by Tiana Laveen
“We decided to exchange pictures. So, I sent him a photo of me, and he sent me one of him. Splitting image.” Mama smiled proudly. “I looked just like him, Majesty. Mama had to have known. Maybe that’s why she hated me. She treated me the worst outta everyone. I never confirmed it, but I believe her first husband left her over me. Anyway, Samuel was a very nice man. Godly. Polite. He didn’t know I existed, but he said he’d known my mother around the time I was conceived, and they had had a short relationship back then. He’d admitted he had a girlfriend at the time of their encounter, but they’d been on again, off again, so he had his fling with my mama during that off cycle. So, we talked some more, and he made plans to come visit me.”
“How’d the visit go?”
Mama plucked the rest of the petals off that poor little limp stem, then tossed it aside.
“We met one time, Majesty, and I will never forget how complete I felt. Like I had finally found some peace. And my missing piece of the puzzle. He told his family about me, upfront about the whole thing. He had no other children but was married. He told me what college he’d attended, all sorts of things. We agreed that we could move forward and build a father-daughter relationship. I was planning to visit him three months later. He was going to introduce me to his wife, his brothers and sisters, his mother, the whole nine, and we were going to talk about me moving to Jersey and going to school. But it never happened…”
“Why not? He got cold feet?”
An expression of total devastation came over Mama’s face.
“Someone shot him. Gunned him down in front of the barbershop he owned. Somebody shot ’nd killed my daddy.” At that moment, Majesty saw her son in her mother’s eyes, and the vision broke her down, snatched and ripped at her core. “I had tasted love, Majesty. I had tasted what it felt like for someone to be excited that I existed. Not so they could get something out of me, but so I could get the love I deserved. And it was yanked away just as fast as I’d been served.” The woman snapped her fingers. “It was such a cruel thing. Made me question God’s existence. I didn’t have a relationship with my mother. Now, both of my fathers were dead. My brothers and sisters and I didn’t always have the best communication and relationships, and on top of it, I had no money. I couldn’t go back and live with Grandma; she was senile and about to be put in a home. So now, here I was, an orphan as far as I was concerned. I was homeless.”
“What did you do to get out of this jam?”
“I fell back on what my grandmother taught me. My looks got me what I needed, and I became focused on using them to get ahead. It worked. When you add fucking to the mix, true blue dirty, grimy sex, that’s where the money is… That’s where your soul is lost. And after a while, I was numb. I met your father a couple years into it and thought he would be my ticket to a normal life. He wasn’t. He was just as fucked up as me. I tried over and over again, meeting different men that couldn’t give me what I needed in one way, or another. I was determined not to be broke. Not to struggle. I wanted to find a man like my daddy… my real daddy. But God must’ve broken the mold. Deep down, I didn’t really think I deserved someone like my father though, Majesty. I deserved filth. Disillusionment.
“Married dicks and no calls back the next day. I deserved cum stains on my shirts. Stacks of money flung all over my hotel room. The stench of cheap spilled wine and a frantic wife callin’ me in the middle of the night asking for the whereabouts of her husband. I deserved threesomes with church women while their minister husbands fucked me too or sat back and watched their lesbian wives eat my snatch. I deserved men that wanted to be pegged and walked on with my 6-inch heels, all over their damn body until they bled.
“So, that’s who I am, Majesty. A numb woman who has spent years trying to survive by spreadin’ her legs and spreadin’ lies. I knew you were the child who would eventually figure it all out.” Majesty grabbed her mother’s hand and squeezed it. Mama reached up to cradle her cheek with the other hand and smiled. The sun beamed on her beautiful face and hopefully, warmed her cold heart. “After a while, I never cared about being loved by anyone anymore, honey. I figured love is overrated. Being taken care of is where it’s at. Tina Turner was right, baby. ‘What’s love got to do with it?’ It hurts. Tears you apart. I loved my daddy. I loved your father. They’re the only two men I loved, actually, and both of ’em broke my heart. One died on me; the other was simply a turnip I couldn’t get blood from. Yeah, Majesty… take it from me. Love is a fairytale, baby. It’s too damn expensive. Loving someone cost me too damn much. And no matter how much money I have, honey, even if I had all the jewels, gold and diamonds in the world, it became crystal clear that I just couldn’t afford it…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Viper and the Jaguar Met in the Jungle…
They say the best things in life are free.
