by Jade Jones
“What’s the celebration?” Jude asked, looking around at his surroundings. He had just arrived a few minutes ago.
“Freedom,” King answered. He looked flashy in a black and gold baroque-print Versace shirt, black designer jeans, and gold plated Giuseppe sneakers. Hanging loosely around his neck were two 14k solid gold Cuban chains. A $125,000 18k gold and diamond Rolex glistened around his thick wrist.
“Freedom?” Jude repeated in confusion. “I don’t get it.”
King stopped at the large cooler which housed almost every alcoholic beverage known to mankind. After collecting two ice cold bottles of beer, he passed one to Jude and cracked his open. “I made a couple of calls…pulled a couple of strings…paid a few people off. Gotcha case tossed out, homeboy,” he said proudly. With the major pull he had in the city, King was able to make problems disappear easily with cold hard cash.
Jude couldn’t believe his ears. “You fuckin’ with me, right?” he asked in disbelief.
King clapped a large hand against Jude’s back. “You a free man, bruh. You ain’t gotta worry about lawyers, trials, juries, all that bullshit. You good. That’s what we celebratin’,” he said. “Freedom.”
The party was for him. Jude was at a complete loss for words as he held his unopened beverage. That shit was the best news he’d heard in a while. After putting a bullet in his cousin’s head, and having Rumor show up at his door with her dead fiancé’s body, Jude didn’t believe things would ever look up. Fortunately for him, he was wrong.
“You could’ve turned on me like ya boy after what I did,” King said. His expression was humorless. He wanted Jude to know just how serious he was. He was disappointed after finding out Aso betrayed him the moment detectives got him alone. “But you didn’t,” King continued. “And that shit stuck wit’ me, man.”
Jude scoffed and shook his head. A few moments ago, he wanted nothing more than to snap this nigga’s neck, but now King was telling him that he’d paid for his freedom. Jude opened his mouth, and then closed it when he realized he didn’t know what to say.
“We good, man.” King shrugged it off. “Just thank me later.” He raised his beverage to take a sip—
POP! POP! POP! POP!
5
King’s beer bottle shattered after a single bullet collided with it. A second whizzed past Jude’s head, and tore through the side of King’s neck!
High pitched screams erupted from the luxury yacht as everyone began running around frantically. Jude and King instantly dropped to the floor simultaneously, although King’s reaction was involuntary.
Parked nearly fifty feet from the boat was a black 2013 Mercedes-Benz SL550 with the top down. Three nondescript guys were the culprits behind the unexpected attack. Two of them fired off rounds while the getaway driver sat patiently behind the steering wheel.
One of the gunmen sat on top of the hood of the car while the other stood right outside the passenger door. Both had high powered sniper rifles with suppressors in their possession, and were simply acting out given orders.
A few of the yacht’s passengers dropped in the line of fire as the gunmen lit up King’s most prized possession.
Jude tried his best to stay as low to the floor as possible. Cautiously, he crawled over towards his boss.
King held his left hand firmly against the gunshot wound, but the applied pressure did little to stop the excessive bleeding. Dark red blood gushed through his fingers and created a small pool of blood around him.
When King awoke that morning he had no idea that today might’ve been his last day on earth. Running a multi-million dollar operation, he failed to remember that money and power brought along enemies. With enemies came competition and eventually assassination attempts.
Tears pooled in King’s eyes after realizing his fate. He could feel his life slowly slipping away as he gurgled and choked on his own blood. His young daughter instantly came to mind. It was rather unfortunate that she’d now have to grow up without a father.
“Shit, man! What the fuck?!” Jude said in a panic-stricken tone. What was meant to be a celebration had quickly turned into a massacre.
A few people jumped overboard into the lake to avoid being caught in gunfire. Sadly, one woman wasn’t so fortunate after a single bullet struck her back just seconds before her body hit the water.
Loud gunshots rang throughout the air. Unbeknownst to Jude and King, a rival ring wanted to wipe out the competition completely. Apparently, that was more than enough motive to boldly shoot up a yacht in broad daylight.
Thinking quickly, Jude snatched the Burberry scarf out his back pocket and pressed it against King’s neck. Unfortunately, his selfless action did little to help with the blood loss. King continued to bleed out on the floor of his yacht, and he knew it was only a matter of time before succumbed to death.
Jude looked around frantically at the horrific scene occurring around him. Apart of him wanted to yell for help, but everyone was more preoccupied with saving their own life. Ready to take matters into his own hands, Jude reached for the pistol on his hip, but King quickly stopped him by grabbing his arm.
