Thug Lovin'

by Wahida Clark

  “Red, you know I didn’t plan shit to go like this. Them stupid niggas wasn’t supposed to let y’all down here. I’ll take you home.” She was shaking her head and trying to pull away from him.

  “I need to use the bathroom first,” Tasha said. “And when I come out, you better be ready to tell me where Trae is,” Tasha threatened.

  “So do I,” Angel snapped.

  Kaylin kept his hold on Angel’s arm as he led them to one of the bathrooms. He waited until Tasha closed the door before he embraced Angel and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Kaylin, I’m at a loss for words. Am I supposed to—”

  He kissed her softly on the lips, cutting her off. “Red, I’m sorry, baby. And believe me when I say it. You weren’t supposed to see that. But damn, baby, it is what it is.”

  Tasha burst out of the bathroom as Angel pushed Kaylin off of her. “It is what it is,” Angel mocked him, before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door. She covered her mouth and began to cry.

  “You need to toughen your girl up,” Kaylin teased.

  “That ain’t funny, Kay. Shit, I’m tough but if I walked in on my man beating a nigga with an iron pipe to a bloody pulp, my knees would get weak too. Plus, you gotta remember, your living on the other side of the tracks fucks with her. She’s a square for real and you’re, um, you’re a gangsta thug, as she would put it.

  “Your little lawyer girlfriend Angel is living in two worlds fuckin’ with you. There’s her little all-American legal world and then there’s your big all-American illegal world. I think that shit is tough on her mentally, especially since she’s determined not to let either one go.”

  “Your girl is cool, that’s my lady. Every Thug Needs a Lady. She’ll keep riding that double-sided train until she decides to get off on my side of the track or pull me onto hers.”

  “Whatever, nigga. Now, where is Trae? I am so losing patience with your boy, Kaylin. I haven’t heard from him in almost a week. He hasn’t even called me. Is this shit a game to y’all?”

  “Chill out, girl. He’s right outside. I don’t see how y’all missed him.”

  “Outside!” Tasha shrieked. “Outside where? So he knew I was coming and his ass is outside? He had the audacity to tell me to stay home? What is the matter with him?”

  “He’s drunk, Tasha.”

  “Drunk?”

  “Yeah. As in liquor. As in he drank too much.”

  “Kaylin, I—”

  “I’m ready to go, Tasha. Now!” Angel came storming out of the bathroom, cutting her girl Tasha off and almost knocking her over. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  “Go? I told you I got you,” Kaylin told Angel.

  “Tasha, bring your ass on.” Angel ignored Kaylin.

  Tasha ignored Angel.

  “Why is Trae drunk, Kaylin? You know he can’t hold liquor! Why do you have him drinking?” Tasha was screaming at Kaylin.

  “Kaylin, I’m leaving with Tasha. Go handle your business. Don’t let me stop you from doing what you do,” Angel told him.

  “Hold up. Hold up!” Kaylin needed to get a hold of the situation. “I got this.” He took ahold of both of the ladies’ hands. He turned to Angel and said, “You’re staying here with me.” Then he turned to Tasha and said, “You’re going to have to drive your drunken-ass nigga home.”

  “Kaylin, you know Trae can’t hold liquor. I can’t believe you let him drink,” Angel scolded him.

  “That’s a grown-ass nigga!”

  “You’re supposed to have his back,” Tasha snapped.

  “I do have his back. But if a nigga wants to get his drink on who am I to stop him? I ain’t the nigga’s daddy. All I can do is make sure he don’t get into anything or do something stupid. That’s why his ass is in the car. Now both of y’all need to chill the fuck out.”

  Shaheem turned on his charm as the lovely ladies came his way. His bloodshot gaze roamed over Angel and then fell on Tasha. He then broke into a wide platinum-filled grin.

  “My bad… uhm, ladies.” He flashed them his million-dollar smile and they both frowned. He still had blood on his hands. Kaylin, embarrassed, tossed him a handkerchief he had in his back pocket.

  “Oh, my bad. My bad. How y’all ladies doing? Y’all want something to drink? Damn, y’all fine. I thought these country-ass bums was just talkin’ shit. Y’all must be Angel and Tasha. I’m Shaheem. Introduce us formally, nigga,” he snapped at Kaylin.

