Brock 2

by Shameek Speight

  “Baby, it is the weekend. Spend time with us. You are always working,” Penelope said as she turned around and pouted, giving him her puppy dog face and sad eyes.

  “Don’t give me that look, baby. I have to work,” Bruce replied.

  “You don’t have to do nothing; you own five luxury car dealerships and a Bentley dealership. You are the damn boss. That means you give the orders to your employees. So spend the day with your family, Bruce,” Penelope said as her facial expression twisted up in an angle.

  “Penelope, I don’t have to get in to this today. We go through this every time I have to leave. Just take the children shopping and by the time you are finished, I will be on my way home, so we can enjoy our night,” Bruce said while grabbing her by the waist and pulling her closely to him.

  “Money can’t fix everything, baby. If it’s between going shopping for a new bag or have your time, I will pick your time. That matters more to me. It is the weekend. You should be with your family,” Penelope said in a thick Russian accent, meaning every word.

  “Penelope, this isn’t the time to be going back and forth. I have to work to keep up with our lifestyle.”

  Bruce Jr. replied, “I don’t know why you are bugging him.”

  “Shopping is a better day anyway. I will pick that over spending time with y’all. I don’t want to be stuck staring in all your faces anyway,” Chenille stated, looking up from her IPhone.

  Bruce and Penelope looked at her as if they wanted to slap the taste out of her mouth. “And that is the reason why you get less because you talk too much shit. The only thing you care about is that damn IPhone.” Breaking his embrace he had with Penelope. “I have to get out of this house before I hurt this little, smart mouth girl. Sometimes I swear she’s not my own flesh and blood with a mouth like that,” Bruce said with his teeth clenched.

  “Yeah whatever, you are not going to do shit. All you going to do is talk mess and run off to work. All I hear is blah…blah…blah,” Chenille said in a seductive tone, “Blah…blah…” She continues to say and her words were cut off as Bruce stretched his arm way back and swung with all his might, smacking the taste out of her mouth. The blow was so powerful it sent her and the chair upside down to the ground.

  Leah and Paula sat in their chairs with their mouths wide open in shock. Chenille laid there on the hardwood floor, holding her face. She didn’t know what hurt more, the swelling on her bottom rib or her pride. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her face turned bright red. “I hate you! I hate you!” she shouted and jumped up and stormed off down the hallway.

  “You better watch your damn mouth. I won’t have that disrespect. I work in order to provide for my family not to have my own child feeling that she can speak to me in that manner or anyway they want. Hell no!” Bruce shouted.

  “Baby calm down! Bruce, you did not have to hit her,” Penelope said as she followed him out of the kitchen.

  Bruce walked down the hall of his huge house and passed the living room to the front double doors. He bent down and smiled as he pet the family dog as the dog wagged her tail. “I swear, you are the only one that understands me,” Bruce mumbled as he continued to pet the dog on her head. He then stood up and turned to look at his wife. “Yes. You are right and I will deal with it when I come back home. I lost my temper. Chenille is eighteen years old. Instead of her being in college like a normal teenager, all she does is sit around the house on her damn phone all day, texting and running the streets, and sneaking into clubs. I won’t allow that baby,” Bruce said, and then he kissed Penelope on the cheeks, turned back around, and opened the front door.

  Chapter 3

  The chill went through his body like cold steel. Now pressed against the center of his forehead, Bruce looked up at the chrome gun and his heart raced. He looked at the person holding the gun. The man was around 6’2” tall, weighing about 150 pounds, wearing a brown jacket and black jeans with matching boots on his feet, and a plastic mask on his face, which was a smiling face mask. The masked man tilted his heat to the side as Bruce and he stared in one another’s eyes. The masked man’s eyes were a bright, cold blue. Bruce could tell he was smiling hard behind the mask as if he was enjoying the look of fear in Bruce’s eyes.

  “Slowly, step back in the house without making a fucking sound,” the man in the mask ordered with a deep tone in his voice.

