Wrath of a Monster

by T J Edwards

  Mandy came down the stairs and answered the door about a minute later. When she opened the door, I could hear the music as clear as day coming from the inside. She stepped outside with us and closed the door. She held out her arms for me to step into them.

  “What’s good, Showbiz? Veeto already told me what was good. I’m sorry to hear about your son, boss.” She hugged me tightly, before taking a step back.

  “I appreciate that. So where is this nigga at?” I asked, growing impatient. I was ready to kill his bitch ass so I could get some sleep. Then I could focus on everything surrounding the Gomez’s and my father’s throne.

  I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a strategy. I hadn’t slept for more than few hours at a time with the exception of when I passed out on Eve’s grave. But even then, it was one of those uncomfortable sleeps.

  “Yo, so you go straight up the stairs and then to your right. That nigga Flex and two of his homies, along with three of my stripper friends gon’ be right there. When I stepped out, he was getting a lap dance by the living room with my friend, Trinity. We worked at the same club together. Girl got some skills.”

  “Bitch, I don’t wanna hear all that. Finish with what you was saying!” I snapped ready to choke her ass out. She rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway, that’s where he is. You gotta get up there so y’all can do your thing. Come on, I’ll show you the way. I don’t like this pancake ass nigga. First, he was repping Harlem. Now all a sudden, he’s one of Brooklyn’s finest.”

  She opened the door and waved at us to follow her. I looked down and saw that this Puerto Rican bitch had a fat ass booty like she was straight from the Projects. That muhfucka was jiggling and everything. I felt crazy ass hell having a hard on on my way to kill up some shit, but I did.

  She took one step after the next. When we made it to the top, I saw where the door was. She put her finger to her lips. “A’ight, let me stick my head in there to make sure that everything is as it was before I left.” She held up one finger. I looked back at Tristian. His light brown eyes were bucked in the mask. I wondered if he was scared for his life.

  I’d always took him to be one of them soft ass niggas anyway. He definitely wasn’t about that life like I was. I didn’t know how my father could even put his throne up for grabs. It was clear that I was the only one fit to have it. Mandy pulled her head back out of the door and smiled.

  “Yep, they still over there doing exactly what they before I left. You good. Just make sure y’all don’t hit of my girls.”

  I nodded and stepped up to her. I grabbed her by the throat, pulled out my Glock and slammed the barrel into her eye, then carried her part way down the stairs before pulling the trigger. Her head jerked violently. She fell to the ground with blood rushing out of her like a spilled can of paint. Tristian jumped back. I moved him out of the way as I took the stairs two at a time.

  “Let’s go, nigga.”

  I pulled the mask up and saw a bunch of purses piled in one chair of the dining room. On the table was a bunch of food and drinks. There was a big birthday cake in the middle of it, as well. I rushed inside and to my right. There were two strippers with their hands on the carpet making their asses pop up and down.

  Two of Flex’s men threw one dollar bills on top of them. Flex and another man sat on the couch with women on top of their laps, grinding for the fist full of hundred dollar bills that he had in his right hand. As soon as I saw him, I pulled my mask off.

  Something must have told him to look up, because as soon as my mask was off, he looked toward me. His eyes bucked. He tried to throw the stripper that was on his lap off of him, taking the .9 millimeter Beretta out of his waistband. But it was too late.

  I rushed him with my Glock out, stepping on one of the strippers hands as I made my way to him. I leveled my gun as the image of Maine’s head being blown off by him came into my mind. I scrunched my face and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

  The silencer made a soft, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp sound as my bullets entered into his face, punching massive hole into it, knocking away large chunks of his muscles and tissues. He fell forward on the couch with his Ramen Noodles leaking out of his skull. It smelled like spoiled milk mixed with hot copper.

  The stripper that had been on his lap screamed and put up her hands to block her face. More visions of Maine’s murder entered into my head. How dare she celebrate the nigga that had killed my son? I hated her and all of them just like I did Flex in that moment. I placed my barrel to the back of her head and pulled the trigger, killing her.

