The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  He took his drenched shirt off so his wife beater would show off his chiseled muscles and his jailhouse tattoos. “Look, Cuzzo, my bad on all that. A nigga just high as a fuck, you know.” He licked his lips. “It’s just late, and I wanted to get my dick sucked in peace. You know how it is.” Justice tugged on his manhood.

  Stupid as the day he was born, drama queen Cuzzo fell right into Justice’s trap, welcoming his apology for almost choking him to death. “It’s okay I guess.” His eyes widened as they focused on Justice’s now-rock-hard dick.

  “Okay then, we cool?” Justice stuck out his hand, encouraging Cuzzo to give him a play. “We cool?”

  With his own dick standing at full attention and his asshole throbbing, Cuzzo eagerly gave him a play, willing to just get a chance to touch the dude he always wished was gay or at least a homo thug.

  Just as Greedy reentered the room, she saw her cousin and baby daddy making nicey-nicey. Rubbing her huge stomach, she exhaled with relief. “I’m glad y’all done made up and shit. Y’all gonna make a bitch have this baby months early!”

  “Hey, y’all got any pills around here?” Justice abruptly questioned, already knowing the answer before he asked. “I feel like getting my mind right, and you know X gets a brother in the zone.” He winked his lazy eye at Cuzzo. “That shit have a brother freaky as a motherfucker!”

  Still watching Justice like a hawk, Cuzzo’s dick jumped while his mouth watered at the very thought. He’d dealt with all type of dudes, both black and white, who were on the down-low, and if his gaydar senses were correct, Justice was, suddenly after months of bashing, giving him all the signs indicating he wanted to walk on the dark side.

  “Naw, baby,” Greedy said apologetically like it was her fault. “But Li’l Ro got some down the way. You want me to go cop?”

  “Naw.” Getting up, stretching his arms back, Justice made sure Cuzzo could get a full view of what he was really working with. “I got a better idea.” Standing behind Greedy, rubbing her shoulders, kissing on her neck, Justice never took his eyes off of Cuzzo. “I’ma run down there and grab some, plus a beer from the after hour. Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll be back to handle that!” Justice schemed as Greedy smiled.

  “All right, daddy,” she quickly agreed, not having had any sex for over two weeks.

  “You want me to walk with you?” Cuzzo leaped to his feet, slipping on his flip-flops, praying his hunch was on point. Unknowingly he’d gone right along with Justice’s game plan, even volunteering to go with him on his own.

  “Whatever.” Justice didn’t want to seem overly anxious heading out the door. “It don’t matter. Just hurry your sissy ass up!”

  Right then and there Cuzzo knew the shit was definitely on and popping. Normally ain’t no way in sweet hellfire a hood Negro, born and raised in Detroit and cut like Justice, would let a flashy diva like him be seen walking with him whether it was day or night.

  Only a few houses down from Greedy’s, Justice made his move. “So how long you been taking it in the ass?”

  “Why you always so rude?” Cuzzo paused, feeling brave enough to nudge Justice’s arm. “Besides, how you know I take it in the ass?”

  Looking around the quiet block for signs of nosy witnesses, they continued to walk. Then Justice put his game into full motion. “Well, do you or not? I wanna know!”

  “There’s a couch in the old, abandoned weed spot around the way,” Cuzzo boldly announced, hoping he wouldn’t get socked in the grill. “You wanna see? I can show you better than I can tell you!”

  Justice didn’t mutter a single word as he followed Cuzzo, who was wearing a pair of white shorts that tightly hugged his ass like a glove. Trying not to watch the young man who talked and moved like a female, the half-crazed Justice thought back to one of his former cellmates who used to brag about hitting dudes off in the shower all the time. Maybe there’s something to this bullshit.

  Going around the side of the vacant house, Cuzzo pushed the unlocked door open with ease, prancing over the threshold as if he’d just won the lottery in three different states. “Come on in,” he purred, sucking his pearly white teeth. “Don’t be scared. I don’t bite.”

  “I ain’t never scared! Believe that!” Justice slowly shut the weather-beaten door behind him, going up the small flight of warped stairs leading into what was once the kitchen. With each awkward step he took toward the dining room where Cuzzo was at, Justice’s heartbeat increased, knowing he was about to take another life. This faggot about to die. How the fuck he think I want his gay ass! I ain’t no homo!