  Bruce nervously took a step backwards while Penelope was not too far from the front door in the living room staring at Bruce’s back. ‘God, I wish he had just stayed home and wouldn’t work so much,’ she thought to herself. Then her facial expression twisted up as something in her instincts told her something terrible was wrong. She moved closer as Bruce back pedaled inside the house. The sight of a masked man pressing a chrome gun against Bruce’s forehead caused Penelope to scream out at the top of her lungs. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  Another short heavy set man that had a mask on his face dashed passed Bruce and in front of the first masked man. He entered the house running up to Penelope with his arms stretched wide and closed them around her, hitting her in the throat with the side of his forearm knocking her on the floor on her back. UGGGGh!” Penelope laid on the floor, rolling side to side holding her neck and gasping air.

  “No, not my wife!” Bruce shouted as his facial expression twisted up in anger mixed with rage.

  He turned around and chased the masked man that was standing over his wife, laughing at the pain that she was in. He turned his head to the side to see Bruce running towards him at full speed. Bruce used all his body weight to run into the masked man like a football player, knocking the air out of the masked man’s lungs and sending him slamming hard to the ground. “Oh shit! Oh shit!” the masked man screamed as Bruce stomped on his face with the back of his shoes.

  “Don’t you ever…ever touch my wife! I will fucking kill you!” Bruce shouted as the heel of his red bottom shoes came slamming down on the masked man’s shoulder.

  A cracking sound could be heard echoing throughout the living room followed by the masked man hollering in agonizing pain as his arm disconnected from his arm socket. His arm looked as if it belonged to a rag doll as it dangled from side to side. “Don’t you ever…ever put your hands on my wife..” was the last word that came out of Bruce’s mouth as he received a mighty blow to the back of his head. “Ahahahahah!” he howled in pain and fell forward on the masked man while holding the back of his head.

  The masked man was on the ground, groaning in agony. Quickly, he pushed Bruce off of him and leaped up to his feet. He picked up the 9mm gun that was knocked out of his hand when Bruce tackled him like a football player.

  Bruce rolled over as his head was spinning. As he opened his eyes, stars and blurry bright lights was all he could see. Then as his vision slowly cleared up, he now could see that he was staring up at a barrel of a gun. He looked in the eyes of the masked man. His eyes were filled with anger, rage, and terror as he gripped the handle of the 9mm gun tightly. “You dislocated my shoulder out of its fucking socket. You fucking asshole!” the masked man said through clenched teeth as he tried not to groan in pain as his arms dangled like cooked noodles. “You fucking bastard!” the masked man said as he pulled the trigger just as his partner pushed his head up as the bullet rushed out of the gun, knocking his aim off target causing the bullet to slam in the marble floor, inches from Bruce’s face.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” the other man wearing the mask asked.

  “Why the hell you stop me. This bitch nearly took me half an inch of my life to death just let me kill him,” the masked man said through clenched teeth.

  “That is not what we came here for. It is not part of the plan.”

  The screeching sounds of Leah and Paula screaming broke the masked man’s concentration. They both turned their heads and looked down the wide hallway and could see both girls standing in the kitchen door way, screaming at the top of their lungs. Leah stopped screaming and called 911 with her gold cell phone that was grip
ped in her right hand.

  “Hello 911, what is your emergency?” a female operator asked on the other end.

  “We need help,” Leah replied, “Some men broke into our house and they are trying to kill my family. My address is.....” Leah said in one breath. But before she could give her address, her IPhone was slapped out of her hand and crashed into pieces on the marble floor, shattering into twenty or more pieces. A blow to the right eye by a giant fist caused her to stumble backwards, tripping on her own feet and landed on her ass. “Aahhughh!” she screamed in pain as her right eye swelled shut and grew into the size of a golf ball in a matter of seconds. She lay on the floor crying and holding her eye as Paula stood there trembling in fear.

