B-Careful

by Shannon Holmes

  “Them drugs gone be the death of her,” Ms. Tina stated, in a matter of fact tone.

  Netta shook her head in agreement as the terrifying sound of a mother’s pain filled her ears. In Netta’s book, pain was pain, regardless of whom it came from or what it was about. No pain resonated with a mother more that the pain of losing a child to death, drugs or the streets. That went beyond agony, especially when you have to watch your child die the slow death of addiction.

  How could Netta tell Mimi’s mother that her and her daughter weren’t connected any more? That severance of their friendship was deeper than a simple disagreement. She didn’t know about Mimi any more. In the past she had viewed her as a friend, a sister and her close confidant. After Netta’s brush with death, and Mimi’s disappearance, she was left with an unshakable negative image of her so-called friend. Which lead her to an undeniable conclusion, they weren’t friends at all, merely friendly.

  “Wow.” Was all Netta managed to say.

  “I’m so glad you got your shit together and got your head on straight…Ain’t nothing out here in Baltimore but trouble. I wish you nothing but the best in Atlanta,” she said with finality, sad that she would never see Netta again.

  Unable to control her emotions, Netta threw he arms around the woman and gently embraced her. “I owe you so much, Ms. Tina. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.”

  Quickly the tears began flowing between the two women as they shared a very intimate moment.

  “Nothin’ is gonna change between us,” Netta assured her. “No matter where I go or what I do, you will always be family.”

  All at once Netta’s mind began to fixate on all the special moments that they shared in this house. The birthdays, all the holidays, Thanksgivings and Christmases. She would always cherish those wonderful times there, when she allowed herself to relive those memories. This house and these people who occupied it would always have a special place in her heart. No matter how far away she moved.

  It was a good three hours before Netta emerged from the home and hopped into an awaiting cab. Her first coherent thought was she was going to spend the entire night wide awake, unable to sleep. She was happy, but she’d be even happier this time tomorrow when they were on the highway.

  Netta knew that she would be too excited to sleep. She was looking forward to the move.

  As the cab slowly drove off, headed back to Owings Mills to take Netta home, a few cars down a non descript late model car pulled out of a parking space and proceeded to follow her. At the wheel was Stink, Black’s younger brother. He stayed a discreet distance behind the cab to avoid Netta’s detection. He wasn’t there to harm Netta, not yet anyway. His role was to observe and report his findings back to his brother.

  On the other hand, Tone had taken all the necessary precautions to be safe, carrying a gun at all times. Being cautious, not driving straight home. Constantly looking in the mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. But even with those safety measures in place, he still wasn’t completely safe. His significant other, Netta, undid all that with a quick trip to the hood.

  Netta had only herself to blame for this. Her surprise visit wasn’t a surprise at all. Netta had called ahead to make sure Ms. Tina was home. She in turn got in touch with Mimi and tried to convince her to come see Netta. Her daughter declined. However, what she did do was pass the information on to Black that Netta would be dropping by. He paid her handsomely for the information with some dope.

  “I just seen that bitch Netta, yo. She put some shit in a U-Haul truck parked in her parking lot. It’s a big truck. I think they moving somewhere, yo. I bet it’s outta town. We gotta get’em now. I’m tellin’ you, yo. What you want me to do?” Stink said to his brother Black.

  “What did I tell you to do?” Black asked. “It’s time to take care of business and get rid of all of these whores, yo.”

  It took every ounce of self-restraint for Black not to get right back at Tone. He wasn’t trying to go back to jail, he knew if he set another foot in a Baltimore courthouse, for anything, least of all a murder or an attempted murder charge, he may not ever see the light of day again. So instead of engaging Tone in a shootout, Black hatched a plan to kill him, Mann, Netta and Mimi simultaneously.

  Black did the smart thing, just watching, waiting and bidding his time. He had people following both Netta and Tone. So he was aware of their every move. Meanwhile, Mimi was being baby-sat around the clock by a host of workers, keeping her high as hell, tucked away in a stash house.

