B-Careful

by Shannon Holmes

  Tone slid into the passenger seat of the car with a no nonsense look on his face. The look said he was one hundred percent serious about what he was going to do. For him there was no more worrying about getting caught up in a beef that wasn’t his. Or doing something he had no business doing. He was all in, the Uzi submachine gun sitting in his lap said as much to his murderous agenda.

  “Take me to where this nigga be at,” he instructed his cousin Mann.

  Mann nodded and proceeded to drive. Meanwhile, Tone shifted his attention to the task at hand. There was nothing left to talk about. Because of Netta, their paths were destined to cross.

  Cautiously, Mann drove to 21st and Barclay Avenue. Slowly they crept up the block, on a search and destroy mission. This block was a crucial location to Black’s sprawling dope empire that he hoped to build. They had heard that he was out there on a daily basis, running the show. Mann had taken a few test runs through the area so he knew exactly what he looked like. He was just waiting for Black to show his face to point him out to Tone. Then he would handle the rest.

  Once upon a time ago, one wouldn’t catch Black dead on the block. He had an army of workers to insulate him from the police and from the streets. But that was then, and this was now. With his release from prison, he was starting his dope operation from the ground up. He was looking to regain that lofty status again, as the gatekeeper of the heroin trade in East Baltimore. However, he knew that he had to take a hands-on approach. Black had to be out on the block with his team.

  With Black’s level of success came a certain amount of confidence, a certain amount of arrogance, a way of thinking that made him feel untouchable. He didn’t count on anyone trying to derail his plans.

  Black stood amongst his young workers, watching as they made dope sale after dope sale, unaware of the danger that was lurking.

  “That’s that nigga right there,” Mann told him, pointing Black out.

  Immediately, Tone hopped out the car and sprung into action. He raised the compact submachine gun to his chest, barely having to brace himself. An eerie silence seemed to engulf the block seconds before the attack. Black’s sixth sense seemed to alert him of the assassination attempt. He turned just as Tone pointed the weapon at him. Black was able to duck a millisecond before Tone began to fire.

  The heart pounding sounds of automatic gunfire shattered the tranquility of the block. Sounds of broken glass, running feet and screams soon filled the air. Tone was thoughtless in his firing of the Uzi. He unleashed a high volume of bullets that no target could sustain to an extended period of time. He fired at Black and anyone else he thought was a threat. He wasn’t really thinking, a gun of that magnitude didn’t require him to. All he needed to do was point and squeeze the trigger.

  Tone was sure he hit a few people. He could tell by the screams and the sudden collapses to the ground. Yet he wasn’t for sure if he had hit Black, his primary target.

  After a few tense moments of hiding behind a car and listening for Tone’s footsteps, Black was able to slip away amongst the ongoing confusion.

  For the entirety of the shootout, all Tone kept thinking about in the back of his mind was the police. He kept a silent count in his head of how long things had been going on. Right now it was telling him it was time to go. So Tone hopped back into the car, automatic gunfire erupted from the interior as they sped off.

  Humiliated, Black ran through the alley a few blocks away. He knew he was lucky to have escaped with his life. He also knew he might not be so lucky next time. He didn’t know who that guy was that was shooting at him, but one thing he knew for sure, he was going to find out.

  Netta hadn’t paged Tone a single time since he left the house earlier in the day. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to. She tried to ease her anxieties by going to bed. But whenever Netta tried to rest, she couldn’t. She just laid in the bed unable to sleep. There was constant movement, fidgeting from her eyes and limbs. Her mind was constantly in motion. She was experiencing strong bouts of restlessness. Black kept popping up in her head. The only thing that brought her peace was the grip of the gun in her hand.

  She was having second thoughts about her new living arrangements. Netta felt she had rushed into this living arrangement knowing it was what he wanted, but not knowing if this was what she really wanted.

  A sudden opening of the apartment door broke up those negative thoughts. When Tone finally arrived home, Netta had never been so glad to see someone in her life.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Tone asked as Netta embraced him.

