Blood of a Boss: The Moreno Family
Page 25
Always and forever,
Gervin ‘Grip’ Moreno
P.S. You were destined to be the boss!
As soon as he finished reading the letter, gunfire erupted from the ground floor. “Yo’ Sonny! Uncle Easy!” Breeze shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s two niggas tied up in the basement!”
When Sonny and Easy entered the basement, and saw Monster and Lil’ Buggy hanging from the ceiling butt ass naked, goose bumps covered their skin.
“Go outside and wait for me in the truck!” Sonny snarled through clenched teeth.
Without uttering a word, the three men did as he instructed. “Hey, yo’ pops, hold up,” He grabbed Easy by the arm. “You got some more of that sulfuric acid?”
“Yeah,” Easy replied. “I got two of ‘em left.”
“Lemme get ‘em.”
Easy handed over the brown bottles, and then left the basement.
As the door shut behind him, Sonny circled the two men hanging from the ceiling. “Y’all gotta be the dumbest mu’fuckas in the world!” He antagonized them.
In unison they both attempted to plead their cases and beg for their lives, but the gray duct tape that covered their mouths wouldn’t allow it. Sonny opened the first bottle of acid and tossed the liquid on Monster’s bare skin and immediately the acid sizzled and ate through his flesh.
“Ummmm! Ummmm!!!!” He cried out. His muffled screams depicting the excruciating pain he was forced to experience.
Sonny opened the second bottle and gave Lil’ Buggy the same treatment, eliciting the same response.
As both men slipped in and out of consciousness, Sonny threw on a pair of gloves, and then grabbed the hot barrel of his AK-47. He held the assault rifle like a baseball bat, and with all of his might he repeatedly struck their bodies until his arms grew tired. After a good sixty seconds had passed both Monster and Lil’ Buggy were barely breathing. The sulfuric acid had burned their bodies so bad that a puddle of bloody flesh had accumulated on the floor beneath them.
In a silent rage, Sonny removed the depleted magazine from his AK and replaced it with a fresh one. After cocking back the lever, he took a few steps back and fired relentlessly. He filled both bodies with the 50 round clip.
Brrrroc! Brrrroc! Brrrroc! Brrrroc! Brrrroc! Brrrroc!
As the bullets ripped through their mutilated bodies, chunks of flesh and bone flew across the smokefilled room. After emptying the clip, Sonny scooped up a handful of shellcasings, ignoring the heat, and placed them inside of his jacket pocket. He then headed toward the briefcase sitting on the far end of the basement. He popped it open, and just like Grip had stated in the letter there were rubber banded stacks of one hundred dollar bills. Exasperated, he closed the briefcase and left the basement.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Week Later…
The First Baptist Church of Crestmont was filled with the family and friends of Riana Smalls. It was a sad day for everyone who knew and loved her, and this was predicated by the loud wails and controlled sobbing that filled the sanctuary.
The pastor of the church was assuring her loved ones that she was now in the presence of her Lord and Savior, and just below his elevated pulpit, her flower covered casket was accompanied by the gold picture stand that held her picture.
A cold chill entered the sanctuary causing everybody to turn around toward the door. Standing in the doorway, dressed in a triple black Armani suit, black Armani shades, and a black Armani trench coat, Sonny took a deep breath, and then headed up the aisle toward her casket. When he approached the pulpit, the pastor looked down at him and said, “Ah, excuse me young man, but you’re gonna have to take a seat until I’m finished with the eulogy.”
Silence.
The look that Sonny gave the man was so ferocious he almost pissed in his pants. Oh, my Lord Jesus, this nigga ain’t nothin’ but the devil, the fat, black T.D. Jakes looking man thought to himself as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Ignoring the man, piece by piece, Sonny removed the floral arrangement from the top of the casket. A handful of her family members voiced their displeasure, but nothing or nobody was going to stop him from seeing his soul mate one last time.
“Sontino?” Her mother questioned his actions from the first pew.
He looked at her and removed his Armani shades. With tears streaming from his eyes, he said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Mary, but I gotta give her somethin’ before she leaves.” He returned his full attention to the ivory casket with white gold trimmings and opened the lid. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Aside from her swollen head, the right side of her face was caved in, and her once light complexion was now a purplish blue. He broke down crying. Damn, man, look at the way these niggas did my baby! He thought to himself as tears continued to pour from his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then fixed his eyes on the ceiling of the church. “Yo, how could you even let some shit like this happen? How?”
He reached inside of his Armani slacks and pulled out a purple Crown Royal bag. He loosened the gold colored string, then reached inside and pulled out the casings of the bullets he used to avenge her murder. After placing them inside of her casket, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out her engagement ring. He then lifted her cold left hand, and put the diamond ring back in its proper place. He bent forward and softly whispered in her ear. “I love you, Riri, and no matter whatchu go through in the next life, just know I’ma always love you and you’ll always be my wife.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, and then stood erect. Slowly, he closed her casket and put the flowers back in position. After taking a few seconds to regain his composure, he threw his shades back on and quietly left the church.
*****
Later That Night...
Attempting to blow off some steam, he drove to Erie Avenue looking to find a dice game. Ever since he first started getting money with Mook, just like his slain big homie, gambling became one of his favorite past times and he desperately hoped a couple hours of shooting dice would ease his mind.
It was 10:45 p.m. when he pulled up on Park Ave. and Butler Street. He was a couple of blocks away from Broad Street Eddie’s and uncharacteristically the block was essentially deserted. The orange street lights that normally illuminated the block weren’t working, making a dark night appear even darker. A strange silence filled the intersection, and the only thing moving was the large North Philly rats that scurried from one side of the street to the other. Normally, this would have been a clear indicator that something wasn’t right, but he was too caught up in his stress filled thoughts to take notice.
After retrieving the $15,000 that was stashed in his glove compartment, he climbed out his SL 550 and closed the door. As he turned to walk up the block, a dark, shadowy figure in a black hoody appeared from out of nowhere and placed a snub nosed .357 to the side of his face.
“Nigga, you know what the fuck it is!” The man snarled, and then nodded his head toward the brick of money that was clutched in his hands. “Run that!”
Yo, this shit is crazy! He thought to himself as he caught a glimpse of the man’s face. Aside from his piercing blue eyes, the face under the hoody was analogous to his own. He had lightskin, a chiseled face, and a thin mustache.
“Yo, why the fuck is you lookin’ at me like that, dawg?”
“Naw, that’s my bad, fam. I ain’t mean no harm,” Sonny quickly replied, while handing him the $15,000.
“Take that jewelry off too!” He nodded at Sonny’s iced-out ‘NP’ charm and his Brietling.
After removing his jewelry and handing it over to his little brother, Rahmello smacked him in the side of his head with the .357, and then took off running.
To Be Continued...
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