Confusion . . .
“Kenya! Kenya!” London doubled over screaming out to her sister from the bottom of the stairs. “Please help me, please, Kenya!”
Why don’t that stupid wannabe me bitch shut the hell up with all that fake crying! Ain’t shit wrong with her!
“Argggh. Kenya, I need you! My water just broke and I’m having sharp pains all in my sides. Please come down here, I think it’s time!”
This ho really think I’m playing with her! She right it is time! Time I threw her no-good-ass out my fucking house and take back my life that she trying to steal! Kenya continued to pace her bedroom floor as she thought of her next move.
As the labor pains intensified London continued to call out to her sister several more times still getting no response. “Kenya! Kenya! How can you do this? We family! This baby is your nephew! Please help me!” She held on to the wall as she tried to make it to the couch and lie down until O.T. got there to take her to the hospital.
Tired of hearing all the noise her twin kept making, trying to be the center of attention in once what was her private domain, Kenya flung the door of her bedroom open and furiously marched to London’s room. That’s it! Bottom line! I’m about to throw her shit in the street and let the landscaping crew out in front get this cheap bullshit for they wives or girlfriends.
Snatching her sister’s belongings out the closet that were still on the hanger, then taking her arm clearing everything off the dresser in one motion, including a brass framed picture of the two of them on graduation day, onto the floor, Kenya grabbed the blanket off the bed to wrap all London’s property inside of it with the intention of dragging the entire load to the curb. Before completing what she came to do, the irate Kenya spotted an envelope that had Storm’s government name on it. “Tony Christian,” she read his name loudly. “What the fuck?”
Kenya tapped her foot angrily as she folded back the flap and pulled out a thick set of papers that were obviously from a lawyer. Taking a quick scan of the twisted legal terms that were throughout the document, they were not a deterrent, as Kenya was fast becoming aware of what the papers she was holding in her trembling hands meant. “That motherfucking lying son of a crackhead whore! That nigga ain’t shit! No more lies, huh!” she shrieked out as she looked at the date that was next to Storm’s signature. “No wonder yesterday he came all up in this bitch acting like shit was all smiles and fucking handshakes! And that backstabbing slut downstairs want me to feel sorry for her! Yeah, right!”
With papers in hand Kenya stomped back into her room to grab her cell phone off the nightstand. In a matter of seconds Storm was on the line.
“Hey, baby,” he answered not realizing the mess had hit the fan.
“Fuck you, nigga!” Kenya roared. “How you gonna just keep playing me like I ain’t shit?”
“What is you talking about now?” Storm looked at his watch seeing it was nearing seven as he waited to hear what drama Kenya was bringing to the table this time.
“Don’t play dumb!” she started in. “You didn’t think I was gonna find out about what you did yesterday?”
“What in the hell is you talking about, Kenya? I don’t have time for no nonsense right now!”
“Yeah, I know. It’s evident you don’t have time for me and how I feel! You about to get your pockets the fuck off craps because I thought you loved me and was down for me, but I guess when the shit really floats to the surface, your only interest is looking out for my whining-ass sister and that no-good, hope it’s born retarded with one leg and three eyes in the back of his head bastard of yours!”
Storm was pissed off. “Shut your mouth wishing that bad luck on my son! Is you crazy or what?”
“Oh dang! My bad! I guess I should just fall back and keep my mouth shut while you set up a trust fund for that baby and worst of all two different life insurance policies naming London as the beneficiary!”
Storm sat quietly now knowing exactly what in the hell was fueling Kenya’s heated rage. “Listen.” He tried to finally offer some sort of an excuse, but couldn’t justify it. He had told one too many lies and covered up one too many things to offer any kind of an explanation in the way of making things right with him and his girl.
“Me and you is done dealing! After I kick that grimy home wrecker out you can come and get your shit too!”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Storm noticed a strange car pulling up on the other side of the abandoned factory warehouse that had to be the connect so he couldn’t argue.
