My Brother's Keeper 2

by U. E. Wynn

  “What about the chick then?”

  “What chick?”

  “Whoever the chick is you gonna have seeds by since you say you not falling in love?”

  “Oh, she won't be needed after my seeds are born.”

  “What? You gonna body the chick!” Prince sat up snapping his head towards Jahad.

  “Nah, man. I ain’t that cold hearted. I’d throw some dough at her so she’d be a’ight or whatever.”

  “A yo, let’s stop talking about this sucka for love shit. It’s depressing.”

  “Nigga, you brought it up,” Jah said laughing.

  Chapter Four

  During Korans’ first year of training, the Heads turned his life into pure hell without throwing an ounce of mercy. He half expected Jahad to show him a little sympathy and give him time off to handle certain small things. He wanted to do a little shopping and hit the Tunnel every now and then for a bit of relaxation. That wasn’t the case. In fact, just the opposite.

  He was stripped of everything. Jahad kept his Range Rover parked behind the moving company, his money supply was cut off completely, and he only had five hours on Sunday to spend time with his girls. His schedule was so crammed that he barely had time to use the bathroom. Jahad explained that there were three things he had to learn and master before becoming a M.G. Observation; being it would put him in tune with his surroundings. Self- control; because it dealt with controlling his emotions. And the art of killing; because, well, that’s what they did. From there, with the help of the other Head’s, they proceeded to push him harder than an Army drill sergeant in hopes of breaking him. But Koran was unbreakable. Once he realized what they were up to, everything they came at him with he sucked up and asked for more.

  After a year and a half the results were shocking. His grueling boxing lessons advanced his skills to pro level. Every last sparring partner who stood in front him minutes later would be staring up at him from a canvas. That is if he didn’t knock them out, which happened often. Time spent working out with Lord turned his once 170 pound boney frame into 190 pounds of rock hard muscles. Star taught him now how to use a knife better than a Ninja. With a handgun he could put a hole right between a person’s eyes from nearly 200 feet away.

  In spots secretly controlled by the M.G.s, such as Pikin Avenue in East New York, Dumont Avenue in Brownsville, Nostrand Avenue in Bed-Stuy, in the Bronx, Broadway in Harlem, and Queens Boulevard in Queens, he could break down each strip and knew exactly who was who and the roles people played. When he wasn’t on the streets or at the gym, he was studying combat tactics, psychology and numerous other books Jahad picked out for him to memorize.

