Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  ~Back at the Office~

  Agent Forrest rode the elevator up to Harrison’s office. He was oblivious to the powers that be that was on to his scandalous ways, but even when one has one up on their opponent—they have to be aware of all possibilities. No one had enlightened Harrison’s receptionist to the foul agent. So, when he arrived—it wasn’t a red flag because the agent and Harrison were close pals, and there were times Harrison allowed the Drug Enforcement Agent to wait in his office until he got there. So, when he arrived and told her he was there to pick up a file that Harrison had left in his office, it didn’t seem uncommon.

  The door opened on Harrison’s floor, and the rogue cop followed the highly polished floors to Harrison’s office. He glanced around studiously before entering and headed straight for the file cabinet where Harrison kept all his cases and collected data. He began to search for the file on Russia, but it was missing. Frustrated—he figured the quickest way to obtain the info he needed was to get it off the laptop, he knew Harrison kept his back up data on. He powered the computer up, and as soon as the screen lit up, it read: Enter Password.

  ****

  ~Jazzy~

  “Do you, Maurice Smith, take Jazmina McKennedy, to be your lawfully wedded wife—to have, and to hold—through sickness, and health—till death do you part?”

  I heard the words as if they were far off. For some strange reason, my heartbeat was pounding against my chest, unexplained anger gave me hot flashes as I stared at Shotta.

  He continued to smile before he said, “I do.”

  Tears converged in my eyes, ‘Was I happy—disappointed? What was wrong with me?’ I thought.

  I was confused about the sudden tidal wave of emotions stirring inside me like a hurricane. I knew that Assata’s feeling affected me for reasons that only God could explain, but never had it been that powerful unless we were close. I shook my head slightly to clear it as the preacher turned to face me.

  “Do you, Jazmina McKennedy, take this man Maurice Smith, to be your lawfully wedded husband—to have and to hold—through sickness, and health—till death do you part?” he asked.

  I studied Shotta so long that his face contorted into a frown. “I do.” The words slipped from my lips but seemed foreign to my own ears.

  Shotta’s face instantly brightened as the preacher raised his hand above us. “If anyone in attendance feels that these two beautiful people shouldn’t be joined in holy matrimony—speak now or forever hold your—”

  Boom!

  A loud disturbance interrupted the ending rites and caused all eyes to fly to the back of the chapel. The doors flew apart as a stampede of men rushed the church. At first, I thought we’d all be killed because of Shotta’s gang affiliation—those men wore red mechanic jumpsuits with blood-red or burgundy bandanas covering their heads and faces. Shotta’s best man and homies jolted to the attention, but the monstrous artillery that the fifteen men had trained on everybody warned them that any false move would end fatally. Five of them had taken up the right side of the church while five of them secured the left, but it was the five that strolled up the center aisle that made my mouth drop to the floor, and my eyes to find those of the man that had finally climbed the mountains to find what we both knew was truly his.

  ****

  ~Agent Forrest~

  He tried every password he thought Harrison would use, but all failed. He’d tried Caroline—his wife’s name. Matt, and Susan—Harrison’s son and daughters names. He’d even tried Harrison’s wedding anniversary which was that day! None of them worked. Forrest leaned back in the seat exasperated.

  ‘What the fuck could it be?’ he thought.

  Then—as if the heavens had shined down on him, his eyes fell to the open Denton Record-Chronical that laid on the desk. It was open to an article on David ‘Ice-Berg’ Swanson—the man Harrison had been obsessing over for the past two years. On a hunch, Harrison typed in the words David Swanson, that didn’t work. So, he tried Ice-Berg—bingo: Access granted.

  ****

  ~Assata~

  Me, Goose, Pain, Spyda, and my dawg Thug took up the center aisle. The infrared emitting from the aims of their heat danced over the man that Jazzy stood beside. He had long dreads like Goose, but his pretty boy features made it hard to tell if he was ‘bout that action. I didn’t underestimate no man though—I knew that looks had nothing to do with the darkness of a man heart.

