The Viper and his Majesty

by Tiana Laveen

  “Si, but he did not strike first.”

  “Does Jaguar know?”

  “Si. La policía disolvió la pelea. Dice was arrested.”

  “Shit.” He took a deep breath, tossed on a smile, and waved when one of his neighbors drove down the street—a little Jewish woman originally from New York who never smiled or waved back. Now there were two Kings in jail within a matter of days, and the police wanted information. Things were being made too easy for them. Perhaps they’d pit Wild and Dice against one another, make it seem as if each was dropping dimes. Viper knew the game and how it was played. He’d been around too long to not catch on. “Marie, find out how much his bond is. Wild isn’t getting out anytime soon, they made sure of that, but Dice’s bond should be cheap unless they’ve tossed other trumped-up charges at him. We have to get him out of there.”

  “Okay. I will call you back when I find out.”

  “Gracias. I’ll handle it.”

  “I know you will. You always do.”

  He disconnected the call, then turned around at the corner. Absently aware of his Glock-19 against his hip as he walked back to his house, he sent several text messages to fellow Kings, asking what they knew about the situation, as well as trying to get an update on Wild. It was challenging to keep his thumb on his brothers when not right amongst them, but after he paid the pop-up visit, he had a better hold of the situation. It reminded them who was in charge, and any fuck-up would result in a severe punishment. Then, he saw a text from Jaguar. The inevitable had come home to roost.

  Vibora, tenemos un problema.

  Yeah, we have a problem all right…

  He approached a few tall trees and allowed Chance, Sarge, and Belleza to roam a bit less close to him while he dialed Jaguar. This warranted a verbal conversation.

  “Hola, Jaguar. What’s up?”

  “I understand Wild got into some trouble.”

  “Si. I’m handling it.”

  “He is weak under pressure. He will run his mouth. Are you bailing him out?”

  “The judge made the bail too high, but I got him a good attorney.”

  “When the opportunity presents itself, take him out.” With that, he ended the call.

  Viper slipped the phone back into his pocket, then called to his dogs, and ordered them to keep walking. His legs felt heavy, and the scent of rain in the air made his mind flood with visions of being soaked in the torrent, beside Diego. He kept moving ahead, his thoughts swinging like that rosary on the dresser mirror. This was his concern: that Jaguar would fear that Wild would talk, and his entire operation would sink down to the ground. Everyone had been so careful for so long. Wild knew everyone’s moves; he had the inside information. It was his job. He was a lookout, after all. The perfect target. Viper wished he could’ve been surprised by Jaguar’s call, but he wasn’t.

  King Jaguar was in prison, serving a ten-year sentence for assault and weapons charges, with three years served. He still ran his local operation with an iron fist, behind those bars. He always had access to cell phones, the internet, whatever he needed. He’d had several members killed for what he deemed was disrespect, bucking his authority. Jaguar was the epitome of no fucks given. He had an estranged wife and two ex-girlfriends, his baby mamas, several children with each, and made sure all of them were living well. He had drugs coming and going so fast, the money was almost too easy to make. With all of that power, all of that dope, and all of that command, problems were imminent. Jaguar wasn’t the quiet child he recalled so many years ago.

  When they were kids, they were close, like brothers, though Jaguar was a few years his senior, the same age as his big brother. It came as no surprise that he and Diego had joined the Latin Kings on the exact same day, both of them jumped on and beaten within an inch of their lives. Viper was soon to follow. Less than a year later, he was brought into the fold. At the time, at the mere age of fourteen, he was certain that this was the life he wanted. Protection in an uncertain world. A family at last. Shelter from the rain.

  He’d worked hard to prove himself, to show he had what it took, to try and be even better than his brother. Stronger. Smarter. After a while, the beatings and murders got easier to handle, until he felt nothing at all. Numb. Everyone had to earn their stripes and their keep, to bring in dough, and maintain honor. Rather than be involved in robberies or dealing drugs like many of his Nation brothers, he got into acquiring weapons and soon garnered a reputation for his vicious assaults in retaliation for the slightest infractions. He stayed in the gym, kept his weight up, and never let his guard down. Some people didn’t know how to take him; he wasn’t a braggart, he didn’t kiss ass, and he didn’t kiss and tell. He kept his business to himself, his friends close, enemies closer—some of those enemies being fellow Latin Kings—but family, including his Latin King brothers, was crucial to him.