  “This was supposed to be an easy job. Instead, we enter a house full of biracial, crazy ass people and children. I say let’s just kill them and find the cash. We are running out of time. That little bitch called the police; it is only a matter of time before they arrive,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said while pointing his gun at Leah, who was crying on the floor.

  “No that is not what we came here for. If we make it fast, we can still pull it off! Now get to work,” the robber with the gray mask said while pulling out clear zip ties and duct tape from his hoodie pocket. “Turn the fuck over,” the masked robber said while pointing the chrome 9mm at Bruce’s forehead.

  “You don’t have to do this man,” said Bruce, “I will give you anything you want. I have money just take it and don’t hurt my family,” Bruce pleaded with the masked man as he flipped over.

  The masked man zip tied his hands behind his back. “And that is exactly what we plan to do. If you comply, there will be no harm done to you and your psycho ass family,” the masked man stated while quickly duct tapping Penelope’s mouth and zip tying her hands behind her back then are ankles together. The second robber worked doing the same thing to Paula and Leah as they cried hysterically. “Now, I am going to only ask you this question once. If you hesitate or give me the wrong answer or try to bullshit me in any way, I am going to let my partner over there kill you, your daughters, and your wife, saving her for last. Do I make myself clear?” the robber in the Bill Clinton mask said.

  Bruce rolled back on to his back. He could see his wife from the corner of his eyes. Her face was bruised up and her neck was brick red as if she had been choked. She laid flat on her stomach with her hands behind her back. And she dared not to move an inch as tears streamed down her cheeks on to the marble floor.

  “Now that we have your understanding. My first question is, who else is in the fucking huge, for no reason, ass house of yours? Think hard before you answer,” the robber said while making direct eye contact.

  Bruce hesitated before he spoke. There were all kinds of thoughts flashing through his mind. Thoughts of his wife and children, thoughts of his brains being splattered from being shot in the head. “I have one more daughter. She is up in her room. Please don’t hurt her,” Bruce said while trembling as he was very concerned what they would do to his family.

  “My next question...God almighty cannot protect you if you lie to me. Where do you keep your money? All you rich fucking people keep a shit load of fucking cash in the house,” the man with the Bill Clinton mask said with his eyes twisted in anger just waiting for Bruce to respond with the wrong answer.

  “The money is in a safe in my bedroom behind the huge picture on the wall of my wife.”

  “Okay. Get your ass up,” said the masked robber, helping Bruce get to his feet and lead to the long marble steps. “You come with me so that we can get the other daughter,” the robber in the Bill Clinton mask ordered.

  “What about these three?” his partner asked while keeping his gun aimed at the crying girls that were zip tied up.

  “We don’t have to worry about them. Drag the old feisty ass bitch in the kitchen and let’s finish what we here for. Time is of the essence. We are cutting it too damn close. The police will be here in a matter of seconds,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask on said.

  Penelope could feel Leah’s hands grip her ankles as she laid flat to her stomach. She wanted to scream and cry for help, knowing it will be all in vain. The neighbors were half a mile away and the duct tape on her mouth prevented her from even trying. The burns and friction on her chest and face from her being pulled across the white marble floor caused her to stop as it felt like she was on fire. “Ugggah,” she made muffled sounds in pain as she cried hysterically and exhaled in release through her nostrils when he finally stopped dragging her. She now laid on her stomach next to her three daughters. She turned her head to look at them. Their eyes were filled with tears with hurt and fear as if she could read their minds. “Help us, mommy, help us please.”

  “Mommy is sorry,” she said in her mind as tears flood her eyes.

  “What room is your daughter in?” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask asked as they raced to the top of the stairs and stared down a massive hallway. “I can never understand the rich. What is the point of having all these bedrooms? It is all for show just to say they have it. Look at me. I have money and for guys like us to say let’s just take the fucking money,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said as he laughed at his own joke.

  Bruce’s heart raced. ‘I pray they just leave. I can’t fucking believe this is happening to us,’ he thought before opening his mouth to speak. “My oldest daughter’s room is down the hall to the right. Please don’t hurt her.”

