by Tranay Adams
When Mann looked back and saw his homeboy was at the nigga in the ski-mask mercy, he knew he had to act fast or they both were going to be dead. He hollered out a battle cry and tackled Te’Qui up against the same door he’d kicked open, slamming it shut. Te’Qui, then, slammed the stock of his shotgun into his back, causing him to holler out in pain. He then kneed him in the stomach and struck him across the jaw with the stock. As soon as he fell to the carpeted floor, Te’Qui took the liberty to stomp his fucking head.
“Bitch-ass mothafucka!”
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Te’Qui’s head was thrown back from the impact of bullets crashing into his chest. He staggered backwards, dropping the shotgun and falling slumped against the wall. His head was bowed and his right hand was lying on his lap. His movements had ceased and he was silent.
The only sounds inside of the living room were the Madden video game and Mann and Skinny’s groans of agony. Half Dead, the nigga that had just opened fire on Te’Qui, lowered his long nose nickel plated revolver, as its barrel wafted with smoke. He was in the bathroom taking a shit when everything popped off inside of the living room. He sat his pistol down on top of a tall speaker and went about the task of zipping up his jeans and buckling his belt.
Half Dead looked around at his homeboys as he slipped his leather belt into its metal buckle. From the expressions on his homeboys’ faces he could tell that they were in a great deal of pain. “Y’all niggaz all right, man?” he asked of their current conditions.
“Fuck no, I ain’t all right, fool!” Skinny winced as he held his busted, bleeding leg. “That cocksucka shot me in my fucking leg! Aaaahhh!”
“Shiiiit, nigga, you leaking something awful, I’ma call 9-1-1.” Half Dead went to grab the telephone, but Skinny calling him back stopped him.
“Don’t call ‘em yet! We gotta get this dead mothafucka outta here, and stash that dope somewhere.” Mann said as he scrambled to his feet slowly, holding the side of his head. He was a little dizzy from Te’Qui whipping his ass.
He’s right, Half Dead, get that shit from off the kitchen table.” Skinny, who was still holding his busted leg, wincing, threw his head towards the kitchen. “Once you hide that shit, help Mann dump this nigga somewhere.” he spoke of Te’Qui, who was still sitting slumped against the wall.
Half Dead grabbed his revolver and tucked it at the small of his back. He then ran inside of the kitchen where he saw a box of bacon soda, razors, sandwich baggies and a digital scale. Skinny was in the middle of cooking up coke to serve to the crack fiends around the way, when Te’Qui kicked down the door.
Half Dead put away the items on the kitchen table that was going to be used to prepare the crack. He then snatched the package of coke, which was wrapped up in duct tape, from off the table and ran back inside of the living room. He kneeled down to the speaker box he’d sat his revolver on top of earlier, and removed the bottom speaker from out of it. Next, he stuffed the kilo inside of the hollow space and replaced it with the speaker. Once he was done, he turned around to help Mann move the dead body.
Half Dead’s eyes doubled in size and his mouth dropped open. He saw Te’Qui kick Mann across the chin which knocked blood out of his mouth and dropped him to the carpeted floor. Seeing this, Half Dead reached around his back to grab his .44, but Te’Qui had already came from off his waistline with his Glizzy, spitting fire at him. The first shot ripped through Half Dead’s kneecap, while the second shot ripped through his left bicep. Te’Qui picked up his shotgun and hoisted its strap over his shoulder. Still pointing his gun at Half Dead, he sped walked over to him and took his revolver. Afterwards, motioning with his gun, Te’Qui commanded Mann to help Half Dead over to Skinny and lie on his back beside him. Once homeboy had done what he was told, Te’Qui pulled out the throwaway cell phone that Big Will’s carrier had given him.
“Alright, you ol’ busta-ass niggaz, I’ma ‘bouta tell you how this shit gon’ go,” Te’Qui began, holding his gun at his side. “I’ma record y’all apologizin’ to Hood Rich Records and Killa Tay.”
“Now, why in the fuck would we apologize to them fools foe?” Skinny asked as he lay on his stomach, still wincing from his busted leg.