  When Marie called him and requested a coming home bash for Stacks, he didn’t shillyshally, but something about looking into her eyes as she prepared food, sang in his kitchen and laughed broke his heart. He’d been away from Little Havana, and in that time, it seemed his mind had begun to play tricks on him. His desires were changing, his thirst for being in the thick of it all waning. Marie was getting up in age; the life she’d lived shone on her beautiful, mature face. She looked far older than she was and had buried most of her children. How was this nirvana? He saw himself in her, but imagined he’d be in a box six feet under with a gunshot to his head by the time he reached her age. Execution style. The same had happened to her eldest son.

  She was in the life, had slowed down but was still quite active. She was still trying to protect and serve, calling and warning him and other officers in the Nation of things she’d seen and heard. His last stint in prison had made him weary, so he’d stepped back from the weapons commerce and focused on what he’d done since he was a boy: train dogs. If he got serious about this business, it would be lucrative, and perhaps, subconsciously, he knew it would also be like insurance. A way out.

  He was a natural at it. He loved animals, especially dogs. It had begun by accident. He’d found a stray dog and brought it home to his mother. She hadn’t wanted it, but he’d begged her to keep it. She’d said, ‘Dominic, I don’t want that filthy animal in our home, but you’ve been begging me for days, and you keep sneaking him back in here. I will make you a deal. If you can make it not shit or piss in my house, and do tricks and obey, you can keep it. If you can’t, and he acts up, he’s gone.’ Mamá had been certain the dog would be out the door soon. There was no way he, at the age of 11, could have trained a wild, stray street dog to do any of those things.

  But he’d taken her challenge and taught the mutt multiple tricks, potty trained it, and even trained it to fetch her slippers and the remote control. She’d been sold.

  He soon reached the bottom of his driveway. His thoughts scattered like jumbled puzzle pieces. Then, a noise sounded in the distance. He turned and stared at the house with the slightly sloped lawn where the pretty Majesty dwelled.

  Her car was back in her driveway, fixed. Viper had paid for everything, without a second thought. She’d shown no interest in him whatsoever, yet he’d insisted on helping her.

  Or maybe it was the challenge of it. Fact was, he was thinking about her far too much, and he was beginning to get on his own nerves. Instead of a thank you, she’d left a curt handwritten note in his mailbox letting him know she’d found out the total for the repairs, she would appreciate it if he would not interfere again, and she’d be paying him back in full. The script was in dark purple ink, flowy and elegant. Pretty. As he looked at the note, smelling it, the sweetness of the paper perhaps inadvertently soaked with a drop of her perfume, he wondered why she didn’t have a man.

  Could she be crazy? A lesbian? Well, she had to have liked dick at least one time, because she’s got a son… Maybe she’d just gotten out of something? He had questions, and he wanted them answered. His singlehood was by choice. Was she the same? Inside the house,
he turned off the alarm and the dogs dashed straightaway to their individual water dispensers and food bowls. He took his time hanging up the leashes, then made his way up the steps to his weight room.

  He turned on the music system in his home gym, and “Tres Deliquentes” by Delinquent Habits blasted through the speakers. Taking off his shirt, he started with the weight bench, grunting with each push of the two-hundred-pound weights. After a short while, he increased the weight, then some more, bursting into a drenched sweat and growing angrier and angrier.

  I’m tired! I’m sick of this shit! Jaguar has no clue what he’s doing. He’s taking out too many people, way too fast. That’s going to draw more attention from the wrong people. We’ll look unorganized. Fractured. I understand his concerns, but killing Wild is a bad idea. It’s not the answer unless we have concrete proof he snitched. Yet I know he won’t listen to me. He thinks he knows better than everyone else. King Million should’ve never crowned him in this position. Jaguar wasn’t ready. It doesn’t even matter now… I’ve been fed up for a while. I can’t leave my brothers, though. The Nation is losing soldiers. If I leave now, more lives will be lost. These guys can’t make it on their own. They need me, King Beast, Juan, and the rest of us, especially the enforcers. I help these young guys get on the right path. Try to show ’em other things they can do instead of hanging in the street. They’ve got to be cleverer. Work smarter.

