by Renta
I didn’t know what happened the day them fools tried to put me under, but I remembered being pulled outta the whip and some hoe talkin’ ‘bout getting my burna. So, that told me that somebody wanted me to live—but most of all—somebody didn’t want me to go to jail. They cleaned up behind me. Who though? Where the fuck was Jazzy at? Then—as if it was a bad dream—the reason I was speeding to get to her festered in my mind, Gusto. What happened? Jazzy was there to see me at the hospital so she’s safe, but—hold up—I musta been moving too fast and missed it.
Now the envelope in the middle of the bed was evident as truth itself. My gut spoke to me even before I reached for it. “Don’t read it,” it told me. But curiosity killed more than a cat. My name was inscribed in cursive across it in Jazzy’s handwriting. I opened the envelope and pulled the letter out, and life lost all of its meaning.
My Assata, Feb 14
I don’t think there is ever a good time to say good-bye. Never a good time to tarnish a love like the one, I have for you. So, I won’t say nor do either of those things. But, I will give you what you deserve— the truth! Baby, I haven’t been 100 with you. Yes, ninety percent but the other ten percent sometimes outweighs that whole ninety, right? Baby, please don’t hate me—my love for you is the air I’ve used to keep my sanity. You’ve touched a part of me Assata that no other man has or ever will. I won’t allow it! I honestly can’t imagine a better man to leave my heart with.
So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m leaving my heart with you, Assata so that no other man will be able to possess it. Take care of it, my baby, and do me a favor. Don’t take yours away from me—I need it to live—to breathe—to know! To know that no other woman will be able to say she has it. To know that I still live. I guess you’re wondering what the hell is going on, huh? So here it is—you remember the girl Karla that used to be my roommate? Well, she has a brother name Shotta and we fell for each other while I was out west.
I was confused and lost, Satta. You was out in the streets and—well—you can imagine the rest. I came here for Shy’s funeral, and instead of merely losing him, I also lost my heart—to you! So much so, I was willing to leave behind all that I had back in Cali to be with you. Long story short, he came for me, bae—and I realize now that I love him. If you’re reading this, it means you’re out of the coma—at first, I was lost—but in the end, I knew you’d come back for me. Big smiles, baby—I love you! Please don’t come looking for me. Let love be as it was. I’ll die loving you baby!
Listen, I want to end this with my heart—do you remember the story of Mohammad going to the mountain? I need you to go there—to the mountains! Remember what he did for his family—his wife? What she did in return? I need you to hear me, Assata! It’s not time to get mad at God nor question my decisions. Forever, is in the mountains my baby—you just have to climb up there to get to it. Remember me, Assata, the little girl with the pigtails that used to sneak out to check on you when your nine- year old ass was out under the street lights. Gus is dead, baby—he killed Shy! Go find your heart Assata—I’m rooting for you!
Your Bonnie
Part Two
~Assata~
It doesn’t matter if it’s an enemy or strategy you must know the exact measure of brains and brawn to use in order to succeed in your conquest. In this game of chess that some perfect, yet some play so thoughtlessly—it’s imperative that you observe with keen eyes the depths of your foes ego and greed. Even for a master of a craft it sometimes can be too easy to miscalculate a certain move if he’s too busy focusing on his insecurities rather than his audacity. A meek decision is the reflection of a nigga with no heart—no nuts! In order to become great, you must learn the power of an audacious execution.
“Chess—strategy and observation. You must be sharp! A king knows better than to fall victim to poor decisions and or gluttony. Even during a feast, he insists that everyone around him eats until they’re full—drink until they’re drunk. Even to his Queen, he says “Eat, my love, this is a moment to celebrate.” This is his rib. He’s molded her to fit him, to think like him, and to protect him. So, if she’s not his reflection by now, she’s the block that will destroy the pyramid. The one who will betray him in due time.
So, he must test her well. He sips his first cup of wine and pretends to be full. The only mu’fucka he prevents from partaking of the festivities is his general. The one that he trusts with his life. He leans over to him. “Don’t eat—don’t drink. The meat is a poisonous snake and the wine is its venom. It’s proportioned so that there is enough poison in each dish to kill if one overindulges,” he whispered to him.
