Sun & Shyne 2: School Daze

by Sa'id Salaam

  “A’ight, a’ight. Get ready so we can go to the Bronx,” Killa said and got ready himself. His Dominican partner had a used car lot on Jerome Avenue that specialized in tag jobs. Stolen cars would get new VIN numbers from wrecked cars. The check from his truck would go a long way at the lot.

  “I need something sexy,” Sun said more himself than his father as they rode. “A vagina finder.”

  “A cat mobile?” Killa chuckled but his son didn’t. “Get it? Cat mobile like Batman…you wack!”

  “Eww, that’s wack!” Sun grimaced at a beat-up looking hooker on Jerome Ave. “Who would pay for that!”

  “You would be surprised! They get a lot more than they pay for, too. A hundred percent of the prostitutes on this street test positive for HIV,” Killa explained. “These women and teens are the real walking dead. Men get a quick nut for a couple of bucks and then go home to infect their wives and girlfriends.”

  “That’s fucked up,” Sun blurted before he could stop himself. The curse was already out so he left it alone. His father nodded in agreement because it was fucked up.

  “Here we go,” Killa said, breaking the silence when they approached his friend’s lot.

  “That’s it right there!” Sun shouted. He jumped out the car before it even stopped. He stumbled, rolled, then popped up, and ran over to a jet black Benz.

  “Sup, Killa?” the owner greeted his old friend with a warm smile.

  “Sup with you, Manny?” he replied with a pound and hug. “I see my son found something he likes! How much?”

  “For ju, papi…give me twenty,” Manny said, giving him half off his price which was half off what it was worth.

  “Bet!” Killa cheered at the discount. He spotted a dark sedan with tint that looked like a cop car. It would be perfect to do dirt in. “What you want for that one? And I need it with all the bells and whistles. Oh, and a couple cherry bombs.”

  “Give me two for the car and the bells and whistles are on me.”

  “Can we go for a test drive?” Sun asked as he came over. Manny called for the keys in rapid fire Spanish, sending a man in motion. He returned a minute later and handed them over.

  “This is smooth,” Killa admired as they floated up the Avenue.

  “Hells yeah! I gotta have it!” the teen pleaded.

  “No doubt but, uh…it’s flashy. This is why you got your ass kicked. Niggas spot your whip at all the girls’ houses. You need a spare car. Something low-key, dark with tints,” the father taught the son. Killa could see the wheels turning in his son’s mind. When they returned to the lot, Sun spotted a car that fit the description.

  “So, we gonna write it up?” Manny asked when they returned.

  “Um, yeah,” Sun replied and turned to his father. “Why don’t you run and grab us some lunch while I handle this?”

  “Okay,” Killa said, trying not to laugh as his son attempted to dismiss him so he could talk business with Manny. He even pulled a few dollars out to pay for lunch.

  “How much you asking for the blue sedan? I got a check for twenty-five,” Sun explained.

  “I’ll let you get it for two, so you got three bands coming back,” Manny replied.

  “Check it, I don’t want my pops to know about this, though. He kinda green, you know,” Sun leaned in and whispered.

  “Your father, green? Wow!” Manny exclaimed. He, of course, knew better. “Um, okay. I’ll leave it on the block for you then.”

  “Bet. Me and my peeps will come scoop it tonight,” he said. They concluded the deal just before Killa returned with Mickey D’s.

  “All set?” he asked, turning blue from sucking one of those thick ass vanilla shakes.

  “All set,” Manny and Sun replied.

  The two shook hands and departed to Long Island. Sun opened up his new whip on the expressway and left his father in the dust.

  Chapter 21

  “And you came up with that on your own?” Shyne asked dubiously as she drove Sun to pick up his other car. She squinted at him to make sure he was really him. “Maybe you’re not retarded.”

  “Nope!” Sun said proudly. His father had planted the seed about the spare car so well that he really thought that it was his own idea. He pulled their shared gun from under the seat and cocked it when he saw the familiar ‘Welcome to The Bronx’ sign.

  “Damn shame!” Shyne fussed as a young prostitute tried to flag them down while another one chased after a car like a dog.