  The streets are different now. People walk around strapped, but not everyone knows how to shoot. The police are crawling everywhere. They want to drive the poor out by arresting and targeting them, so the buildings can be bought up and gentrification can commence. Why can’t these idiots see that has been the plan all along? They’re pussies! They don’t think! It’s just a bunch of noise. No strategic planning. They just rush in and fuck everything up. I don’t need teardrop tattoos. I know the bodies I’ve got, and so does everyone else. I’ve been wettin’ motherfuckers up since I was fourteen! Nobody knows how to fight anymore! Nobody knows how to shut their fuckin’ mouths, either… These idiots are smoking their own product. Lame. People who aren’t from where we’re from don’t understand our thinking…

  He gritted his teeth as he kept pumping, his arm muscles and biceps burning along the way.

  They say, if you gangbang, you’ll be dead before you know it. But little do they know, many of us would’ve been dead if it weren’t for the Nation… for bangin’. Our lives are short, but longer with a tribe. People judge! But they don’t get it. I get it… They don’t know my story; no one but Diego and I know the truth. And now, I want to do something else with the time I have here on this planet. I don’t know if I’m goin’ to heaven or hell, but I know I want a piece of paradise right now, and this ain’t it. I am so fucking tired… I know there’s more out here for me. The world is so fucked up. And I’m fucked up, too…

  I don’t want to take out any more of my brothers for petty shit, or shit that wasn’t their fault. Yeah, they need their ass kicked, but to wet them up for being ten minutes late to the meeting? It happens… I’m sick of that, too. Some of this no longer makes sense. I can’t keep doing shit that doesn’t make sense to me anymore, just for the sake of tradition. Life within itself isn’t precious to me, but a chance to believe in its worth is gold. I wonder what that feels like? To care? I don’t remember. I’d like to remember, though. Maybe I’m getting too fucking soft in my old age? Nah, I just want somethin’ else. Ya gotta grow, right? I feel stagnated. Stuck. Mamá said I’m like my father. She’s told me that my entire life. Said she loves me, but she could never control me. She blamed Diego when she found out I had joined the Latin Kings, but it wasn’t Diego’s fault. She had two sons lost to the streets, and she cried about it. She knows that deep down, Diego wasn’t to blame. I needed something she couldn’t give me. A sense of belonging. Shelter out of the rain. I needed no shattered glass, no black duffle bags, and no windows blocked by demons, dancing on the backs of angels born of the light.

  I can’t just walk away… Well, I could, but then of course… there’s THAT. I’m on a mission… I have to do it. It’s mine. I must finish the cycle… FUCK EVERYONE.

  He pushed the weight up for the last time, placed the barbell back, and sat up, his entire body drenched in sweat. After stewing in his own thoughts for what felt like an eternity, he got to his feet and jumped in the shower of his master suite bedroom. Cypress Hill’s, ‘Insane In the Membrane’ played as he rinsed off and stepped onto the plush black rug to dry off. He proceeded to check his schedule on his computer. Two new dogs would be coming over soon for an initial consultation for training, but he had about an hour to kill beforehand. I’ll eat a little something. He tossed on a black V-neck T-shirt and black cargo shorts, then a pair of no-show white socks under his red and black GOAT Jordans.

  Moments later, he was riding down the street on his BMW F 900 XR motorcycle, making his way to the Taco Inn Food Truck, located next to the local brewery. The spot had strange business hours, but he was in luck. They were open. The delectable scent of fresh salsa, grilled pork, beef, and chicken wafted in the air, making his stomach growl in anticipation. This was one of the few spots where he could find authentic Mexican cuisine. He ordered some Birria tacos, one of his favorites, and headed back home, checking the time every so often. As he approached his house, he noticed Majesty’s son playing with a couple of other little boys in the front yard.