“’Cause if you don’t I’ma empty this Glock out on you and yo’ busta-ass homies.” Te’Qui kicked Mann in his side hard as shit, causing him to howl in pain. He squeezed his eyelids shut and gritted his teeth to combat the aching in his ribs. “Now, do you have any more questions?”
“Y-yeah, are you gon’ kill us?” Half Dead asked with a pain streaked face, bleeding all over the goddamn carpet.
“Nah, I ain’t gon’ crush y’all fools. Big Will just wanted me to spank y’all and record the apology.”
“Man, how we know you not lying? Put that on God!” Mann looked up at him from where he was lying on the floor.
Te’Qui tucked his gun on his waistline and swung his shotgun around, locking one into its chamber. He tapped Mann at the top of his head with its barrel and told him to open his mouth. Once he obliged him, Te’Qui stuck his shotgun in that nigga’z grill, looking down at him with animosity in his eyes.
Cool and calmly, Te’Qui addressed Mann, “My nigga, the next time you open them fat ass lips, I’ma blow yo’ entire fuckin’ head off yo’ shoulders. Do we have an understandin’?”
“Uhn huh,” Mann said with a mouthful of shotgun.
“Good.” Te’Qui took the shotgun from out of his mouth and whipped out his Glock again. “Alright, fuck-niggaz, this is exactly what I want y’all to say...”
Te’Qui recorded the fools lying on their stomachs apologizing to Hood Rich Records and Killa Tay. He then recovered all of the jewelry and money they’d stolen from off of Killa Tay. Next, he took the dead faces they had on them and all of the drugs they had in the house, including the kilo Half Dead had stashed inside of the speaker box.
He was going to call an ambulance for them niggaz, but once he heard Twelve’s sirens heading to the location; he got the fuck out of dodge.
***
Kesha was lying in bed watching television when she heard the front door open. She hopped out of her bed and ran towards the door to meet Te’Qui. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him all over his face. Te’Qui winced against her embrace and pushed her back gently. She frowned up at him, wondering what she’d done to hurt him.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Kesha questioned with concern, looking him up and down.
Te’Qui didn’t bother answering her. He walked over to the nightstand with the mirror attachment and sat his shotgun down on it, along with the package of coke he had on him. Next, he pulled out the throwaway cell phone and Killa Tay’s jewelry, both of which he sat down on the nightstand beside the other shit he’d put there.
Te’Qui, what’s the matter?” she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Gimme a sec’, babe,” Te’Qui squeezed his eyelids shut and clenched his jaws, fighting back the pain he was feeling. He peeled off his trench coat and then his sweatshirt, handing it to her. Looking back up, he saw the bullets mashed up against his bulletproof vest. He started unstrapping the Kevlar armor.
“Oh, my God, bae, you were shot?” Kesha’s eyes grew big. She knew that Te’Qui could have been killed that night if he’d been shot, and that scared her. In fact, it scared the living shit out of her. Her eyes got moist but she didn’t cry.
“Yeah, nigga came outta nowhere and threw three at cha boy. Luckily I was strapped up,” Te’Qui took the bulletproof vest off and sat it up against the nightstand’s mirror. Looking at his reflection, he saw the reddish purple bruising from where he’d been popped in his vest.
“That looks bad. Do you want me to put some ointment on it?” she asked as she examined the bruises on his chest.
“Yeah. And fix me a drink, will ya?” he asked her.
“Sure, bae, what would you like?” she asked over her shoulder as she slipped his trench coat on a hanger to hang it
on the rack inside of the closet. She had his holy sweatshirt over her shoulder and was going to dispose of it shortly.
“The usual, momma.” he responded as he picked up his cellular and lay back in bed.
“Okay.” Kesha walked past him to go make the drink he’d requested.
As soon as Kesha had left the bedroom Te’Qui got on the jack with Big Will. He told him he’d handled the job and asked him where he wanted to meet, so he could collect his other half of the money.
“Alright, you wanna meet up there at what time?” Te’Qui asked Big Will as he took the glass of alcohol from Kesha who’d just sat down beside him in bed. She was beginning to twist the top off a small jar of ointment. “Cool. I’ll holla at chu, then. Peace.” he disconnected the call and sat the cell phone down beside him in bed. He then took a sip of his drink and licked his lips. “Aahh!”
