by Anjela Day
Death was standing beside her. If I didn't know shit I knew that mutha fucka well. Hell, I had brought so many people to his doorstep that the grim reaper and I were on a first name basis.
"Ma," I said shaking her. Hell, I took lives I didn't know how to save them.
"Ma, wake up," I said. Pulling her to the floor, to breathe in her mouth as they did on TV. I pulled my phone out to call 911. I was never a nigga that truly lost his cool. Hell, it was rare that I broke a sweat. This was one of those rare moments I lost my shit.
"Flashes of Tracy Carter raced through my head. Her clothes were soaked in blood, and the shimmer of life had all but drained from her. Her rich coffee colored skin looked as if had been painted white. She was the first dead body I'd ever seen.
My mother was only twenty-five years old when she died. I watched the man I call my father penetrate her skull with two bullets. It was a light whistle no louder than a Tea Kettle, but I still recall the look of surprise she had on her face before her body hit the floor. I knew she had died before the second bullet even entered her, however, I still recall both times snake pulled the trigger.
"This couldn't be happening. I said to myself staring at Sharon Dupont. She was the woman who raised me. She was the only mother I had left.
"911 are you there?" the operator asked, again, and I pulled myself from the miserable thoughts I was having.
"Yes I'm here! I need help." I told her running my hands through my mother's hair. It was insane how she looked nothing like me, and our blood was so different. However her heart was warm, and she loved me just as she loved Daron. I was never treated different.
"My mother she's barely breathing?" I said staring into her eyes. looking at the light cast that shimmered.
"Can you check for a pulse?" The operator asked her voice calm but demanding.
"She has one, but it's faint," I told them nodding my head as I dropped my head in a silent prayer.
I wasn't into believing in a God. How could I worship someone that had created me. While i didn't have faith my mother did. She raised my brother and me in a church and taught us the Bible.
While the ways of the words didn't stick, the ideal of them did. in fact, my first Tattoo was of prayer hands. dead center of my biceps.
"Sir, stay with us, we have located where you are and we are sending some one to you. Just keep her feet elevated." She told me, and I placed the phone to the floor so that I could go lift my mother's legs.
"Sharon," My father said walking into the room.
"What did you do?" He asked looking from me to her.
"Me where the hell were you?" I shouted my anger at him. I guess we both were being hot-headed and looking for someone to blame.
"She's going to be fine pops, just hold her legs up. I instructed him. when the faint sound of sirens grew close.
I ran to the door and held it open so that the men could get in and work on my mother.
"Not five minutes later they had an oxygen mask on her face, as they rolled her to the ambulance.
"I'm fine Sean." She said removing the mask just a second to speak. That was the first time I could recall feeling some type of emotion that wasn't forced.
"Call Daron and meet us at the hospital." My father ordered. I didn't respond with words just a nod to let him know I understood.
******
I walked down the dimly lit basement of sparrow nightclub. A chill shot down my spine as soon as the door slammed behind me.
"Pops why we have to come all the way to Chicago?" I asked my father as I stood beside him. He raised his eyebrow, giving me a cold glare. My father hated for me to ask questions. Almost as much as I hated to ask. I just thought it was fucked up we were here. My mom had just been admitted into the hospital five hours ago, and here we were on a job.
A job ' I could have handled. He should be by my mother's side.
I thought to myself. I would never say it to him.
"We good?" My father asked handing me an additional clip.
We stood in the basement of Sparrow side by side with my father on a job. We were in A small little town in Illinois and from the sound of the music thumping through the speakers it appeared to be a good time jumping off on the top floor.
I worked for the infamous Alton's brothers. Detroit's biggest crime family. Hell, I didn't know a city that didn't get there work from them. That was the reason we were there. an ole' school nigga had summoned them. Killa thought it only right that he grant the man a personal visit. It was rare that any of them made a trip out of the city. So this mutha fuck had to pull weight. While they all looked the same to me. Just us being here I knew he was different.