  So, as I approached them, I kept my eyes trained on homie as my lips parted. “Preacher, I ain’t tryin’ to be disrespectful, my nigga, but I got a hunnid reason in this here drum why these two won’t eva be happily married,” I declared once I was a safe enough distance away, that if shit got funky, I’d still be able to work the Mac efficiently. I turned my vision to the only peace I’d ever known. Jazzy was beautiful in a powder blue wedding gown that had a train that trailed behind her about eight feet. Our eyes bore into each others. “Sup, ma, you wasn’t gonna invite me to your wedding or what?” I asked with the big gun hanging loosely by my leg.

  Queen’s mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to speak, but her voice was failing her. He exotic grey eyes were lit with something-something that only I could recognize. It was the look of one that had given up on real love. The eyes of a woman that had settled. Jazzy had lost hope in me ever understanding her letter, but even the beast needed the beauty to help him turn back into a man.

  “Say, Cuz, have you, niggas lost ya mu’fuckin minds? Fuck is you, Loc, you betta get the fuck up outta here!” the dread head roared.

  Four red dots slowly crawled up his chest until they merged into one as my dawgs found their mark.

  “Say, Rusta, you may wanna put a muzzle on yo’ tongue before yo’ face replace Jesus’ on that cross up there on that pulpit,” I hissed as my eyes met his.

  From his stare, I could tell he wanted to test our nuts, but the dot in the center of his forehead had him look cross-eyed as his dumb ass attempted to swat it away.

  Without taking my eyes off the fuck nigga, I spoke to my heart, “Jazz, I’ll neva force myself on no woman, and I don’t know if you love this sucka or not, but for this shit I hold in here for you—” I tapped my chest with a gloved fist. “I climbed the mountain for you. If you do love him, you may as well stay up there, and pledge your forevas to him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept you loving anotha nigga, but the heart of a gangsta will always strangle his pride because his heart is his strongest weakness.” I looked into her bright eyes and willed my gangsterisms to penetrate her. “I’ve fucked hundreds of bitches—touched a mill ticket and had threesomes with some of the baddest bitches in the land. As fucked up as that shit sounds—the truth is, none of that has filled the hole in my chest like you have.”

  I took a step closer, at the same time the dread head stepped forward, and pushed Jazzy behind him. I had to admit the boy was bold. Still—I gave it to shawty from the gut, “I ain’t eva chased no female, but we know your heart beats for this shit right here.” I tapped my chest with the butt of the .90. “It’s time to come home, mama! You ain’t happy with this clown.” The dye was cast.

  Her silence spoke volumes and I waited for her to run into my arms, but with each passing second of her silence, I knew that fairytales didn’t always come true. ‘Shy had lied to me—Lovey had as well.’ I held my head as I turned to walk away.

  “I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry,” I heard her whisper at my back, but she could save her sympathy.

  Real niggas accepted defeat just as well as they accepted victory, and I’d just been defeated by what shoulda neva been my opposition.

  ****

  ~Agent Forrest~

  What I found shattered my world—picture after picture of me and Russia in lewd sexual positions, photos of private meetings, and a few at the Grand Hotel. I was so shocked that I sat there staring absently at the screen—initially, I’d been after the file to find out who the confidential informant was on the case, but what I’d found was a confidential
case on me! Perspiration dotted my flesh as my mind raced at a suicidal pace.

  ‘How’d they get these photos—maybe they were on their way to arrest me right that minute!’ My thoughts morphed into a space of paranoia that caused me to bolt from the chair frantically.

  Without turning the computer off, I rushed out of the room, and pulled my cell from my hip—I speed dialed a number as my head swiveled back, and forth in search of an ambush. Rather than take the elevator I took the stairs.

  ‘I have to get out of here, my days as a Drug Enforcement Agent are numbered,’ I thought as the line was picked up.

