Who Shot Ya Box Set
Page 48
Both men had confused looks on their faces as I dropped the broom pieces and strode over to Pain. “If this shit ain’t Lovey’s and you ain’t put it there—” he begun before I took the tool from him and opened their eyes to the power of a treacherous woman that possessed a sex appeal and some good pussy.
As I explained, I had to smile at the realization—those were the same two attributes that Cleopatra used in seducing Julius Caesar when she appeared before him rolled up in a bundle of red carpet. Once it was unfurled—a goddess stood before him laced with seduction and an ulterior motive. As I studied the black Glock nine, the only thought that registered was – Even before Christ, women had more game than men.
****
~Twisted~
My wounds were healing properly—after I’d allowed Crazy to get the lead out my leg and shoulder, I’d had to be rushed to the hospital. Homie was able to open the wounds, but had the slightest idea how to close them, so it was imperative that I got medical attention. While there, the physician had to be threatened and paid under the table not to report me to them, folks. I sat for hours as he stitched me up and blabbered about how I coulda ruptured arteries or severed nerves. I ignored homie, paid him, and got the hell up outta there. It had been a fucked-up day, so as soon as I made it to the crib, I headed straight for my smoke stash, I was out!
Frustrated—I crumbled to the couch and rested my head against the soft leather. I needed something to take my thoughts away from my losses, but more conflicting, Tessa’s blood wasn’t even dry on my hands yet, and I already missed the dumb bitch. I couldn’t believe shit had turned so sour. I had never intended to whack my bitch and run off with that Mexican slut, but I had to give it to the nigga, Pain—he thought quick on his toes. Tessa should have been smarter than that, but that goes to show how feeble a female’s mind could be when the man she was dedicated to didn’t mold her and cultivate the proper morale within their bond.
Anotha nigga should neva be able to play on the next man’s woman psyche, but if a man failed to jewel his gal, he deserved to lose to a better man’s game. I lifted my head—my eyes absently scanning my plush living room until something caught my attention. A perfectly rolled blunt rested on the tiled floor by the door, one of my potnas must have dropped it when they helped me to the house. I struggled to my feet—I now regretted refusing the crutches the hospital tried to offer.
‘Pride is a man’s worst enemy,’ I thought as I retrieved the blunt and dragged myself back to the couch.
I took a lighter out of my pocket and smiled at my luck—the universe must have known, I needed to escape. I put the flame to the tip and inhaled deeply! I held the funny tasting smoke before exhaling—that shit had no potency. I took another deep pull from the stick, then repeated the process over and over again until a quarter of the blunt was gone, but somewhere between my yearn to get lifted, and thinking that whoever bought that shit shoulda shot the mu’fucka that sold it to ‘em, something fucked up transpired.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled as the blunt fell from my lips and my brain exploded.
****
~Ice Berg~
I’d been out of bounds for days tryin’ to get my business back on track. After getting Twisted’s stupid ass to the hospital, I’d chose to duck off for a while at one of my lil’ freaks spots to let the heat die off. I knew my choice of not aiding them Blood niggas in their rescue of Assata’s pussy ass had relit the fuse to our beef, but fuck ‘em! I couldn’t reveal myself to Russia, even though he knew I was still amongst the living, he couldn’t have known I’d gotten a new face, and I wasn’t ‘bout to give him the only leverage I had in exchange for the life of a nigga that’s been the opposition all my life. The only thing that plagued my thoughts was who opened Russia’s eyes to me? The only two people that had a connection to Russia was Belle and Pueblo.
Someone had led him to Pueblo, and Belle wanted him dead too bad, so who was a powerful question. Could it be Belle? I wondered as I followed the curving fish tank through my domain. It was dark in my house, but familiarity and the aqua waters were the only things I needed to lead me to my room. As I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that nagged at me. I’d been calling Belle all day since she texted to tell me she’d made it back in town, but she’d ignored every text and call.