  Standing face-to-face, Cuzzo leaned over, snatching a cushion off the old couch, stained with God knows what. Tossing it between them on the filthy floor, he took a deep breath in anticipation of the obvious. As the one streetlight on the block fought to shine through the broken windows of the empty house, Cuzzo wasted no time dropping down on his knees. Unzipping Justice’s jeans like he was an expert, the diva gazed up into Greedy’s man’s face. Blinded by being horny, Cuzzo mistook the strange expression of sheer confusion for that of lust. “Tell me to suck ya dick, daddy!”

  Part of Justice was enraged by Cuzzo’s suggestion as his hands clenched firm, ready to beat him to death, while the other part of him was wondering why some sissy down on his knees had his pipe rock hard in anticipation of getting some head.

  “What you say?” Justice stalled for time, trying to fight the urge and understand his strange desire.

  “Never mind.” Cuzzo reached his soft but still man-size hands into Justice’s boxers, pulling out his stiff hookup.

  Before the mad-dog killer could object, Cuzzo’s warm breath got closer, and his wet, moist mouth began making the dick feel at home. The loud sounds of slurping seemed to echo throughout the empty house and bounce off the walls. Justice’s legs grew increasingly weak. Falling back on the couch, Justice grabbed a tight handful of Cuzzo’s weave, ramming his head downward so he had no other option except deep throating him.

  This ain’t me! This ain’t me! This bullshit ain’t me! repeatedly ran through Justice’s delusional mind as Cuzzo kept sucking away. But the shit feels so good!

  The untimely tremor of Moe Mack’s phone shocked Justice out of his dizzy, sex-induced trance and back into reality. Back to the true reason he was in an old, dilapidated house with this gay motherfucker. Desperately trying to not explode and bust a nut in Cuzzo’s mouth was easier said than done as Justice’s head dipped backward and he let out a silent scream. Hell yeah! With Cuzzo swallowing every drop of cum like a champ, it was a sin and a shame what happened next. Still down on his knees with a grin of complete and utter satisfaction, Cuzzo’s carefree existence quickly took a drastic change.

  “Don’t you wanna hit it from the back?” he seductively whispered as Justice shoved his now semi-limp dick back in his boxers.

  “Why in the fuck would I wanna do that faggot-ass shit?” Arrogantly, Justice stood up, fastening his pants, acting as if what he’d just done, getting his dick sucked by a dude, weren’t as equally flame-throwing gay as Cuzzo, who was down on his knees doing the sucking.

  “Huh? What you mean?” As Justice stood towering over Cuzzo, his voice cracked as if he was about to cry once again.

  Without as much as a second thought, while most of Detroit’s god-fearing citizens slept before attending early morning church services, Justice yanked a terrified Cuzzo by the neck with one hand squeezing, while pounding his fist on the side of his temple with the other. Delivering seven or eight swift blows to his forehead, he then let Cuzzo’s feminine-shaped body hit the floor. With a pool of blood leaking from the rear of his skull, Cuzzo’s bulging eyes shut for good.

  Raising his shoe, Justice then judgmentally peered down at the dude who’d just moments ago given him so much pleasure, and proceeded stomping him in the mouth. Pausing his tirade, allowing a few crackheads who were roaming the streets in search of a late-night blast to walk past, Justice noticed a few of Cuzzo’s broken teeth ly
ing on the floor. Smile now!

  Once again, like clockwork, Bama Bob was calling, only this time on Justice’s line. I done had enough of this sucker blowing my shit up like he pay the bill! “Yeah, lame, speak on it!”

  “Yo, dude! What in the fuck is wrong with you, bitch nigga!” Bama Bob was stunned that Moe Mack’s killer finally answered, but he didn’t miss a beat letting him have it. “We know you did that foul-ass bullshit to ol’ boy and ’em!”

  “Yeah, and what, nigga? What?”

  “That’s all you gotta say and shit?”

  “What the fuck else your country ass wanna hear?” Justice barked.