“It’s just like that!” Kenya cried before flipping her cell closed heading down the hallway to the stairs with the notarized papers in her hands to confront London with her part in the malicious deception. Only making it three small steps down, Kenya was stopped dead in her tracks by the loud booming sounds of a barrage of gunshots that seemed to be as close as her front yard.
O.T.
Running through red lights disobeying every law on the books in pursuit of getting to a distressed London as soon as possible, O.T. pressed the accelerator damn near to the floor of his car. Relentlessly pushing redial on his cell phone in attempts to reach London or at least Kenya, he received nothing but a busy signal. From the drastic tone in London’s voice, O.T. realized that this wasn’t a false alarm or no fucking practice run. This shit was real and it must be truly time for her to deliver.
He didn’t know what had changed him or his selfish way of thinking over the past few months, but whatever it was he knew he had to be there for London and the baby. Driving down the final stretch of road before turning into his brother’s semi-gated community O.T. got a glimpse of a car that seemed to be following him, but considering what was going on at the condo he couldn’t care less about the ho-ass police stopping him for violating a couple of traffic laws. As far as O.T. was concerned they could provide him and London with a special VIP police escort to the hospital if they wanted to.
Police
“Malloy, do you hear me?” the undercover officer panicked. “Do you copy?”
“Yeah, I copy. Go ahead.”
“Hey, Malloy, it seems like you were right. Something is definitely happening out at the Christian residence. The younger brother left from the mental hospital doing a hundred miles an hour and is almost back at his brother’s house I think. I don’t know what’s going on but I might need backup. I think Marco Meriwether is driving a vehicle at least three cars behind me.” The officer pulled over at his regular stakeout position awaiting further instructions.
“What?” Malloy fired back. “I didn’t hear you correctly. Did you say Marco Meriwether?”
“Yeah, he’s got a hood on his head, but I can see a lot of his braids sticking out!” he noticed as the driver sped pass him and was now directly behind O.T. who was turning onto his block.
“That’s impossible!” Malloy puzzled, thinking his officer needed some rest from the long shifts he’d been working.
Face 2 Face . . .
Turning onto the block O.T. had to slow his car down to avoid colliding with the massive convoy of Mexican workers, huge trailers, lawn mowers, blowers, and dumpsters that lined the road. Having no choice but to park several doors down, O.T. jumped out his ride, which was packed with bags containing stuff for the baby, and started jogging over toward the condo.
“Hey, you coward-ass motherfucker!” The hooded driver of the other car swerved up near the curb, getting out with gun in hand.
O.T. froze, shocked that this Negro was so brazen to come to where he laid his head to try to get ignorant and then be ballsy enough to point a gun at him. “Have you lost your fucking mind? I ought to—”
“Ought to what? Shut the fuck up and be a man?”
O.T. laughed. “Come the hell on, what in the fuck do you know about being a man? Matter of fact get the fuck on. I got business to take care of inside and I ain’t got time for this mess!”
“You and ya fake-ass brother think y’all can go around ruining people’s lives thinking it ain’t n
o consequences to the bullshit, but trust when I tell you it fucking is!”
“Listen, you piece of shit!” O.T. boldly shouted. “If I’m supposed to be scared because you got a gun then you wrong. Now if you gonna do something then pretend you man enough to do it or beat it! But just know I’m gonna hunt ya black-ass down until the day I die for coming out here to my brother’s crib!”
“Who in the hell you think you is, Superman?”
“Fuck you with ya bitch-ass!” O.T. spat on the front grass turning around to head for the condo door.
Hearing him making threats acting as if he was untouchable and above getting got, the trigger was pulled and the blazing sound of eight loud gunshots filled the air. Taking cover behind trucks and garbage cans, bystanders witnessed O.T.’s body jerk, absorbing bullet after bullet before hitting the ground.