  “Oh my God. This is so crazy,” Tasha exclaimed. She stood there staring at Shaheem, then finally said, “He looks so much like my baby.”

  “You don’t need no fuckin’ formal introduction,” Kaylin snapped back. “You ain’t the fuckin’ President.”

  “Man, stop playin’ and introduce us.”

  “Tasha, this is Shaheem Macklin, Aunt Marva’s son. He just came home from a four-and-a-half vacation upstate. That’s as formal as it gets,” Kaylin said.

  “Shaheem, take me to Trae, please,” Tasha requested. “Since this nigga Kaylin refuses to do so.”

  “Uhm, okay. Follow me.” Shaheem beamed.

  Tasha’s heart rate sped up as they navigated around the cars parked on the lawn and people standing around getting their drink and party on. But the closer she got to the car the angrier she was getting.

  Trae’s truck was kitted out and its windows tinted, but the front passenger window was rolled halfway down. “Trae needs to wake his drunken ass up,” Tasha snapped.

  “Yeah, unable to hold liquor runs in the Macklin family,” Kaylin cracked. “Both these niggas have been partying for four days straight.” Kaylin was talking about Trae and Shaheem. And that was the first time Tasha made the acquaintance of Shaheem Macklin.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning Trae and Tasha caught a flight to New York. Trae was in his old bedroom at his mother’s house in Hollis, Queens. He sat in the old wooden chair in the corner, looking around the room. Posters of LL Cool J, KRS-One, Vanity 6, Lisa Lisa, Salt-N-Pepa and Run-DMC were still on the wall. The set of full-size beds was neatly made.

  Damn. Here I go back on the hunt again. Just when I thought I could put this shit behind me, I’m pulled back in, he thought.

  His mother tapped on the half-closed bedroom door. “Come in, Ma,” Trae told her.

  “Trae, your wife is eight months pregnant. Why did you bring her way across the country? And I know you don’t expect her to sleep on these little beds while you’re out running the streets, now do you?”

  “Ma, our stuff is in the guest bedroom with the king-size bed. And as far as her traveling, she insisted. I couldn’t make her stay if I wanted to.”

  “She probably was trying to talk some sense into that big head of yours. Before you leave out of this house, make sure you talk to your father.”

  “Ma, how is Aunt Marva holding up?” Trae asked, knowing that his mother would tell him the truth.

  “She’s not, baby. Just like you are my only child, Shaheem was hers. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through. I can, but I honestly don’t want to.”

  Tap. Tap. The bedroom door eased open. It was Omar, Trae’s other cousin. “Hi, Nana.” He gave his aunt a warm hug, hovering over her and kissing her on the forehead.

  “Omar, what are you and Trae getting ready to do?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  Mrs. Macklin wasn’t new to the game, she had married a hustler. Trae’s father had snatched her up pretty much the same way their son had snatched up Tasha. Her husband, Walter, had done time, survived a gun battle and its injuries and managed to retire from the game with his life. The rumor on Walter’s side of the family was traced as far back as the days of Bumpy Johnson. One of the sisters had supposedly put a blessing on the family. That’s why Mrs. Macklin knew that Trae would be all right. How long that blessing would last, she didn’t know. Did it stop with Shaheem? “Is that why he got murdered?” Even those close to the sons were blessed, like Omar and Kaylin. Even though Kaylin’s younger bro
ther Kyron was still locked up they all seemed to be protected. Her husband Walter had had a long run, hustled and balled with the best of them. The rest of the hustlers were dead or still in prison.

  “I’ma take him out to clear his mind. I’ma watch over him, I promise.”

  “Omar, you look so much like your mother. I miss my sister so much,” she sighed.

  “So do I, Nana. But you and Pop Pop have always been there for me.” Omar planted another kiss on her forehead. This was the only family he had known since the age of fourteen when his mother was gunned down. That was fifteen years ago.

  “You discussed this with Walter already?” Nana asked him.

  “Nah. He was in the den when I came in. I slipped right past him and came up here.”

  Tasha tapped on the door, pushed it open, walked in and sat on Trae’s lap. Nana nudged Omar, indicating that Trae and Tasha should be left alone.

