Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  “I know. And I’m sorry.” Kamora dropped her head.

  I put a finger under her chin and roughly lifted her head up so that her eyes met mine. “Don’t start acting like no punk ass bitch! I thought you said you were gonna ride for me like Inez and Keisha rode for my pop.”

  “I am,” she said. “But he was just a tiny, little baby.

  “Shawdy, I’m not talking about the goddamn baby! I’m talking about the way you was sympathizing for the bitch!”

  “I kind of felt sorry for her. When you took BoBo upstairs, she knew you were going to kill him. She begged me to let her slip out of the door with her baby before you came back downstairs. She said that she had been through so much in her life and all she wanted to do was see her child grow up. I can’t lie, bae, that touched me,” explained Kamora.

  I shook my head in amazement. The bitch should not have gotten a chance to tell Kamora her life story, because as soon as she disobeyed the command to shut up, Kamora should have silenced her forever. Ain’t no mercy when you run up in somebody’s spot.

  “You’re getting soft, shawdy,” I said, walking away to go shower and rinse the blood off ofme.

  The hot spray of the water relaxed my muscles, but did little to relax my mind. Kamora’s behavior was not something I could overlook. I loved shawdy and I had faith in her gangsta, so I hated to think that what she had shown was a sign of weakness. Because if that was true, I had no choice but to treat her as I would my enemies.

  Loyalty to a weak muthafucka had cost my pop his life. I was not going to let the same thing cost me mine.

  I closed my eyes and let the water rinse the suds off of my body. When I stepped out of the shower, Kamora was standing there holding a towel out for me. I walked right past her and grabbed a different towel off of the wall rack.

  “What happened tonight won’t happen again,” she promised. Still, I ignored her. She wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned her head against my back. “Bae, the last thing I want to do in this world is disappoint you,” she said with such sincerity that it broke through the anger I had put up like a brick wall. I turned and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  “If you wanna fall back, I’ll understand. Just don’t switch up on me until you complete what we’re working on with Sharena. I want her nigga so bad I dream about killin’ him in my sleep,” I confessed.

  “I understand, bae, and I’m not going to let you down. I’m sorry about tonight. I don’t know why I felt sorry for that lady. Maybe it was because she looked like one of my elementary school teachers who was very nice to me. Or maybe I simply fell for her story. She was so young, and I could tell that she really loved her baby.”

  Kamora’s eyes grew watery.

  I sighed. “Everybody has a story, baby girl. Hers was no sadder than the ones that came before her or the ones that will follow. Let her tell her story when she reaches the pearly gates.”

  “Don’t say that, bae.”

  “Real talk, shawdy.”

  I dried off and threw on some boxers and then sat down in front of the television and turned on my X-BOX. “Spark up some of that loud,” I said to Kamora.

  The loud got my head right and slanted my eyes. I fell asleep on the couch thinking about the message tonight’s events would send to Zeke. Now he would know that the price for opposing my street tax was the blood of whomever he cared about.

  CHAPTER 7

  Word on the streets was that Zeke broke down when he learned his brother had been murked. I also heard he had put out a contract on me for a hundred bands. That didn’t bother me, because whoever tried to collect it was gonna get sent back to him in a body bag. Muthafuckas was about to find out that I wasn’t easy to touch.

  I gave Zeke his props, though. Even though I had sent a strong message when I slumped his brother, he didn’t fold. I called and asked him, “You ready to pay taxes or do I gotta send you another reminder not to test my gangsta?”

  “Little, bitch ass nigga, you can’t extort me! I fill cemeteries up with young reckless punks like you,” he retorted.

  “I hear you talking all this killer shit, but what you saying? You ain’t saying nothing, pimp.”

  “Quit hiding like a bitch and come and see me.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” I assured him and then ended the call.

  For the next couple of days, I just kicked back and plotted moves. I wasn’t worried about Zeke. Niggas like him had gotten fat off of the game and wouldn’t put in any work. That wouldn’t stop him from sending someone else to do his work for him, though, so I kept my eyes open and my head on a swivel whenever I was out and about.