Then together, they watch as every mu’fucka falls face first in their plates. Dead—dead from the mere essence of their own greed and lack of observation. The king glances over at his Queen, love, trust, and loyalty it all radiates from her eyes as she holds up a small portion of meat. “I’ll never let you down, my King,” she says. Then she places the meat in her mouth and chews it. A smile creeps onto the king’s face. “Observation my dear General, if they would have simply taken a glance, they would have noticed that the meat was blue, and the wine was black.”
Never take your eyes away from the chess game, because even though she’s essential and can maneuver all over the board, sometimes even the Queen should be sacrificed, especially when she’s not trustworthy!
Chapter Seven
Murda—Temptation
~Pain~
Eight Months Later
I stood over a nigga named Qua with blood in my eyes as I held the fifty caliber between the windows of his soul. We had his bitch ass tied and duct taped to a chair in his living room. He was steady trying to tell me something but the tape covering his mouth had his words sounding like one of them Christian people speaking in tongues. Sweat poured from the boy’s body as fear escaped his eyes. He knew he was ‘bout to go to sleep, eternally. Blood spilled from the cuts and gashes he incurred from the ass-whoopin' I put on him with the butt of the .50.
I’m cut-throat to the bone when it comes down to my enemies but all in all, I’m a good nigga, that’s the only reason I snatched the tape from his mouth, allowing his bitch ass to speak his last words.
“Pain—Pain,” he screamed so loud I almost reconsidered my decision letting him speak.
“Look, you bitch! If you scream one mo’ time. I’m gonna knock yo’ muthafuckin’ brains all over this bitch’s dress,” I growled, as I nodded towards his baby moms tied up next to him.
“Cool, my man—sho you right.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Look man—I swear that shit that happened to y’all’s brother had nothing to do with Hic Street! If it did, I’d know about it, Cuz.”
‘Boom—’
The tool burped in my hand and his left shoulder exploded spraying his baby mama with speckles of blood. Muffled screams ensued from her tapped mouth, but I didn’t even give the bitch a glance. Dino rushed over and up-righted the boy. He cried incoherently, and I couldn’t blame him. The whole corner of his bidness was somewhere floating in the atmosphere.
“Don’t be disrespectful—watch your mouth, homie—you don’t see none of your homies here,” I said, then felt Goose tapping me on the shoulder.
“Let me rock with him, lil’ bro,” Goose requested.
I stepped back and allowed my fam to work. It never amazed me how a crocodile could be so diplomatic as this one.
“Look homie—I can give two fucks ‘bout this lil’ gang shit you, country boys got going on. Somebody gotta pay for tryin’ my lil’ nigga. Now you can either let us know who the trigga men are or sacrifice your whole family for some niggaz, that will fuck yo’ bitch as soon as you’re off the shelf.” Big bro was a dragon with eyes of fire, as he stared at Qua maliciously.
“Look, man, I’m telling you the honest to God truth—I—don’t—know—shit! If anybody would try to start a war in the hood without lacin’—aww shit,” he screamed, as Goose jammed the butt of the AR into his open wound.
Forcefully, he wedged it in the niggaz shoulder until a quarter of the barrel was buried inside the boy’s shit. Damn, he was better with me—at least I woula just dome called him and got it over with. Real shit tho—it was plain for all eyes to see that this boy was tellin’ the truth. Niggaz like Qua wouldn’t sit under pressure like this. He’d have been told on his mama if she was the one responsible.
“Pleaaseee, okay—okay! I know, I’m—oh God—I know, I’m ‘bout to die but please spare my gal and kids. This is my—my karma—not theirs,” he cried through the sniffles and deep breaths.
I locked eyes with Goose, I could he was in a dark place, as he barked orders at the boy. “Shut the fuck up nigga! Your karma is— their karma! You and your faggot ass homeboys tried to whack my lil’ brother, and these streets ain’t gonna be safe till it’s painted with the blood of the guilty—starting with you!” He then turned his eyes to the niggaz two seeds, a boy, and a girl.