  “You don’t know the half!” Sun exclaimed. He filled her in on what his father had told him about the HIV rate on the hoe stroll.

  “And these broads know they got that shit and passing it around,” Shyne growled. She was disgusted at first. Now she was plain mad.

  “Yup. Oh, there it go!” Sun declared when he saw his vehicle parked on the curb.

  “Check it out good before we pull off!” Shyne called to her brother. He complied by kicking the tires as he walked around to the popped the trunk.

  “Oh shit!” Sun shouted, wide-eyed with excitement and shut it back.

  “Don’t tell me you bought a car with a body in the trunk,” she said, getting out to see what he was so excited about. He was too stunned to speak so she took the keys and opened the trunk for herself.

  “Yoooooo!” she said, bouncing happily. Inside the trunk were two Mac 10 machine pistols. Both had an extra clip and long silencers. Even better were the two grenades. “One for me, one for you!”

  “Nuh uh! You can get a Mac but the grenades are mine!” Sun protested, with his stingy ass.

  “I’m telling daddy!” Shyne whined.

  “And just how does that go?” Sun quipped. “Daddy, Sun won’t give me a grenade. And he gon’ say, Sun, share with your sister. Give her a grenade!”

  “Yup!” she said over his laughter. She was right, too, because that’s exactly what he would have said. Those were the cherry bombs to go along with the bells and whistles he’d asked for.

  “Here, girl!” Sun said begrudgingly and gave up one of each. Shyne smiled happily and took her new toys to her truck. She couldn’t wait to try them out.

  Sun drove behind his sister up Jerome Avenue to the expressway. He saw her brake lights come on as they passed the congregation of hookers. She drove half a block more then pulled over.

  “Shyne, Shyne, Shyne,” Sun said, shaking his head when it dawned on him what she was up to. It wasn’t a bad idea so he pulled over to join her. She approached the hookers from one way while he came from the other.

  “Looking for a good time?” an elderly hooker asked Shyne as she approached. She and the other whores cracked up at the joke but come to find out, the joke was on them.

  For the record, it’s never a good idea to tease a deranged teen holding a Mac-10 behind her back.

  “As a matter of fact, I am!” Shyne smile as she whipped the gun out. The fully automatic gun spit so silently that they didn’t know what hit them.

  It looked like a hooker dance off as the .45 ACP rounds made them do The Harlem Shake, Wop and Running Man. They turned to run but Sun opened fire from the other direction. Both guns clicked empty and both teens reloaded.

  The sound of stiletto heels click-clacked on the sidewalk as the Macs clapped at their backs. By the time they emptied their next clip, thirty prostitutes lay dead or dying. They wouldn’t be spreading anymore diseases.

  “Now that’s what I call a public service announcement!” Shyne cheered.

  ****

  “Sometimes the best way to get some get back is to wait, rock ‘em to sleep so that they think the beef is over,” Sun replied when Shyne wanted to know why the dudes who’d jumped him were still breathing. He’d gotten the advice from his dad but left that part out.

  “Um…okay,” Shyne agreed since it made perfect sense. She squinted once again and sure enough, it was her brother. Maybe he wasn’t really retarded after all. Maybe it came and went like a rash, or maybe…

  “What?” Sun protested as Shyne stared at him
trying to figure him out.

  “Nothing. Just handle your business before I do,” she warned.

  “Leave them alone! I got this. Chill and watch me work!”

  And work he did. A month had passed since the attack before he went on the attack himself. Grip was the first to swing so he was going to be the first to die. Having no car forced the broke man to walk everywhere he went. That made him an easy target. Sun knew the dude had a reputation as a shooter and would probably be armed, so he came hard when he came.

  Suga, Grip’s baby mama, had the body of a super model but the IQ of a doorknob. Her self-esteem wasn’t much higher because she was jet black and all media outlets said you had to be light skinned to be pretty. Every music video show mixed women she looked nothing like. Every urban book she read had half Black, half Asian chicks with long, sinuous hair. As a result, she fucked for compliments. Sun told her she had a nice ass in gym class and she thanked him by giving him some ass in gym class.

