want? First Last Chance then her! Old people be tripping!
Gun in hand, Justice nervously peeked out the window when he heard Moe Mack pull up. When he stepped out of the BMW Justice always admired and was envious of, his eye twitched, and his wife beater became drenched with sweat. Eagerly he informed Cree the shit was about to go down and to get ready. “All right, nigga! He all by himself. So when he come in, I’m gonna hit him with this motherfucker”—he waved his pistol—“then bum-rush dude to the ground.”
“Don’t worry, dawg! I got ya back!” Having no choice but to cover his ass, Cree apologetically stuffed socks back in each child’s mouth, ensuring they wouldn’t scream out when their little cousin’s daddy came in the house, warning him that something was wrong.
“Please, y’all! Don’t do this!” a teary-eyed NayNay begged, causing Justice to rush over, covering her mouth once again with tape before immediately returning to the sheet-covered window.
Seeing his supplier finish talking to the gray-haired lady across the street, Justice’s heart raced rapidly. His adrenalin rose with each step Moe Mack took toward the stairs of the house. “Get ready, Cree!” his raspy voice loudly whispered as he crept behind the door, posted for whatever. “He on the porch! Let’s make this lame pay!”
Damn, what am I doing? was the only thought racing through Cree’s mind as he started realizing what was about to go down and what could ultimately take place if Justice had his way. Damn. Damn. Damn! I’m tripping! Why did I listen to this crazy motherfucker?
Listening to the key turn the lock on the steel gate and then hearing the main door slightly crack open, Justice took a deep breath, as did everyone else in the hot, stuffy, closed-in house.
Seconds before Moe Mack stepped inside the house, a tan and black minivan packed with teenagers roared up in the driveway. Screeching its tires, it stopped only inches away from Moe Mack’s parked BMW. Much to the disgust of old Mrs. Perkins, when Yak and his boys swung open the doors, offensive music filled the entire block.
“What up doe?” Moe Mack left the porch to see what was up with several of his loyal crew.
Yak, the driver, turned down the sounds, already reading the expression on his boss’s face. “What up doe? I ain’t wanna say shit, but good looking out on that hookup! We about to head out to Chandler Park now. You should hang!”
Staring back at NayNay’s, his first mind wanted him to jump back in the ride and hang out for the rest of the night, but he knew good and damn well he’d have to beat the brakes off his baby mama if he didn’t at least give the trifling female her pack of Newports. “Nah, I’m good. Y’all go get fucked up for a brother.”
“You sure?” Yak finished off his open beer.
“No doubt. I’m about to go in here and chill with this.” Moe Mack held up the brown bag he was holding.
“All right then, but yo, I need to take a leak. You think ya girl would mind?” Yak held his dick in his hands as his boys jumped out of the van, claiming the same.
Perched down by the door, Justice didn’t know what to do next. Shit, if Yak and all ’em come in this motherfucker we done! Fuck, fuck, fuck! He almost wanted to run to the back door and bust out. Even though NayNay and her nephews had seen his and Cree’s faces and could easily identify them, at least they’d both be alive and have a fighting chance. Oh, shit, here they come! Damn! Ain’t this a bitch!
“Yo, real rap!” Moe Mack really ain’t want all his workers inside his girl’s house, so he stopped them dead in their tracks. “There’s way too many of y’all, and Yak, you already know how NayNay be tripping!”
Agreeing with Moe Mack, much to Justice and Cree’s relief, Yak and the crew drove around to the alley to take a leak then headed off to the park.
After apologizing once again to Mrs. Perkins for the noise, Moe Mack made his way back up on the porch. Chirping his alarm on the Beemer, he pushed the door open, stepping inside NayNay’s where all hell broke loose. Snatching Moe Mack, completely caught off guard, inside the entranceway of the house by his expensive shirt, Justice simultaneously slammed the side of his 9 mm twice against his temple, knocking him to the ground. Justice smiled with excitement as the small boys looked away in fear.
