Guard the Throne

by Nisa Santiago

  One knucklehead thug Citi hated was Brice. He disgusted Citi like he was a fly buzzing around. Brice was a wannabe and a bully in the school, starting fights and clowning on individuals too scared to hit back. He was a broke nigga, and Citi didn’t deal with broke niggas.

  “Why you gotta be like that?” Brice spat.

  “Be like what?” Citi replied with an attitude, rolling her eyes at him.

  “Why you gotta catch an attitude when I come around?”

  “’Cuz I can. And you a bum nigga. Look at you.”

  “What?”

  Brice stood up. He wanted to show everyone in the cafeteria that he wasn’t afraid of Citi. But just then, Cane walked into the cafeteria with his circle of thugs. Brice at once noticed Cane and changed his demeanor toward Citi.

  Citi smirked. “Pussy.”

  Cane stared over at his sister and then gazed at Brice unkindly.

  The girls at the table laughed when Brice walked away like a dog with his tail between his legs. Citi took delight in embarrassing him and pulling his thug card. She knew that, at the drop of a hat, she could get her brothers to fuck him up.

  “He’s so fuckin’ wack!” Citi announced to her girls.

  “Ain’t he?” Lola cosigned.

  After lunch, Citi breezed through her day. The only good thing about going to school was the gossip she would hear from her crew, hanging out with her friends, being able to show off her wealth, and the envious looks she would receive from hating bitches who wanted to be her.

  The end of the school day, students poured out the front entrance to the building. Cane’s gleaming Benz was parked out in front of the school like it was on display at the auto show. His rims twinkled like mirrors, and the candy paint was flawless and gleaming. Citi lounged in the passenger seat of her brother’s car, smoking a cigarette and looking pleased that she was the center of attention. The fleeting looks and hard gazes made her day.

  Citi turned up the radio and let Lil Ru’s “Nasty Song” blare for the students to hear. She nodded to the catchy beat and danced in her seat.

  Lola walked over to the car, all smiles. “Bitch, turn that shit up more,” she said. “This my fuckin’ song.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  Citi hopped out the car and started singing and dancing to the upbeat track. She moved like a stripper on the sidewalk, and Lola soon joined her. The girls turned heads as they flaunted their sexual moves like they were in a club.

  Within a minute, all eyes were on them, as they danced with each other like no one was watching. Citi moved her hips with precision, dropping it like it was hot, showing off the round bubble in her jeans and winding against Lola like the two were lovers. It was a free show for the students leaving the school.

  “Yo, y’all need to cut that shit out, before y’all start a riot and get niggas arrested out here,” Cane said, walking up to his car with a smile.

  “You know you like it, Cane,” Lola replied.

  “Not wit’ you freakin’ my little sister like this some strip club.”

  “So how about I give you your own private show then?”

  “Yeah, we can talk later.”

  “You better leave my brother alone.”

  Cane got behind the wheel of his Benz and started the ignition. “Citi, c’mon, let’s go!”

  “Damn! Why you rushin’ a bitch? Can’t you see we having fun?”

  “Then I’ma leave ya ass if you don’t get in this car.”

  Citi sucked her teeth. “You need a ride home, Lola?”

  “Nah, I’m not goin’ home. ’Bout to get on this train and go to Queens Plaza Mall and look for some earrings.”

  Citi laughed. “You crazy. You ain’t gonna find a pair like mines.”

  “Watch me.”

  “Just don’t get your kleptomaniac ass locked up. I ain’t got bail money for you,” Citi joked.

  “I ain’t gonna need it.”

  After the two friends hugged, Citi jumped back into the passenger seat, and Cane sped off. The students walking to the bus stop glared at the siblings in the passing Benz; some couldn’t hide their envy.

  Citi rode around Queens with her brother. It was a pleasant winter day. Spring was almost around the corner, and Citi couldn’t wait. She was dying to get back into her spring attire—her short skirts and open-toed shoes. She had plans to do it big for her birthday. The only thing on her mind was getting her car.