  Suga lived on the opposite side of town, which meant Grip had a long walk to her place. Not a good idea when you’re being stalked by a killer. He was exposed in so many places that Sun had a hard time picking an ambush spot. A wooden area near his own home was finally selected. Sun parked his sedan and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Lookie, lookie,” Sun cheered when he saw his victim ditty bopping right towards him. The car was so plain that most people walked by without a look. He slowly lowered the tinted window as Grip approached. “Yo, Grip!”

  “Huh?” Grip asked, turning to Sun. His mind didn’t have time to register the gun before it spat at him.

  ‘Pst’ the silent gun whispered a round into his forehead. Sun pressed the gas, leaving the dead man backpedaling. He tripped on death and fell in the middle of the street.

  Sun parked the hooptie in its spot a few blocks from home. He made the short walk home and went inside.

  “One down,” he told Shyne and gave a wink like their father didn’t understand. Killa just shook his head like, ‘if these kids only knew.’

  “Who you calling?” Shyne frowned, hoping he wasn’t crazy enough to brag to anyone else. Asad was their closest friend and he had no idea what they did.

  “Suga. I’m going to comfort her during her time of grief,” he laughed. Actually, it was more of a relief than it was a grief for the girl.

  “Use a condom!” Killa and Shyne both called after him as he left the room.

  ****

  Ronnie, Ricky and Mike weren’t New Edition but they were cousins so they were almost always together. That meant that Sun could kill three birds with one stone, or grenade. He stalked them for days looking for the perfect time to strike. It came late one Saturday night.

  Ronnie had three bucks to go with Ricky’s two dollars and Mike had stolen a ten from his mother’s purse. The grand total of fifteen bucks meant they could buy a dime bag of reefer, cigars and two forty ounces of malt liquor. They didn’t want to share with their girls or baby mamas so they headed to the park. Once they got good and high, they would go lay-up with their women.

  “Yo, I’ma go fuck the shit outta baby mama once we finish,” Ronnie declared between tokes of weed.

  “Word!” Ricky co-signed. That’s pretty much all he ever said anyway.

  “Meka on the rag and bitch still don’t suck no dick, so I’ma go home watch some porn and jack this dick,” Mike announced.

  They were chopping it up real good when they heard a metallic knock on the glass window. The three men strained to see through the smoke and darkness. Ronnie rolled a window down and couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Is that Sun? Let’s whoop his ass again!” he suggested and hopped out. His cousins followed him and came face to face with a Mac-10.

  “My nigga, Sun! Yo, you smokin’, yo?” Mike cheered as if they were the best of friends. A Mac-10 with a silencer on it will make a nigga want to be friends.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Sun said, accepting the blunt. He gave it a sniff to make sure that it wasn’t laced with anything. He made sure that it didn’t spark, sizzle or give off any strange smells before he took a pull.

  “Yo, you know we really wasn’t with that shit,” Ricky offered. It didn’t make much sense since they were involved in the beat down but when someone has a Mac-10, you gotta say something.

  “Eh,” Sun shrugged. “Which one was your girl? I got confused.”

  “Meka, my baby mama!” Mike said defiantly.

  “You had a baby by that thot?! You should do like I do and bust her in her mouth. Here, let me show you,” Sun laughed and showed the video of the girl who didn’t give head giving him head. Mike wanted to swing on Sun but, he had that Mac.

  Sun went on having Show and Tell about all their girlfriends. He’d had sex with all of them since the attack and made sure to get it on tape. The boys had no choice but to sit there and take it since Sun had a Mac. They were relieved when the blunts were finished so the show would be over.

  “Yo, you need a ride anywhere?” Ronnie offered since Sun had approached on foot. The dark sedan was parked nearby but was almost invisible in the darkness.

  “Nah, I’m not tryna go where you guys are headed,” he replied. They missed the veiled threat and piled back into the car. Ronnie got behind the wheel, Ricky slid into the passenger’s seat while Mike hopped in the back and Sun jumped on top of the hood.