Te’Qui winced in pain feeling Kesha’s fingers rub the ointment on his bruises. He looked at her like she was the devil.
“I’m sorry, boo, I wasn’t tryna hurt chu. Here, limme kiss it and make it better.” She leaned down and kissed his injuries, then went back to rubbing the ointment onto his chest, gently this time. “How’s that?”
“I got somethin’ you can kiss and make feel better,” he looked at her with a smile and freaky thoughts on his brain.
“I bet chu do.” she smiled and playfully slapped him on the shoulder, before going back to applying the ointment onto his bruises. He continued to sip from his glass as she performed her duty.
“You know, bae, you were right. I shoulda hit that nigga T.J. up so he coulda rolled out with me, to have my back.” he took the time to scratch his nose with his thumb before continuing, “Shit got realll thick up in there. I thought them fools had me back there. I came close to checkin’ out, especially when that fool threw them three at me. Through the grace of God, a nigga still here, but I coulda been gone.”
“See,” she began, blinking back the tears that had formed in her eyes. “I told you, but you weren’t tryna listen to me. Maybe you’ll listen to me now, and take ‘em along the next time you gotta go up against more than one head.”
“I am. As a matter of fact, the next lick I get I’m bringin’ homie with me.”
“Good.” she replied, twisting the lid back onto the ointment. “There. All done.”
“Gimme a kiss.” he placed his hand behind her head and pulled her closer. He kissed her long, deep and passionately.
The next night
Te’Qui was five minutes away from the meeting spot that he and Big Will had agreed upon, when he’d gotten another call from him changing the location. He gave him the address to some house out in Compton. Te’Qui didn’t ask why he’d changed his mind about meeting at the other location. He just figured he had his reasons. Besides, it wasn’t like it was a big deal to him. The only thing that bothered him was the way the nigga sounded on the jack. Big Will sounded as if he was frustrated and angry about something. What it was, he did not know, nor did he give a shit, just as long as that nigga had his paper.
Te’Qui parked four houses down and across the street from the house Big Will told him to meet him at. Reaching underneath his seat, he grabbed his gun and cocked a hollow tip into its brain. He then hopped out of the car and shut the door behind him. He gave his surrounding a quick scan before tucking his banga on his waistline. Te’Qui jogged across the street looking up and down the block for any oncoming vehicles, which he didn’t see. He entered the yard of a tan house with a brown rooftop. Its greenish brown grass was unkempt and dying.
Te’Qui was about to make his way up the steps to ring the doorbell when he heard a menacing voice above his head.
“Who are you, Blood?” The voice rang aloud.
Te’Qui looked up to find two gunmen on the rooftop, one sitting and another standing. The one that was speaking to him was wearing a red bandana laid over his head, with a fitted cap on to of it. Another red bandana was over the lower half of his face. He sported a bulletproof vest underneath a windbreaker. Homie was pointing something long, black and dangerous at Te’Qui, with a banana clip in it. The murder in his eyes led Te’Qui to believe that if he said the wrong thing he’d lay him down where he was standing.
“I’m Q-Ball, homie.” Te’Qui answered with his hands up in the air.
“Who you here to see, nigga?” The nigga sitting down on the rooftop asked. He had the exact same weapon that his homeboy standing beside him had, and he was pointing that big mothafucka down at Te’Qui just like he was.
The other nigga on the rooftop was rocking a red beanie with Compton emblazoned on it. A red bandana was around his neck and he had one hanging from the end of his assault rifle’s barrel. He was wearing a bulletproof vest on top of his long sleeve T-shirt. His eyes were also filled with murder, begging for Te’Qui to flex so he could add another body under his belt.
“Big Will.”
“Blood, know you was comin’ through?” he asked. When Te’Qui nodded, he pulled out his cellular and hit up Big Will. They had a quick conversation before he lowered his weapon and turned his eyes back to Te’Qui. “You good, my nigga, gon’ to the back and knock on the door.”
When the blood sitting down on the rooftop lowered his weapon, his comrade did too.