  The siblings drove around Queens smoking Hawaiian skunk weed, which gave them a supreme high.

  Citi asked Cane, “Yo, where you get this shit from?”

  “My niggas from Far Rock got the illest connect. Shit is like straight off the banana boat.”

  “You need to get some more of it.”

  Citi was blasted. The extra potency in the Hawaiian marijuana increased the smell in the car. Citi rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. She felt like she was walking on the moon. The weed was making her horny, and the first male she thought about was Dante.

  Cane pushed his car down Rockaway Boulevard, his eyes red from smoking. He almost ran every light on the busy boulevard and just missed hitting a parked car. It was a miracle that he didn’t get into an accident.

  Citi was in her own world. Her pussy tingled from smoking, and she was creaming in her panties. She wanted some dick. As soon as she got home, she was going to call Dante and spend some quality time with him at his crib.

  Cane parked his Benz on the street and stumbled out of his car. “Yo, I’m fucked up right now, Citi,” he said.

  Citi laughed.

  As the sun set, the temperature began to drop rapidly. The night was about to cover the sky. The two had had their fun for the day, and now they wanted to rest up and get fresh for the night.

  Citi and Cane stepped off the elevator laughing, their high coming down gradually. They both had the munchies and planned on raiding the fridge like savages once they stepped into their apartment. Citi opened the door and was shocked to see her father home when she walked into the living room with Maino seated opposite him. He was never home during the late afternoon hours on weekdays.

  The two men turned their heads up at Citi and Cane entering the room.

  “Oh shit. What up, Pop?” Cane greeted with a mile-wide smile.

  Curtis cut his eyes at his son. He was trying to convince Maino that he had nothing to do with Alonzo’s murder, that he wasn’t the one selling to Shot in Long Island and other crews in New Jersey.

  Maino was ready to believe him, until Cane and Citi walked in. Both men immediately noticed the extra bling on Cane and Citi. Cane’s watch stood out like a herpes sore on a celebrity’s lip, and Citi’s earrings sparkled. The children had forgotten to hide their lavish trinkets.

  Curtis kept tabs on everything he’d bought his daughter, and he knew the diamond hoop earrings, the bracelet, and necklace didn’t come from him.

  Maino never mentioned the jewels. He kept silent but was simmering inside. The heavy jewelry Curtis’ children sported was an indication to him that he had been lied to. He strongly felt that Curtis was playing him.

  Maino stood up. “Yo, I’ma be out, Curtis,” he said calmly. “I got some business to handle.”

  Curtis stood up also. He said his good-bye to Maino with a hug and a pound. “You good?” Curtis asked him.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Maino said, his black eyes locked on Curtis. You fuckin’ bitch-ass nigga. He left the apartment peacefully.

  When the door shut behind Maino, Curtis spun around on his heels and stormed up to Cane and Citi. He marched behind Cane and roughly grabbed him by his shirt and then wrist. “What the fuck is this?” he yelled, holding up Cane’s wrist and staring angrily at the Rolex watch.

  “Pop, what up?”

  Curtis glar
ed at Citi, who stood dumbfounded in the kitchen. She’d realized her mistake too late.

  “Where the fuck you get this watch from?” Curtis shouted.

  “Yo, Pop—”

  Before Cane could finish his sentence, Curtis struck him with a hard blow to his jaw, and Cane dropped to the floor.

  Citi was taken aback. She stood rooted in the kitchen with fear.

  Curtis marched over to her and stared at the bling around her neck. His disappointment with her was evident across his face.

  “Daddy—”

  Slap!

  Curtis struck his daughter with an open hand, and she stumbled backwards wide-eyed, clutching the side of her face. She started to cry.

  Curtis then turned to Cane and with brute force grabbed him by his shirt again and threw him against the kitchen wall. He punched him again. Then he pulled out his pistol and shoved it into Cane’s face like they were strangers in the street.

  “Cane, where you get the cash to buy all this shit? Huh? You fuckin’ stealing from me?”