  Nana stood and turned to Trae. “Make sure you speak with your father.”

  “Aiight, Trae.” Omar followed Nana’s lead. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  Nana and Omar left, closing the door behind them.

  “You understand why I gotta do this, right?” Trae held on to both of Tasha’s hands as he kissed them. She was giving him a blank stare. “C’mon baby, don’t be like this. Answer me. You know I’m going to do this anyway. I just need you to tell me you understand.”

  Tasha sighed. “Look baby, I know what you do. I don’t like it, but I deal with it because I love you regardless. I’ve been with you long enough to understand how you are feeling right now.” She let out a sigh and her voice cracked. “But damn, what if something happened to you? We are getting ready to go to Shaheem’s funeral, I don’t want to have to start preparing for yours. Don’t do that to me, Trae.” She kissed him softly on his bald head and stood up. “Do what you gotta do, Trae, as long as you come back home when the work is done.”

  When Trae’s father stepped into Trae’s bedroom he found his son sitting on the edge of the bed staring into space.

  “So what’s the next move?” his father asked him.

  “Pops, you know what it is. You been there and done that more than enough times that I can remember.”

  “Yeah, but you know damn well I didn’t want this for you. Plus the game ain’t the same no more. Shit, I ain’t got to tell you that. But this shit here is spookin’ me and your mother.”

  Trae released a huge sigh. His father sat down on the bed next to him.

  “Pops, I’m out. I don’t know why you don’t believe me. Just like Sha. He didn’t believe me either.” Trae chuckled. “I told him to get out with me. Come to Cali. We good. Good for life.”

  “What did he say?”

  Trae smiled. “As usual he said what he was feeling. He said he was gonna die in the streets and fuck Cali. He a East Coast nigga for life and ain’t nothing like some New York pussy.” Both men started grinning. “I told him I wanted him to be the godfather to the babies. That fool said he’s already the uncle and that’s better than godfather. Then the crazy nigga said he would as long as I named one of them after him.” Trae choked up and couldn’t hold back the tears.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  For a black funeral, a rare calm blanketed the service. Quiet sobs and sniffles were barely heard above the organ music that played softly in the background. Nobody knew where Trae was when the limos arrived to take the family to the church. There was a sea of flowers. All the young boys from the ’hood who idolized Shaheem wore T-shirts with his picture on it. Trae spared no cost, down to a horse and carriage. He laid his cousin out in style. They all thought: Puff did it for Biggie, Trae did it for his cousin.

  Aunt Marva was very snippy. “Let’s go! Fuckin’ niggas ain’t wait to kill my son, so I damn sure ain’t waitin’ to bury him,” she snapped before pulling the veil over her face, shocking the shit out of Tasha.

  Despite old folks’ tales that a pregnant woman shouldn’t go to a funeral, Tasha was right there. The twins were kicking as Tasha’s hand glided across her belly. She was doing her best to hold back the tears. She diverted her attention to Trae’s father, who was standing in front of the room having a few words with the pastor before he delivered the eulogy. Trae wasn’t even there yet. Tasha glanced over at Aunt Marva. She sat tall and proud. Her face was blank. Tasha had not seen her shed one tear and that sent chills up her spine. She was being too calm for her, which spooked her.

  For the one life that had been taken, the lives of two would soon be entering the world.

  Aunt Marva must have felt Tasha looking at her because she turned toward her.

  Tasha tried to give a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t until Aunt Marva looked down at her round belly that the cold blank stare turned into a warm smile. Then a tall white lady with a wide-brim hat and a white young man came up to Marva. They looked alike so Tasha assumed that she was the young man’s mother. The lady handed Marva a card. The young man leaned down and mumbled something and Marva started screaming at him, “How dare you! How dare you!”

  Before Tasha could blink, Omar had the dude in a choke hold, and Kaylin, Kendrick, Bo and Mr. Macklin had surrounded the two white guests.

  “Get them the fuck out of here,” Kaylin kept yelling as they tried to stop Omar from breaking the dude’s neck. The white lady’s face was beet red and she stood there petrified.