But really, there is always a price for everything. It may not be money. It could be the time you put in something. The love you gave. The lust you reciprocated. The respect that was given. The expectation that you’ll show gratitude.
Doesn’t matter. You’re going to pay something for everything you need. And you’re going to pay for every damn thing you do…
Marie stood in the kitchen making coffee. The sound of a spoon being stirred in a cup reminded Viper of a scene from the movie, ‘Get Out.’ The taste of liquor coated his tongue. He’d just had a dash of tequila in his café con leche, while wolfing down his desayuno, a plate of Tostada Cubana, diced potatoes, scrambled eggs, and half of a preparade. It was early in the day, and the sky was overcast. The sounds of guitar instrumentals played on low volume, while several televisions were on in his house, tuned to various sports channels.
He retrieved his phone from his jeans pocket and typed a text message to Majesty.
Mi reina, good morning. I’m training a difficult dog today here at the house. I know you’re at work, but in case you call me on your break and I don’t answer, that’s why. I can’t have any interruptions at the moment. When I’m finished with his session, I’ll give you a call.
He slipped his phone in its place, then reached for a red, silver, and gold rosary his grandmother used to cherish. She’d had many of them, but this one his mother had allowed him to have. The one his abuela had worn the most. Several others had been buried with her. He recalled looking at her body in the casket, and a part of him had wished to climb inside it with her. Her death had crushed him so.
Setting aside these dark thoughts, he wrapped the holy beads around his wrist tying them like a bracelet, then heard the doorbell ring. Marie walked out of his kitchen, her red heels clicking on the floor as she made her way to his front door. He heard her greet his guest, then the voices of several men. Viper made his way to the foyer.
“Buenos días, Reye Víbora.”
“Good morning to you too, King Jaguar.”
The two greeted each other, embracing and bumping fists, then settled in the living room. Jaguar had two other Kings with him. All three men were dripping in gold and name-brand shirts, snapbacks, and shoes.
“Sit, sit.” He gestured to the oversized leather couch and presented them with his special box with the best cigars in his collection. As soon as he lifted the lid, a heavenly scent escaped. Viper only smoked on special occasions. He was happy to offer these to his exceptional guests. His brothers. His Reyes.
While they engaged in small talk, Marie brought in cups of her strong, delicious coffee. Jag sat in the middle, boxed between the other two who barely spoke.
“I’m going to get right down to business,” Jag said after polishing off his coffee and depositing the empty cup on the table. Like a bee, Marie buzzed into the room to pick up the crockery, then made a hasty retreat. Jag removed his Nike cap, allowing his dark brown waves to fall free over his shoulders. He rested his cigar on the ashtray. “I appreciate you holding things down while I was away, Viper.”
“Mmm hmm.” Viper lit his own cigar.
“Now that I’m o
ut and see how things are going here, there’s going to be some changes.”
“Such as?” Viper casually blew the smoke out the side of his mouth.
“I want to put King Torque in your place.”
“King Torque?” Viper took another drag of his cigar and rested it in another ashtray, one shaped like a gold serpent. “You request for me to quit my position?”
“No. This isn’t a demotion, Viper. It’s a restructuring.” Jag snapped his fingers, and one of the men beside him put something in his hand. “Oh, and here’s a gift I forgot to give you.” He handed the item to Viper – a lighter featuring a snake inside a skull head, only the snake was dead, with X’s for eyes. Viper laughed and tossed it on the couch behind him. “Also, we have another issue. I found out you’ve been… how shall I say it?” Jag waved his hand about. “Talking shit behind my back regarding Wild. I know he was your homeboy, but you’ve got to stop taking shit so personally, Viper. I liked Wild, too. He was a liability, though. You and I both know that. Let’s talk about this right now because—”
“It’s no secret, and I’m not taking it personal. I don’t talk behind people’s backs. There’s right, right now, later, and wrong. King Blood made it clear how we’re supposed to handle these sorts of situations. I didn’t talk shit at all behind your back, Jag. I wrote you a letter. Told you on the phone. Told you to your face. I can write that shit in the sand, have a plane scribe it in the clouds or tattoo it on your face next, if you want.”
