Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  I looked at him as if he had got the plague, yea, Joe was our fam, but he was a beast! A beast that killed for the other side. Only a fool would feel some typa way for whacking a loose lion—twisting the cap off a Big Red. I told my brother exactly that!

  Chapter Twelve

  Surprise

  ~Assata~

  After a long meeting with my hounds, and a dope-fiend named, ‘Get There’. I tried to wind down, what better way to do so than by spending some time with the lady, Free? Her job whatever it was, kept her tied like shoelaces, so it was almost like trying to walk into a penitentiary with civilian clothes on to get her away for a few minutes.

  “Call Freedom,” I spoke into my Bluetooth. ‘Calling Freedom,’ it replied. The phone rang ‘bout three times before it was answered by the voice of a lioness.

  “Hello?” she sang.

  I ain’t on no weak shit, I swear, but an instant smile formed onto my lips. “The bidness was, Goddess?” I asked.

  A long whoosh of breath sounded as if she’d just collapsed into her chair. “Work—work—and more work!”

  “Well, how about a break—can you do brunch—or maybe dinner?” I proposed hopefully. I swear if she puts me off again it’s—

  “Dinner will be fine. I’ll be able to finish up at the office and take a nap before I’m whisked away by my thug in shining armor.”

  “Good answer.”

  “Huh, what you mean?” She giggled, but I thought she already understood my double meaning.

  “What’s understood needs no explanation—what time can you get away, ma.”

  “Ahhh—bossy much,” she laughed merrily. “I like—I like—so let me see, I leave my métier job at five and I—”

  “I’ll be there to get you at eight-thirty, Ms. Lady—and Free?”

  “Yes, Assata, what is it?” Free replied.

  “Wear your hair down for me.”

  “That’s peace, God, but will I be overstepping my boundaries to ask where we’re going and what’s the attire?” she asked.

  “You’ve read the Bible before, Free?” I questioned.

  “Of course—but what does that—”

  “Everything! If you can come as you are to church, what makes any other place any different?”

  “Umm— maybe because they may say that, but you’d never see anyone actually coming as they are. The church is a molten pot for fashion.”

  I laughed at the authenticity of her revelation.

  “Surprise me, Free,” I exclaimed.

  “That I will do.”

  ***

  ~Twisted~

  When I reached the waiting area, the first thing I notice was Tessa rocking Mena back and forth in a sister embrace.

  “I love him so much, Tess—I feel like—like, that shoulda been me that took those bullets—it all happened so fast. The old lady—the gun—she-she shot him! Over and over and over again! A fuckin’ old lady, Tess,” she wept.

  Tessa consoled her the best she could. “Baby girl, this ain’t your fault. If you woulda been the one to take those bullets, it woulda tore that man up. Then it woulda been meaningless because he still woulda been hurt. I know you’re hurting baby, but it’s gonna be okay, Joe’s a strong man—he’ll pull through.” Tessa hugged her tighter as she inconspicuously wiped her own tears away.

  Twisted watched the scene before him with an aching heart. As the whole, Hic and Oak Street poured into the room. A beautiful red-skinned woman with a face kissed by freckles appeared, surrounded by a gang of blue bandanna clad men and women. Her eyes were bloodshot, but alert. I rushed to embrace her, with water in my eyes. I could only hold her and share in the heartbroken melody that played between two mu’fuckas brought together under a seal of loyalty for one thing—revenge! She wrapped her arms around my neck, placed her lips inches from my ear, and spoke in a sotto voice.

  “Twisted, I raised you boys from lil’ locs. We all knew the consequences of the life we live. My baby is a gangsta, he wouldn’t want us to be on all this emotional shit, when we can be using our time on something more productive, like finding the sons-of-bitches who has him in there fighting for his life. I want you to find ‘em, baby. Find ‘em and make their whole family pay in blood and tears for what they’ve done to my son,” Ms. Pearl proclaimed in anger.

  She took my face in her hands, her bloodshot eyes revealed a mother’s pain, but also the danger that she tried so hard to bury. As our eyes communicate what our lips shouldn’t, an Asian doctor walked over to us with alarm in his eyes. The waiting area was filled with gangstas and every one of us had the taste of blood in our mouths, so his fear was warranted. Denton’s finest was ever present, and as Pearl faced the doctor, she whispered to one of her three daughters to clear some of the niggaz out.