Dazed by the traumatic force of the hard blow he’d just taken to the head, Moe Mack was unable to resist or fight back. Cree automatically removed the gun from his waistband before quickly wrapping his hands and feet with the remaining rolls of duct tape.
As Moe Mack lay on the floor, trying to come to grips as to what exactly was going on, a violent, obviously mentally unstable Justice followed his initial attack with stomping him in the upper stomach area, no doubt cracking a few ribs. Even with suffering the horrifying pain he was experiencing, the strong-willed, always-polished Moe Mack refused to give his assailants the pleasure of hearing him yell out in agony.
“What up doe, playboy?” Justice sarcastically questioned as he leaned over in his face. “Did you text me earlier or what?”
“What the fuck?” Moe Mack coughed, throwing up the food he’d eaten for lunch. “Have you lost ya damn mind, motherfucker?”
“Naw, Negro, New World Order! I’m the one asking all the damn questions up in this bitch!” Justice laughed, holding his nut sac. “I’m the boss and you taking the loss! So deal with it!”
Cree stood way over to the side of the room, almost ashamed to make eye contact with Moe Mack, who up until a few weeks ago had been plenty stand up with both him and Justice. “Go easy, dawg! We ain’t here for all that.” He finally stepped out of the shadows, revealing that he also was in on the ambush. “You bugging out! Slow ya roll!”
Dragging him by his legs, Justice got Moe Mack near the fireplace where his baby mama was sobbing uncontrollably. “Aww, look at the happy couple. Ike and Tina in this motherfucker!” He continued to prove he had the upper hand.
“Straight up! You better kill me, faggot, ’cause if y’all don’t . . .” Moe Mack swore, still remaining strong.
“Miss me with all that,” Justice laughed.
“On my word! Y’all faggots done walking around Detroit! The streets gonna run red with motherfuckers hunting y’all down!”
“Whatever you say, boss hog.” Justice dismissed the empty threat. “That ain’t a problem at all! I’ma have to take that chance!”
Cree halted any further back-and-forth arguing and wisely tried getting down to the real reason they were there. “Look, Moe, it’s like this here.” He shamefully paced the floor, still avoiding direct eye contact. “You done gave us a bunch of garbage the last few times we copped. And straight up, we still been out there trying to make that shit happen, but there’s only so much one ni
gga can take, ya feel me? I got a baby on the way and bills to pay!”
“Damn, dawg!” Moe Mack spit a clot of blood from his mouth that’d dripped down from a nice-size gash Justice had made with his pistol. “Is that what the fuck all this bullshit is about?”
“Yeah, ho-ass faggot,” Justice angrily interjected. “Don’t you think we wanna ride around Big Willie style, flossed-out, stuntin’ on fools?”
“Real talk, if y’all pussies would’ve answered y’all cells, y’all would’ve found out what was going down, but y’all held all up in my baby mama house making the worst mistake of y’all life!”
“Nigga, what?” Justice raced over, smacking Moe Mack like he was his woman who’d just gotten out of pocket. “Who the fuck you talking to like that? You owe us!”
“I swear, boy! You’s damn lucky y’all caught a brother slippin’ on the humble, but it’s all good and gonna be only better in a few! Remember what I said. The streets gonna run red!”
“What, you trying to get tough?” Justice raised his hand again as Moe Mack refused to flinch. “You might need to step up or step off!”
Cree yanked his boy’s arm back and stepped to Moe Mack like a man. “Dude, what is you talking about?”
“I’ll tell you crab-ass niggas what,” he said, eye fucking them both as blood continued to drip down. “Why don’t y’all holler at ya boy Denard or Bama Bob or Yak, who just pulled off? They’ll let y’all know what’s really good out in them streets.”
Following Moe Mack’s suggestion, Cree flipped open his cell, calling Bama Bob as Justice held his gun on the duct-taped couple. “What up doe?”
“What it do, playa?”