  Cane scowled, shocked that Curtis came at him so violently. He didn’t fight back, though. “I ain’t take shit from you, Pop.”

  “Then where you get the money to afford this watch? I don’t pay you that much to be blinging like this.”

  Cane refused to snitch on Citi. He braced himself for the impact. “You gonna shoot me, Pop?”

  “How dare you steal from me, Cane? I give you everything!” Curtis shouted. “And you do this!”

  “I didn’t take shit from you!”

  “Then who did?” Curtis yelled.

  “I did, Daddy!” Citi yelled out.

  Curtis, surprised to hear that Citi was the culprit, turned to glare at her. “You?”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to get you so angry. I just took it.”

  Curtis sighed heavily. “How much?” he asked sharply.

  “Forty thousand,” Citi answered meekly.

  “Forty thousand?” Curtis barked. “Forty fuckin’ thousand, Citi? Are you out your damn mind?”

  Tears flowed down Citi’s face. It was hard for her to look her father in the eyes. She knew she’d fucked up, but she didn’t think her father would get so abusive. He’d come at Cane like he didn’t know him at all.

  “Daddy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was in your room and I just…”

  “You shouldn’t have been snooping around in my room, Citi.”

  “I know.”

  “Just be quiet, princess. I need to think right now,” Curtis said.

  Citi remained quiet. She dried her tears and wished she could turn back time. But the damage had already been done.

  Curtis didn’t tell his kids what they’d just done. He didn’t want them to worry about his problems. Curtis knew it was risky having that amount of cash in his home, but Pandora’s Box had already been opened, and it would take extreme force to close it, if that was even possible.

  “Listen, I need y’all to be careful in these streets. You keep your eyes and ears open, and be alert to everyone and everything around you,” Curtis stated. “And mind your sister, Cane.”

  “Why, Pop? What’s goin’ on wit’ you?” Cane asked.

  “Is this about Alonzo’s death?” Citi asked.

  Curtis shot a look at his daughter that said, How you know about it?

  “I just heard about it on the streets,” Citi told him.

  “Look, I just want y’all to be careful out there,” Curtis repeated firmly. Then he went into his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Cane and Citi standing there in bewilderment.

  13

  The fuse had been lit. Maino was up in arms and fuming. Seeing Citi and Cane with the costly jewelry had sealed his friend’s fate. He did some snooping around in the streets and reached out to a few sources—well-known goons in certain hoods —and came up with information that bothered him. He felt Curtis had played him by pushing bricks in Long Island, New Jersey, and Yonkers; places they’d never touched before. The fact that he was left out in the cold while Curtis continued to get rich didn’t sit too well with him.

  The past two days had Maino tripping out. How could Curtis shit on me, leave me out of money like I’m some off-brand nigga? Maino thought. Doing the unthinkable crossed his mind.

  Maino sat at the edge of his woman’s bed in a solemn mood, naked and hunched over in the dark, his elbows pressed into his knees, exposing the scars and tattoos across his skin. The words Murder Inc riddled with bullet holes showed diagonally on his chest in bold, inked letters that dripped blood. He clasped his fingers together, seething. His eyes sank into the darkness of his mind. Everything was changing, and changing fast. Friendship and trust were merely words.

  His guns were on the floor next to his bare feet, his clothing scattered all over the bedroom. His sanity was becoming unfamiliar to him. Alonzo’s death and Curtis’ treachery were pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He was already a violent man, but now nothing but the thought of bloodshed consumed his mind.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” Vicky asked, rising up to gaze at her lover hunched over at the edge of her bed.

  “Just fuckin’ go back to sleep!” he barked.

  “Damn! Why the fuck you gotta snap at me like that? I was just concerned.”

  “Well, don’t be. It ain’t ya fuckin’ business, Vicky. Go back to sleep.”

  “Fuck you, Maino!” she hissed. “See if I care for ya dumb ass again. You think you just can come over and fuck me then disrespect me in my own fuckin’ crib?”