  “Nothin’, I just missed you.” She smiled in an attempt to divert him from the truth.

  Tone knew something was up even though he didn’t bother to press her about it. He had deeper concerns at the moment.

  “I took care of that nigga,” he suddenly stated.

  After shooting at Black, the only regret on Tone’s part was he didn’t let Netta know his plans before hand. However, he knew Black’s modus operandi, violence was his calling card. Black was a killer many times over. So Tone had made up his mind to strike first. He wasn’t waiting on Black to make the first move.

  “Who?” Netta wondered, not having the slightest idea of whom he was talking about.

  “Black!” Tone answered. “I think I got him.”

  You think, Netta wondered. Either you did or you didn’t.

  Tone continued, “Shit was crazy out there. I was just shootin’…..”

  “Black ain’t the type of nigga you shoot. He’s the type of nigga you kill,” Netta told him.

  Those words hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, with each person left to determine the true meaning.

  Instantly, Netta’s mind was flooded with fears and what ifs. Her warning seemed to allude to something. Like there was trouble brewing on the horizon. This would be a tit for tat situation. Right now, Tone was up, but Black owed him one. She knew that if he ever caught up with them, Black would be out for blood.

  Suddenly, things were getting too real, too serious, and too dangerous for them both. Now there were consequences to pay.

  “Now we really gotta get up out of Baltimore, yo……” Netta stated.

  After speaking she fell silent. Now she was left to ponder what Black’s next move would be.

  17

  Netta lay in the bed, half asleep. She was emotionally drained and exhausted from having been up all night. She had talked to Tone briefly during the night, just to make sure that they were on the same page with their exit strategy. Yet the reality of what he had done weighed heavily on her. There was no coming back from the mistake Tone had made. The incident only served to accelerate their departure.

  In her sleep a sense of complete isolation had overtaken her. Netta had forgotten that she wasn’t sleeping alone. When Tone wrapped his arms around her trying to cuddle, panic suddenly gripped her. She elbowed him hard in his midsection, while retrieving the firearm from under her pillow. She raised the weapon high into a firing position at the same time whirling around to face her would-be attacker.

  Tone rushed into action, making a grab for the gun and began wrestling it away from her.

  “Yo! Yo! Netta it’s me!” Tone shouted out as they tussled.

  Netta struggled with Tone briefly before she came to her senses and recognized whom he was and where she was.

  “Sorry,” she apologized. “I was havin’ a bad dream.”

  She winced faintly in the darkness as a throbbing sensation signaled that she was experiencing another chronic headache.

  “Gimme the gun,” Tone ordered. “Ma, you about to kill me up in here. Lemme put that shit away.”

  Tone rose from the bed in nothing but his boxer drawers and flipped on the light. He took the gun and placed it in a shoebox in the closet, for safekeeping.

  “I got a little paranoid when you touched me,” she explained. The possibility of Black returning was never far from her thoughts, while getting as much money as possible was the main thing on his
mind.

  “I see,” he replied, feeling that she didn’t have to worry about repercussions from Black, at least not with him there.

  Tone’s plan of gathering up as much money as possible before they left Baltimore, before Black made a move against them, was now in jeopardy. Netta’s paranoia was complicating matters.

  “Tone, we gotta get up outta here. I’m not goin’ to feel safe until we do,” she admitted.

  Tone had to push all thoughts of Black aside and try to place himself in her shoes. How would he feel if a certified killer wanted him dead. He realized who was he to tell Netta about her safety? Who was he to tell her how to feel? If anything happened to her, he would have to live with that guilty feeling, especially after she had expressed her apprehensions.

  “I hear you,” Tone stated, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “We need to leave Baltimore a.s.a.p.” Netta suggested. “Get all your money off the streets or either leave the work wit’ your cousin Mann and let him Western Union you the money.”