“I was just calling to see what y’all had popping for the night and shit.” Cree chose his words carefully, trying to peep the situation out.
“Shittttt, me and my people ’bouts to party and get fucked up as hell behind that shit ol’ boy hooked us up on!” Bama Bob joked as he lit up the biggest, fattest blunt he could roll. “Two and a half goddamn free ounces of uncut, un-stepped-on powder and our old tickets all squashed! Moe Mack really showed us love this time around, making up for that bold shit he had us out here pushing! We heading out to hook up with Yak and the crew in a few. Hit me up if you hanging!”
Cree was dumbfounded, realizing the man they had tied up on the floor was right. He and Justice had made the worst mistake of their lives. Shit! Shit! Shit! Now the only thing was how in the hell could he make things proper? Ain’t this a bitch! Ending the call, he stood silent until Justice nudged him with his elbow.
“Well, guy, what Bama Bob’s good country ass say?”
“Yeah, Cree.” Moe Mack spat once more as NayNay nuzzled her body close to his for comfort. “Tell us all what ol’ boy said.”
Cree took a deep breath, rubbing his hand down the front of his face. “We done fucked up!”
There wasn’t much that could be said after Cree repeated what Bama Bob had said. He was in way too deep to turn around now without fear of retaliation from Moe Mack, but he couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Although in denial, Cree racked his brain to find a way out, yet all seemed lost. What to do? Now as he dropped his head, confused, he had to worry about either catching a case or a bullet if Moe Mack had his way. Shit, maybe both. Let alone the rest of the fellas’ vengeance for taking such a good connect out the game if they ever found out what they’d done. Why did I listen to this dude? He always dragging me into some dumb shit! Now I’m fucked!
Against Justice’s wishes, Cree, full of regret and remorse for all his unwarranted actions, took the socks back out of the petrified kid’s mouths so at least they could breathe and their untimely deaths by means of suffocation wouldn’t be on his conscience.
Still going hard and true to the mission, Justice, on the other hand, didn’t seem to give two hot damns in hell what Bama Bob had said. “Okay, so this nigga wanna make thangs right! Big fucking deal! That still don’t erase the fact that he gave us the bold shit in the first place!”
“You right, dude, but—”
“But nothing.” Justice roughly placed a piece of duct tape over Moe Mack’s mouth to stop him from putting any more sabotaging thoughts into Cree’s weakening mind. “Stop being such a pussy!”
Noticing the effect the long day was having on Cree, Justice opted to slow his roll to make sure he and his boy were still on the same page and knew what had to happen next. Reaching down for the bag that was in Moe Mack’s arm when he came in, he took out the bottle of Grey Goose and took it to the head before passing it to Cree, who was sweating like a Hebrew slave.
“Come on, guy.” Justice gave Cree a half smile. “Relax for a minute, take a swig, and think. You and me like brothers. Don’t let this cat get inside ya head!”
Chapter Twenty-three
Deciding they would ride it out in the crib until the summer sun completely went down and then sneak out unnoticed, the duo, opposite as night and day, had to make the best of the rest of their time there. To Justice, bottle still in tow, that meant ransacking NayNay’s house, room to room, stuffing pillowcases with whatever else he thought he or his on-again, off-again girlfriend nicknamed Greedy wanted. Relieving a still-bleeding Moe Mack of his cash, jewelry, iPhone, and of course keys to the Beemer, nothing was off-limits as he gathered the kids’ PlayStation along with all their games.
It was now a little past nine, and needless to say, things had gotten way out of control. Buzzing from finishing off the majority of the liquor, a drained Justice kicked back on the couch in one of his infamous zoned-out trances. He had no idea whatsoever that he had all the rotten DNA characteristics of three generations before him: Terrell, Kamal, and even his great-granddaddy Willy Dale. His tainted bloodline ran deep. With his lazy eye closing even more, he soon took on the strange appearance of a monster to the exhausted children, who had both urinated on themselves over an hour ago when he halted Cree’s sympathetic attempts to free them.
