Guard the Throne

by Nisa Santiago

  Maino knew today was Citi’s birthday. She turned sixteen. He picked today to make his move, because he was her godfather. It was an excuse to come by the apartment. It was the perfect cover.

  He sat and waited for a half hour. Curtis’ car finally turned onto the block and he parked. Maino watched him from a distance. He gazed at Curtis stepping out of his Benz looking fresh from head to toe. He was alone. He carried some balloons, a birthday card, and a small box in his hand. Maino assumed it was more jewelry for Citi.

  He surveyed Curtis crossing the street with gifts in hands. He made the call to Donny to let him know things were about to come into play.

  When Curtis touched the sidewalk, Maino grabbed his gift for Citi from the backseat and got out his truck. He hurried in the direction of his longtime friend.

  “Yo, Curtis,” he called out, approaching him quickly.

  Curtis turned. “What’s up, Maino?”

  “Damn, nigga! You lookin’ fresh like always,” Maino joked.

  “It’s a special day.”

  “I know. My goddaughter turns sixteen today,” Maino said with a smile.

  He held up his gift for Citi. It was draped in candy-printed wrapping paper, and it was the size of a shoebox.

  “What you got there?”

  “It’s for Citi’s eyes only.”

  “We spoiling that girl. You know that, right?” Curtis said.

  “She only turns sixteen once.”

  Curtis chuckled. “Yeah, you right.”

  “So, what you got planned for the day?”

  “I’m gonna spend the day with my princess. Take her shopping in the city, dinner at Sylvia’s Restaurant in Harlem and shower her with gifts.”

  “That’s what’s up. It’s hard to believe she’s sixteen now.”

  “They’re growing up fast.”

  “I know,” Curtis responded.

  “Yo, you goin’ up to the apartment, right?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Just wanna talk to you. I need to pull your coat to somethin’.”

  “Like what?”

  “I rather have this conversation wit’ you upstairs.”

  “A’ight.” Curtis looked hesitant.

  “Yo, Curtis, you don’t fuckin’ trust me all of a sudden? What you thinkin’ about?” Maino said meanly. He rested Citi’s birthday gift on the concrete and pulled up his shirt to show Curtis he wasn’t carrying a pistol.

  “Yo, all that ain’t necessary, Maino.”

  “You makin’ a nigga feel really uneasy right now. I just wanna talk to you and give Citi her birthday gift. It ain’t that difficult.”

  “Yeah, you right. It’s just a lot has been going on lately.”

  “Yeah, I understand. A nigga gotta keep on his guard.”

  Maino followed behind Curtis. They stepped into the lobby and proceeded into the elevator. Both men were quiet. Stepping off onto the floor, Maino said, “How much did the little princes break your pockets for this year?”

  “Man, you don’t even want to know.”

  “She’s gettin’ more expensive every year, huh?”

  “Yeah, this year, she wanted a car, a Honda Accord, nothing too flashy. I got it for her though.”

  “You bought that girl a car, Curtis?”

  “After I put my hands on her a few weeks ago, I just felt guilty about it.”

  “You put your hands on her? For what?”

  “It ain’t anything.”

  “You sure?”

  “When you have kids—You know what? Don’t have kids. It’s a fuckin’ handful, man,” Curtis said in a lighter mood.

  Maino chuckled. “Yeah, I hear you.”

  Curtis stopped at his apartment door. He went through his pockets and removed his keys, exposing the butt of his pistol from underneath his spring jacket. Maino knew his partner would be armed. Curtis went everywhere strapped. Maino glanced at the stairway entrance. They had to move precisely. It was their one chance. One error and Curtis could end up killing them both.

  When the key was in the lock and the apartment door was opened, Donny sprung into action. With his Glock 17 gripped tightly in his hand, he rushed out from the stairwell like a bat from hell and charged at the two men with his focus on Curtis.

  Before Curtis could react, he was staring down the barrel of the large. He was forced into his apartment and pistol-whipped severely by Donny.