  However, now was the time to strike. There were no temporary solutions ... everyone had to die.

  Mann exited the stash house using the back door, under the cloak of darkness of the alleyway. Although he was visually alert for whatever he might encounter out of the ordinary. Mentally, he was elsewhere. His mind was on seizing control of Tone’s drug operation. For once in his life, Mann would be the boss. He smiled at the mere thought of that.

  At any minute Mann expected to reach his vehicle and head home, just like he always did at the end of the day. This time it was different, he was in a celebratory mood, he wasn’t in the mood to use his brain in any sort of capacity, except for drinking, smoking and sex. As soon a he got home he was going to indulge in all three things. His girl was already home waiting on him with the liquor, weed and some good pussy. Now all Mann had to do was get there.

  Mann emerged from the alleyway. His eyes quickly scanned the immediate area to the left and to his right, not a soul was in sight. He continued walking the short distance to his car, a black Toyota Cressida. He admired the freshly detailed vehicle as he approached, it seemed to sparkle underneath the street light. He clicked the remote, unlocking the car from a short distance away. Mann entered the dark tinted interior and stuck his key in the ignition. Just as he began to turn the key, he heard a voice in the back seat.

  “This from Black,” Stink snapped. “You whore!”

  Quickly, seven gunshots in rapid succession tore through the backseat, lodging in Mann’s upper and low torso. With blood gushing everywhere, he collapsed on the steering wheel, causing the car horn to blow loudly and attract unwanted attention. Stink jumped out the backseat, continuing to fire as he fled the scene on foot, running straight to a getaway car that was parked around the corner.

  Mann desperately tried to move his body into an upright position and start the car to drive himself to the hospital. He could do neither. The pain was too intense. Every second he fought to stay conscious only prolonged his misery. Finally, Mann succumbed to his internal injuries, passing out and dying right in the driver’s seat before any medical attention could arrive.

  At nine o’clock at night, coming down from a high, nothing looked more inviting to Mimi than another bag of dope. Black showed her no mercy, he kindly obliged her with the drug.

  “Here, yo,” he said, passing her the beige like substance. “This some new batch I want you to try out and tell me how it is.”

  Up to this point Black was a trustworthy, reassuring presence around her. He wasn’t like the other guys who wanted sex in exchange for some dope. He looked out for Mimi whenever she was dope sick and wanted to get the monkey off her back. Black supplied her with an endless amount of dope. That good dope that he gave her would chase away the black clouds that seemed to hover over Mimi, and make her feel good again.

  “Okay,” Mimi replied, her voice still slurred and her hair was a tangled mess.

  Eagerly, Mimi reached up, taking possession of the dope and began snorting. Black grinned in anticipation of the drug’s affect. The more Mimi snorted, the wider his smile became. A few minutes later, when every morsel of the drug was gone, Mimi began to feel funny. She fell back on the couch in an attempt to feel better. However, a feeling inside her told her something wasn’t right.

  Not a minute later, Mimi began sweating profusely as the battery acid mixed with heroin raced through her veins. Everything all at once seemed to cross her mind … her mother, her father, he
r son, even Netta. Her concern for life and the living were too little, too late.

  “Help me,” she cried. “Please…..”

  Black glanced down at her and smiled. He gave her hand a firm squeeze. “See you in hell, bitch!”

  In a few moments it was over, Mimi died as a result of respiratory failure. She stopped breathing and proceeded to turn blue. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Black wrapped Mimi’s body up in an area rug, placed it in the trunk of his car and drove to West Baltimore and dumped it in Druid Hill Park.

  Now there were two down, with two more to go.

  Late that night, Netta found herself pacing around her bedroom in nothing more than a white bathrobe. She hadn’t heard from Tone all day, although he told her earlier that he had a lot of running around to do. Still, with every passing moment, doubt was seeping into her mind. She was beginning to worry, big time.