‘Could she be the culprit? Was Russia stupid enough to accept her back into his fold after such betrayal?’ Those were my thoughts as I pulled my phone off my hip and speed dialed Belle’s number for the tenth time that day.
Though she didn’t pick up, the strangest thing happened, and I drew the heat from my waist as I eased to the doorway of my bedroom. A phone rang and I knew the ringtone belonged to Belle. As I disconnected the phone, the ringing cut off as I swiftly stepped into the room—gun first! My fingers were firm on the trigger as I anticipated a gunfight, but all I found was a pitch-black room bathed in a soft blue glow from the bulbs in the tank. Belle slept peacefully with her face to the door. Her pretty face was pale from the glow of the still waters, and in an attempt at not waking her, I headed for the shower with timid steps.
As soon as I’d showered, I was gonna fuck the shit outta her for ignoring my calls. I laughed to myself as I slipped into the huge bathroom—I was ‘noid as fuck to assume that she had crossed the squad, but then a thought caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and it hit me.
‘How the fuck Bella get a key to my house?’
****
~Twisted~
My head swiveled with every voice I heard, “Kill yourself—you can join lil’ Joe and O.G. Capp, they need you!” An evil voice whispered in my left ear.
“No—don’t do it, Cuz, the lil’ homies need you!” someone screamed in my right.
“Fuck the lil’ homies, they planted that blunt there—strap up and go find them, niggas, they’re tryin’ to kill you!” the demon hissed.
“He’s lying—just get—”
“She the fuck up!” I roared as I bolted up from the couch. I was losin’ it. ‘What the fuck was that I’d smoked?’ I wondered as my TV exploded and transformed into a transformer. It became a robotic villain that was trying to do me in. “Shoot it, Cuz, shoot it!” The demonic voice screamed as I took my tool off my waist and aimed at the TV.
The evil mu’fucka aimed the remote at me and pressed a button—the green laser beam that emitted from it missed but told me it was do or die as I squeezed off two shots and dove over the couch. That was the worst thing I could do cause as soon as I landed, I spotted lil’ small people hiding back there. One of them looked at me and put his finger to his lips as if to tell me to stay quiet. He peeked around the couch, and hurriedly ducked back down as a knock at the door alerted us to company.
“He’s called reinforcements!” the lil’ guy whispered in a shrill voice.
My heartbeat was outta this world as I clutched the tool.
“Get yo’ bitch ass up and fight like a man—shoot through the door, dumb ass!” the evil voice hissed.”
“No—stay hidden, your life depends on it!” said the angelic voice.
“You sound like a lil’ bitch, right now,” replied the other voice.
****
~Ice Berg~
As soon as I stepped out the shower, my horn vibrated on the counter. I dried my hands and looked at the screen before I answered.
“Sup, homie?”
“Say big homie, did I leave a blunt in your car?” Lil Ben asked.
I shook my head at the careless lil’ nigga as if he could see me. “Groove, I don’t know, I’ll check tomorrow—right now I’m ‘bout to call it a night, fam. I’m on my last leg. Why you ask, though?”
Lil Ben inhaled something before speaking through a cloud of smoke. “It’s nothin’, big homie, I had a toon stick before we left the spot, but when I got home it was gone. I assume it’s either one or two places—either in yo’ whip or I dropped it at Twisted’s. I’m ‘bout to go check on the homie anyway, get you some rest, Loco.”
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“Groove, homie,” I replied before disconnecting the call.
As I made my way to my bed, I wondered how these young boys smoked toon like that. I know toon was another name for K2—synthetic marijuana, potpourri sprayed with chemicals that I didn’t know the name of. Belle was still in the same position when I walked to my side of the bed and patted myself dry with the towel I had around my waist. I slid under the blanket and scooted over to her sexy ass, but as soon as I wrapped my arm around her, I knew something was terribly wrong! I jerked my arm back in repulsion—Belle’s body was as cold and stiff as a frozen piece of meat. I jumped from the bed and rushed to turn the lights on and as soon as the pale light washed over the room, the blood smeared word let me know shit had gotten real.