Chapter 19
One Last Promise
Police
“Malloy! Malloy! Malloy! Send backup!” The officer jumped out his vehicle after witnessing O.T. get gunned down on the pavement of the driveway. “I just saw our suspect Marco Meriwether gun the youngest of the Christian brothers down in cold blood!”
“Don’t worry, more than a few squad cars should be there in a few minutes. And don’t take any unnecessary risks with whoever the gunman is.”
“I told you, it’s Marco. I saw his braids!” The confused policeman drew his weapon as the killer’s car turned around coming in his direction. “He’s getting closer to me as we speak!”
“Naw, guy, you got to be mistaken. Me, Kendrick, and the fugitive apprehension team just snatched a now baldheaded Marco off a Greyhound bus heading east. It seems like he cut off his dreads at the crime scene we were working this morning and then used his victim’s identity to purchase a one-way ticket.”
“Oh, shit!” The officer tossed the two-way radio on the passenger seat before posting up. Knocking over several garbage cans and hitting a car in an attempt to get away from the homicide that was just committed, the driver was faced with the undercover officer’s gun pointed directly at the windshield. “Stop or I’ll fucking shoot!”
Not paying attention to the officer’s threats the car barreled through the one-man barricade leaving no other recourse, but more gunshots to ensue. Losing control of the automobile after being fatally struck by one of the bullets, the driver crashed into a fire hydrant and slumped over to the side of the passenger seat. As the cocky but nervous policeman approached the vehicle through the heavy water flow spewing from the hydrant with his pistol still drawn, he cautiously opened the door snatching the hood off the driver. As all the braids fell out of the hood, he got a good look at the deceased’s face.
“Oh my fucking God!” He frowned, confused as other squad cars finally arrived on the premises followed by an ambulance.
Still wearing a plastic inmate identification bracelet on her wrist, having just been released from jail earlier that morning, Miss Tangelina Marie Gibson, aka Tangy, was pronounced dead on the scene.
Share and Share Alike . . .
Making sure the gunfire had ceased, Kenya poked her head out in total disbelief that this type of madness was happening in her always quiet community. Normally, if there was any type of small disturbance going on it usually involved her and her household. But this chaos seemed to be a couple of houses down. While still holding the paperwork and her cell phone Kenya tip-toed down the staircase listening to all the commotion the people outside were making. Only peeping out the door, Kenya didn’t dare go outside not wanting to get involved considering all the illegal firearms they had stashed throughout the condo.
Damn, I wonder what he did. Shockingly she saw the legs of a man face down in the front driveway of her neighbor’s house with some of the obviously still rattled landscaping workers gathered around him. Since O.T. had parked several houses farther down the block Kenya couldn’t see his car from where she stood and had no way to know that it was Storm’s little brother who was badly injured, or, worse than that, dead.
“Help me!” She heard a faint murmured cry coming from the living room. “Please.”
Kenya had forgotten about her sister who was the main reason she had started coming down the stairs in the first place. “Is you still perpetrating like you in pain or what? With ya fake-ass! I’m about tired of all this showboating you always doing!”
“Please, Kenya.” London reached out her hand to her twin. “Help. I need you.”
“Oh, so now you on the floor, huh? What the fuck is wrong with you! You going too far!” Kenya held the papers up. “And what’s the deal on this bullshit?”
“Help me, Kenya!” London raised her other arm and that’s when her twin noticed a hole the size of a quarter in her upper shoulder blade that was bleeding.
“Damn!” Kenya panicked throwing the papers on the couch looking at the broken window on the far right side of her living room. “A stray bullet must’ve come through here! Damn white people in this neighborhood ain’t no better than us!”
“I’m hurting so bad, Kenya, and I think the baby is about to come. Will you call an ambulance or O.T. back and see what’s taking him so long? Arrggh!” she screamed out in agony taking short breaths.
London had to be in shock and delirious not even realizing that she had been shot. “I love my baby. I love my baby,” she whispered as she panted desperately trying to catch her breath.