  Curtis fell to the floor, blood trickling from his face. The gifts and balloons he carried were scattered across the living room floor. The blow to his head was hard. It had broken his skin and had him a little dazed.

  Maino snatched the weapon from Curtis’ waistband.

  “What the fuck!” Curtis tried to get up but stumbled.

  Maino yelled “Stay the fuck down, nigga!”

  “Maino, you lost your fuckin’ mind?” Curtis yelled.

  “Nah, I didn’t, but you did.”

  “You set me up. You do this me? What the fuck is wrong you?”

  Donny charged over and cracked Curtis upside his head again with the butt of his pistol, and Curtis flew back against the floor.

  “Yo, drag this muthafucka into the bedroom,” Maino instructed Donny.

  Donny nodded. He stuffed his gun into his waist and snatched Curtis up by his shirt and pulled him into the bedroom.

  Maino walked over to the stereo system, turned it on, and raised the volume up a great deal. He didn’t want any neighbors to hear the commotion. When Maino walked into the bedroom, Donny had Curtis face down on the bed, his gun placed to the back of his head.

  The two men began duct-taping Curtis’ wrists and legs and had him hog-tied on the bed.

  “I’m gonna fuck you up, Maino!” Curtis screamed.

  Maino snatched Curtis up by his shirt. “No. You know who’s the one that gonna get fucked? It’s you, muthafucka. And then you know what? I’ma fuck Citi next. Yeah, nigga, I’ma stick my monstrous dick into your little fuckin’ princess. I’ma twist my dick into her and make her squeal like a pig.”

  “I’ll kill you, muthafucka!” Curtis screamed. “You stay away from her!”

  “Oh yeah, I’m gonna take my time in that sweet-sixteen piece of pussy. Fuck my little goddaughter six ways from Sunday.”

  “You better not fuckin’ touch her, you muthafucka! I swear to God, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you for this, Maino.”

  Donny laughed.

  “You’re in no position to make threats, nigga. I’m running this show now. So bend the fuck over and take it like a man.”

  “Bitch-ass nigga!” Donny chimed.

  “You know why we got you here tied up and lookin’ fucked right now? Huh, nigga? You think I’m stupid? You thought I wasn’t gonna put two and two together and find out you was the one responsible for killin’ Alonzo? You tried to fuckin’ play me, muthafucka! I knew he was fuckin’ ya bitch. A little birdie told me that. And you had me goin’ around the hood lookin’ crazy when, all along, the muthafuckin’ truth was staring me right in my fuckin’ face.”

  Donny began trashing the bedroom, searching wildly for his payday. He ransacked the closet and went through the drawers, tossing clothing onto the floor and tearing apart the dresser with his bare hands.

  “Where it at?” Donny shouted.

  Curtis squirmed and fought, but his restraints were too tight. The more he fought, the more entangled in the web he became. His eyes leaked tears. He suddenly became full of regret. His mistakes and actions finally had caught up to him.

  “Please, Maino, just do me, but leave Citi out of this. That’s your goddaughter, for Christ sakes.”

  “Yeah, she is. I watched her grow up too. Watched that little girl come into her own, and now she lookin’ right. But you kn
ow what? I’ma still fuck her ’cuz that body is lookin’ right. And I’ma pop that cherry. Even though I doubt she’s a fuckin’ virgin. And your sons, I’ll keep them niggas breathing, maybe have them come work for me, as long as they don’t rise up and come against me. But if those little niggas do, I’ma body them muthafuckas and give you a damn reunion.”

  “Bingo!” Donny shouted. He pulled two duffel bags from underneath the bed. “We on it, Maino.”

  “We happy?” Maino asked.

  Donny unzipped the bag, and the cash lit up his eyes. “Yeah, we definitely happy,” he responded with a smile that stretched across his face.

  Maino smiled heavily.

  “You ain’t gonna get away with this shit, muthafucka!” Curtis shouted.

  “Nigga, I already have. Think about that shit when I fuck ya li’l princess in all three fuckin’ holes.” He pressed the gun to the back of Curtis’ head.