‘VOR’ was spelled out in blood across the wall. I remembered hearing the terminology used by Russia’s workers when I used to meet ‘em for pick up, VOR was a Russian slang for Drug Lord. I slowly made my way over to Belle. My instincts told me to get the hell out of there, but curiosity got the best of me. I pulled the blanket away from her still frame. Rigor mortis hadn’t sat in completely which told me she hadn’t been dead more than twenty-four hours. She clutched something in her hands that I couldn’t see, but what I could see is she’d died from a slit throat, and no telling what other horrors she’d been subjected to.
I had to pry her hand open, and what I discovered confused me for only a moment before the device began to beep rapidly. I bolted for the nearest window, there was no time to think before the explosive detonated. I crashed through the glass at an odd angle with flames at my back—the blow propelled me about fifteen feet into the air before I fell to the ground in a heap of burned and smoking flesh.
The last thing I remembered thinking was, “At least I’m alive!”
Then everything went black.
****
~Twisted~
“Say, homie, it’s me—open the door, fam, its cold as a bitch out here,” someone called from the other side of the door.
“Me, who?” I screamed from behind the couch.
“Twist, fuck wrong with you, my nig, it’s Lil Ben. Now open the door before I freeze out this bitch.”
Somewhere beyond the surface of my insanity, recognition was spiked. I climbed back over the couch and dropped to the floor like bullets were flying over my head. I army crawled to the door then climbed to my feet. I spun to the side of the door frame and held the tool away from my body like the police do before they busted into a room.
I counted to ten before snatching the door open and thrusting the burna forward. “You tryna murk me—huh, pussy!” I raged wit’ my finger molesting the trigger.
Lil Ben’s face held a shocked expression. “Wha—what the fuck you talmbout, homie, I—hold up.” He paused in midsentence and studied me, then the nigga busted out laughing as if my ‘G’ was comical or something.
I was on the verge of squeezing on him until he did the most fucked up shit I couldn’t have anticipated in my life. Lil Ben slapped the gun sideways before kicking me in the nuts! The tool fired as I doubled over and tried to catch my breath.
Lil Ben snatched the gun out my grasp and said, “My fault, homie, but this was for your own good.” Then he fell to the ground laughing.
Chapter Nine
Talk with Lovey
~Detective Winslet~
“We’re gathered here to celebrate the homecoming of a woman that touched the hearts of everyone she met. A mother—an Aunt—a Queen!” Reverend Hamilton shouted to the congregation.
The Church of Christ was packed to capacity, and if I didn’t know that Lovey had been a pillar of her community, I’d think she was a hood superstar. As soon as the thoughts crossed my mind, I saw the truth within the epiphany, to the Kreek she was! The woman was loved by the young, and the old alike, the church was evidence to that. Young and the old came to see her off, she was truly loved.
“I’d like to present something to the congregation,” the preacher announced as he opened a folder of some sort.
After he found what he was looking for, his eyes scanned the room as if he were looking for someone in particular. Nervousness raced through me as his eyes paused in a studious manner, but before I could pray he didn’t single me out, his eyes rolled to Goose, and Pain who was seated on the pew beside me. His eyes lingered there for a while before they drifted to the empty spot where Assata would have sat, and something like understanding swept across the man of the cloth’s face. It was a known fact that Assata hated funerals, but this one particularly would tear him to shreds. He wouldn’t show to see the cold face of the only woman besides his deceased mother he’d ever loved completely, confined to a pine box. I understood that sometimes even the heart of a warrior isn’t strong enough for certain things.
“Bennie—” Rev. Hamilton addressed Goose by his government name. “Dunte—” he acknowledged Pain. “Lovey loved you boys more than herself and she’d prepared for this day. She used to tell me that you boys were the only reason God kept her here on earth. She knew God would take her before he took one of y’all—” the preacher paused and pulled out a silk handkerchief to dab his eyes. “She said God loved her too much to make her suffer like that.” He then held up the folder and semi waved it around to ensure it was seen by all. “This is her words that she wrote for you boys and made me promise to read them to y’all on this day.” He laughed presumingly remembering that particular conversation between him and the old lady.