  “Mr. Forrest is everything alright—I thought—”

  “Shut the hell up and listen!” I cut him off in midsentence. “Get a jet fueled and prepare for the return—I’m speaking like yesterday,” I demanded and disconnected the call right as I made it to the exit door.

  The stairwell was dark as I peeked into the receptionist area, Angela was on the phone laughing at something whoever was on the other line had said. Everything seemed normal, but I knew the game the big boy played, so I waited a few more minutes before rushing out with my weapon drawn. The look on the receptionist's face was priceless as her eyes took in my disheveled appearance—her eyes dropped to the gun in my hand, and I thought about killing her, or maybe taking her hostage till I was safe.

  “What the—are you, alright, Mr. Forrest?” she fumbled over her words fearfully.

  I allowed my eyes to stay fixated on her. I was searching for the slightest indication that she was putting on a show so I could blow her fucking brains out. Certain that she wasn’t putting on an act, I left her sitting there with her mouth agape.

  ****

  ~Jazzy~

  “I’m sorry—so, so sorry.” I murmured.

  My heart shattered with each word, ‘I’d just said I do to Shotta, I couldn’t just walk away from the vow I’d just made in front of not only hundreds of people, but also God—could I?’ My heart answered as I repeated to myself. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry—so sorry.” I reached down to slide the heels off my feet, and without warning—I attempted to run toward Assata.

  Shotta caught me by the back of the neck. “Bitch, where you think you’re going?” he growled.

  He must have thought the men from the south were pussy or something, but the sounds of gunshots cleared the air as his shoulder exploded, and blood splattered my dress. I broke free from his grasp.

  “Assata!” I screamed from my soul, “Wait, baby!”

  ****

  ~Agent Harrison~

  After a delicious dinner of lamb chops and a few glasses of Chateauneuf du Pape, full-bodied wine from the Southern Rhone River Valley. Me and my wife shared a chilled dessert of Panna Cotta. I sat quietly as she shared her needs and caught me up on the missed games—the growth of children. I felt like a complete ass as I realized that I barely knew my own family.

  “Your son is growing up so fast, hon, and he’s at the age where he needs the love of his father. I am his mother, I can teach him many things, but Matt needs you to be there to root him on at his baseball games. We miss you, babe,” My wife whispered as I reached over and took her warm hand in mine.

  I loved my family and knew that my job was taking a toll on them. So, I made a vow that I would stand on regardless as to what happened. “Caroline, I know I haven’t been the best father or husband to you all, and I promise to do better. You and the kids are—” the sound of my phone gave me a pause as an irritated expression replaced the love she had just given me.

  We both knew the ringtone belonged to the office, just as my receptionist knew not to disturb me unless it was absolutely necessary. I gave her an apologetic look as I held up a finger to ask for a short moment. My wife rolled her eyes at me.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Harrison, I think you need to check on Agent Forrest from the DEA,” her words were panicked.

  Confusion seeped into my senses. “What—I mean, why?” I asked as a nauseating feeling crept into my stomach.

  Angela took a deep breath before her words ended my anniversary. “Well—he came into the office earlier to retrieve the file that you sent him to get, but—”

  “What!” I raged.

  I was already out of my seat and heading for the door, leaving my wife sitting at the table with tears running down her face.

  “Tell me you didn’t let him in my office, Angela,” I pleaded even though there was nothing for him to find.

  He didn’t know the password to my computer, and he didn’t know we were on to him, but I wasn’t too fawn of him snooping around my office while I wasn’t there.

  “Well, yea—I thought you sent him, and—”

  “Pack your things, Angela, you’ve done enough,” I said before disconnecting the call.

  I loved the woman like a sister, but her blunders were costly. The last thought I had before hopping behind the wheel and burning rubber out of the parking garage was, “My marriage was over—that was the last straw.’ I felt it!

  ****

  ~Assata~

  The gunfire and Jazzy screaming my name caused me to spin around with the tool ready to spit, but Jazzy caught me off guard as she flew into my arms and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  She buried her face in my neck and bathe me in her tears. “Baby, forgive me—please!” she whispered. “He—just forgive me, Assata, I’ve never loved another man like I love you.”