  He slowed down, noting that one of the kids was White, and the other Asian. They were tossing a ball between them, laughing and carrying on. He smiled at the sight, then slowed when the ball rolled down the driveway, into the street…

  CHAPTER SIX

  A King’s Ransom

  One of the boys screamed, and they all stopped and stared in horror, expecting he’d run over the ball and smash it to a pulp. Viper pulled over and parked his bike along the sidewalk, grabbed the ball, and tucked it under his arm. Brandishing a smile, he walked up the driveway towards the youthful trio.

  “A, don’t worry. That’s my mama’s friend,” the handsome little Black boy said, as if he were responsible for putting everyone at ease. “His name is Diaper.” The other two boys burst out laughing, beating on their knees as their faces turned red.

  “Diaper!” one of them kept repeating, barely able to get the word out before falling to the ground, totally taken asunder by the giggles.

  “Viper,” he corrected, swallowing a chuckle of his own. “Vi-per.” He tossed the ball to Majesty’s son. “What are you playing?”

  “Just toss. Bored. Mama is supposed to take us to the park, but she said she might not have time, so Sirus and Lou came to play with me. They wanna go, too.” He looked as if his feelings were genuinely hurt.

  “I’m sure she’ll let you go another day.”

  The boy nodded half-heartedly, then tossed him back the ball, engaging him in a bit of play. He caught it, then tossed it to the Asian kid, who passed it on to the dark-haired White boy. He recognized the children from the neighborhood and wondered if perhaps they were all the same age. They appeared to be.

  “Tell your mother hello for me.” He smirked as he tossed the ball one last time to the kid. He caught it, and a mischievous gleam crossed the boy’s face.

  “Maaaama! Viper said hello! He out here playin’ with us!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Suddenly, the front door swung open, and there stood Majesty in a light gray crop top, long-sleeved cotton hoodie, and baggy gray jogging pants, pierced navel exposed. Her hair was parted on the side, flowing down past her shoulders and breasts.

  “Mama, tell him I’m not lying. Didn’t you say his name was Diaper? You were on the phone and said that the big Cuban man across the street was named Diaper.”

  Viper stared at the woman who looked completely mortified. He crossed his arms and sucked his teeth, pretending to be pissed, when all he really wanted to do was burst out laughing. She’s been talking shit about me to other people. That’s good, actually. Means I’m on her mind, to
o. Looks like she might like me after all…

  “I never said his name was no damn Diaper, Troy. Now what sense does that make?!” Her face turned to a deeper hue along the cheeks.

  “Yes, you did. You said, he ain’t S-H-I-T, and then you said that his name fits, ’cause it’s Diaper.” The two boys burst out laughing again. Boy did Majesty look angry.

  “I’m a diaper, huh? Viper and Diaper. That rhymes. I get it. Good joke.” He flashed his teeth at her. “What brand am I? Huggies or Pampers? I hope I come with wipes, too.” This really got the boys giggling.

  “Troy, I’ve got something special for you.” She pointed at her son, her threat loud and clear. She looked around, as if suddenly remembering she had company. “I’ll take you and your friends to the park in five minutes.” All three boys began to jump up and down, cheering, soon forgetting about the running joke. “Viper, what are you doing here?”

  “Your son, I just realized his name was Troy since you’ve just now said it, lost his ball in the street. I was bringing some food home, stopped, and picked it up to give back to him.” She nodded in understanding. The boys began to laugh and chase each other around the yard. Holding herself as though she felt chilly, she inched closer across the porch, then looked both ways as though a train was coming before making her way down the steps. She now stood close enough for him to view all her beautiful imperfections. A smattering of beauty marks. A small scar on her chin. Her eyebrows were pitch black, natural, and arched to perfection. Her lips were full and succulent, and her neck was long and lovely.

  And boy did she smell amazing.

  “Damn, you look good.”

  “What?” She rolled her eyes. “Look, Viper, I just wanted to tell you, thank you for what you did for my car, but you overstepped your bounds. I don’t need anyone bailing me out. Regardless, I know your heart was in the right place. I thanked your father, too, when I called over there. If you wait right here, I can give you a hundred dollars towards the bill.”