  “Get off of there!” Ricky shouted as Sun raised the gun. The fully automatic weapon opened up huge holes in the windshield as he sprayed the front seats. Ronnie and Ricky were killed almost instantly but Mike survived by ducking behind the seat.

  “Good news or bad news?” Sun called into the survivor. As his gun clicked empty.

  “Uh, good news?” Mike asked hopefully.

  “Well, the good news is I’m out of bullets. This…” Sun paused to pull the grenade from his pockets. “This is the bad news.”

  Sun pulled the pin with his teeth like he saw in the movies and tossed it inside. However, he didn’t take cover like they did in the movies. Instead, he stood there and watched. The device exploded, lifting Sun off the hood and flying into the air.

  “Amateur,” Killa said, shaking his head from his hiding spot. The grenade shredded Mike and crew up. Sun, on the other hand, ended up with a broken arm after landing with a thud.

  “Shit!” Sun cursed as his broken arm dangled uselessly. He winced in pain as he hobbled to his car. It was a struggle to drive with one hand but he managed to make it back to his parking spot. He looked like the Hunchback of Wyandanch as he hobbled home.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Shyne fussed when he came in in distress. Shyne looked and sounded just like their mother in that instant.

  “I broke my arm!” Sun said, trying to lift it. “Can you fix it?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can,” Shyne guessed. “I may have to operate, though.”

  “Okay. Let’s go in the kitchen,” Sun said. He was in so much pain that he would’ve agreed to almost anything. Luckily for him, their father came in when he did. Shyne wanted to be a doctor one day but wasn’t one today.

  “Come on, we’re going to the hospital,” Killa said in a tone that left no room for argument or protest.

  Shyne helped her brother outside and into the back of the car. She got up front and rode shotgun next to her daddy. A few hours later they returned home with Sun’s arm in a cast.

  Chapter 22

  Summer was drawing to a close and Sun was still in a cast. It drove Shyne crazy to see Markel still walking around in her brother’s chain. The thought of him getting away with it was something she just couldn’t live with. Sun was ready to let it go but not Shyne.

  Shyne was once cool with Markel’s girlfriend Shay. She was actually a part of the good girl clique until she went bad. Once a good girl goes bad, she’s gone for good, or until she’s ready to redeem herself.

  The chubby girl was taunted and teased about her big lips and lisp in elementary and middle school. Onc
e she got to high school, everything changed. She started drinking, smoking and traded Shyne and company for a crew of ratchet girls. Next thing you know, she was fucking and sucking with the best of them. Markel claimed her as his own and whooped her ass anytime she broke up with him. Come to find out, she was a victim, too. More like hostage, really.

  Shyne decide to drive over to Shay’s house with the intention of beating her up. She wasn’t going to kill her but she did plan to blacken her eyes and swell up her big lips even more. That was the plan until Shay opened her door.

  “Bit- Dayum! What happened to you?” Shyne asked, going from one hundred to zero instantly. Both eyes were black and her top lip had black stitches in it.

  “Come on in,” the wounded girl sighed and walked inside. Shyne watched her as she plopped down on the sofa before she entered and closed the door behind herself.

  “I know you came to beat me up but before you do, you should know that I didn’t set your brother up. Markel beat my ass and took my phone.”

  “Who did this to you?” Shyne asked compassionately. She may have been a little lunatic but she hated injustice.

  “Markel, who else? I believe it turns him on to jump on me. He always be wanting to fuck as soon as he’s finished,” she answered.

  Shay was so relieved to be able to vent, she broke down in tears. Shyne took her in her arms and rocked her until she got it all out. They sat there for hours talking like they used to. Shyne encouraged her to follow her dream of joining the Air Force and Shay had unknowingly given up all kinds of valuable information on Markel. Shyne knew enough about his life to end it.

  ****

  “Shyne who?” Markel frowned as he took the call on his cell phone.

  “How many girls name Shyne do you know?” Shyne spat back. She stopped short of calling him a stupid name to match the stupid question.

  “Only Shyne I know is a pretty little bitch that ain’t fucking!”

  “Damn, I call to get with you and you insult me!” Shyne said, feeling genuinely insulted. Good thing she was going to kill him anyway. “I’m feeling you, though.”