  “Okay. You go tie her up and meet me back in the master bedroom with her. We will get the money and then blaze this place,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask stated.

  “It sounds good to me,” the robber with the gray mask on replied as he crept down the long hallway with his gun in his hand, leading the way. His right shoulder was sending agonizing pain through his body as it swung lifeless. ‘That damn bastard dislocated my shoulder. I swear, once we get the money I don’t care, I am going to kill him and his fucking psycho ass family,’ the robber with the gray mask thought to himself. As he imagined Bruce and his family filled with bullet holes, bleeding on the ground, it brought a smile to his face. He made a right turn and stopped at the only door there. He place his ear to the door listening for any signs of movement. He didn’t hear anything. So using his left arm and trying not to groan from the throbbing pain that traveled though his body, he slowly leaned up against the door, turned the knob, and pushed the door open and stood there in amazement. “This fucking room is bigger than my whole damn apartment,” he mumbled to himself. The floor had pink mink throw rugs on it. There was an all-white couch that looked as if it cost thousands of dollars. There was a three-way mirror vanity filled up with Chanel perfumes. “These fucking people have way too much money and too much time on their fucking hands. Who the hell paints their wall Ivory and why is there a Tiara on the wall that is as big as the wall?” the robber said to himself while shaking his head. On the far side of the room was an all-white canopy queen sized bed. He noticed a door not too far from it. “There is no use in hiding. I will find you, so you might as well come out now. I promise, I will not hurt you, so come the fuck out now!” the robber said in a deep demanding tone with the George Bush mask on.

  Chapter 4

  Chenille was upstairs in her room, cursing out her father in her head while listening to music. Her Beats headphones drowned out all the yelling, screaming, and commotion that was going on downstairs. But that loud gunshot she was able to hear loud and clear. She hopped off the bed in panic and tried to call 911 from her phone, but she could not get a signal in her room. Her heart raced. She had seen the door knob on her room’s door twist. She quickly grabbed one of the green colored lamps on the night stand and swiftly ran into her bathroom shutting the door behind her. Her heart raced as if it would jump through her chest. She could hear the intruder’s voice. The more he spoke the more fear traveled through her body, knowing he was getting closer to finding her. She raised the lamp high, holding it with both hands. />
  The robber with the George Bush mask looked under the bed and yelled, “Got you!” But became disappointed when he realized she was not hiding under there. “I really don’t have time for this family or this shit,” he said out loud. Then he grinned as he stood up from the floor and heard heavy breathing coming from out of the bathroom as if someone was having a panic attack. He crept towards the bathroom door, using his right hand to twist the knob and twisting it open. “I got yoooo!”

  Before he could finish screaming, Chenille came down hard with all her might with the lamp. It broke into tiny pieces as the robber hit the ground. “AAAAAuugh!” he groaned in pain as his head spinned and his brain tried to register what had just took place.

  “Ahahhhhh!” Chenille hollered and was shocked that she was able to knock him down with just one blow, but he was still moving and squirming around on the ground. She took off running for the bathroom door. Until half way out, she felt a large hand grip her ankle causing her to lose her balance and fall face first on to the ground. “Uggg ouch!” she screamed. While trying to crawl away but quickly realizing there was no use, his grasp on her ankle was like a python snake wrapping around tightly on its prey, squeezing the life out of it.

  The masked robber’s head finally stopped spinning and throbbing. The pain running through his body was replaced with anger mixed with rage.

  “AHAHAHAH!” Chenille hollered while kicking backwards, sending blows from her feet to his face and forehead but that did little to stop him.

  As he jumped to his feet like a cat, he released his grip off her ankle and charged towards her head. He stretched back his right leg and kicked her in the face like a soccer player kicking the winning goal. Chenille’s head jerk back as her bottom lip bust wide open, sending a spray of blood on the white floor. Before she could scream, the mask robber kicked her in her rib cage, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She gasped for air but felt she could not breathe at all.