  I turned my gun on Flex’s two homies who’d tried to flee from the living room. My bullets wet their backs up, dropping them to the floor.

  I made it back to the living room to see two of the strippers hiding behind the couch, shaking uncontrollably. Scared of the unknown. Knowing their fate lied in the hands of a stranger.

  “Ahhhh!” The screamed out in unison.

  There was no way I could leave them alive.

  I imagined Maine taking the bullets from Flex’s gun again. I bit into my bottom lip and bucked them both two times a piece, blowing their heads back off the couch and all against the wall. I took a step back with my smoking gun and looked around. Tristian was in the middle of the floor with a dazed expression. “Nigga, tear this muhfucka up and make sure ain’t nobody else here. Come on. We been in here long enough!” I ordered.

  I ran from the dining room into the back of the house, flipping over beds and knocking over the dressers. I searched in closets and the bathroom. Luckily, I wasn’t able to find anybody else. I ran from the bathroom back into the kitchen just as Tristian was closing the door to the pantry. That made me suspicious.

  “Yo, what the fuck is in there, Dunn?” I asked, walking toward it. He shook his head.

  “Ah, nothing. Come on, we’re good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He waved me off and made it seem like he was about to run. I waited right until he moved just enough for me to slip past him. As soon as he did, I ran to the pantry and threw open the door.

  Inside of it were two females hugged up, sitting on the floor with tears running down their cheeks. One looked to be on her upper twenties, the other in her teens. I didn’t give a fuck. I aimed my pistol and got ready to pull the trigger when Tristian pushed my arm out of the way.

  My gun went off. The bullet crashed into a bag of flour, causing it to explode. It rained down on the ladies, turning them white.

  “Nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I hollered, before aiming again and pulling the trigger. It clicked repeatedly.

  “Bruh, we ain’t gotta kill them. It’s good. We got dude’s bitch ass. We can get up out of here. Come on.” He tired to pull me by the sleeve of my hoodie. I yanked away from him.

  “Get the fuck off of me and give me your gun. These bitches gotta die!” I reached for his pistol. He jumped back and shook his head.

  “N’aIl, nigga. Let’s go. Fuck them!” He jogged toward the doorway of the kitchen. “You coming?”

  I was ready to blow my lid. The females whimpered with tears running down their cheeks. They looked helpless and weak. I wanted to slump them on the strength of them looking so fucking vulnerable. I knew that Eve would have never went out crying or begging for her life. They were disgrace to me.

  On top of that, they represented a part of the mission that was incomplete. I was glad that after I’d smoked the people in the living room, that I’d pulled my mask back down because it was looked like Tristian wasn’t about to give me his pistol. That made me want to go on a rampage.

  I thought about grabbing a knife and stabbing them to death, but then I heard the sirens. That caused me to panic again. “Fuck! Yo, you’s a bitch ass nigga for this, bruh.”

  I rushed out of the kitchen and to the front door, pulled it open and ran down the stairs at full speed, only stopping once to jump over Mandy’s dead body before I was out into the night with Tristian on my heels. A few minutes later, we made it to the whip I’d
copped to handle this business. Once we were both in, I peeled out and away from the scene.

  “Yo, that’s my bad, Showbiz, but them broads ain’t have to die. We’d already taken care of business. Nah’ mean?”

  “Yo, on my word, son, that was some bitch shit. Man, if you weren’t my brother, I’d be putting a bunch in you right now. That’s my word. You too fucking soft with them hoes, nigga. You act like you scared to kill a bitch or something. Not knowing them hoes will kill you quick as a muthafucka. Don’t you see how that Rican bitch just set that nigga Flex up to meet his end? That’s what hoes do, nigga. Get that shit through yo fucking head!”

  “Nigga, calm yo’ ass down. One of them broads looked familiar to me. Do you remember that lil’ girl that got popped the same time Maine did?” he asked.

  I made a left and stopped at a red light. “Yeah, what about her?” I asked, mugging him with anger.

  “Well I’m pretty sure that was her mother back there. If so, don’t you think that she’s been through enough?”

