by T. Styles
Originally he thought it was his fault too. Because the argument Jersey and her boyfriend got into, the night Mason met her, was due to Dragon calling her man on the phone and threatening to kill him if he ever laid a hand on her again.
It wasn’t until she reached out earlier that night, that he knew she was alive. And had elected to ignore him all those years.
Removing a switchblade from his hip, he lowered his height to slice Mason’s throat open. The blade dug into his skin just as one of his men walked back inside.
“We ready to—” The man stopped mid sentence, witnessing what was about to take place.
Murder.
Dragon stood up, wiped the blood from the blade on his jeans and glared at him. “I thought I told you to wait in the car.”
He nodded and rushed out.
Dragon hit the button on the switchblade, lowering its height before tucking it back into his pocket. “You one lucky ass nigga.” He paused. “For now.”
Before leaving, he removed his dick and pissed all over Mason’s face and inside his mouth as he slept peacefully. As the urine dampened his hair and body, he smiled. When he was totally relieved, he walked out, closing the door behind him.
Two hours later, Mason awoke groggy and with an extreme headache. He was also taken aback by the smell that lingered around him and the horrible taste in his mouth. Holding his head and neck, he stumbled to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. He figured he must’ve been in a fight because the last thing he remembered was eating and then he was out cold.
Standing in front of the mirror, and witnessing the gash on his neck, he figured he knew what happened.
He reasoned that Jersey, still angry at how he beat her, pissed on him before cutting his throat.
He was wrong.
After taking a shower, brushing his teeth, getting dressed and patching his neck, he thought about his wife again. Something about the new woman she was presenting had him feeling some kind of way.
Was she as vicious as he was and he didn’t know until now? After all these years?
When his cell phone rang, he answered.
It was Jersey.
“What up?” He scratched his chin.
“You hurt me,” Jersey said softly.
Just hearing her voice made his dick jump. “I know.”
“I could’ve had you killed, Mason.” She paused. “You don’t…you don’t know how…” She couldn’t complete her sentence. “You don’t know me. The real me.”
“Do you still love me?” He asked.
Silence.
“Is it worth it?” She asked. “The drugs and the money? Is it worth losing your family?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m not losing my family.” He said confidently. “But you got my sons right?”
“Yes. They’re mad at me though.”
“Why?”
“I drugged them too. Figured it was the only way they would come with me.”
“Jersey,” he said wiping his hand down his face. “You should’ve asked them. Fuck you drug ‘em for?”
She cried harder.
“Listen,” he continued. “We gonna be okay. And I know you don’t believe me but…I mean…just…just don’t give up on family yet. Let me get out of this. And then let’s make a decision on us together.”
“Find my son first, Mason,” she paused. “You can’t even talk to me without him.”
She hung up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Vanguard’s head was throbbing as he paced the living room while talking to his wife on the phone.
Claire Morton was a wreck just thinking about having to leave the country and move with a pack of niggers on an island she’d never seen. And she wasted no time telling him either. “I don’t trust them blackies!” Claire yelled. “I don’t want to leave my friends! And family!”
“Claire, please,” Vanguard begged. “Don’t you understand? If we don’t leave then—”
“Banks and his wife are drug dealers!” She continued dominating the conversation as usual. “And I don’t do drug dealers! Evil is in black people’s DNA, that’s why their skin is dark as their souls.”
“But…”
Suddenly the lights went out in their home.
“Vanguard!” She yelled on the phone. “Do you hear me?”
“Claire, the power has gone out,” he said walking through the house. It was completely dark. “I have to call the electric company.”
“I don’t trust it,” she said. “Something feels off.”
“Give me a few minutes,” he said. “But please reconsider. Banks tells me the island is beautiful and we could start our lives over. In paradise.”
He ended the call and opened his front door where two armed men stood on guard, as Banks promised, after his brother was murdered.
“Everything alright, sir?” One of the men asked politely.
“The power is out,” Vanguard frowned, scratching his head. “You seen anything out here?”
“No. You want me to call BG&E?”
“No…uh…I’ll do it.” He smiled and closed the door.
After making the call, twenty minutes later a black man with dreads that ran down his back appeared at the door. When Vanguard looked out on the street, he saw a marked van from the utility company. But he was still very suspicious after his twin died.
“Sir, did you call about your power?” Whoyawanmetabe asked.
Vanguard smiled when he recognized a London accent from his hometown. How was he to know that Whoyawanmetabe was a master at over twenty languages and accents, which was another reason he was paid the price he demanded?
“You’re from London?”
Whoyawanmetabe smiled. “All my life.” He paused. “May I?” He pointed into the house.
“Oh, of course.” Vanguard laughed. It felt so good to hear a taste of his hometown that he almost forgot the purpose of the visit. “Please, please come inside.”
Whoyawanmetabe complied and looked around from where he stood. “Can you tell me where the circuit breaker is?”