  Netta paged him, and then she paged him again. She waited and waited for a phone call on the landline, but none came. She glanced outside her bedroom window to see if she saw any sign of Tone pulling up. She saw none. She began to get fidgety and overanxious as she awaited his arrival home for the night. She glanced over reassuringly at the moving truck they had parked in the parking lot. Netta told herself her escape from this personal hell was only a couple of hours away. She had never wanted anything more in her life.

  It seemed too good to be true. However, it was just that simple. They would leave Baltimore in the morning after Tone had gotten a few hours of sleep. Or maybe she could convince him to sleep in the truck while she drove the first leg of the trip.

  Now Netta was thinking too much. Tripping. Second guessing herself. She decided to lay her ass down. Worrying about Tone’s whereabouts was about to give her an ulcer.

  Netta went to the closet and grabbed the gun out the box, placing it under her pillow. She forced herself to try and get some sleep, just in case Tone agreed to her crazy plan of leaving as soon as he returned home, in the darkness of the night.

  Netta hadn’t been asleep all that long, two hours at best, when she was awaken by a disturbance at her front door. Her mind was still cloudy when she heard the rattling of the doorknob. The noise shattered the peace and tranquility of the night. She heard the squeaking sound of the front door that alerted her to the fact whomever it was had just entered the house.

  “Tone?” she called out. However, no reply came.

  Netta sensed danger. In her mind if it wasn’t Tone, then who could it be? There was only one logical explanation in her mind. There wasn’t anyone behind that door that was coming to make sure she was safe and secure. If they had gained entrance to her apartment, then they were coming to kill her. She was scared and her fear blocked her ability to think clearly, it blocked her ability to reason, her ability to do anything but protect herself.

  To be on the safe side, Netta grabbed her gun from underneath her pillow. She wasn’t going out like she had before. She wasn’t going to be victimized again. This time she would be ready for whoever or whatever happened next.

  Quietly, Netta got up out the bed, moving a few feet away from the door, assuming a firing stance. She bent her knees slightly, extending her arms, holding her weapon tightly with both hands. There would be no surrender or no retreat for her. She was going to make a stand. This was it. Fleeing wasn’t an option.

  Netta’s body was numbed by fear, still somehow she got the strength to defend herself. That turned her into the strong chick she had been before her world had been turned upside down by the beating.

  Bitch, you not trying to be tough. You are tough, she told herself.

  Fear overrode her caution.

  She could hear the sound of footsteps approaching as the person began closing the distance between them. Netta didn’t say anything, she didn’t want to give up her position. She just stood there, gun in hand, aiming at the door. The idea of Black coming to get her had been suddenly solidified in her head by this unidentified person in her apartment.

  “Open the door yo!.... It’s…..” a voice said, forcefully turning the doorknob.

  She didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence as two loud gunshots drowned out his words. The shots tore through the door, coming to rest inside the man’s chest cavity.

  Netta cautiously approached the door as she tightened her grip on the gun. She steadied her hand, preparing to finish the job. A horrified look adorned her face when she opened the door and saw what damage had been done, or better yet, whom she had done it to.

  Tone lay on his back, slumped on the floor, bleeding profusely.

  “I’m sorry, Tone. I…. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know it was you,” she cried.

  Not knowing exactly what to do, Netta cupped his head in her lap as Tone went into shock, bleeding out all over the rug. The muscles in his face tightened as he struggled to talk. Swallowing blood, no words came out.

  In this close proximity she could smell blood mixed with the strong scent of alcohol coming off his breathe. This led Netta to jump to the conclusion that Tone had been drinking. Maybe he was drunk and that’s why he didn’t respond to her call. He must have spent the day celebrating, drinking with his people before his departure the next day.

  “Oh my God,” Netta screamed. “What the fuck have I done to you, yo?”

  Drunk or not, Tone didn’t deserve this. To be shot down in his own house by the woman he loved.