  “Fuck you, muthafucka! I’ma see you in hell real soon,” Curtis screamed, his eyes flooded with tears, and his heart thumping like a drumbeat. The regret of not being able to protect his family became overwhelming for him.

  “Tell the devil don’t wait up for me,” Maino replied.

  Curtis braced himself. He closed his eyes and tightened up for the impact.

  Maino squeezed the trigger without hesitation, and Curtis’ brains and flesh splattered across the bed in a gruesome display. Maino stood over the body and smirked. It needed to be done, he thought to himself.

  “Fuck that nigga!”

  Maino closed his eyes for a moment. Over twenty years of friendship had just come to a violent end. The smoking gun in his hand had him feeling frozen for a moment.

  “C’mon, nigga. We got what we came for.” Donny gripped the duffel bag like it was surgically glued to his hand as he neared the exit.

  Maino twisted his face and gazed at the pool of blood forming under the body. He snatched the second duffel bag and began to depart the crime scene. When he stepped into the living room, Citi’s birthday gifts spread across the living room caught his attention. Maino arranged Citi’s birthday things neatly on the table. It would be the last decent act for the family he once loved like his own. She would smile at the spread before finding the horrors awaiting her in her father’s bedroom.

  14

  “Citi, what the fuck happened? Who the fuck did this to Pop?” Cane screamed madly as the tears streamed down his grief-stricken face. The horror in Curtis’ bedroom looked like a scene from a Freddy Krueger movie. His father’s body was contorted and lying facedown on the blood-soaked bed.

  The pistol in Cane’s hand was loaded and cocked back, and he was marching around the bedroom screaming. He shook Citi aggressively and continued to shout at her. His little sister was in a trancelike state, her eyes bloodshot from crying. He had found her curled up in the corner near the body, crying hysterically. Now she was trembling.

  Cane didn’t know what to do. His instincts told him to immediately call Chris or Maino. He figured they would probably know how to handle things better. Seeing his father dead with two bullet holes in the back of his head sent a dark rage through Cane. He began to turn over furniture and break things in the room. “Muthafuckas!” he screamed. “I’ma murder and butcher whoever did this shit! I swear, it’s fuckin’ on! It’s fuckin’ on!”

  Cane stormed in the direction of Citi again, screaming like crazy, “Citi, fuckin’ talk to me! Who did this shit?”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know!” she shouted back. Her hands and birthday attire were stained with Curtis’ blood. She had thrown up numerous times. She couldn’t move. Her body felt rooted to the floor, and her feet felt like they were cemented in concrete.

  The tears continued to fall. The shock and hurt of her father murdered and gone continued to grow inside of her. It wasn’t a nightmare. The realization of it all was displayed gruesomely in front of her.

  Cane marched out the room, pistol in hand. He was itching to avenge his father’s murder. He snatched the cell phone from his jacket pocket. Cane wasn’t too fond of police parading in his home and being all up in his family’s business, so he hadn’t called 9-1-1 yet. He dialed Chris. When Chris answered, Cane became choked up. He didn’t know how to break it to his older brother.

  “Yo, Cane, what up?” Chris answered. “You calling me, right?”

  “Yo, it’s Pop,” Cane said despondently.

  “What about Pop?”

  “Yo, you need to come home.”

  “Cane, you scaring me. What the fuck is goin’ on? Talk to me, nigga!”

  Cane quickly uttered, “He’s dead!”

  When Chris heard the news, he sent a piercing scream through the phone that sounded almost inhuman. Chris couldn’t believe it. He raced home. It had to be a twisted joke. Their father was supposed to be untouchable. He was Curtis Byrne. He was supposed to live forever. He was too smart to become a murder victim.

  ****

  Detectives and NYPD officers roamed through the Byrnes’ apartment investigating the shocking crime scene, taking statements and pictures of the body. The detectives were very familiar with Curtis’ legendary status in the neighborhood, since his rap sheet was an arm’s length. The assumption was that the murder was drug-related. The fear with law enforcement was that a drug war might be brewing.

  The news of the murder started to spread through the hood like wildfire, some taking the death harder than others.