  The one clear advantage I had over Zeke in war was that I didn’t have any soldiers he could knock off. But he sure had plenty niggas whose heads I could splatter to make Zeke hurt. He didn’t know my loved ones, so he couldn’t get at me that way. All I had to do was protect Kamora and myself from his wrath.

  Besides the beef I had in the streets, a few other things were on my mind. More importantly, I wanted to go visit my paternal grandmother who had been committed to a psychiatric hospital in Milledgeville, Georgia. I had gotten so caught up in my hustle, I had not visited her in six months.

  I woke up early on a Saturday morning and called the facility to clear the visit with them. Kamora overheard the conversation and asked if she could go with me.

  Two and a half hours later, we were being buzzed in to see my grandmother. We were led into a cozy visitation room furnished with a couch, a small table and a pair of cushioned chairs. We sat down and I anxiously waited for the nurse to bring my grandmother out. I was hoping that her mental condition had improved since my last visit.

  Kamora and I both stood up to greet my grandmother when she was led into the room. She moved as if she was in her seventies when in fact she was only fifty-two years old. When I hugged her, she felt frail and as brittle as a dry leaf. My heart ached. I was glad that my pop could not see his mother in this condition.

  “Hi, baby.” She smiled at me.

  Her hair was gray and they had her dressed like an old lady, square-toed shoes and all. Even the perfume she wore smelled old and stale.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I spoke back. I wanted to squeeze her tight to let her know I loved her and that despite her condition and appearance, it was good to see her. But I was afraid I might hurt her. “How you been, doing?”

  “I’m wonderful, now that my babies are here to see me. Hello, Toi. Get over here and give your mama a hug and stop acting shy.” She was talking to Kamora. This told me right away that she was still delusional. “Terrence, what is wrong with your sister?”

  “Nothing, Mama. I’m okay,” said Kamora who always played right along with Grandma’s delusion. Neither of us had the heart to correct her.

  “I told these stupid nurses that my two children weren’t dead, but what do these nurses know?” Grandma whispered conspiratorially.

  “Not a thing.” I agreed

  “Terrence, remember that time you hid from me in the dryer and Toi wouldn’t tell me where you were? I thought you had run away.”

  Grandma was confusing me with my father, but I just nodded and smiled.

  We all sat down and then Grandma wagged a bony finger at Kamora and said, “Toi, remember when you used to sneak and wear make-up to school? Girl, your tail was so hot I didn’t know what I would do with you. I had asked God to give me a husband to help me raise y’ all. When I met Raymond, I believed that God had answered my prayer,” Her eyes turned sad.

  “It’s okay, Mama,” said Kamora as if she were Toi.

  “No, it’s not. I almost allowed that man to turn me against my own son. Terrence, Mama is so sorry for that.” Grandma looked toward me and began weeping.

  Raymond, the man whom she thought was a blessing from God had despised my pop to the point that my pop was not allowed in their house. Grandma had gone along with it and that damaged her relationship with my pop while he was on the streets. It wasn’t until Pop was locked up
and facing the death penalty that their relationship was repaired. I believe that after my pop was executed, Grandma’s guilt helped drive her into a nervous breakdown.

  “Grandma, you don’t have to cry. I believe that before my pop died he knew that you loved him.”

  “What did you call me? Boy, I’m not your grandmother. I’m your mama. And don’t ever let me hear you say that you’re dead. Why does everyone keep saying that? You’re not dead! You’re not dead! You’re not dead!” she screamed.

  I reached out to hug her, hoping to calm her down, but that caused her to really go off. “No, don’t touch me! You’re on their side. You want me to think I’m crazy.” She clawed at my face, drawing blood.

  The nurse heard the commotion and raced into the room with several male attendants in tow.

  “Don’t grab her like that!” I snapped at a bulky attendant who was handling my grandmother like a rag doll.