  Tone wasn’t too sure about that. After all, he had built this thing up from scratch on his own. He wasn’t too sure about handing over the keys to his empire to anyone.

  “I’ll be ready in a few days,” Tone admitted. “I just need to take care of some things.”

  Netta didn’t like what she was hearing. The risk factor of staying too long in Baltimore was unacceptable. She wished that he would realize that they were wasting precious time and they needed to make their escape a top priority. She felt his response was inappropriate, considering the circumstances. She blamed her ill feelings on the high stress of the situation. Still, she tried to understand his position. Tone couldn’t just leave, pick up and drop everything. He was running a drug business and other people depended on him for their livelihood. It was silly to think that he could.

  “You gotta few days to wrap this shit up,” she explained. “Cause I’m leavin’ with you or without you. But I’d rather it be with you.”

  Tone would keep Netta’s sense of urgency in mind, like he didn’t have enough to worry about right now.

  “Okay, say no more, I’m on it,” Tone promised, unsure exactly how he was going to make it happen.

  “Good,” Netta replied as she snuggled up underneath him.

  At least now he wouldn’t have a valid excuse for not being ready. Tone said he would be ready and Netta planned on making him keep his word. Or else.

  Though she had Tone’s word that they were moving, she recognized his heart really wasn’t in it. Still, everyday until they moved, Netta complained about it to Tone. She was beginning to fear that he wasn’t taking this situation seriously. While on the other hand, Tone was more than somewhat annoyed by her constant reminders.

  The days leading up to their exodus took on an uneasy rhythm for Netta. She busied herself running errands, going to her storage and packing clothes. She was making all the necessary arraignments with a moving company to have her household items moved to Atlanta, once they found a suitable place to live.

  “We gotta get outta here,” she would say.

  Since the attack Netta had lived in fear of what could happen. Her mind was being controlled by what might happen again.

  Her belief of getting out of Baltimore alive began to wane over the next few days. Netta felt if she ran fast enough and went far enough, that she would escape Black’s wrath. He would never catch up to her.

  Netta hoped everything worked out for Tone on his end, because her only other option would be to leave him behind.

  Tone arrived at Mann’s crib out in Carroll County. His reason for seeing him was he needed to pick up all the proceeds that had been made while he was away and to get an account of how much product they had left. The elephant in the room was Tone had yet to tell his cousin of his imminent departure. He knew he had to choose those words carefully.

  “…..this is a little of over forty-five thousand,” Mann said, handing over a duffel back filled with cash. “As far as the work go, we still good, but we gone need to re-up in a few days.”

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Tone announced.

  There was intensity in his words that really made Mann pay attention.

  Tone continued, “Yo, after this shit done, I’m out!”

  Mann looked at him, puzzled, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he had just heard.

  “Where you goin’? To the city?” Mann wondered. “Yo, how long you stayin’?”

  “Nah, I’m done. After this batch is done I’m leavin’ Baltimore. I’m headed to Atlanta, me and Netta.”

  Mann couldn’t understand why Tone wanted to leave. They had a good thing going in Baltimore. Together they had started laying the foundation for a major drug organization, brick by brick. So for him to just up and leave was inexplicable. He suspected Tone’s new girlfriend had something to do with this.

  “When did you come up wit’ this? And why is you just now tellin’ me?” his cousin stated, determined to make sense of it all. “So this ain’t got nuttin’ to do wit’ that shootout we had the other night or ya girl, huh?”

  This was something he’d never talked about with his cousin. He didn’t want anyone else’s opinions factoring into his personal decision.

  “I been thinkin’ about leavin’,” he went on to explain. “Only thing really keepin’ me here was Sonya. But now that that’s over, I’m out! We had a good run. No arrests. No indictments. No nothing. How long can our luck hold out?”

  “Nigga, what the fuck I’m suppose to do, huh?” Mann shot back. “I ain’t got the dough you got. This shit is bread and meat right here. I ain’t ready to just hand over somethin’ I built up to the next nigga. I got’s to ride this shit till the wheels fall off.”