“Sure…it’s downstairs.”
“Cheers. I’ll walk around to check a few things and then head to your breaker afterwards.”
“Whatever you need.”
Whoyawanmetabe nodded and walked away and Vanguard flopped on the sofa, before calling his wife twenty minutes later. Slightly relieved that his small troubles would be over soon, and the power would be restored, he turned his attention to his wife.
“Claire.”
“Did the power come back on?”
“No…but listen,” he paused. “I can’t make you go with me.” He took a deep breath. “And as much as I want you to, I understand if you would prefer to stay.”
“Then I’m staying.”
The moment she said those words, his stomach rocked and he felt the urge to shit. She had called him on his bluff. “Claire, please don’t do this.”
“You heard what I said.” She paused. “You leave with that nigger to a place you don’t know and I’m gone. Forever.”
Suddenly the lights came back on but it didn’t matter.
His world was destroyed.
“Claire, I have to go,” he took a deep breath, holding his stomach. “I’ll call you back.”
When Whoyawanmetabe came out, he walked up to Vanguard. “Everything is okay now.”
“That was quick,” Vanguard smiled. “Do you know what happened?”
“Sometimes power surges in surrounding areas and it may offset the grid. But don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.” He shook his hand. “Have a nice night.”
After Vanguard walked him out, he quickly moved to the bathroom. His stomach churned as he thought about losing his brother and now possibly his wife. Suddenly going out of the country with Banks seemed stupid. He didn’t even know the man.
Even if the airport forced him into early retirement, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a cushy fund to put him and his wife up for the res
t of their lives.
So he considered staying put.
But what was he going to tell Banks?
Taking a deep breath, he released the biggest dump he had in his life. The relief was so immediate that suddenly he had high hopes for the future.
Standing up, he looked at the brown monster floating inside. “Pew,” he said waving his hand, as if someone else did it. Extending his fingertips, he tapped the flusher and then…
BOOM!
****
Banks stood in front of Bet, Joey, Spacey and Harris in the living room. With his hands in his pockets he took a deep breath. “If things go my way, I’m taking you all to the island tonight,” he said. “It’s settled with Vanguard already.”
Their eyes widened. “What about my daughter?” Bet asked, her head slightly tender from passing out on the floor earlier.
“I’m coming back to get her. I just wanna make sure everyone else is there first.”
“Pops, I don’t want you out here alone,” Joey said.
“Me either,” Harris added. “It don’t seem smart.”
“I get that but I can’t risk something happening to you all too. So I’m gonna make a few moves out on the street and then we leaving.”
“And what about Ericka?” Bet asked. “And Stretch?”
“And Shay?” Harris asked, clearing his throat.
“I don’t know where Stretch or his wife is,” Banks lied. “And Shay is coming with us.”
Spacey, Harris and Joey looked at each other in confusion about Stretch and Ericka’s disappearance.
Bet, on the other hand, knew her husband was lying. She had been with him enough to know that Stretch was gone for life. And after the way his wife performed in her office, her only thought was, Good riddance.
“This move seems reckless,” Bet said. “I mean, how do you know Vanguard will want to leave this early?”
“He doesn’t have a choice.”
“What does that mean, Banks?”
RING. RING. RING.
Banks removed his cell phone from his pocket and took a deep breath. It was a number he didn’t recognize. But since Minnie was out there somewhere, again he had to answer all calls.
“Hello.”
“You nigger!”
He frowned. “Who the fuck is this?” He yelled, when he heard a white woman’s voice.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Harris asked as all three of Banks’ sons stood up and walked toward him.
Banks put up a finger for them to quiet. “Who on this phone?” Suddenly he could hear the woman crying and in that moment, all made sense. “Claire, what’s happening?”
“They fucking killed my husband!” He yelled. “Do you hear me? They put a bomb in my house and killed my husband! And it’s all your fault!”
As Claire laid out everything she knew, beginning with the power outage, Banks was stunned. To make matters worse, Mason had successfully fucked up his plans to fly out again. And it also looked like they used a common friend with a lot of power…Whoyawanmetabe.
The thing was, when Linden was mad at Mason years ago, it was he who put Banks on to the Jamaican. Through Stretch dropping off the money to Linden when he had fallen out of Mason’s graces. Now it registered that he gave his brother the connection too.
As Banks reflected, he realized he was going about things the wrong way with Mason. He had to be smarter and to not allow his Minnie going missing to come in the way of getting the others to safety.
So as he allowed her to yell, alternating between racist rants and cries, he grew clearer on his plans.
Banks’ only goal was to get to his island.
But he knew his friend’s goals too.
When the smoke was clear, he knew the first thing Mason would do was work on rebuilding his organization and find a new connect.
But what if there was no brand left?
Banks had to cripple it beyond repair.