One of the guys sitting next to him chuckled, then stopped when Jag shot him a look.
“Do you have a problem with me, Viper? I feel like we have a problem.” Jag smiled in an unnerving way, his dark gaze tapering as he pushed his lightweight gold and black jacket open, exposing his heat.
“Yeah, we’ve got a problem, man.” Viper grinned, showing all his teeth. “Jag, the problem is actually you.”
“How so?”
“You’re like a time bomb, blasting everything away. You’re not a critical thinker. You jump, then look. You come in here after I was doing your work on the streets for years, damn good work too, and instead of thanking me, you try to demote me and insult my intelligence by telling me it’s something else. You’ve got brothas running around Miami, some of them catching cases on account of you. If you’re going to kill a mothafucka, it better be over disrespect, disobedience, or disregard, not because you want to try and set someone up, a bruised ego, or make it seem like we’re down. That was sloppy work on your part.”
“Sloppy work? Viper… you don’t talk. And then when you do, you say the wrong shit.” Jag chuckled and shook his head, as if he were truly amused.
“I talk. I just don’t talk to you. You have the fucking audacity to tell me not to get bent out of shape about this. You want to replace me with someone weaker who will be your ‘yes man.’ Everyone can see what’s going on here, and you’d have to be stupid to think I didn’t see this writing on the wall. I knew you were going to come to me with this shit, and that’s fine, but just admit the reasoning.”
“Awww, you feel picked on, Viper?” Jag mocked.
“You’re threatened by me.” He was met with more chuckling on Jag’s part. “But you must go through the proper channels to do that, man. You can’t just stroll into a man’s house and tell him he’s out. In the Nation, you’re only one step above me in the ranks. That’s it. In real life, in the streets where it counts, you’re ten steps below. You’d need to be on your motherfuckin’ tippy toes at the top of Willis Tower to be even close to on my level, motherfucker.” Jag’s smile faded. “Don’t nobody respect you, man… ho ass fuck-face.” Viper looked down at the asshole. “They just fear your repercussions. Respect is stronger than fear. Respect gets you things done for years to come, not just for right now. No one important will be spittin’ on my grave, but they’ll dance all over yours like they’re Michael Jackson 2.0. I don’t even answer to you unless I want to. I can go over your head, and you hate that shit.”
“Viper, you’ve always been a cocky son of a bitch. People think because you’re chill, you don’t keep shit going, but I’ve been onto you since we were kids, nigga! I know how you move! This is why you have no control over these motherfuckers! They’re running wild. Wild… King Wild.” He grinned. “His death is on your shoulders. You should’ve kept your ass in Little Havana instead of showin’ off, moving out here, forgetting your roots. You weren’t there to babysit, and it all went to hell. You deserve to not only be removed from your post, but also flipped, nigga. You’re devious and—”
“You don’t run me, mothafucka! I’M THE MUSCLE, NOT YOU! I’M THE MOTHERFUCKIN’ BRAINS, TOO! I figured it all out, mothafucka! You kill anyone who gets into your fucking way, ’cause you’re weak! And I know why you’re here. To plan my funeral.”
“Finally. Something we both agree on.”
“But you aren’t my God, and you damn sure aren’t the honorable King Blood. You’re beneath me, mothafucka!” Marie raced into the room, trying to calm him down, but he shooed her away. “I know you got out of prison early because you’re a damn snitch!”
Jagger put his hand on his gun. His eyes shined rays of death.
“You’re a fuckin’ liar, Viper.”