  Everything happened so quickly, Tasha didn’t realize she was holding her breath. Nana had grabbed Marva and they had disappeared. Tasha had no clue what was going on. Everyone was mumbling, turning in their seats and trying to figure out what all the commotion was about. Tasha was now wondering what other drama could unfold. About fifteen minutes later the pastor had gained control of the funeral. Everyone was back in their seats except for Marva. Nana now had that same blank stare that Marva had. They both were spooking her. The pastor began his eulogy and he began speaking highly of Shaheem. It was obvious he knew very little of him.

  * * *

  Trae lay in the cut as he watched everyone leave the burial site. He couldn’t bring himself to go to the funeral. Instead, he had spent the day getting high and reminiscing about the good times. He, Kaylin, Kyron and Shaheem had plans on taking over the city when they were young and getting in the game. Shaheem’s favorite words were “I got you, Cuz.”

  He stepped out of the car, zipped up his jacket and pulled his fitted cap down low. The climate on the East Coast was much cooler than in California. New York always seemed to remind him of how cold the world could be. He had a bottle of Corona, Shaheem’s favorite. He smiled at the thought of Tasha looking around. He knew that she felt his presence.

  “Daddy will be home in a few days,” he mumbled as he trudged up the walkway, stopping in front of the burial plot. He stood there.

  Just a day after Trae had arrived in Queens, word of Shaheem’s murder had already spread throughout Hollis. During Shaheem’s four-and-a-half year bid he had bumped heads with Magnificent, a ruthless drug dealer from Newark, New Jersey, who had gotten caught up in a buy-and-bust investigation in Spanish Harlem.

  Magnificent had already served a year of his five-year sentence before Shaheem arrived. Magnificent had managed to take control of his tier. He paid off the guards, along with a few jailhouse enforcers, and made examples out of anyone who didn’t see things his way. That was until he got a taste of Shaheem Macklin.

  Shaheem quickly turned the tables on Magnificent by giving him a serious beat-down in the prison yard in front of many spectators, which allowed him to take control of the tier, not to mention that he doubled the guards’ salaries. Magnificent was at the mercy of Shaheem until he was paroled. It was obvious that Magnificent refused to let prison beef stay behind prison walls.

  As Trae stood over Shaheem’s burial site, a weird feeling came across him.

  Why did God spare me? And my pops? We were both in the game and retired from it. That shit rarely happens. My Aunt Marva and all of her roots and shit said she and our ancestors w
ould save us. But why couldn’t she save her own son? “Damn,” he mumbled. Trae pulled out the blunt as he sat on the ground next to Shaheem’s plot. “Dawg, I got your favorite.” He pulled the brown paper bag off the Corona and poured some out.

  Then he took a huge swig of the brew. “It’s ice cold, just like you like it.” He got choked up. I can’t do this.

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to have your back. I’m sorry. You got my word that I’m going to fix this shit. I’ma make it right. I won’t stop until I do.” He emptied the rest of the bottle of Corona and tossed it out as far as he could.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tasha’s due date was less than three weeks away, but the triggerman who had taken Shaheem out was still breathing and to Trae that was unacceptable, so he was anxious to go out on the hunt. The hunt for blood.

  His parents’ family room was where Trae, just like his father, went to clear his head. Trae slid the glass doors shut and turned on the dimmer. Tasha had gotten him hooked on scented candles so he lit a vanilla-scented one, grabbed a blunt and stood in front of the window staring up at the New York moonlight. He still couldn’t believe that he was out of the game, married; living in Cali, and any day now would be a father. He couldn’t help wonder what the Creator had in store for him.

  He inhaled on the blunt filled with purple haze and smirked. “Lord, I hope you ain’t got jokes. You didn’t bring me through all of that dirt I was doing for nothing. Whatever you do, just spare my wife and kids. As for myself, come what may.” Trae spoke in a whisper as he continued to gaze up at the stars. He was a firm believer in karma. He had sold and poured tons of poison into his own community. He had numerous bodies under his belt, had fucked more women than King Solomon himself and now here he was on top. The drug game had allowed him to stash millions. Shit couldn’t be better for him. But he couldn’t help but wonder, What did the universe have in store for him? The thought continued to nag at him. What’s next? What’s around the corner?