  “Nigga, my muthafucking son lying in the dirt after being riddled with bullets and you asking me if I feel some type of way about a bitch who still got her child?” I popped the lock on his door.

  “Bruh, I ain’t saying it like that. I’m saying—”

  “Nigga get the fuck out my whip right now!” I snapped, reaching across his lap and throwing open the door. “Get the fuck out. I swear to God one of these days the lil’ blood that we share ain’t gon’ mean shit to me. Step!”

  “Yo, you about to put me out in the middle of Brooklyn, son?” he asked, stepping one foot out of the car.

  “Get the fuck out of my whip, nigga. I ain’t gone say it again.” I eyed him closely, ready to turn my pistol and buss him over the head with it.

  He stepped out, slamming the door. “Fuck you then, Showbiz. You dirty ass nigga.”

  I stormed away from his soft ass and pulled on the highway with heroin on my mind.

  Chapter 5

  I walked around the pile of tin foiled packages with a hundred and fifty kilos of heroin in all. At fifty gees a piece, I was looking to make a quick ten million dollars in cash. With that ten, I was thinking of putting six of it aside to go towards the fifteen million my pops said he needed in order for me to obtain his throne.

  My uncle Javier had the shipment sent to me that morning. Wetto picked up one of the kilos and set it on the table that was set up in the basement. He opened it, and placed a snidbit on his pocket knife, before tooting it up his nose. He snorted hard and swallowed, holding his nose. I stood back and watched him, waiting for his reaction.

  I’d already tried a gram of it before I’d called him over. I knew it was fire. I was high as a kite. My nose kept on running, so I was dabbing at it with a handkerchief. He nodded his head.

  “Yeah, son, this that deal right here. I can see my cousin ‘nem out in Harlem fucking wit’ this product real tough. I already know the hypes out in Harlem gone go crazy over it. We doing the same thing right. Fifty a piece?”

  Wetto was a heavy set Cuban nigga with tats. He was well respected in Harlem, both on his Spanish side and the Black side. Through him, I was able to funnel my dope into Harlem without really getting my hands dirty. He was a Blood nigga just like me. Back in the day, his brother and I used to hit major licks together until I had to smoke him for leaving a nigga alive who would’ve later came back to shoot me up.

  “Yeah, son. Fifty a piece. You already know what it is,” I said, walking over to him with my hand extended. He smacked it away and upped a .9 millimeter with an extended clip.

  “Nah, son. I don’t know what it is.” He sucked his teeth and aimed his gun at my face. I jumped back and held my hands up.

  “What the fuck all this about, bruh?” I was shocked and caught off guard Not only did I have my pistol upstairs, but I was high and my vision was fucking wit’ me along with my heart. I’d just given Javier my last three million dollars to cop the shipment from the heroin buy to straighten that bill. He was going out on a limb fucking with me against the wishes of my father. I couldn’t afford to screw him over or the deals. Wetto cocked his hammer.

  “I’m tired of being your lackey, son. Word is bond, you wouldn’t be able to move shit through Harlem without me. And you still got me paying fifty a piece for these birds. Nigga, fuck you. I gotta have all of this product. That’s on my blood, nigga.” He pulled out his phone and started dialing, he placed it to his ear. “Yeah, come on through this bitch. It’s good.”

  I had visions of rushing him at full speed. Overpowering him and putting three in his face. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid to let this nigga in my crib. He knew where I laid my head and where my bitch stayed. I was stupid and deserved everything that was happening to me.

  “Yo, if you feeling that fifty is too steep for your pockets, kid, we can talk about better prices. It ain’t that serious.”

  I heard kicking on the back door. After a few more, it sounded like it caved in. The next thing I knew, I heard a bunch of footsteps, and then the basement was full with niggas that had red rags around their necks and machine guns in their hands.

  “Yo, start taking these bricks upstairs and loading them into the van. Hurry the fuck up!” Wetto ordered. I stood there looking dumbfounded.