  “Mann, I been tellin’ you to save ya money. Put somethin’ away fa a rainy day,” Tone commented.

  “Nigga that’s easier said than done,” Mann told him. “A nigga got bills, bitches, and a spendin’ habit. C’mon my nigga, you know how that goes.”

  Tone knew very well what it was like to be young, dumb and getting money. He knew about the reckless spending. He knew about living for today and dealing with tomorrow when it got here. Still, that didn’t justify Mann’s irresponsibility with his money. However, Tone understood his plight.

  “Best I can do for you Cuzzo is co-sign for some consignment for you wit’ the connect. He gonna hit you off on my strength. Please, please, whatever you do, don’t fuck dis up. My name ridin’ on this. Nigga, it’s a one shot deal if you do. If you fuck up, it’s over.”

  “Bet, that’s all I want. The opportunity to do my own thing and be my own man. I got this,” Mann assured him.

  Mann felt like he could do it. After all, he had been Tone’s lieutenant, he had been responsible for a little bit of everything. Running his own show wasn’t anything more than what he had been doing for his cousin.

  “I’ll see you on the block tomorrow,” Tone told him as he prepared to leave. “Be out there earlier so we can move this work a lil faster.”

  “No doubt,” Mann replied. “Catch you in the A.M.”

  When Tone had exited the house, Mann was still hyped at the prospect of having his own drug operation. Tone had done well in Baltimore. He hoped his cousin would do the same. He wasn’t just passing off his drug connection out of sympathy. He thought his cousin could excel if given the chance. Well, here it was and as he told him, he’d better make the most of it. Tone was leaving town, any problem Mann had, he’d have to figure it out on his own.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tone was already beginning to imagine life in Atlanta. He wouldn’t be doing anything illegal to jeopardize his freedom down there. Tone planned on leaving his illegal life behind.

  18

  It had been three and a half days now and counting. Netta had fretted over every second, minute and hour. Finally, the big day had come. Tomorrow they would be bidding farewell to Baltimore, forever. The couple had jammed some of their worl
dly possessions inside a large U-Haul box truck. They hitched a car trailer to that in order to transport Tone’s brand new BMW M3. Everything was set. There was nothing left to do except for Tone to collect the rest of his money off the streets and for Netta to say her goodbyes.

  Netta’s bucket list of things to do before she left Baltimore was short as shit. She felt like she only had to share her business with one person before she left, and that was Mimi’s mother, Ms. Tina. The woman had done so much for her in the short time that she knew her. She housed Netta when she didn’t have any place else to go, fed her, nurtured her and loved her like she birthed her. So Netta felt justified in her actions to go see her. She completely disregarded Tone’s warning to, stay in the house.

  Netta was glad to finally be coming from under that dark shadow that haunted her during her daily routines. It seemed to be waiting inside the apartment, ready to rear it’s ugly head every time Tone hit the streets, leaving her alone. Suddenly, her fears and concerns were a thing of the past.

  Netta stood face to face with Ms. Tina as the two women gushed over each other.

  “Where’s the baby?” Netta wondered, referring to Mimi’s infant son.

  “The baby ain’t no baby no more,” Ms. Tina replied. “That boy is in daycare now. Thank God, cause my grandson is a handful. So you mean to tell me you just up and leavin’ Baltimore huh? Girl, you playin’ around.”

  “I wish I was, Ms. Tina,” she replied. “It’s true, I’m leavin’.”

  “I wish you could take that god damn daughter of mines with you,” she said in a stern tone with the happiness leaving her eyes. “That girl out here carryin’ on with them drugs. I don’t know what the devil got into her.”

  Netta felt inadequate. She wished she could help Mimi, if only for her mother’s sake. However, she knew it wasn’t that easy. Mimi had to hit rock bottom first. She had to want to get clean for herself. For Netta, the fact of the matter was, she couldn’t save anyone until she saved her own self.