  “Are you the family of Joseph Williams?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, we are, doctor—I’m his mother and the others are brothers and sisters. How’s my child, doc?”

  A skeptical stare was plastered on his face, as he glanced in the officer’s direction and stuttered as he asked— “Can we step into the back Ms.—Ms.—”

  “Pearl—Ms. Pearl—and no, we can’t step anywhere doctor. Why don’t you just give it to us straight, so we can skip all the extras.”

  One of Denton’s finest walked up with his hand on the butt of his weapon. “Is there a problem, Doc?”

  My face balled up instantly. “Say, Cuz—” I growled.

  Pearl put her hand up. “Never mind this Uncle Tom ass nigga, Twisted!” Her eyes locked onto the officers. “If you woulda been that quick to do your job. My son wouldn’t be laid up in this hospital fighting for his life. You mu’fucka always come around after the fire, but you shoulda came around when you saw the smoke!” Spit flew from her mouth, as she was now inches away from the officer’s face with no fear. Pearl rolled her eyes at the officer and addressed the doctor. “Now, Doc—how is my fuckin’ son?”

  Fear etched the doctor’s features, he looked to the heated cop then back to Pearl. “I’m sorry— he didn’t make it.”

  “Nooo,” Kasha, Joe’s sister screamed, as she crumbled to the floor. Fam attempted to calm her, but she was inconsolable.

  Mena came and stood by me. “He didn’t make it, did he?” Tears were already in her eyes and her body language read my answer before I could even speak. I shook my head in confirmation, she turned and ran out of the room. As I stared at the destruction around me, I wondered why real niggaz had to go? Berg leaned against the wall seeming to be in deep contemplation. I made my way over to him and his eyes lifted to mine.

  “What’s crackin’ dig, I ain’t gonna sit here and act like I feel yo’ pain cause I don’t know how to feel that shit no mo. I done lost so much that my feelings fucked up. I can say that yo’ tears are mine and when my tears fall, revenge is the only remedy for me,” Berg stated in anguish.

  I looked at my big cousin. “Something ain’t right, fam—fuck was homie doin’ in Concrete City?”

  ***

  ~Asatta~

  I valeted the G-5 at the curb—Betty Wright knocked at mid-levels as I observed the scenery. It was a clear night, the moon looked as if someone tied a rope around it and pulled it closer to her Victorian themed home. The terracotta roof, shined under its illumination, giving off a wet glow. The stars looked like small diamonds on a velvet cloth, it made me want to take my horn out, snap a few pictures, and send them to Jazz—she loved the stars. Then it hit me, and my chest turned cold as I was reminded of the betrayal, the fuckery! My horn vibrated on my hip, snappin’ me out of my regret. ‘Chocolate’ flashed across the screen.

  “What you know about it, mama?” I answered.

  I heard the smile in Armani’s voice. “Nothin’, what you doing, bae?”

  I glanced at the house and reclined my seat to get comfortable for the wait, and to vibe wit’ lil’ baby. Over the past few weeks, me and lady had been rocking kinda tough. I fucks with her hard body, but I’d noticed something was off ‘bo
ut baby. Naw, not no ill snake shit, but bipolar—nigga. I’ll bleach yo’ clothes, bust yo’ windows—but I love you with every breath I got typa shit.

  “Assata, you hear me?” she yelled.

  “My fault—I’m tending to some business—what’s good wit’ you, ma?”

  “You always tending to business—don’t forget you added a little more to your plate. A businessman can’t start businesses all over town and forget to tend all of them. Each one adds something to your success. So, you invest your attention equally!”

  I chuckled lightly as I listened to her philosophical humor. “Let me find out I got you open, Chocolate?” She did this little sexy ass laugh as ‘Playas ‘Cheers to You’ came on.