  “Sir, we have to subdue her,” said the same nurse who had brought Grandma into the visitation room.

  “But y’ all don’t have to treat her like she’s a fuckin’ inmate. She’s barely a hundred pounds. She can’t hurt anyone!” railed Kamora.

  By the time they removed Grandma from the room, one of the attendants and I were brawling. I caught that big nigga with a quick two-piece that buckled his knees. Kamora jumped on his back and bit a plug out of his shoulder. Together we tore that nigga’s ass up.

  When we got back to the car, all of my emotions came flooding in unexpectedly. I had vowed never to shed another tear, but seeing Grandma so mentally deteriorated like that overwhelmed a young nigga. I broke down. “I gotta get her outta there.” I cried with my head against the steering wheel. The state hospital was doing her no good at all.

  This was my pop’s mother. It was as if his spirit inclined me to take care of those he had loved so much.

  On the way home, I called Inez and asked her to look into finding a private facility for Grandma.

  “Is she still that bad off?” asked Inez, full of concern.

  “Yep. And she looks so old and tiny it broke my heart. You ought to see her; you wouldn’t even recognize her.” I choked up.

  “Umph, umph, umph!” She sighed. “Why don’t you call Juanita and ask her to help with the expenses. This is the type of thing she should step up to the plate for.”

  “I’m not asking that bitch for nothing. The only thing she ever gave me was some of my pop’s ashes. Anything else, she wants a nigga to live up to her expectations in order to receive it.”

  “I know, right? The bitch is a hypocrite. Who is she to judge somebody when her ass used to be a nasty ass stripper? That shit makes me so mad. Why your daddy trusted to leave everything to that fake ass ho is something I’ll never understand. Deep down, I always knew she was nothing but a bird.”

  “It’s all good.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she agreed. “Because she’ll find out that karma is a coldhearted bitch.”

  “If I don’t thrash her ass first, before karma can catch up to her.” I snorted.

  CHAPTER 8

  The anger inside of me was hotter than a furnace. It was time for me to unleash it on those most responsible for what I was feeling.

  Ever since my pop was executed, I had been compiling a list of names of people who would feel my vengeance. I’d located and studied their movements for the past two years. Now it was time to strike.

  While Kamora was off somewhere with Sharena, I was at the kitchen table reading every page of my pop’s trial transcript. I had read it at least twenty times before, so it contained nothing that I wasn’t already aware of. Still, my face twitched with fury over those who had testified against him, and those who rejoiced when he was convicted and sentenced to death.

  I finished reading the thick file, set it aside and called Inez to discuss the first person I planned to smash.

  “Yeah, do that bitch real dirty because she used to be all on your father’s dick until he put her on blast to her man, then she hated him. In court when Youngblood was sentenced to death that ho damn near did a cartwheel,” she recalled.

  “Well, she’s about to pay the repercussions. I know where she lives and I’m about to pay her a visit.”

  Two nights later, it went down. I salivated as I waited outside of my first victim’s apartment for the trick she had over this evening to leave. She only fucked ballers, so if the nigga didn’t leave soon, it would be worth the effort to clap ‘em both. Dude would probably have a few stacks and some nice jewels.

  I peered through the glass patio door, about to go on the creep. Luckily for homeboy, he was not spending the night.

  He hugged her, rubbed her fat ass through the long T-shirt that served as a nightie and then he bounced. Then she disappeared from my line of vision.

  A moment later, I heard music come on from a room in the back. The punk bitch was probably savoring the dick she had just gotten, I figured.

  Cool! The music would drown out any noise I make.

  You won’t be giddy for long, ho!

  I waited a full twenty minutes before using a glass cutter to cut out a large enough section of the patio door to stick my gloved hand through and unlatch the door from inside.

  Once I gained entry, I crept like a panther, not making a sound until my breath was on the back of her neck. Cita stood at the bathroom sink washing her hands. I reached around and covered her mouth as I pressed the sharp tip of a commando knife to the side of her neck. Her body went rigid.