  Two of the eight niggas that had come into the basement had their guns pinned on me. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they were waiting for the order to shoot me dead. I had to wiggle my way out of the jam I was in. As much as I wanted to tell them niggas to suck my dick, I couldn’t be that stupid.

  “Yo, it is what it is. But can you at least leave me two of them so I can work my way back up in the game. You know how it is out there.” I tried to play as coy as I possibly could. Wetto laughed.

  “Nall, son. I mean I can offer you position to work under me, probably put you in the projects or something working a Band-o, but far as you getting one of these, nall son. It ain’t happening. Matter fact, lay yo’ ass down. Now!” I knelt down reluctantly with my hands in the air.

  “A’ight, boss. You got it.” I crawled to my belly wit’ my arms at my sides. Wetto put his knee in my back and duct taped my wrists behind my back.

  “Yo, all four of them beauty shops that your bitch working, nigga we know about ‘em. I got the info on where your mother stays out in Queens, too. If you try to come at any of the niggas you seen in here today, especially me, nigga we gone stank every last one of your people. The only son I ain’t killing is you right now because you was one hunnit to my brother and ever since you and I been doing bitness, you been on the up and up with me.

  And you’re Blood. I can’t kill one of my own even though you ain’t never at none of the meetings or don’t pay no kind of dues. That makes you rogue in my book. I got permission from up top to take yo’ shit for the record.” He finished taping my hands, then stepped back. “It ain’t no I hard feelings, Showbiz. I hope you know that. It’s just business.”

  I laid on my stomach in silence. I wanted to kill that nigga and every Blood nigga in the world. I knew I would carry a deep hatred in my heart for all of them, even though l’d been banging Blood every since I was nine years old.

  “Yo, you ain’t gotta worry about me coming at you, Blood. I can take this on the chin like a man.”

  He laughed. “Nigga you ain’t got no choice.” He slowly backed out of the basement.

  “Remember, I know where your bitch works and where your mother lays her dome at. Play wit’ me if you want to.” He turned around and ran up the stairs. I turned on to my side fuming. I was sick to my stomach. It was only eleven in the morning and I knew that Tori never made it home from the shop until after five.

  My sick was coming on, and I’d just lost a fortune. I squeezed my eyes together as the water got heavy behind them. I felt like a loser. Like the world was against me. I shook my head and tried my best to try to remain calm, drifting off to sleep.

  ***

  “Oh my Go
d! Showbiz! What happened?” Tori asked, running to my aid and kneeling beside me. She pulled my wrists up to her mouth and bit at the tape before pulling out a Swiss army knife and cutting it from my wrists and ankles. I pulled it all off of me, and sat up.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I hollered before standing up. “That bitch nigga, Wetto, set me up baby. He just hit me for ten million dollars of product. I’m sick as hell.” I placed my hands on my hips and paced back and forth. Tori covered her mouth.

  “Ten million dollars worth? What are you going to do?” she asked with her eyes wide open. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “I don’t know, baby. I swear to God, I don’t know.” I fell to my knees and lowered my head. That’s when the tears fell uncontrollably.

  Tori knelt beside me, placing her arm around my shoulder. “I know you’re going through something right now, but I just want you to know that I love you and I got ya back, baby. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I believe in you. We’ll recover from this lost. All I ask is that you don’t do anything stupid. Please.” She rested her head onto my shoulder.

  Even though those words were comforting, and I knew that they were what she was supposed to say to me at a time like this, they failed to make me feel any better. I had nothing but murder on my mind. There was no way that I was going to allow for some nigga to come into my crib and take ten million dollars of my dope. Then lay me down and bind me, so my woman could come home to release me, then laugh in my face, without me murdering every muthafucking body in his family and his blood line. What Wetto failed to realize is that I knew where his baby mother and kid stayed. I knew where his grandparents also resided.

  I had visions of slicing all of them up I into itty bitty pieces and eating them as if I was a cannibal or something. I gotta get them.

  “Yo, I appreciate you, ma, but right now, let me get a hold of myself.” I stood up and pulled her into my arms, kissing her forehead.