“Dawg, at least let me fix them something to drink and loosen that tape. They lips is dry and cracked as a motherfucker,” Cree argued, heading into the kitchen, searching for a glass. “What if they was ya family, dude?”
“Do what ya do,” Justice slurred out with a loud, nonchalant tone. “I’m tired of all you whining pussies around here, especially her!” He pointed at NayNay, who was setting him on fire with her eyes as her injured baby daddy lay slumped over, semiconscious on her lap.
Setting a huge ghetto-style pitcher of Kool-Aid onto the crowded countertop, Cree was just about to pour a glass for both kids to share as he was interrupted by the sounds of the radio being turned on. That was followed by NayNay’s muffled screams coming from the living room along with the boys yelling for help. Taking his gun out of his waistband, not knowing what to expect next, Cree cautiously bent the corner and was instantly pissed at what he was seeing.
“Dude! Have you fucking done lost your mind?” Cree ran over, snatching an almost-salivating Justice off of a hysterical NayNay. He now had her T-shirt ripped down the middle, exposing her breasts. Shoving him as hard as he could across the room into the closet door, Cree stuck out his chest. “Ain’t you got us both fucked around enough with all your bright-ass ideas? Now you want me to catch a charge for taking place in a rape? Nigga, please!” he ranted with anger, wishing he could turn back the hands of time. “You got me all the way twisted! You going too far!”
Stumbling backward, Justice shook it off but got on balance quickly, returning several accusations and insults of his own. “How the hell I get your ass in this? You the one need extra cheese all the time, not me! Your ass always the one be giving your old granny some bill money! And bet! You the one with a kid on the way you always whining about buying bullshit for who probably ain’t even yours!” Justice spitefully alleged, finally going too far with the stuff he was saying. “Your girl probably somewhere right now sucking the next nigga’s dick! Matter of fact, I might hit that pregnant pussy later!”
“I’ll
tell you what, guy.” Cree shrugged his shoulders, having dealt with his homeboy’s outburst time after time when he was faded beyond his limit. “I know you high right about now, so I’m gonna let that last remark about my girl slide and give your punk ass a pass! But what you really need to do is go splash some water on your face and chill the hell out! You must be off your meds!”
Justice wasn’t in the mood to deal with his boy’s holier-than-thou attitude. He was past being forced to hear one of his long-winded speeches about his mental state or one of the many prescriptions he was supposed to be taking. Deciding he did need to get back on top of his game and pull the rest of the plan together, he took off his now-torn wife beater. Disappearing into the kitchen, he removed a gang of dirty dishes from the sink, turned the cold water on full blast, and let the flow from the nozzle cover his head. Leaning up, he used a soiled dishrag to wipe his red, shaded eyes. As he went to the doorway, overhearing Cree in the living room talking slick about him behind his back and then apologizing to that slut on his behalf like he was some sort of a monster, Justice felt his blood boil.
Who in the fuck this nigga Cree think he is turning on me like we ain’t been boys since back in the day? This ho done got this nigga sprung and he ain’t even had the pussy! He in there acting like he better than me! Me and him came up together and now he tripping! I swear niggas be fake as fuck!
Feeling betrayed, Justice tried maintaining his composure as he ducked back in the kitchen, pounding himself on the forehead with the palm of his still-damp hand. Trying desperately to figure out what his next move would be, Justice stared down at his bare chest and all the wounds from cigarette burns one of his many foster mothers had inflicted upon him. Another person against my black ass! They all out to get me! Mistakenly assuming Cree had overplayed his position flipping the script, he now wanted nothing more than to get revenge on NayNay for her apparent mind games that he’d believed manipulated ol’ boy to turn his back on him. Justice then glanced in the far corner of the kitchen counter, seeing his opportunity staring him right in the face. Hell yeah! This’ll teach that manipulative bitch a lesson!
The System Has Failed Page 14