Mean while my pops looked as if he was ready to unload the entire clip in the old dude's head.
"I hate this piece of shit." Dinero the eldest of the three said. He stepped backward to talk to my father. My father nodded his head in agreement. I couldn't help but notice no one truly looked pleased to be there.
As for me it wasn't a big deal. I was doing my job. I didn't personally deal with the Alton brothers. They stayed mostly to them. Only a small few even knew what the three infamous men looked like. My father was a part of that small circle. My brother and I had known them for years and not been aware of who they really were. The little I did know was Sacario was the business man. He called the shots that made shit happen. Dinero was the muscle. No one fucked with him, and I'm sure he liked it like that. Ali he was family. He and my dad had served in the Army together. He went with the flow. He never really went about making a lot of noise. They all were different, but an important part of the puzzle.
After a hour of small talk and a money exchange. Sacario shook hands with the old dude, and we headed out.
“Saint you roll with me!” Ali said. I nodded my head yes and waited for Ali to lead the way. “Yo Nephew, you good?” He asked as we submerged from the basement. The cold night air hit me waking me up from whatever daze I was in.
“We got a job for you, and you ain't going to like it.” Ali said handing me a drink.
Shit I was a hit man I killed for a living. It wasn't to much I liked about my job. I thought to myself just sipping my drink as he explained my task.
He handed me a leather case
No words had to be said between us. Ali just downed his drink before asking for another one. I was still hung up on the whole idea of the job.
Babysit? He legit wanted me to be a babysitter. I thought staring at the picture of Miss USA.
I could feel his sweat trickle down my body. I held my breath and closed my eyes tightly. It was all I could do to keep from gagging.
What had I gotten myself into? I thought to myself as I tried to wiggle out of his tight grasp. He had me pent down on his bed. My hair was wrapped into his hands,and his lips were pressed against my ear.
“Take this dick” He grunted in my ear as if he was truly putting in work. I'd had better sex with my vibrator. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying not to sigh as he urged me to arch my back. I was giving the performance of my life. Fake, faint moans left my mouth, and I refused to give direct eye contact to my suitor. I worked my way to my knees and began to bounced up and down on his long but slender package. My only thought as I forced myself to finish the task at hand was why was I here? I barley knew this man. In fact up until a hour ago he was just face in the crowd in a packed bar. Now I was laying in his bed, trying to recall if his name was Ricky or Ronny. Annoyed by the way he was foundling my body.
His slender fingers traced my spine, and neck. sending chills down my spine, but not in the good way. I was all but board of this man. As cold as it may seem I was board of all men. It wasn't that I was into women. Hell I couldn't stand the taste of my own lipstick. I damn sure didn't want the taste of another woman Mac lip stick on my lips. I wanted more. A real man not these preppy pretty boys that seemed to flock to me like a drag queen to high heels. I wanted something real that made me feel whole. That gave me goose bumps, left me thirsting for hi
s touch.
Sadly even at 19 I was seeing that love was no more than a fairy tale. A hopeless fantasy that young girls were told. Hell even I had been fooled by these bogus stories.
“News flash these little girls sitting around waiting and praying for prince charming to come he's not” Still hoping that you will fit the single Christian Louboutin shoe's. That he is totting around. These girls want him to swoop them up in their white on white Benz drive them away into the sunset with tens of millions of dollars and live this sweet perfect fairy tale life.
Shit I don’t know what book their reading, but that shit ain't real. There are no white Knights, and ain't no man knocking on a woman's door asking if she's the one. Truthfully I could do with out Prince Charming, being a princess only says that you're not ready to step out of Cinderella shoes and become Queen. Me, I'm like fuck the Tiara I want the fucking crown.
“So why am I lying underneath this dead weight, waiting for him to cum.
“Ok Ok, I have to go”I say pushing Ricky, Ronny, hell he could be Bobby who cares I was over this.