  “Chocolate, huh? I like that, yeah Satta, you got me open, boy. Open like a Super Wal-Mart, but I will close if I ain’t yo’ flavor. I know you’ve been hurt by people you loved, you’ve told me that much, but give me my own story to create. I’m nothing like those girls—not even a little bit. Dick don’t move me and it ain’t shit for me to be loyal.”

  I reclined my seat a little further back, as I listened to Chocolate’s thoughts. “Listen, I know your heart still beats for that girl—umm, what’s her name?” She questioned as if I didn’t know the streets had already told her.

  “Jazzy,” I humored her. I knew damn well she ain’t forget it.

  “Yeah—her—I’m cool with that because I know, I’ll make you forget about her. You need to, she’s showing you her caliber.” Chocolate paused and with a soft voice she said, “Just don’t hurt me, King.”

  As I laid in wait, listening to Chocolate’s spiel, the door to the house opened and Heaven walked out.

  “Dig, lady—we’ll catch up in traffic, business is on the way. I need my undivided attention, so I don’t make any mistakes.”

  “Um-hum—it’s cool, daddy, just make sure you think about what I said. Even Wal-Mart can close if it’s located in a neglected area.”

  “Peace, lady—if any door closes and gets locked. What you think they make master keys fa?”

  ***

  ~Goose~

  I snapped the pin back into the SKS after oiling it, my mind was filled with uncertainties. Many things could go wrong. This shit Assata had planned was the ultimate last lick but intermingled with the possibility of being the ultimate fed’s case or burial. It was in stone though, the squad knew their position. I trusted my lil’ nigga and the heart to heart him, Pain, and I had last night at Lovey’s sealed our agreement, that this would be our transition away from the game as a whole.

  Shid, it was time for a change, I’m forty-three years old, and God has been talking to me for quite some time. The doorbell interrupted my train of thought. As I placed the SK under the bed, I heard Lovey at the door talking to someone. As I came around the corner she yelled, “Ben, you have a package at the door!”

  “I’m right here, Lovey—stop all that yelling woman,” I teased.

  “Chile, you know, your ears are just as bad as mine and you’re just in your forties,” she giggled.

  I laughed at her truths as I show my I.D. and signed for my package, some typa envelope. The aroma of Lovey’s cooking made my stomach growl, so I went to where my nose led me—the kitchen. It was empty, except for the pots simmering on the stove. I sneaked over to the biggest one, removed the top, and the heat from her famous Cajun Gumbo splashed in my face. The big spoon sat on the counter. I grabbed it and dipped it into the pot, finding a few shrimps and sliced sausages. I closed my eyes in preparation of the explosive taste, my taste buds were already on fire. Steam beat the spoon to my lips and just as my mouth opened, a snapping sound could be heard before the sting.

  “Ouch,” I screamed, knowing what the bidness was before I even set my eyes on Lovey pulling the towel back for another pop.

  The spoon was already on the floor. I ducked outta there as fast as I could, but not before she got another good pop on my arm.

  “And don’t you come back in here until I’m done, ya hear?” she laughed.

  We’ve been doing this same ritual since I was a lil’ nigga running wild and my big mama used to send me down here to get me out the Courts. Once I made it back to Satta’s old room, I closed the door, plopping down on the bed and opened the envelope. What the fuck? The contents spilled onto the floor, as my blood boiled and something dark snaked into my veins. In Islam, it was called, Iblis—Christianity, Satan.

  ***

  ~Assata~

  The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows to dance over our faces.

  “Are you two ready, to order?” the waitress smiled.

  I looked at the menu. “Yes, I’m ordering for me and my lady.” My direct eye contact told Free I had her.

  “I’ll have the Chateaubriand and mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and Moussaka and wild rice for the lady.”

  “Got it—anything particular to drink?” the waitress inquired.

  “Yea—bring us a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape and a bucket of ice—that will be it,” I requested.

  “Excellent! Coming right up, but until your meals are prepared, enjoy our complimentary amuse bouche. She pointed to the bite-sized slices of lamb. The surprise was painted all over Free’s face. She placed her hand to her chest in mock astonishment.

  “I’m floored— not trying to sound uncultured or as if I’ve never been away from home. But, I’m the typa girl that believe in asking questions when I’m lost. So—umm—what did you just order us?”