  Soon, Lord’s prediction became true. Only they weren’t creating an animal, they were building a machine. A killing machine! Worn down by Koran’s persistence, the Heads gave up trying to break him and were ready to bring him in. But Jahad held back and pushed him even harder clinging to hope of breaking him. In the process, his efforts only added fuel to the fire making Koran sharper, faster, and deadlier.

  ~~~~

  Two months before Christmas going into his second year of training Koran’s big break finally came. He sat in the Big Park on a hand stone bench, his shoulder hunched, a mask of boredom on his face while he pretended to watch a group of singing wino’s huddled around a burning trash can blowing Jodeci’s, Stay. His thoughts, although no one could tell, was on Premo. Premo was one of the surviving Puerto Ricans from the CoCo twins old crew turned crackhead who stood a few feet away to Koran’s left with his lips wrapped around a crack pipe.

  For nearly three weeks Koran noticed Premo lingering in front of his building which really wasn’t uncommon being Premo lived in Monroe Projects too. What was uncommon were the days and the times he had chosen to be there. Jahad with his work alcoholic habits could only be seen twice a week during daylight hours in the projects, Saturday and Sunday. The days he and Koran went to the firing range and the same days Premo chose to be posted up by their building.

  Sensing something wasn’t right Koran took upon himself to follow him whenever possible. On three separate occasions Premo met, always in a different location, with a tall Puerto Rican with long black hair flowing over his shoulders. Koran had no idea who the tall Puerto Rican was, but felt it was time to tell Jahad what he suspected.

  Later that night as always Jahad sat at the computer in the living room typing in shipping addresses when Koran walked in. Looking up from the screen he took off his reading glasses and turned in his chair.

  “Sha’ gonna pick you up tomorrow. You’ll be in Brownsville until a week before Christmas, then we’re going down south. Mom wants to have Christmas in N.C. this year.”

  Koran rested a smile. Out of the Heads Sha’ was his closest friend. Whenever stuck on the streets in Brownsville or East New York they often snuck off to the strip clubs with Jahad not knowing. Then he thought about going down south and his spirits dampened.

  “We always have Christmas up here. What we gotta go down south for?

  “Because Moms said so. What? You don’t wanna see her or something?”

  “Nah, it ain’t like that. I just ain’t feeling the south. It’s boring. But it doesn’t matter.” Koran sat on the couch and shrugged off his coat. “A yo, you know Premo, right?”

  “You talking about crackhead Premo?”

  “Yeah, that smoked out Puerto Rican dude.”

  “Yeah, I know him. Why?”

  “Something ain’t right with dude. He be lounging in front of our building all crazy every weekend. You ain’t peep it?”

  “It ain’t nothing to peep,” Jahad snorted. “In case you don’t know, Premo lives in building 1785. You just paranoid.”

  Koran shook his head. “Nah, you slippin’. The only time you be seen in the projects is on the weekends when we go to the firing range and that’s the only time that dude be posted up. I been following him and he been meeting with this tall Puerto Rican dude every Sunday. Why, I don’t know, but…”

  Jahad shot out his chair. “How this tall Puerto Rican dude look?”

  Koran took a moment to picture the face in his mind. “He’s about six four, long black hair hanging over his shoulder like a bitch. Pretty ass dude with…”

  “Hector!” Jahad shouted venomously.

  “Who?”

  “Hector, one of the Coco twins. That muthafucka! He just don’t know when to sit his ass down.”

  “Oh word!” Koran had heard stories of the infamous Coco twins over the years, but had no idea that Hector and Jahad were mortal enemies. Or that the Coco twins had brutally murdered his father.

  Jahad sat back down and looked at Koran with pride in his eyes. “I don’t think you figured it out, but my plan was to string you along until you finally gave up and took your ass to college. I…”

  “What! C’mon, Jah. You know that shit ain’t right man!” Koran stood as if he was about to jump on Jahad.

  “Sit down and let me say what I gotta say.” Jahad waited until Koran was seated. He ran a hand over his face, then continued. “You know I don’t want you in this shit. You don’t really understand the effects it’s going have on you. Right now you looking from the outside in and you can’t understand. So before you fully commit yourself to something, let me tell you what to expect. This shit gonna change you in ways you won’t wanna be changed. Every time you kill somebody you gonna grow colder and colder until eventually you won’t be able to feel shit. That’s if your conscience don’t drive you crazy first. Yeah, you gonna see so much money your eyes might turn green, but that does’t mean you’ll be able to enjoy it.”

  “What you in it for then?”

  “I told you, I didn’t choose this. It chose me.”

  Koran shook his head. “I can feel that, but you gotta get some sort of satisfaction from it or you wouldn’t stay in it.”

  “You right. I see them psychology books taught you something.” Jahad cracked a smile. “The satisfaction I get is being in control and having p
ower. I’m addicted to it. Money is power ‘cause a lot of muthafucka’s crave it. And when you have money, lots of it, you can control all the muthafucka’s trying to get it; feel me?”

  Koran nodded astonished. Jahad’s explanation clarified the meaning behind the saying ‘Money is the root of all evil.’ For though trying to get it, there were no limits to what they could do. And the M.G.’s were a perfect example.

  “That’s some deep shit Jah.”

  “Yeah, it is. Now check, tomorrow you can go get your truck. I been putting your allowance money to the side. I was gonna wait until I broke your ass before I gave it to you. Since I didn’t, you can get it now. You got about twenty-five thousand to trick with, ‘cause I know that’s what you gonna do.”

  “Word? So it’s over?”

  “Yep. After we handle this situation with Premo, you’re in.”

  Koran jumped from the couch smiling from ear to ear. “Shit, let me get my money then so I can go get me some pussy. I’m baccccckkk!” he yelled, doing a little dance.