As the blood soaked through her shirt and she kept rambling on about her and Storm’s baby, Kenya became strangely agitated and cold. One part of her wanted to do the right thing and immediately get her sister some medical attention, but the other part wouldn’t let her do it. Look at this backstabber. With a vengeful demeanor she stood indecisively contemplating what move to make next as her twin lay in the middle of her condo’s living room floor bleeding to death.
“Why did you have to fuck my man?” Kenya barked out really expecting to get an answer in the middle of everything that was happening. “That shit was foul!”
Hearing ambulance sirens in the distance, London mistakenly thought they were for her and struggled to get off the floor. Staring at the papers on the couch, with callous intentions Kenya took her foot pushing London back down and holding her there.
“My baby, my baby, my baby,” London kept repeating holding her stomach.
Kenya saw her sister’s body start to shake and heard her voice get louder. Not wanting anyone to overhear the desperate cries for help, she went over to the CD player turning on some jazz to drown out the noise. Getting down on her knees, Kenya then helped a confused and in pain London take off her track pants and spread her twin’s legs wide open. With no medical training to speak of except watching ER on television every week for four years straight, Kenya saw that London was right and wasn’t pretending. The baby was coming and in fact had already started crowning.
“Where’s Storm at?” London sweated tossing her head from side to side. “He said he wanted to be here to see his son born. Is he here?”
“What!” Kenya hissed. “Storm said what?”
“Can you call him for me?” London was in a daze as she kept getting Kenya angrier with her constant pleas for her man as she pushed and pushed. “Storm! Storm! Storm!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Kenya took a deep breath taking one of her socks off stuffing it in London’s crying mouth. “Chew on this and stop calling my man! He don’t want you to be the mother of his baby! That’s my job!”
Five minutes later she was delivering London’s baby on the living room floor. Just as the ultrasound had shown months earlier it was indeed a boy. Storm’s newborn son had an identical birthmark on his lower backside legitimizing the fact that he was a Christian. Kenya, amazed that she’d successfully delivered the infant, laid the crying baby on London’s stomach and went into the kitchen. Opening the drawer near the sink, she searched for and finally found a huge razor-sharp butcher knife with jagged edges. Grabbing a few clean dish towels off the racks and some old bread twists out the jun
k drawer Kenya spitefully headed back toward a suffering London.
Slipping in and out of consciousness from losing so much blood, London was barely aware of what was going on. Now Kenya, the same person she’d deliberately taunted less than an hour ago, leaned down over her with the knife in her hands lifting the newborn up. Taking the bread twists she wrapped them tightly around the blood-filled umbilical cord and deviously smiled as she thought about Storm. Then vindictively glaring at her reflection in the shiny sides of the butcher knife she cut it off severing all ties the baby had with London.
“Where you going with my baby?” a weak and drained London muttered as the gunshot wound continued to bleed. “Let me hold him. Let me hold my baby,” she begged as she started gagging on her own blood.
“Your baby?” Kenya questioned wrapping the crying infant in the dish towels and sat down in Storm’s favorite chair rocking him in her arms as she watched her sister struggle to hold on to life. “You must have made a mistake. This is my baby, mine and Storm’s!”
“But we’re family. We’re all we got. I love you, Kenya.” London sadly took her last breath.
“Say you promise,” Kenya looked down toward the floor and nonchalantly replied ignoring the fact her twin sister had just died in front of her eyes because she chose not to get her any help.
Turning up the music more in an attempt to ignore the sounds of the frantic neighbors knocks who’d recognized O.T. as the gunshot victim, Kenya who had obviously lost her mind hummed to her now deceased twin sister’s newborn son while she patiently waited for his daddy Storm to return home so they could be one big, happy family.
“Don’t worry, little one, your real mommy’s here with you.”
Coming Soon
Tick, Tick, Boom!
Say U Promise IV
by
No Home Training Page 15