The little boy must have been about three or four and the little girl was about six. Dino stood next to ‘em with a monstrous .44 in hand. Tears fell from the beautiful little girl’s eyes as she held her younger brother close to her adolescent body.
“Is tat a gum in your hand mister?” she asked curiously.
Goose looked to Dino. “Dino, get them outta here, fam,” Dino smiled but complied.
I guess big bro did have a heart. Seconds pass after Dino left the room. I awaited the signal from big bro, but he merely stood over Qua and stared down at him. His eyes were clouded over as dark reflections set flames in his eyes.
“I think we need to make a statement, Pain.” He put the AR down, removed the velvet satchel from his shoulders that I’d been wondering about since we set out on this mission. Then he reached inside, and with a slow antagonizing display, he pulled out the sharpest, shiniest scalpel I had ever seen. It was the length of a midget’s arm, with what looked to be a snake carved out of some typa gold for a handle. I looked at him like he was crazy. I mean, I knew we had been apart for a minute but— “What the fuck?”
I jumped back as the blade swooshed through the air in a wide arch before finding shelter halfway through Qua’s face. Bloodshot out everywhere. Goose’s hands and face was tainted with its essence, as he stared at his handiwork. Vomit rushed up my throat, but I fought to hold it down. I’m a ‘G’ through and through, but this shit was some real Hannibal Lecter type shit. As a testament, Qua’s bitch began to choke as her dinner rushed up to her esophagus, but it had no exit due to the tape over her mouth. Her chair rocked wickedly as her body fought to relieve itself of what would surely be the death of her in a few minutes.
A mushy sound could be heard as the blade was pulled from dude’s face. He looked like a sliced tomato split into two sections and barely held together by the spinal cord, that the blade didn’t slice through.
‘Whack—whack—whack!’
Blood squirted everywhere as vertebrae and cartilage was severed, with each swing, fam punctuated his words.
“Somebody—gotta—pay,” Goose growled.
I turned my head after the first piece fell from homie. Silence permeated the room. I looked to Goose curiously, to see what the bidness was, big bro was outta there! He was drowned in blood and some other typa matter that I couldn’t quite pin the color of. He looked demonic as he smiled—gold shined from behind blood-stained lips.
“Since we ain’t got all the pieces to the puzzle yet, we’ll just send pieces of this nigga to his big homies until they piece the shit together for us.” He then said the craziest shit ever. “Help me bag this boy up, lil’ bruh.”
I turned my eyes to ole girl, but she was already outta there. I aimed the .50 at her and let off two shots to her face, just in case. I turned my gaze back to big bro.
“Fam, you know, I love you, but—” that’s as far as I made it before gunshots were heard from the direction where Dino took the kids.
***
~Other-Side of Town~
A small Toyota bent the corner of Hickory Street. The tinted windows were pitch-black under the glow of the moon. It was 2:15 a.m. and the activity on the block was still at an all-time high, as the natives pumped narcotics between houses, up and down the street, as well as along the corner that led over to Oak Street. A group of rowdy youngsters stood on a porch freestyling and whatever else to keep warm from the frigid breath of the night. A youngster named Mookie did a beat against the wood paneling of the house as his loc Archie blessed the spectators with his skills.
“I’m sick with it/need an asylum/niggaz test my shootas we’ll whack him, and whoever standing beside em/drop em wit’ the barracudas, on my mama they’ll never find em/just me and ridas/Hic Street finest, I was bred where the weather be/colder than a polar bear pussy, better check my pedigree/I’m doing it for them niggaz that kame ahead of me/reppin for my block till the opposition bury me/raised off can goods/same conas that Kapp, Dre, and Lil Man stood/ name not Luther, but I’m a king of a grand hood/hood infused wit’ narcotics/lil niggas watchin’—plottin’ for their training day—Denzel Washington/so tell me what you know ‘bout it/moms bein out late/lil brotha and sista need me so my life on the line to make sho the fam straight.”
