by T. Styles
“Not really.” He paused. “I gotta plan.”
Arlyndo’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Unc may be on some other shit but—”
“Unc Auntie now,” he corrected him. “Just so you know.”
“Stop being stupid,” Derrick snapped, still not able to wrap his mind around the news on Banks. “I already know but ain’t nothing about that nigga feminine.”
Arlyndo thought about Banks’ swag. “True.”
“So I need you to call Stretch for me. Because if I’m right, I think I can get you and your girl back together.”
“Wait, what’s in it for you?”
“Nothing.” He paused. “I just wanna see black love prevail.”
CHAPTER SIX
Banks stood in front of Stretch and ten of his soldiers trying to understand why his daughter was not home. After finding out that his plane was destroyed, and that she was gone, his rage had built up to a proportion not present since the day he took his own father’s life.
“You wanna explain to me again, WHY MY FUCKING DAUGHTER GONE?” He roared.
Stretch swallowed the lump in his throat. “Banks, she, she was having a panic attack and—”
“THEN YOU CALL ME!” Banks said louder. “YOU DON’T WALK OUT THE HOUSE WITH MY KID WHEN YOU KNOW I’M BEEFING!”
Shocking everyone present, a single tear strolled down Stretch’s face. Irritated by the act of sweetness, Banks turned around, placing one hand on top of his head and the other on his hip.
“Everybody but Stretch get the fuck out! And find my daughter! Don’t come back without her!” He yelled, waving fists their way.
“Yes, Boss,” each said as they happily got the fuck out of his rage path.
Slowly Banks walked over to the couch and flopped down. “Sit.”
Stretch wiped his tear and complied, his body as stiff as a hood girl’s gelled baby hairs. “I’m so, so sorry, man. And I know I been fucking up but—”
“If you ever present yourself like that again, in front of my men, you done.”
Stretch nodded rapidly. “It’s just that—”
Banks threw his hand up. “Don’t speak.”
Stretch blinked.
“I never got a chance to express how disappointed I was that you talked about the arrangement you had with me an my wife. But I figured it wasn’t time since safety was priority. And we would do it on the island.” He glared at him. “So tell me, what use are you to me now?”
Silence.
Banks tilted his head to the side. “You hear me talking?”
“Oh…yes…I…I was concerned that you were taking the kids away and—”
“THEM NOT YOUR FUCKING KIDS, NIGGA!” Banks said stabbing his fist into his palm. “THEM MY FUCKING KIDS!” He paused. “MINE!”
“I know but I didn’t know you were taking me to the island and I guess I overreacted because I would never see them again. I wanted to make sure they—”
“Why do I get the impression I can’t trust you no more?” Banks asked calmly.
If the truth could speak for itself earlier, this was the reason Stretch shed a single tear when the men were in the room. He realized that after working all his life to get into Banks’ good graces, thereby giving his wife and his daughter a chance at a wealthy lifestyle, that now he had ruined it all.
“Banks, you can trust me. You know that.”
“Do I?” Banks squinted. “’Cause all I have to show for it is you revealing to my son a secret I trusted you with, and then you losing my daughter. If you were in my shoes, what would you do to me?”
Stretch looked down. Taking a long deep breath he said, “Kill me.”
Banks sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was right but he needed him. “Find my daughter.”
Stretch nodded.
“NOW!” Banks roared.
Stretch jumped up and ran out the basement.
Banks made a few calls and a few minutes later Banks summoned his sons. Joey and Harris walked down the stairs, sitting on the sofa where Stretch was just seated. Banks leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in front of him.
“Where Spacey?”
“He ain’t coming.”
Banks’ nostrils flared. He was gonna have to fuck Spacey up sooner or later.
“There’s been a change of plans. Your sister is gone and we won’t be able to use my plane to go to our island.”
Joey and Harris looked at each other and back at Banks.
“You want us to help find her, Pops?” Joey asked.
“No, what I want you to do is stay here. Both of you.”
“But don’t you need us?” Harris asked.
“Yeah, Pops. We good with shit like this,” Joey added.
“I love you both, I do. But the last thing I want is for you to see who I can become, all because you disobeyed me.” He paused. “Stay here.”
“Aight, dad,” Joey nodded. “Of course.”
“Good.”
Banks stood up and walked away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
2:47 AM
Although big, the house was too loud.
Everyone screamed and bopped nosily around, as if their worlds weren’t coming to an extreme end. The same couldn’t be said for the only woman of the house though.
She was a wreck and it showed on her face.
Jersey stood in the shower trying her best to wash away the problems in her life with soap and water, but it wasn’t working. Too much was happening at once and Mason wasn’t helping by not listening and respecting her as his wife.
After showering, when she stepped out and onto a cheese curl bag she angrily kicked it out the way, walked over to the toilet and flopped down on the closed seat.
Gross!
Her family was hood rich.