  ~~~~

  Since receiving the mysterious phone call nearly a year and a half ago, Hector became overly suspicious of everyone in his crew. There could only be one logical explanation of how the mysterious caller, who now calls himself the Operator, came to have his cell phone number. It had to be someone in his crew. It had to be. Coming to the conclusion not long after receiving the phone call, Hector decided to put on a demonstration to show what happened to though who dared to defy him.

  He gathered his whole team together, which only consisted of twenty six people all who hustled outside the Bronx, in an abandoned warehouse out in Mount Vernon. He questioned each one, then picked three random members and put a bullet in their Heads. He figured the act would let the culprit, as well as the rest of his clique, know that the penalty for betrayal was death. His effort was made in vain.

  He sat on the couch in his apartment on Stratford Avenue watching ESPN when his cell phone vibrated in his pants pockets. “Hola?” he answered, his eyes glued to the television. The Giants were playing the Cowboys and he had nearly twenty thousand dollars on the Giants placed with different bookies.

  “Do you always answer your phone in Spanish ‘cause I don’t understand that shit. You in America now Poppi, speak English.”

  “Who is this?!” Hector shouted, waking his four year old son who was asleep on the couch beside him.

  “C’mon Hector. You’re hurting my feelings. I know you ain’t forgot about me already,” the Operator said with a smile in his voice.

  “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Mystery Man. How you keep getting my number?”

  The Operator laughed. “I like that, the mystery nigga. Sound kinda….”

  “How did you get my number?!” Hector snapped, his patience gone.

  “Breathe easy, Duke. You act like you don’t wanna talk to me or something.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if I knew who I was talking to.”

  “I’m the mystery nigga. You said it yourself.” The man chuckled, then grew serious. “Now listen, you been sending a crackhead to spy on Jah. I….”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “Because the mystery nigga knows everything. Now shut the fuck up and listen. Jah knows what’s poppin’. He plans on following this crackhead nigga wherever y’all be meeting at so he can body your ass. As far…”

  “How can you…”

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up! Both of us can’t talk at the same time and I’m the only one who needs to be talking. I’m trying to save your sorry ass life and you keep cutting me off. When I say shut the fuck up, you shut the fuck up, a’ight?”

  Hector didn’t answer. Never in his life had he been so insulted or spoken to like he was a child.

  “You hear me nigga!”

  Hector willed himself to calm down. The time would come when this fool revealed himself. When he did Hector planned to teach him some manners. “Yeah, I hear you.”

  “Act like it then.” man paused to see if Hector would speak again. “I said I was gonna help you and I am. So stop trying shit on your own before you fuck around and get bodied. You don’t know what you’re dealing with fucking with Jah. Just chill. Your day is coming.”

  “How can I trust someone I have never seen?”

  “I feel you, but think of me as God. You ain’t never seen him and you won’t ever see me. It’s all about faith Poppi. And from now on you can call me the Operator. See ya.” The Operator laughed as he hung up.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks from the day Koran informed Jahad what he suspected about Premo, Jahad set up a situation to see just how bad Koran wanted to become a M.G. It was Friday afternoon and Koran had just returned home from a date still making up for his time spent in seclusion. He had another date set later that night with Monica, his freaky Puerto Rican chick. The thought made him smile as he walked to the kitchen to fix a snack. The smile turned into a frown when he saw the note Jahad left for him posted on the refrigerator.

  Meet me on the roof at ten, Jah. It was scribbled in Jahad’s sloppy handwriting.

  “Shit!” Koran cursed, thinking it was another one of Jahad’s crazy lessons. “Jah, you fucking my pussy plans up with this bullshit. What is it now? Catch bullets with my fucking teeth!”

  He stormed out the apartment pissed off deciding to grab something to eat from the Chinese restaurant right up the street. He stepped out the building dressed for the brittle weather in a thick pair of Roc-A-Wear jeans, brown suede Timberlands, a Gino Green Global hoody and a brown Timberland snorkel coat. His attention was drawn to a beautiful young woman walking with a little girl around six or seven towards building 1790 which was right next to his building. He couldn’t say why, but something about the woman seemed oddly familiar.