“Oh, really? You told the Feds about Wild and the guys under him, so that you could get a lighter sentence. There’s no way you’d be out right now without cutting a deal! You must think we’re stupid! They went and grabbed his ass, and then you got freaked out because you realized Wild had a bunch of dirt on you, and if he ever found out it was you that ratted him out, if he didn’t get you, someone else would on his behalf! That’s why you wouldn’t listen to me when I told you to just leave him alone. You already knew what was up! You killed Wild because he knew too much, and he was loyal to me. On top of that, you’re pissed because you found out I contacted The Council about the Reyes who were up for disciplinary action after you sent them to take his ass out, and they got handled accordingly because they didn’t run that shit past me first! You’re a fuckin’ snitch, bitch! A coward!” The two Kings beside him stood up… Their nostrils flared as they exposed their guns. “You’re not even good enough to lick my Pit Bull’s balls! Look at you; you couldn’t even come here by yourself. You had to bring protection. Are you a dick in need of a condom, motherfucker? When it comes to me, you’ve got a gangsta mouth with police hands, and you better call them. 911, what’s your fuckin’ emergency?! IT’S VIPER, MOTHERFUCKER!”
In a flash, the men in front of him pulled their guns and aimed them at him. Viper smoked a little more of his cigar before getting to his feet. and Jaguar and his boys followed suit. He rounded the table. Approached slowly, with a smile. Standing so close to the mad man, their noses practically touched, he looked into his eyes.
Viper grinned as his heart beat the shit out of his chest. He kept his hand on the trigger of his gun as his father, cousin, and several Latin Kings emerged from various rooms. All of them were strapped. Jag looked around; fear etched on his face like a tattoo.
“They all know, man… The jig is up. The Council knows what you did too, now. You can kill me, Jag, but these mothafuckas will be waiting for you. You will never be safe, man. Then, they’ll go after your family. Allow me to let everyone in on a little something extra…” Viper walked backwards, his arm still raised, putting space between him and Jaguar once again. “Jag tried to get me on Little Havana soil for this meeting. I refused. He knew if I’d accepted, I wouldn’t shoot him. I’m from the old code where we promised the King elders we wouldn’t spend our brothers’ blood on that land. Jag was right about one thing though. I am definitely a devious mothafucka. I’ve been planning this for a long ass time.”
“Planning what?!” Jag screamed, the veins in his neck twisting and bulging.
“This motherfucker right here,” he raised a shaky hand at his nemesis, anger coursing through his veins, “killed my brother Diego!”
Several men’s eyes went wide.
Keeping his gun aimed, Viper bent down to pull out one of the coffee table drawers. From inside he picked a piece of yellowed notebook paper, which he shook to unfold.
“Marie. Come here, baby.”
The woman stepped over with her gun on her hip and her diamond accented reading glasses on. She stood beside him and read the letter, which was written in Spanish…
To my little king, my little brother, my best friend, Dominic.
I must tell you that it’s dangerous here, Viper. I will not make it. I’ve done too much. Seen too much. The worst of it happened now. Jaguar and I have been beefing and he threatened my life. He meant it. He wants to do something I don’t agree with. Something that will get us all in a lot of trouble. I won’t go into what that is because if I tell you, it could make you a target. I don’t want that for you. You’re in good standing. Just know that I spoke out against him.
You know what happens when you speak out against Jaguar. You end up missing or dead. We are no longer friends like when we were little, running around having fun. Jaguar has changed, Dominic. He’s not the same person. I don’t know what happened, but something must’ve caused him to be this way. Do not trust him. Ever. He has turned many of our brothers, who were my friends, against me. He has labeled me a snitch. The kiss of death. He is pretending to care for me and be my brother, as though we squashed the beef and he’s over it, but it is all an act. He is giving me money and weed in front of others always, to make it appear like we are close and we’re fine. We are not fine. I’m leaving this letter in our special place. I told you last night that I love you. You thought that was strange because I never say that. You know I do, though. You’re not just my little brother, you’re the only person in this world that I trust. My best friend.
If I die soon, Jaguar did it.