So he made the call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SUNDAY
2:37 AM
Leonard was sitting in a dog park watching his two grey Pitbulls have a night of it. While most single men used their free time palavering with women, when Leonard wasn’t working for Mason pumping cocaine on the streets, he dedicated most of his time to the animals he raised since birth.
But Leonard was hardworking too.
Which is why Mason entrusted him with key points of his business. Not only because he knew cocaine better than most Columbians, but also because he was both respected and feared by the men he ruled. And so with him on his team, Mason’s business flourished.
When his phone rang he answered it, taking his eyes off his animals in the process. “Hello.” He gripped his dick before yawning.
A seductress asked, “What you doing?”
When he heard the woman’s sweet voice, his body rocked. Besides, it had been a few days since he had something soft and her tone was like an alarm to the rest of his body, mainly his dick. “I don’t know…who is this?”
“You know who it is,” she said. “I mean, we fucked a few times but I couldn’t be that bad where you would forget me.”
Leonard thought about all the women he smashed in the past few months. Since most were uneventful, he shrugged. She could have been anybody. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to give her another try, whoever she was. “You gotta tell me more than that.”
“Okay…I made you cum in two minutes.”
He wiped his hand down his face. This was getting interesting. “Is that right?” He groped himself. “And where you do that at?”
“Your car.”
Now the possible women were narrowed down to about twenty, but still he was coming up short. “Okay, okay…so how about we do this, you meet me at…”
He stopped talking in midsentence.
Where were his dogs?
“Hello.” She said. “You there?”
Leonard leaped up, his head rotating from left to right.
“I gotta go.” He said to the caller before hanging up, as he looked from where he stood for his animals.
The woman could care either which way if he left. Her job was done.
“Jekyll and Hyde!” He yelled.
Still he saw nothing.
“Jekyll and Hyde! Come here!”
On the hunt for his dogs, he ran toward the woods outlining the park.
He found them.
Thirty feet behind the trees, his heart tripped a few beats when he saw his animals lying on their sides, with their tongues out of their mouths. Clumps of tainted ground beef around them. Devastated, he dropped down and pulled his dead animals toward him, one resting on each thigh.
Bad move.
In his grief, he couldn’t recognize the trap.
And so with his guard down, a Wales soldier crept up behind him, and put him out of his misery.
For life.
****
Brewer was on his second run to Green Burger for one of his regular visits. He kept a tight schedule and for him every minute counted. A lieutenant in Mason’s organization, he commanded over fifty-six soldiers himself. He was smart, but not when hungry. Still, his keen ability to know when someone was lying was what drew Mason to him.
Before Brewer stepped into Mason’s camp, the men were not as efficient under another lieutenant’s employ. But Brewer got them in line quick, and as a result his small block real estate quadrupled in size.
To say he was valuable to Mason would be an understatement.
“Hey, hey Mr. Brewer,” the cashier said, her mood much different than in the past. “The…the same…same right?” She stuttered.
“You okay?”
She nodded, although she looked terrified. “Yes, yes, sir. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” He paused. “Ain’t nobody fucking with you are they?” He joked.
“I’m…I’m fine.” She said as tears traced down her face.
He took a deep breath. He liked the little girl, true enough
, but outside of giving him his food, they didn’t have a bond. So he felt it best to let the matter go.
While she went to search for the food, Brewer received a call on his phone. He was about to see who was hitting him when he heard another voice in the drive thru window.
“Your order’s ready,” a male said.
Brewer frowned. “Where Tricia?”
“She right here,” with that the cashier raised a white paper bag filled with food, which concealed a .45 and shot through it. He didn’t stand a chance. The bullet entered Brewer’s skull, killing him instantly.
Just that quickly, another one hit the dust.
****
Amos was digging the walls out of her pussy.
His cell phone was ringing off the hook, but he was feeling too good to answer. Whoever was hitting him would have to wait.
Lying on top of her warm brown body, his hands snaked behind her as he grabbed her ass cheeks, pulling outward. This did nothing but open her pussy wider, allowing him to go deeper, the way he liked.
Although time was of the essence, as a general in Mason’s camp, he figured he could tap some fresh ass right quick and then get back to the trap without missing a thump. He was not as important to Mason’s camp as Brewer and Leonard, but with losing them both, his murder would cripple Mason beyond repair.
“Damn, why you gotta be wet all the time though?” He asked as he bit his bottom lip. “Fuck.” He wasn’t even looking at her face. He was all about the pussy. Had he focused on her one time, just once, he would’ve noticed that her mood was off.
“You like this, baby?” She asked, her voice as dry as a brick wall.
“Love it!” He continued to pump harder. “But I’m almost there.” He said. “You gotta push into me a little harder though.” He continued. “I ain’t feeling it yet.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll—”
POP! POP! POP!
Thinking he was hearing things, he was about to ask what was the noise. But his question seemed dumb when he noticed a hole through her forehead, which allowed blood to pour out like a stream from a fountain. Realizing he was under seize, he rolled off her body, just before another bullet entered her torso.