When Mason saved her from Christian, her ex-boyfriend who he killed many years ago, she was somewhat relieved. Her comfort level around gore, spoke to the dark things she witnessed as a child because even after Mason painted a canvas with Christian’s blood, she still saw Mason as her way out. She could have lived with her foster family, and they would have accepted her back immediately, but Dragon, her foster brother, was the most evil man who ever walked planet Earth. With him around she would never feel safe so she chose to become Mason’s wife instead, who used her as a sex tool that could bare children. He ended up being no better. Knowing nothing about her past, because he didn’t ask questions. Only twenty years old when Mason first met her, he was in fact sleeping with a complete stranger.
But, she remained silent and submissive, knowing he preferred an obedient wife over everything else.
That was then.
Now she was tired and disgusted by how her sons treated their home. And how he treated her.
Jersey got the impression that her family would be just as comfortable living in the trap house as they were living in a mansion. Their home wouldn’t even be furnished if the Wales hadn’t picked out every stich of décor as a gift. Even Banks was hands on instead of Mason, and she figured it was to get Mason situated with living in his own crib, since he preferred his time at the Wales mansion.
Picking up the phone in the bathroom, she called the cleaning team she normally used to get her home together. It was almost 3:00 am but having a clean home was the only way she could focus.
Next she dried off and lotioned her body, before slipping into her pink panty set. Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard…
“SLAVVVVVEEE!” Mason yelled from the bedroom.
Although not in the mood to fuck, she was about to heed his call. Instead she wept quietly, her forehead pressed against the cool door. When she was done, she took a deep breath and pulled it open.
“Slave.” Mason said, sitting on the bed beating his dick. “Get over here.” Whenever he was stressed he liked to fuck whether she was in the mood or not.
Except she was different now.
Without acknowledging him, Jersey walked o
ver to the closet.
“Slave,” Mason said louder as if she didn’t hear his freak whore ass moments ago. “On your knees.”
Ignoring him again, she grabbed her blue jeans and a cute red top with matching high heel shoes.
Feeling dumb and horny at the same time he said, “Bitch, you hear me talking to you? Get the fuck over here!” He pointed at the unmade bed.
She looked at him once, rolled her eyes and walked out the door.
Mason was on pause.
In the years they had been together, she never, ever, ignored his call for sex. So what had gotten into her now?
He would soon find out.
****
8:33 AM
Banks knocked on Spacey’s door three times but when he didn’t answer, he pushed it open and walked inside without an invite. He was irritated when he saw him sitting at his computer with his back faced the door. And that he didn’t come to the meeting earlier.
Banks crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard me knocking?” He pointed at the door with his thumb.
Silence.
Taking a deep breath, he walked over to him. “Spacey.”
He tapped a few keys. “What?”
Banks gritted his jaw. “You coming with me.” He paused. “Get up and put your shoes on.”
Spacey looked up at him and rolled his eyes. “I ain’t going nowhere. It’s 8:00 in the morning anyway.”
Banks slammed the MacBook shut, almost crushing Spacey’s fingertips by inches. “Get your shoes and let’s go.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you too.”
Spacey smirked and rose slowly.
Although Banks stood over him with his 6’2 frame, having gotten newfound information about Banks’ sex, he thought he could give him a go. So Spacey walked past him, knocking his shoulder as he moved toward the door.
Enraged, Banks rushed in front of him, grabbed him by his shirt collar and slammed him against the wall. Air rushed from Spacey’s lungs and brushed against Banks’ face, as Spacey desperately searched for his normal breathing pattern.
Seeing his son was having trouble, Banks released him. “Go put your fucking shoes on! You coming with me, nigga!” He stormed out, but came back. “And never try me again.”
After making sure Joey and Harris were still in the house, fifteen minutes later they were in the back of Banks’ truck being chauffeured by Rev.
Banks’ eyes were concealed with a pair of black Gucci, smoke colored designer shades. Whenever things were on his mind, like at the moment, he hid his eyes, not wanting people to guess his next move.
“I don’t understand why you want me to go,” Spacey said, trying to feel Banks out. “I usually gotta press you to hang out.”
Banks looked at him once and then out the window.
His son was comical.
The truth was he didn’t trust Spacey to stay home and since his goal was to get the entire Wales clan on a plane in a few days, he couldn’t take a chance that Spacey would allow his anger to lead him out the door causing him to be on the hunt for him and Minnie at the same time.
“You not even gonna talk to me?” Spacey continued, never being able to handle Banks’ silent treatment like everyone in the family.
Banks continued to look outside. “So now you wanna talk?”
“I don’t care if you talk for real, for real,” he lied.
Banks smirked. “Then let’s not speak.”
He wasn’t going to be pulled into a game with his son. And he wasn’t about to kiss his ass either. At the end of the day he was in charge and his family had better fall in line or risk trouble.
“You not my father you know?”
Banks laughed.
The young man was hilarious.
“Right over there,” Banks said to Rev, ignoring his oldest spawn all together.
“Sure, boss.”
When the car pulled up to a residential area, Banks opened the door. “Keep eyes on him, Rev.”