  “A yo shorty!” he called out, but she was too far away to hear him. On impulse, he started jogging towards her then stopped abruptly and shook his head. “I’m buggin’. I don’t chase no chicks.” Laughing to himself, he turned back to his destination. I got enough women on my hands, but one more wouldn’t hurt though, he thought, laughing again.

  Back at the apartment after wolfing down an order of beef and broccoli and two egg rolls, he played Madden until it was time to meet Jahad. When he made it to the top of his building, cursing all the way up, a gust of rigid cold wind nearly pushed him back inside when he opened the roof’s exit door. Forcing himself out he saw the Head’s standing near the ledge with their backs turned slightly towards him.

  “What up with you nigga’s?” he asked, approaching them. He then froze after catching sight of Premo. He was naked shivering from the cold and fear. His wrist and ankles were bound together with duct tape.

  “You see what’s up,” Jahad said, casting an evil glance at Premo. “This piece of shit right here gotta go. I figured you’d wanna do the honors. If not that’s cool too.”

  This was it, the final test and deep down Jahad prayed Koran would say he couldn’t do it. If he took Premo’s life there was no way he would be denied.

  Koran looked at the Heads who were all studying his face to judge his reaction. He knew what was expected of him. He knew when he first laid eyes on Premo’s naked body what the call was. Now his shock was gone and replaced with blood rushing adrenaline.

  “Give me a gun or am I supposed to stomp his ass to death? I ain’t trying to fuck up my Tim’s.”

  The Head’s laughed except for Jahad who began revising his plans for Koran. “Nah, man, it’s your choice. You can blast his ass….” Star held out a bulldog 44.

  “Or you can choke him the fuck out.” Sha’ finished the sentence holding out a piece of rope about three feet long.

  Another test Koran thought. Without hesitating, he took the rope from Sha’, dropped to one knee looping the rope around Premo’s neck, and started choking the life out of him. Premo struggled hard, desperately trying to use his weight to roll over until Koran placed his knee in the middle of his back for leverage.
He tightened the rope around his neck, pulling upward with all his might until Premo Started to convulse and a foul odor filtered up from his body.

  “What the fuck is wrong with this dude?” Koran yelled, jumping up seeing shit run between Premo’s legs. He fought to keep from throwing up. Not only from what he was witnessing, but from the act he just committed.

  The Head’s looked at each other knowingly then Lord burst out laughing. “A yo, you choked the shit outta that nigga Koran. Literally!”

  “Word!” Prince added, Shaking his head.

  Sha’ walked over and threw an arm around Korans’ shoulder. He turned to Jahad who was still deep in thought. “Let me get my dough, Jah. I told you he was a natural born killer. I could see it in his eyes.”

  While Jahad forked over a thousand dollars to Sha’, Lord and Prince grabbed Premo’s lifeless body and threw him off the roof. Koran watched transfixed as the body grew smaller and smaller until it slammed into the concrete below.

  “You official now nigga. All we gotta do now is figure out where to put you,” Lord said turning away from the ledge.

  “Whatcha’ mean?”

  “C’mon, let’s get the hell off this roof first. It’s too damn cold up here. We’ll handle all that when we get to the crib.” Jahad shoved his hands in his coat pocket and walked towards the exit door leaving the others to follow.

  Back at the apartment before they settled down, a ceremony was put on for Koran’s initiation. Sha’ and Star rolled blunts of Purple Haze. Jahad and Lord were behind the bar placing gold bottles of Cristal on the counter. Prince was at the stereo putting on a new Dip Set underground C.D.

  “What you standing over there for?” Jahad asked, looking up. “Grab a bottle.”

  Koran shook his head. “You know I don’t drink Jah.”

  “You do tonight. Smoke too. We went through the trouble of putting this shit together, so you gonna get fucked up with us.”

  “That’s right nigga.” Sha’ stood from the couch and grabbed a bottle of Cristal. “C’mon, y’all nigga’s gather around so we can make a toast.” They made a circle around the coffee table holding their bottles out in front of them. “From this day forth you are one of us. We hold you down, you hold us down. We make you stronger, you make us stronger. It’s as simple as that.” They clicked bottles together, then took long swigs except for Koran who nearly choked from the first swallow.