  I nodded my head in understanding, I respected her realism. I leaned closer to her as if I was preparing to tell her the world’s greatest secret.

  “Plainly, I ordered myself a double, thick-center cut of beef tenderloin, stuffed with seasonings.” I used my fork to grab a piece of the finely cut lamb and placed it in her mouth.” For you, it’s a Greek dish with layers of ground lamb and eggplant topped with cheese.” Using the pre-set napkins on the table, I wiped the corners of Free’s mouth. “I tried it last time I was here, just thought you would enjoy something different. Now, enough about our dinner, I’d rather vibe about something more intriguing.”

  “Like?” she asked with a smile.

  “Where did the Queen, Freedom, come from? I mean, you popped outta nowhere. To top it off, the accent gives you away. What is it, East Coast?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “You're full of surprises, Mr. Lamar. Yes, I’m from New York—Queens to be exact,” she stated boldly.

  “Why come way down here to the dirty—I mean, I ain’t complaining. I’m just saying—you coulda went anywhere, but as fate would have it, you’re here with me.”

  She looked at me bemused. “I thought we didn’t believe in fate?”

  “We don’t—the word just fit the conversation.”

  She busted out laughing, “And a sense of humor—a girl could spend forever with a brotha like you. But to answer your question—fate did not bring me here. My occupation sent me here to help open another branch. After that, I’m going back home.” Free took another bite of the lamb as fulfillment filled her face.

  Surprise plastered my face. “Going back? But, you just said a girl could spend forever with a brotha like me. I guess forever ain’t that long.

  “Yes, Assata, it is but it’s more to me than poetry. I can’t up and pack my bags and just leave behind my family and friends back home. Besides—forever is more than the notion of time. It also consists of what we make it. The lengths we go to in order to add chapters to a story, can either be a long or created in series.”

  “Peace, Earth—that’s deep waters I can swim in all day. But, let me ask you something.”

  “Shoot,” she said.

  “Am I your paramour or am I really this lucky to find you without God? How long have you been, Earth?” She did this little giggle that I’d grown to find delicious.

  “Well, if you put it that way—it’s complicated. My father is a God, but my mother was born N.O.I. My father introduced me to the Asiatic Black Man, my mothe
r had me doing Salat. My father hated it but loved her, so he respected the fact that after she prayed to Allah, she praised her God—Him. God—do I have one? No!”

  “So, you’re confused?”

  “Not at all, I just respect the pantheism.”

  “Pantheism?” she lost me with that one.

  She smiled and jeweled me. “The belief in and worship of all Gods. I feel that the world was created by, Allah! The only logical explanation of existence.” She saw the rebuttal before I could verbalize it. She put her hands up in the peace sign. “Peace, God—I’ve read Darwins ‘The Descent of Man’, and his ‘On the Origin of Species’. I’ve studied True Islam’s ‘The Book of God’— ‘The Quran’, all the way down to the Bible. I can’t tell you how we got here, but I’ll take my chances on Allah versus an explosion.”

  Before I could speak, I remind myself that everyone has a right to opinion. So, I would be out of line to excoriate her for hers.

  “I respect your lane, ma. I don’t know how we got here either. But, I don’t know the spook in the sky. Yes, I think people have the wrong perception of their studies. I know we as a people misread shit and create our own philosophy,” I stared at her.

  She must have taken my statement as a jab at her cause she frowned her pretty face. “I don’t have—”

  “Hold up, Queen,” I interrupted before she allowed her anger to sink any deeper. “I wasn’t speaking of you! What I’m saying is that we can create our own perspective based off of another person’s facts. I’m God-body and the way I interpret the Bible and the Quran may differ from a Christian or Muslim. Take, for instance, Genesis— it speaks of God creating the Earth—vibe with me. It says, in the beginning, God created the Heavens and Earth. The story of Adam and Eve when she was taken from his rib.

  “Earth, Genesis 1:2-4, the Earth was without form and void, and darkness was the face of the deep. Think of a woman before a man sticks his dick in her—her stomach is flat, right? Now—think of her stomach during pregnancy—her hips expand, her ass gets fatter, can you see it now?” I educated her.