  Bama Bob was growing more pissed by the second listening to Justice acting like he was some sort of a boss. “Why don’t you stop hiding like a punk and bring your coward ass out in the open? Then we can really see what’s really up! You can kill females and little kids like it ain’t shit! Come kill my grown ass! You already know what it is!” he heatedly vowed. “Ol’ boy looked out for you, taking you under his wing when ain’t nobody else in the game wanna fuck with ya retarded ass!”

  “Whatever.” Justice spit a stream of saliva through his teeth, landing it on Cuzzo’s toothless face. “Ya homeboy Moe was grown too, wasn’t he? But then again, he did cry like a little girl when I was doing his fake ass proper! ‘Waa, waa, waa. Please don’t kill me, Justice, please! I wanna live. I wanna live,’” he mocked Moe Mack’s finally moments, further agitating Bama Bob.

  “I swear to God on everything I love!” Bama Bob promised revenge. “Ungrateful motherfucker, just come see me! I got something for your slow, ugly-looking ass waiting at the hip! Come see me! Or better yet, we can knuckle up! It ain’t no thang!”

  “Why in the hell would I do some dumb shit like that?” Justice nonchalantly taunted. “Right about now I’m busy about to turn over in my bed and get some pussy from your mother. So stop calling and texting me like we fucking! I’ll see you when I see you, Country Bama!”

  Having had gotten the last word, Justice turned both his and Moe Mack’s phones off, not wanting to be disturbed anymore while he tried to figure out his next move. And now with Cuzzo out of the way, he could at least get one good night’s sleep at Greedy’s.

  Bending down, he removed Cuzzo’s pink rhinestone cell phone off his hip, sticking it in his back pocket. Getting a hold of both Cuzzo’s clean-shaven, smooth legs, Justice dragged his lifeless body behind the couch. Making sure no one could see any part of him, he grabbed his flip-flops off the floor, tossing them also behind the couch. Blank faced, with no remorse, Justice shoved the couch all the way back, wedging Cuzzo’s small frame against the paint-chipped wall. Taking Cuzzo’s cell out of his pocket, he then sent Greedy a text pretending to be Cuzzo, informing her that he’d run into a few friends and would holler at her later. Her pregnant dumb ass so hot for this dick she’ll believe any fucking thing.

  Before leaving the abandoned house, Justice smashed Cuzzo’s phone against the wall. Content with getting Greedy’s cousin out the way, he bent down, picking up three of Cuzzo’s broken-off teeth, shaking them in his hand as if they were a pair of dice. Oh, well, it is what it is. I had to do what I had to do! he dumbly reasoned for getting his dick sucked by another man.

  Still on his original mission, Justice copped two ecstasy pills, then slid past the after-hour spot, grabbing a forty of Old E. Taking it to the head, he put his game face back on, going inside of Greedy’s house. Belching no sooner than closing the door and putting both dead bolts on, Justice offered her an explanation about Cuzzo not being with him.

  “Hey, girl, your cousin is a straight-up slut bag!” he proclaimed, lying. “We get up the way, and he sees a group of other fuck boys and breaks out with them!”

  “I know, he texted me,” Greedy giggled, happy Cuzzo left her alone with her sometimes man. “He always doing some crazy mess like that.”

  Justice laughed inside as she played right into his hands. She just as dumb as he was. That shit must run in they family. “Fuck that fag! Damn, trying to be nice to that punk with his sissy ass!”

  His crude comments were to be expected. If he’d said anything other than what he was saying about Cuzzo, Greedy would automatically know something was seriously wrong and start with all the questions, not stopping until she got satisfaction.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Bama Bob couldn’t believe Justice had the balls to talk to him like he had. But then again, he and the rest of the tightknit crew, NFL 4 Life, were still in shock that Justice had even flipped out, murdering their homeboy and connect Moe Mack in cold blood. Each being born in the streets and true to the life of hustling knew death or jail were the only ways out of the game. However, anytime a player died by the hands of his own or was a victim of snitching, trust it wasn’t ever a good look, even in Detroit where dudes were hard.

  “All right, y’all.” Bama Bob paced the floor, ready to stomp a mudhole in Justice’s backside. “That closed-eyed bastard gotta fucking go! Ya feel me? Not only did he do Moe Mack, but he did his own homeboy, Cree. Right about now, we don’t know if Cree was riding with that fool, but fuck it, he got to go on the strength of both our brothers!”