He then placed his glasses on, and began reading the words that touched the hearts of every man and woman in attendance,
Hey Boys,
I know today is a day you two wasn’t expecting. I say you two because I knew Assata wouldn’t show up to see me off. That knucklehead is as stubborn as a horse being broken, and he’ll need you two in the days to come because out of you three, he’s always had the most powerful emotions. He got that from his mama, sho did. I don’t need no back talk when you hear this, don’t make me—what’s that term you young people use, trip out? I don’t wanna see no tears for me—not a one!
You see, life is only a creation of purpose, everything under the sun has its purpose, Chile. The sun provides heat and light to the earth. The trees help provide oxygen to the atmosphere. Animals provide food for each other, and the moon is the earth’s natural satellite and holds the waters in place. Me—my purpose was to love and teach, and I fulfilled that purpose. I lived for you boys to know that God wasn’t only Jesus in flesh, but also love in the flesh!
Without love, there’s no reason to breathe because the birth of love gives reason to things. I want you boys to make something of yourselves and leave them streets behind you. There’s no promise there, and when one dedicates his life to something or someone that can’t love them back, they’re only making an investment in heartache. Life is beautiful, Chile, so enjoy it while you’re here. I won’t preach to you boys but remember this: Don’t cry for me, Chile— I lived my days after being born by the river. Survived times when white people called us niggers and we had to chop wood for the winter.
So, don’t cry for me, Chile. Know that I’m still there, even though you can’t see me. The love I left you with will guide you if only you trust in it when you need me. Remember me for who I am rather than the past tense. God just needed me for better things, so I had to pass through the last fence. Don’t cry for me, Chile. If you do, it means you’re sad that I made it to Heaven, and Heaven is exactly where I lived my whole life to reach. So, why would you be sad about that? Don’t cry for me, Chile.
****
~The Hit~
On the twentieth floor of Dubai’s most opulent hotel, a lone figure lounged in one of two overstuffed armchairs. His eyes gazed into a crystal tumbler, seemingly transfixed with the three symmetrical ice cubes spinning within the chilled scotch as he gently swirled the glass. Russia lifted his eyes and gazed out the tinted windows of the fifty-six story BURJ Arab Jumeirah—a beautiful, but expensive hotel. Russia marvele
d at the blue waters of the Persian Gulf as he thought of how ironic it was that the hotel was created in the shape of a sail swelling on the wide expanse of water.
He was all the way across the globe, quite a safe distance from the eye of the Bureau, yet—he knew the United States had no qualms tempting to extradite him back, even the UAE wouldn’t protect him from state dogs if they caught a whiff of his whereabouts. The vibration of his phone disturbed the serenity of his thoughts, but the old Russian understood that in his business there was no peace for the weary.
“Speak,” he spoke into the receiver.
“It’s done—what do we do with de girl?” an accented voice inquired.
Russia thought on it for a second before replying, “All means to achieve de goal.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before the other voice replied, “There’s a child?”
A knock at the room’s door pulled Russia’s eyes in that direction. “As I said, all means to achieve de goal—de child?” Russia stood and headed for the door before completing his sentence, “De child is collateral damage.”
****
~Assata~
‘For a nigga out of the gutta, it’s hard to have faith in something unseen,’ that’s what I thought as I held a single white rose in my left hand and strolled slowly through the gates of the dead’s bedroom.
My whole life has been one big horror movie where I prayed to a savior that never saved me. At times I wondered why the people that didn’t deserve to die, died early, and there were so many evil mu’fuckas that observed to take that eternal rest but thrived in life. I guess life really had no conscience, and if God was really up there sitting on a mu’fuckin’ throne watching real niggas and good women get bammed, neither did He! The chill that blew through the cemetery carried a strange smell—maybe that’s what loneliness smelt like.