  Cane and the other teens were fuming over the way cops and detectives stampeded through their home and swamped them with question after question. Cane was ready to explode on the NYPD. He hated cops. He hated how they’d ransacked their rooms looking for any kind of evidence. They were the victims, but the cops treated them like suspects.

  The drugs, the cash, and the guns were all gone. Chris had made Cane get rid of every gun in the house and dump any drug paraphernalia in a faraway trash bin. When the officers went to the apartment, it was free of any criminal evidence.

  The siblings watched the coroners place their father into a body bag and carry him out of the apartment.

  Citi started to sob again. Her grief and tears were uncontrollable. “Noooo! They can’t take him. Get away from him! Nooo, he can’t go!” Citi screamed. She went charging at the coroners.

  A few cops dived in to grab her, and there was a scuffle. Citi threw punches and tried biting a few police. She wanted to go with her father.

  “Yo, get the fuck off my sister like that!” Cane yelled at the cops trying to restrain her.

  “Calm down, son,” a detective said.

  “Yo, I ain’t your fuckin’ son.”

  A serious situation was about to ensue between the children and police. Ms. Eloise decided to intervene. She was able to calm Citi and the storm brewing with Cane. She took hold of the grieving child and held her. Citi cried in Ms. Eloise’s arms. She bawled like a baby. She slumped toward the ground while still in Ms. Eloise’s embrace, her crying echoing out into the hallway.

  “It’ll be okay, chile, it’ll be okay. Just let it out. Let it all out,” Ms. Eloise said calmly in Citi’s ear, holding her like a mother.

  Cane and Chris stood watching, tears trickling down their faces. The only thing the brothers thought about was revenge. Chris learned that there wasn’t any forced entry into the apartment, so he figured his father had to know his assailants. While Cane was ready to shoot at the world, Chris was ready to do his own investigation.

  Not only did cops swoop into the children’s lives, but Child Services was now a threat to them. With Curtis dead, they no longer had a parental figure around. Everyone was a minor, since Chris wouldn’t turn eighteen for a few months. He had to brainstorm. When detectives began asking questions about a parental figure, he told them about their mother in Harlem. He gave the detectives her number, and then Ms. Eloise con
firmed their story. Chris knew it would buy some time until he could think of something solid to keep the State from interfering with his family’s structure. He wasn’t about to let Child Services separate him from his brother and sister.

  After the police, detectives, and CSU (Crime Scene Unit) dispersed, Cane and Chris started to clean up the apartment while Citi was next door at Ms. Eloise’s. Their father’s bedroom door remained shut because they didn’t want to see or enter that room.

  “Yo, you call Maino?” Cane asked.

  “Yeah, he’s coming around. He just wants the police gone before he shows up,” Chris said. “I don’t blame him.”

  “Yo, I’ma be on the streets every day fuckin’ asking questions, fo’ real, wit’ my gun, and I ain’t playing.”

  “We can’t stay here,” Chris said.

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Look at this shit, man. It’s fucked up here, and police gonna be all in our business. And the State, they gonna come snooping around, asking questions about us and our parental guidance. I’m not trying to go through that shit.”

  “What about Citi?” Cane asked.

  “She can stay with Ms. Eloise. I’m sure she ain’t gonna have a problem with that.”

  Chris’ cell phone rang. He quickly answered, “Yo.”

  “It’s Maino. Come talk to me outside. I’m in my truck.”

  “All right.” He hung up and looked at Cane. “Maino’s outside.”

  “It’s about fuckin’ time. Let’s go holla at him. See what he knows.” Cane marched toward the front door fervently. Chris followed behind him. They exited the lobby and saw Maino’s truck parked by the curb.

  Maino stepped from behind the steering wheel puffing a cigarette. He was calm and collected. He fixed his attention on Chris and Cane approaching him. His pistol was hidden away in his waistband, and his guard was on high. Maino knew Chris would be the cool one. But Cane was unpredictable.

  Maino approached them with open arms and giving his condolences. He hugged Chris and then Cane. “Yo, y’all all right?” he asked, pretending to be sincere.