“You know it.” Rev replied before turning around and aiming a gun at Spacey.
“You can’t be serious!” Spacey said to himself, as Banks slammed the door shut.
Walking toward a small house in Ellicott City, Maryland, he knocked on the door while also gauging his surroundings. Although he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he had to be careful.
When a ten-year-old kid finally opened the door he frowned, “Is Natalie here?” He looked around from where he stood.
“Who you?” The little boy snapped, looking up at him.
“She here or not?”
The boy turned around and yelled, “Ma!”
Twenty seconds later, a forty-year-old woman approached the door, wearing nothing but a Ravens Flacco jersey, no panties. The moment she feasted her eyes on Banks, she licked her dick-scented lips. It was time to shoot her shot but first she had to roll her son away with his nosey ass. “Get in the room,” she told her son.
“But I wanted to go out—”
“Now!”
He ran away.
Finally alone, she licked her lips again, as they had dried out from her first tongue wipe. “Hey there…didn’t think you would ever show your face around—”
“Is Natty here?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Ain’t got no words for me huh? Think you can just show up asking about my Natty without being—”
“I’m trying to find my daughter. She here or not?”
Irritated, she poked her lips out and tried to slam the door shut. But Banks pushed his way inside, slapped her across the face and stormed through the house. When he was certain his daughter wasn’t there, he walked up to the woman who was crying softly on the floor.
Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed three hundred dollars and allowed the bills to float on her body like weighted feathers. “If she comes home, call me first. You don’t want to fuck with me.” He walked out the door.
Standing on the steps, he made a few calls.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sun shined bright.
And Minnie was hopeful that things would go her way.
As she leaned against Natty’s BMW, in West Baltimore, talking to her brother on the phone, she wondered when she would get to see Arlyndo’s face again. Her and Natty had been up at a hotel talking all night because she was waiting for Arlyndo to return her call.
He never did.
Did he break up with her? Because of the war? Her mind was mush because earlier she drank vodka, but her heart still hurt from missing him. So she was looking forward to some weed to smooth her out, which is what Natty was doing.
Originally she was going to ignore Harris’ call, as she had her parents all night, but decided against it.
“I’m not coming back, Harris.” She fingered her hair. “So don’t ask.”
“Why though?”
“Because dad…I mean…” She paused. “I don’t even know what to call him no more.”
“But you gotta come back.”
“For what, so he can force me on that plane?”
“So what you gonna do? Live on the streets?”
“The only way I’m going is if he lets Arlyndo come too.” She squinted when she saw Natty finally giving the weed man money. They had been waiting ten minutes for him to show up and she was starting to get nervous. “But look…my friend ‘bout to come back over here. I gotta—”
“Wait.”
“For what?” She frowned.
“Are you serious about what you said? If Dad lets Arlyndo come, to Wales Island, you’ll get on the plane?”
“I swear to God I would.” She said excitedly. “Why, you gonna ask him?”
“I can’t make no promises but I’ma call you back in a few hours. But be careful out there and don’t do nothing stupid. Dad say we being hunted.”
“Dad don’t know what he talking about. He worries too much.”
“I hope so,” he said.
After hanging up, she smiled at t
he possibility that Harris might be able to get through to her father. Feeling all alone, it felt good to have an ally in the family on her side, even if nothing materialized from it.
When she saw Natty walking over to her with the weed baggy, she smiled because in a minute all of her problems would go away.
Or so she hoped.
****
Linden sat in a car, on the block, a little ways from where Minnie stood with her friend. He was far enough not to be seen but close enough to follow them everywhere they went. Instead of snatching her off the street in broad daylight, he wanted to make sure he could get her without confrontation, so he decided to wait.
He even considered grabbing her from the hotel but police officers were sitting on the property all night due to possible drug activity.
When his cell phone rang he answered despite the drama he knew would come his way. “Yeah.” He yawned.
“You got her yet?” Mason asked.
“No, but I still got eyes on her.” He looked straight ahead at Minnie and then to his right at a redbone with an ass so fat it looked like she could’ve fallen backwards and bounced.
“What’s taking you so fucking long?” Mason snapped.
“Hold up, what I tell you about coming at me like—”
“I’m sorry, man,” Mason said taking a deep breath. “I just…I mean…I need that girl for leverage.”
“You and Jersey fighting?” He looked at the redbone again and licked his lips.
“Fuck you say that for?”
“The other day you were like this when she wasn’t home and you were trying to get some pussy. I figured—”
“Ain’t nobody thinking about that bitch,” he said. “Just bring me Minnie. Don’t let her get away. I’m counting on you.”
Irritated, Linden tossed the phone in the passenger’s seat but when it slid to the floor he bent down to pick it up.
POP! POP!
The moment he heard gunfire, he raised his head and almost shit the seat of his jeans when he saw Minnie being tossed into the backseat of a 1996 mustard yellow Chevrolet Caprice, kicking and screaming.