  “Vicky, shut the fuck up, ’cuz right now, I’m really not in the fuckin’ mood to hear ya shit.”

  “Whatever, muthafucka!” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. She knew not to push it. “Fine. If you leave, just make sure you lock the fuckin’ door behind you.”

  Maino ignored her. He continued to sit at the edge of her bed with an increasing hatred building inside of him and a scowl on his face. Murder was about to get heavy in Queens. It was the only way he knew how to take care of a problem. The pit bull was ready to break away from its chain and start attacking.

  Maino stood up and grabbed his cell phone from off the nightstand. He went into the hallway butt naked to make an important call. He heard Vicky sigh as he walked out. She rolled her eyes at him and pulled the sheets over her head to try to get some sleep.

  Donny picked up. “Yo, what’s good?” he said, his voice booming through the phone.

  “You in town?”

  “Like the damn wind blowing, my nigga. What’s good?”

  “I got a job for us; somethin’ major,” Maino said.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I ain’t tryin’ to talk about it right now, but it’s some serious bread in it for you.”

  “That’s all I need to hear. Ya talkin’ my fuckin’ language right now, my nigga. Just let me know who and when.”

  “The when is ASAP, and the who . . . I’ll pull your coat to that when we link up.”

  “Definitely. One, my nigga.”

  “One.”

  Maino walked into the bedroom to find Vicky under the covers and out of his business. He assumed she had fallen back asleep. He stared at her thick frame lying under the sheets serenely and thought about putting in one last fuck before he made his exit. She could be a pain in the ass, but her pussy was always worth coming back for. Maino tricked on her with money and gifts, and in return, her place became a stash house for his drugs, guns, and illegal tender. Not too many people knew where Maino rested his head, and they didn’t know Vicky’s place of residence. Maino was always on the move. He couldn’t relax too long at one place. He couldn’t become predictable like Curtis, living in the projects with his family. Maino saw that as a weakness.

  Maino stared at Vicky. Sh
e had been his ride-or-die bitch for years. Her attitude and mouth was always reckless, but at the end of the day, Maino trusted her to some extent. Twenty-five years old, she was just as gangsta and ’bout it as any OG in the hood. She’d put in much serious work in her hood—shooting guns, selling drugs, robberies, and willing to fight anybody—niggas or bitches. She’d helped him rob rival dealers and aided in stickups with him, setting niggas up with her beauty and sexuality to catch niggas slipping. She’d even helped Maino murder niggas.

  Maino decided to make his exit. He’d had enough of Vicky for one night. Curtis had been on his mind, and the stress and anguish he was feeling was almost tearing him apart.

  ****

  Maino and Donny sat parked in front of the project building smoking, both of them itching for action. Donny was a live wire. He didn’t give a fuck who it was or what it was about. If it involved gunplay, murder, and money, he was always down. He was the only person Maino knew who would be bold enough to help make a jack-and-murder move on Curtis. When Maino told him about the setup and attack on Curtis, Donny didn’t ask any questions. He just wanted to get it done with and collect what was owed to him. He’d never liked Curtis anyway, and they’d always had their differences in the past.

  “Yo, where this nigga at?” Donny shouted impatiently.

  “Be easy, nigga. He comin’ through. Just do what I told you to do, and we gonna get that payday.”

  Donny nodded. He took one last pull from the cigarette and extinguished it into the ashtray. He pushed open the passenger door and jumped out, leaving Maino seated behind the wheel of his truck. Donny tucked his Glock 17 snugly into his waistband, his eyes wild with anticipation, and trotted toward the back of the project building, creeping like a ninja in the afternoon light.

  The hood was quiet. The warm day was soothing after a cold winter. Maino watched the block carefully. His plan was coming along okay. He was about to shake up the hood and have those loyal to Curtis in fear and overwhelmed with anger. He felt no remorse. It was inevitable. It was time for Curtis to expire. The streets were talking, and the game was watching. His longtime amigo was getting rich on the streets while he was starving for scraps. He had no new drug connect yet, and no friends he could trust. It was either kill or be killed.