  As she spoke, my eyes lifted to observe my surroundings—the dread head was clutching his shoulder tryin’ to stop the bleeding as an older woman, and what looked to be her daughter kneeled to assess the damage. I knew it was time to get the hell up outta there before things got worse. The tension was thick as the best man, and a few otha cats fidgeted while screw facing us. I met each man’s gaze before my eyes fell on Pain. He was clutchin’ twin Glock sixteens and anticipating retribution for shootin’ their potna.

  “You boys got what you came for—she’s made her choice. It’s best y’all leave before the cops get here,” The older woman spoke her peace.

  Jazmina disentangled herself from me and turned to face her. “I’m sorry, mama, but this is where my heart is.”

  She stared expectantly, the older woman smiled a weak smile as she nodded her head in understanding. “Every woman has her own heels to walk in, sweetie, just keep in touch,” she responded.

  I didn’t know who the woman was, but at the moment she’d won my respect. I took Jazzy’s hand and led her out of the church as my niggas backed out with the business ends of them heatas still trained on the crowd. As the last one backed outta the church, I heard the dread head vow to find us, and repay the disrespect. I stored it in my head as we headed back to the Lone Star State.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Why You Lie

  ~Ice Berg~

  ~Two Weeks Later~

  Darkness blankets this cold cell—the atmosphere was so silent that the drippin’ of my leaking faucet sounded like rain splashing upon the surface of a body of water. It was three am and freezing cold as I sat in the darkness. I watched two small mice dart in and out of my cell in search of deserted crumbs that may or may not fill them up. It had been two weeks since I’d woken up out of surgery to find my wrists cuffed to the hospital bed and Agent Harrison sitting at my bedside with a smile so big it looked as if it hurt his face. Shit was fucked up for the kid, and at times I’d wished I’d died in the blast. I knew there was no way I’d escape from those white folks grasp, and after the dick sucka had read the thirty-five count indictment—I knew that if I didn’t tuck my tail, and turn rat—the least they’d give me was foreva and a day in prison. I reflected on portions of me, and the agent's convo before I got transported to Florence.

  “I won’t bullshit you, Swanson I lost hope in ever finding you. It was like you just up and disappeared, but then we struck gold!” He smiled brightly as he laid down the paper, he was reading and stood up. “We found out about your surgeries, an
d your dynamic drug empire you forged with the MS-13. You’ve been a very busy man, Mr. Ice-Berg, and I’ve been just as busy trying to find you so the United States could stick a needle in your arm to get justice for all the lives you’ve destroyed,” he spat. “Unless you might want to save yourself?” he proposed.

  I laughed in his face—I knew that was comin’. So many niggas were turning rat that the laws thought every nigga was a rodent. “I’ll take the needle, white boy, I ain’t got shit to spit box ‘bout unless my lawyer present.” Those were the last words I’d spoken to the sucka the entire thirty minutes he threatened and taunted me.

  Now as I sat lost in a cold cell, I sat as still as a statue. Shadows danced all around me, and loneliness was so thick that it was suffocating. Suddenly, a splash of sound tainted the silence—a raging voice filled with anger—malice—and hate. Somewhere down the long line of cells, a roar emitted from behind a locked door. Pain laced the tone as he screamed at whoever caused him to become unbalanced.

  “Fuck you, you, sorry motherfucker, I’ll kill you! You think I’m a hoe—huh?” he raved.

  Then, there was deep silence again, a silence so thick it could drive one mad. I sat still—listening for the response from whoever he was beefin’ with, but after two or three minutes without one—reality set in. There would be no response to the man’s madness because whomever he was speaking to didn’t exist! It was all mental. Still—I was unflinching with the darkness. I could feel the walls coming alive as my thoughts ran rapid. The cliché that people often used in jest became terrifying to me ‘if these walls could talk.’ If people only knew that those walls could not only talk but also steal the sanity from some of the strongest men.