“Where you going baby?” He asked grabbing at me as I searched the floor for my clothing.
I slipped on my dress and carried my shoes and purse in one hand. My car keys in one hand.
“Come on baby don't go. “ He said walking towards me. Was he serious? He couldn't be. I thought to myself shaking my head no.
“Man babe don't be like that I got one more round in me.” He said and I couldn't contain my laughter any longer.
“A round? Ok Iron Mike don't hurt no body with that pinky finger you working with.”
Damn I didn't mean to be so blunt, but this man was to damn fine to be so weak in bed. His face frowned up . It was as if he had never heard he was wack in bed. All that dick and he couldn't work it. What a damn shame. Hell maybe he never had been told. Most woman more than likely only wanted him for his money. I had my owns so he didn't impress me. Nor did his over priced Condo.
“I have to go” I said grabbing my purse, keys and phone hightailing it out of his place.
****
I ran my hand under my pillow and retrieved my gun. I never slept without it. It was the only thing I can truly say I needed. In fact, it was the only thing that I owned. Everything else was disposable in my world. I'd lived that way my entire life. I guess it was the way Snake, – my father had raised me. I don't blame him for that. I believe that was all he knew. Hell I thank him for instilling in me the knowledge he had provided. I had a mother to nurture me, Snake provided that as well. Hell on the outside looking in you could say I had a good life. Although your eyes can only see so far. You could never penetrate the devilish, narcissistic, psychotic, thoughts that filled my head. Grasp the fact that I was a sociopath. At least that's what my mother had been told. When I was about fifteen years old. They told my mother that I was incapable of loving anything or anyone. Without a motive at least. Sharron DuPont didn't want to hear that. She laughed and told those doctors, That's every man in America. She never allowed people to label me. “Never let them tell you who you are Sean. Don't let them put you in a box. Force you to think you're not good enough because you don't meet their standards. You write your own story Not them!” My mother would tell me. They told my mother that I could never love. So my mother taught me to love her. So I did – , I do love her. Other than my kin love is just a overly used four-letter word. I don't get how everyone says it's a feeling like no other. It makes you feel so alive. How do you feel alive?
I thought to myself as I sat up in my bed. I scooted to the edge of my king size mattress. With my loaded Beretta in my hand. I gripped the handled tightly, and slid the barrow in my mouth. I wanted nothing more than to die at this moment. I ached to pull the trigger and for my body to tense up and fall to the floor. Freeing me of the life I'd led. The emotionless shell that I dwelled in. I'd say I hated my life, but the truth was I didn't hate anything. In fact, I was numb to emotion. I didn't have a sense of hate, love, sorrow, nor happiness. I just simply existed. I exhaled deeply before closing my eyes and pulling the trigger.
The sound of clicking as nothing was released reminded me of two things. I had cleaned my gun the night before. Also, there is a higher power. I wouldn't choose when it was my time to go. I woke up around three thirty in the morning. My body covered in sweat. Thoughts, of the shit I've done filled my head. A bitch I don't know sleeping in my bed. Fuck I don't even recall going home with her last night. Hell truthfully last night is all but a blur. Other than Ali telling me that I was about to be a babysitter. Everything else was all mushed together. Shit I didn't know if this was a punishment, or me moving up in the ranks.
Whatever the case was it was an order, so I stood to my feet to do just that. I reached under my pillow, filling for my nine. I don't give a fuck what state I was in, I was always sure to keep my baby underneath my pillow. I sat up on the edge of the bed, staring at the chrome, smith in Wesson. I pointed it, and inhaled deeply. I placed the barrow of the gun in my mouth, and without blinking I pulled the trigger.
“Ahh, the hell” The bitch screamed falling out of the bed. I shook my head in laughter.
“The fuck you screaming for?” I asked turning to see her, covering her body with the sheets. “Seriously you come to a nigga house you don't know. fuck fall asleep, and a gun in my mouth scares you?” I asked her laughing at the way her legs trembled.