With the go ahead having been given, Te’Qui made his way to the back of the house. Pushing open the double black iron gates, Te’Qui entered the backyard to be greeted by two hulking pit bulls. One of them was white with a pink nose while the other was brown and striped. The beasts went crazy on their chains when they spotted Te’Qui’s ass, growling and barking madly. The very moment the hounds went off, the light bulb above the back porch came on. As soon as it did, Te’Qui looked up at it. Right after, he heard the doors of the black iron door coming undone. Once the door finally opened, he came face to face with Big Will. He was wearing a wife beater and slacks. He was shiny from perspiration. He was clutching a fist full of money in one hand and a small brown leather bag in the other. The very familiar smell of marijuana filled the air and taintilized Te’Qui’s nasal senses.
“’Sup, homie?” Big Will dapped up Te’Qui with the fist he clutched the money in.
“Ain’t shit. What chu got goin’ in there?” Te’Qui nosily peeked over his shoulder to see niggaz shooting craps at the kitchen table. There was niggaz smoking fat ass blunts and drinking dark liquor from out of plastic cups too. In fact, one of them was Drama; he was holding a cup of alcohol and shooting dice with the other, oblivious to the presence of Te’Qui.
“Gambling. Here. This you.” He passed him the brown leather bag.
“So, that’s why you were tight when I holla’d at chu earlier tonight.” Te’Qui said, having put two and two together.
“Hell yeah, man, niggaz been tearing my big black ass up in there. It’s okay though ‘cause I gotta ‘nough paypa to shooting ‘til these niggaz’ arms fall off.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a red bandana, wiping the sweat from off his face and neck. Afterwards, he tucked the bandana back inside of his pocket. “You tryna get in on this crap game?”
Before Te’Qui answered, he peeked over Big Will’s shoulder again. This time he found Drama wincing and shaking his head having just crapped out. He threw down his money for his fade and looked back up. His eyes were focused on the new shooter on the dice, and he was about to take a sip of the alcohol in his cup, when he looked at Te’Qui. Drama’s face balled up with anger and he looked at him like What the fuck are you looking at?
“Why don’t chu take a picture? It’ll last longer, mothafucka!” Drama spat at him heatedly. Te’Qui switched hands with the brown leather bag and pulled out his gun. He went to enter the house, but Big Will moved into his path and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Whoa now, cowboy, don’t pay unc no mind. He’s just in his feelings ‘cause them niggaz in there tapping them pockets. You know how it is when you losing money on them tables; niggaz be mad at the world.”
Te’Qui nodded his understanding and tucked his Glizzy back up. “I hear you. But cho people and their attitude, man. You and me are good money, Big, but I ain’t gon’ keep lettin’ shit with that nigga fly. For real, for real, old head better start respectin’ mine, ‘fore he find himself wearing one of them tags on his toes.”
Big Will tilted his head to the side as he scowled at Te’Qui. He didn’t like that the young nigga had threatened to body his uncle, but then again, he understood where he was coming from. They were all gangstaz and demanded respect. Every last one of them was willing to kill and die behind their reputations.
“I feel you. I’ma holla at my peoples and get his mind right.”
“Good.”
“You got that footage for me?”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Te’Qui reached into his back pocket and pulled out the throwaway cellular he’d used to film the fools that had beat down Killa Tay apologizing. He pulled up the footage on the device and passed it to Big Will. Big Will pressed play on the cell phone and watched the footage, a smile forming across his lips. He patted Te’Qui on his shoulder and gave him his props for handling his business. Afterwards, he slipped the cellular into his pocket and dapped him up.
“Good shit. I’ma have my people load up the footage with the quickness. I bet this shit go viral and getta million hits. Mothafuckaz will know notta fuck with Hood Rich records and their affiliates.” Big Will said with confidence.
“Sho’ you right. Limme gon’ and get up outta here though. I’ll get up witchu later.” Te’Qui told him.
The gangstaz dapped up and parted ways.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two weeks later
Te’Qui sat up in a tub of murky, hot, sudsy water taking the occasional pull of a bleezy. While he indulged in the gas, Kesha went about the task of washing him up. Once she was finished, she’d go on to dry him off, dress him and feed him. Kesha treated her man like a fucking king, and he in turn treated her like a queen.