Niggaz went dumb as the homie came from the gut wit’ it, but it was one lil’ nigga that knew it was real out there so his eyes were glued to the activities of the block. He saw the small car as it eased to the curb and instantly his hand went to his waist. He tapped his potna Tutta and nodded his head at the car. This was a drug-infested cona, so it was no reason to be alarmed, especially when the passenger window rolled down and the female driver leaned over.
“What’s up? You niggaz working or just warmin’ up that porch. I got two hundred to spend with whoever has the best dope,” she yelled, scratching her arms as that monkey rode her back. “Come on, now, I’m sick y’all—I need my medicine!”
The porch turned into a zoo as niggaz pulled packs out their ass, from under their nuts, and some other crazy places. As they rushed the car, the only thing on those boy’s mind were adding that two hunnid to their stash. Only one could get the bite, though.
Mookie beat everyone. “Sup, ma—I got that shit Frank Lucas had across the water! You’ll nod for years,” he said, as he flashed a handful of heroin capsules. By now six or seven dudes were at the car screaming their sales pitch. “Hold up—hold up, damn,” she screamed over the pandemonium.
She reached over and gave Mookie the two hundred in exchange for ten capsules, causing agitation and disappointment to the unlucky. “Awww—don’t look so sad y’all—my smoking partner is in the backseat. He may want to spend a little bit.”
Hope sparked in the eyes of the young wolves. “Where he at? I can’t see dude,” one of the young niggaz said, as he placed his face against the back window for a better look.
‘Boom!’ His face disintegrated as the window exploded. Blue ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta. The Draco spat fire like a dragon, as the blue bandanna wearing figure operated it surgically. From side to side and in a sweeping arch, attempting to annihilate everything moving. Archie ran full force with survival on his mind. Tutta who was running beside him, flipped forward like someone pushed him hard from behind—the reaper was here and hungry for souls and homie’s name just so happened to be on a 7.62.
Several shots from the porch caused the reaper to change course. The lil’ nigga that spotted the car from the jump was working his burna like a man. If there was a reward for holding it down, he’d had earned it, but the reaper didn’t give a fuck about bravery. He just wanted what he came for. The block was waked now—shots rang out from everywhere.
“Get us the fuck outta here, Tracy!” the reaper screamed, as the small car jerked forward and barely missed a shirtless gunner takin’ aim at the windshield.
He jumped out the way as Tracy gunned the compact car down the street, fishtailing onto East McKenny in a life-threatening escape. The back window exploded as the car hopped the curb onto East McKenny. Luckily, the
main street was almost deserted as they flew through the red light and made it to safety.
“Slow down, Tracy—we peace, ma. We good—we—damn,” he said, as he pulled the blue flag from his face. “Pull over right her, fam—we gonna have to foot it from here.”
Tracy’s nerves were shot as she pulled the car over into a small cul-de-sac, sweat beads flooded her face as she stared at her shaking hand.
“Assata—you owe me extra for that, boy—you said you just wanted to scare those boys. Boy, I know y’all’s mamas. I can’t believe you-you owe me,” she said shakily.
Assata laughed, “Come on Tra—you know, I got you, lil one—I ‘preciate the get down too. My fault I didn’t keep it muddy with you out the gate. I didn’t need you all shook up and shit,” he said, as he got out the car.
Tracy used her shirt to clean the steering wheel before following suit. She smiled her stained teeth at him. “Boy, Moose would beat yo lil’ ass if she was still here, let’s get out of here before we get jammed on a humbug and get the needle. I want my money when we get back to the Kreek,” she laughed, as she walked passed him.
She made it four or five steps before Assata called out to her. “Hold up, fam—I got your pay, right now.”
“Good! Now we can separate, we don’t—” she began, as she turned to face him.
The gloved hand tightened on the CK arms .45—his trigger finger steady, and with a light tap fire rolled from the tip of it, exploding her face like a watermelon dropped from a two-story window. Her body tried to catch up with her spirit, as she stumbled backward, and finally crumbled to the street with her remaining eye open. Assata glanced forward, then rushed back to the car leaving behind no witnesses except God.