  Rallying the crew to regroup and hunt down the weak link in their organization, Keith stood silently by allowing his right-hand man Bama Bob to do what he did best, which was handle shit. Brokenhearted, Keith had just returned from consoling his best friend’s parents. He informed them that at least, thank God, their one and only grandchild, Moe Mack’s namesake, was spared the violent death his parents suffered. After reassuring them their son’s killer would be brought to justice, whether by the Detroit Police Department or by the hands of extreme vigilante justice, he wouldn’t rest until Justice paid in full.

  “Listen up, everybody.” Keith, visibly shaken, had blood boiling in his eyes. Scanning the room for signs of more possible weak links in the crew who had disloyal thoughts brewing, he continued, “Moe was a fucking solider! Y’all know that! There wasn’t a time me or him ain’t stand tall for all y’all asses!” Visibly choked up, he shook his head while they all nodded in agreement. “So on the for real, a guy like me got eighteen racks large plus lawyer fare for anyone of y’all who can lay that no-good, slimy-living motherfucker down for good.”

  As Keith reached deep in his pocket, showing the entire squad the dough and validating that he meant business, their mouths salivated with hunger, each willing to do just about anything to be the one who got that bread. Never mind that there was a full-blown depression in the D and everyone needed extra ends, especially $18,000, but the props the soldier who brought back Justice’s head on a stick would earn behind the task was worth its weight in gold. So with Yak, Denard, and Bama Bob each breaking off and politicking with their respective street lieutenants, they each promised Keith a swift outcome and told him to keep those racks ready to pay off.

  “Oh, yeah, dig this here! One more thang!” Keith wanted to put them up on the low-key information update he’d received before leaving to get himself another stiff drink only forty-five minutes before the sun came up. “My girl Jazmine called and told me that punk was spotted over on the east side somewhere. He was in a cab or something like that. So if y’all know any bitches he fucks with over there, east, or any family he got, get at it! We wanna catch his sucker ass and deal with him Linwood style before the cops do!”

  * * *

  With the sun finally coming up and signaling a new day for Detroit residents, some hoped that going to church would purge their sins while others slept in after a long night of partying. Jazmine had just gotten off from working a mandatory double shift and was pulling up in the driveway of Keith’s suburban home. Still trying to come to grips that Moe was gone, she rang the doorbell and stood silent in the early morning cool air, wondering if there really was a heaven for gangsters, pimps, and hoes.

  “Hey, girl. What up doe?” A worn-out Keith pushed open the screen door, letting her inside. “You heard anything else or what?”<
br />
  “Yeah, I just came from hollering at my boy down at homicide. He slid me these pictures and a confidential copy of the crime report. We probably need to jump on this shit as soon as possible!” She revealed a manila folder with the letters DPD stamped on them.

  Keith led her to the dining room table where one of his many female friends he dealt with was just pouring him a hot cup of coffee. “You need a cup?”

  “Hell yeah. Ya girl been up for close to twenty-four hours straight and counting.” Jazmine reached for the mug as soon as the girl brought it in. “And considering how I feel, I don’t wanna sleep ’til that buster is dead or at least locked the fuck up!”

  Spreading the horrific murder scene photos out across the huge marble table, Keith gagged. Feeling like he wanted to throw up in his mouth at the sight, just as Jazmine felt the moment she’d first laid eyes on them, his eyes watered. Yeah, the snapshots of the kids slumped over with dried-up green vomit around their mouths was terrible to see, and certainly, the ghastly way Cree was ultimately sent home to God or the devil was definitely no walk in the park. Even looking at NayNay, who neither one of them could stand but tolerated for the sake of the baby, was awful. However, staring at their long-time homeboy Moe Mack, with his face blown half off, was a gruesome memory neither of them would soon forget.

  After getting themselves mentally together, Keith and Jazmine carefully examined the police report. There they read the investigative conclusion from detectives. Moe Mack had been alive for quite some time, probably being tortured, before he was actually murdered execution style. Also, Cree was most likely fighting with the suspect before he was killed with the fireplace poker that’d come back with Justice Richards’s prints all over it. NayNay’s paperwork had yet to come back. Lastly, the duct-taped children, which was a no-brainer for authorities considering the evidence recovered from the kitchen counter, were poisoned, dying almost instantly.