  “If you’re gonna rape me, just wear a condom and I won’t even fight. Just don’t hurt me,” she replied.

  “Bitch, don’t insult a G. I don’t want any of that sloppy cut!”

  “I have money. It’s in the bedroom. Is that what you want?”

  “Nawl, I want yo life.” I removed the ski mask. Cita shrieked as she stared at my reflection in the mirror. I resembled my pop so much that the recognition was instant, even though I had long dreads and a baby face and my pop had worn braids. “Yeah, bitch, it’s me.” I spun her around and slammed my fist into her face, dislodging a front tooth. She crumpled to the floor and I stomped her head.

  I hope you die slow, muthafucka! She had said in court when my pop was sentenced to death.

  Cita moaned and cried out in pain. But I felt no mercy for the bitch.

  “You’re a gutter snipe ho,” I said with contempt as I snatched her up off of the bathroom floor and shoved her into the empty bathtub.

  She tried to shake the cobwebs from her head and beg for mercy, but I was just as merciless as the jury that imposed death on my daddy. “You wanted him to die slow, huh?”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “Lord knows I’m sorry.”

  “If you’re not, you’re damn sho’ about to be!”

  I plunged the knife in her neck. Blood spouted all over me. I stabbed her repeatedly until she lost consciousness. Then I cut her tongue out of her mouth and threw it in the toilet.

  “Next time be careful what you say, bitch!” I cautioned her corpse.

  Blood was everywhere, splattered on the walls near the bathtub and all up on the ceiling. I could feel its stickiness on my face, but I paid it no mind.

  As I stared into Cita’s mutilated mouth, I said, “Pop, I made the bitch pay. She smiled when they sentenced you to death, but she ain’t smiling now. I told you I was gonna get all them muthafuckas. This bitch is just the first.”

  I touched the urn around my neck with my fist and crept out the same way that I came in.

  When I got back home, Kamora was there waiting for me.

  “Sup, baby girl? How was your night?” I asked, bending down to place a soft kiss on her lips.

  “Boring,” she replied, then arose from the kitchen table where she had been reading over the transcript that I left out.

  “You’re not feeling Sharena, huh?”

  “No. I’m only doing it so we can get her man, remember? I’m not feeling anyone but you.” She reached up to stroke his face and
her fingers came in contact with something sticky. She drew her hand back and examined it. “Ewww! Whose blood do you have all over you?”

  “A bitch who rejoiced when my pop was sentenced to death.”

  “Cita?”

  “Yep.” I nodded.

  “I wanted to go along,” Kamora whined.

  “You’re crazy, shawdy,” I laughed. “Run me some bath water. Then I want you to wash me up.”

  When Kamora headed to run me a bath, I called Inez to report tonight’s events.

  “She deserved it,” replied Inez with no remorse. Her thirst for vengeance equaled mine.

  “No doubt. I’ma hit you up another time. Let me go wash that grimy ho’s blood off of me before it soaks into my pores and turns me sour,” I remarked.

  “That could never happen. You have the blood of the realest nigga to ever live running through your veins.”

  “True.”

  “You didn’t leave behind anything that could connect you to it, did you?”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Okay, be safe. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I hung up the phone and went into the bathroom.

  Kamora had bubble bath water waiting for me. As I climbed into the tub, a vision of how I’d left Cita popped up in my mind.

  “No mercy,” I said as I submerged my body in the scented bubbles.

  CHAPTER 9

  Later in the week, vengeance was still heavy on my mind when I received a call from DeMario that made me change my focus for a minute. “Dawg are you still gonna do that lick that we discussed?” he asked.

  I had to recall that I had agreed to jack DeMario’s sister’s man. “Yeah, you know I’m always looking to eat, but are you sure you want me to do that? I mean not only is homeboy your family, he’s your Blood,” I reminded him.

  “Fuck that. As long as it don’t get out that I set him up, ain’t nobody gonna suspect me. Like I told you before, that nigga is on some selfish shit, so it is what it is.”