“Bitch shut up before I shoot yo ass.” I told her pointing the gun at her. Piss raced down her legs and I couldn't help but laugh.
“Man bitch get yo ass outta my shit.” I groaned watching as she snatched the sheet running from my room.
It didn't take much for me to pack. A couple of hoodies, a few boxes of bullets, and of course my Nike boots, was all I needed. I tossed a few other things in my bag better safe than sorry. I told myself grabbing my car keys, my phone phone before making headed out.
I popped my trunk, and tossed my bag. In feeling a nudge to my shoulder, and something hard in my back. Inhaled deeply. No one was dumb enough to pull a gun on me. I aid to myself. As quick a I thought it I pulled my gun from out my trunk. With ease I turned to face the idiot that didn't realize who he was fuckin with.
“Yo” The nigga said jumping back, holding his hand's up in defense. It was clear nothing was in his hand so I lowered my gun, and shook my head at the fool before me.
“Yo ass dumb as fuck.” You didn't know I would have bodied yo ass, if I didn't know it was you.” I told my nigga Psych'. He was my ace. Adonis had been my day one damn near my entire life. Shit I truly couldn't recall a time this nigga hadn't been by my side.
“How you know it was me?” He asked, and I tossed him my car key.
“You drive.” I told him sliding into the passenger side.
Once we were inside He made sure to repeat his question.
I was a trained killer. Snake had raised me to use every sense, not just my eyes. I could smell that nigga as soon as I walked outside. The smell of loud, and Irish springs filled my nose that was the way Psych, always smelled.
“So my nigga where we headed?” He asked, turning the music up.
“Chicago” I told him firing up a black, and resting my head on the seat.
Yet another restless sleep. A night filled with unexplained nightmares, and a untamed mind. My body was drenched in sweat when I woke from what felt like torture. My heart was beating as if it would rip through my flesh. All I could think of is that insane dream I'd just had. I feel confused as I sat up in my bed. I slipped off my thin pink night gown. Then I walked into my personal bathroom to sponge off. I guess that's one of the perks of being a spoiled rich girl. I have an entire wing in our estate to myself. Walking back into my bedroom, I oiled my body down, and slipped into another thin night gown. Summer nights could be so muggy. I hated central air. I just loved the night breeze from my window. I slipped back into my bed only to be annoyed by my cell phone notifications. I glance my phone looking at my best friend's Creations mean m
ug on my screen. Looking at the image with the caption small egg plants matter. I look at a picture of her date and tried not to laugh as I replied.
“OH no!” I laughed to myself texting back. “Girl you know you still let him hit!” I typed followed with emojis of crying laughing faces.
“Bitch Bye” She quickly replied followed by clapping emojis so I could know just how serious she was.
“What are you doing Jay?” She asked before I could even reply to her last text.
“I was sleep just got up to use the little girls room.” So what if I lied I hated telling people all of my business.
“Bitch yo ass still having dem dreams. Or whatever?” Cree asked and I sucked my teeth not even replying to her ass.
While I loved my best friend I hated anyone knowing to much of my business. I guess it couldn't be avoided we've known each other since we were six years old. We both came up in the beauty pageant circuit. Our mothers went to the same dress maker. We also were two of the only black girls so of course our mother's insisted we became friends. It was Creation's mother that kept me in the circuit after my mom's death.
While we were tight like sisters I was an only child so I kept to myself . I know it wasn't fair to her, but my father stressed to me very young that betrayal comes from inside your circle. So I have always kept a nice wedge between me and everyone.
While I adore my privacy, I won't pretend that it doesn't get lonely. I will not act as if I don't long to have some one to share my empty space with. I'd love to have some one kiss the nightmares away. Ease my pain, share my ideas and of course a part of myself. I don't necessarily long for a relationship just someone that I can be friends with, and if more happens so be it. I don't see that happening anytime soon because my father is a bit overprotective and I try to stay on his good side.