  Precious time slipped away as Tone’s condition only worsened. From time to time he seemed to want to say something. But the best he could manage was mouthing his words. He began choking on his own blood as Netta desperately tried to comfort him. However, there was nothing she could do. She was forced to watch him die.

  Quickly, his eyes took on a glassy look and his bodily movements ceased. The man once known as ‘New York Tone’ on the streets of Baltimore was no more.

  Cursing herself, Netta looked down at Tone, motionless. She was emotionally distraught, unable to deal with the consequences of her actions. Suddenly, Netta didn’t want to start a new life in Atlanta without Tone, or face the possibility of life in prison for homicide. So she grabbed the gun and placed it to her temple. Without a second thought, she pulled the trigger. The automatic gun recoiled as soon as the bullet left the chamber and it logged in her brain. Netta slumped against the wall, her brains spattering everywhere.

  The crime scene she left behind looked like a lover’s quarrel, possibly domestic abuse, or a murder-suicide. Who would believe that she accidentally killed her boyfriend? She couldn’t believe it herself.

  A swirl of bright lights and police cars greeted Black and Stink as they arrived at Netta’s apartment complex. Nosey neighbors stood outside in pajamas and bathrobes as the police cordoned off the crime scene with yellow tape.

  “That’s the building yo?” Black asked.

  Stink responded, “Yeah, yo. That’s it.”

  A muscle twitched in Black’s jaw as he was overcome with anger and confusion. He didn’t know what was going on, but what he did know was he couldn’t do what he came to do.

  “Go see what the fuck is goin’ on, yo,” Black ordered.

  After parking the car in a discreet area away from the commotion, Stink went and blended into the crowd in an effort to find out what was going on. After going on his fact finding mission, Stink returned to the car with some very important information to tell Black.

  “You ain’t gone believe this, yo,” Stink commented. “Both Tone and Netta dead.”

  “What?” Black snapped in disbelief. “Who said that?”

  “A couple of broads up there, yo,” he said. “And they ain’t got no reason to lie to me.”

  Black sat in the passenger seat, stunned by the news. He wasn’t mad that Tone and Netta were dead. He was mad that their death didn’t come at his hands. Black wasn’t prepared for this. He shifted his eyes back to the crime scene, before he allowed it to sink in.

  “Let’s go, yo,” he told him.


  They drove out the housing complex, almost undetected. Black took one last glance at the innocent bystanders and their sympathetic looks didn’t soothe him. The only thing that would make him feel better was knowing that both Tone and Netta suffered a great deal before they died.

  19

  “Ma’am?....” the cab driver said. “….Ma’am?”

  Netta awoke in a panicked state, eyes wide-open, her hands placed on her chest. Her heart was beating fast. Her breathing was labored. She was alive. Curiously, she scanned her surroundings. She snapped out of that fantasy back into reality. It had all been one bad dream. For a moment she felt certain that it had been real.

  So many bad thoughts were invading her mind at once. Netta was having a hard time processing it all. The dream seemed so real, all she had now was bittersweet memories along with a gang of regrets. She shook her head in disbelief. Slowly, she began to recall what really happened. Her thoughts were becoming clearer by the second. Now that she was coherent no dream could pull her mind in a different direction.

  Something bad had transpired in Baltimore many years ago. Something so terrible it caused her to flee the city in fear of her life. People had been killed in real life. That surely wasn’t a dream. Netta and Tone had assassinated Black on his drug block. While making their escape, his brother Stink had caught up to their vehicle on a motorcycle and shot and killed Tone at the traffic light. Mimi was killed by Netta, in retaliation for setting up Mann to be kidnapped and killed by Black. It was a deadly domino effect where all the dominoes had fallen but one. Netta was the sole survivor.

  It was just a vicious circle of violence and revenge that led to multiple murders. Yet Netta was the sole survivor. She cherished every day of her life because she knew just how easily it all could have been taken away.