King opened his mouth to speak, but struggled with formulating clear words. Nevertheless, Jude understood the desperation in his boss’ eyes.
“Man, look, I’ma get you some help!” Jude’s blood splattered face was red with rage. He couldn’t believe this shit was really happening. It all felt like a bad dream.
Empty shells dropped from above them. A few of King’s goons let off a few rounds of their own from the private deck. A small get-together on a peaceful lake now looked like World War 2.
After emptying their entire clip in the luxury yacht, both shooters hopped back inside the Mercedes-Benz before peeling off.
Jude looked around again for help, but when his eyes landed back on King he was already gone.
***
I don’t know why this guy chose to stop for a drink at the most hick bar in Virginia, Joaquin thought as Jag pulled into Bar N Barrels.
Country music blared from inside, and the pungent aroma of cigar smoke filled their nostrils well before they even opened the car doors.
“Why we stop here?” Joaquin asked, rounding the car.
“You wanted a drink. Remember?” Jag reminded him. The sun was just beginning to set when his brother had a sudden craving for Hennessey.
Both brothers headed to the entrance doors. They tried to pretend they didn’t notice the suspicious stares from a group of bike riders standing outside. No matter how hard they tried to blend in, they just couldn’t avoid the fact that they were two-sketchy looking young guys.
“No I meant,” Joaquin lowered his voice so that no one else could hear him. “Here?”
Jag ignored Joaquin as they entered the small bar. In his opinion, there was no satisfying his little brother. A drink was a drink no matter the setting.
They both took a seat at the bar. Joaquin purposely plopped in an empty bar stool next to an attractive blond sitting alone. She wore a tight-fitting leather jacket, and acid wash fringe shorts that showed off her long tanned legs.
Judging from the bold lettering on the back of her jacket, Jag figured she was with a biker—but that didn’t stop Joaquin from trying his hand anyway.
“What you drinkin’ on, sexy? Can I get you the next one?” Joaquin flashed a pearly white grin.
His blonde counterpart blushed and smiled. She was just about to respond when someone spoke for her.
“No, the hell you can’t.” A 6”2 bulky bike rider stepped between his girl and Joaquin. He then placed a hand against the bar, and looked the young punk dead in the eyes. “But you can get the fuck up out my seat!”
Jag released a powerful exhale in frustration. He saw this shit coming well before it even happened. No matter what they were doing or where they were Joaquin always managed to make trouble someway somehow. They hadn’t even ordered their drinks yet before the foolishness began.
Jag was naturally low-key. He
hated unnecessary attention, and causing a scene. Move in silence was the motto he stood firmly by, but it was obvious Joaquin had a motto of own: Go in guns blazing.
Joaquin slowly looked up at the muscular redneck. The biker was so angry that he could see the veins pulsating in his thick neck. Surprisingly, Joaquin didn’t explode with rage right away. His lips parted to say something sarcastic, but his older brother beat him to the punch.
“Look, man. It was just a misunderstanding.” Jag quickly spoke up. Always the peacemaker, Jag figured he could deescalate the situation before something popped off. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, pretty boy. This has nothing to do with you!” The angry biker barked. Spittle flew from his mouth when he rounded on Jag.
In the blink of an eye, Joaquin snatched out his trusty stiletto pocket knife, and jammed it in the biker’s hand. The tip of the six-inch blade stuck in the bar’s wooden countertop, holding his bloodied hand in place.
“AAAHHHHH! Fuck!” he screamed in agony.
His girlfriend clamped a hand over her mouth in shock. That definitely wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.
In a matter of seconds, the hot-headed redneck went from being big and bad to sobbing like a little bitch after Joaquin stabbed him. Everyone inside the small bar stopped what they were doing to see what all the commotion was.
Jag shook his head in disappointment. “I tried,” he simply said. Suddenly, his phone rang. If it wasn’t for him having the vibrations on, he wouldn’t have heard it thanks to the biker screaming like a Banshee.
In silence, everyone watched the poor guy suffer in pain. They were all too afraid to act in his defense or say something. It was obvious that the two Spanish-looking brothers were dangerous. However, one brave bystander ran outside to notify the other bike members.
“Yo,” Jag answered. Pressing his index finger in his other ear to drown out the screaming, he listened to the frantic caller on the opposite end.
Joaquin watched as his brother’s eyes widened in horror. “What is it?” he eagerly asked.
Jag quickly disconnected the call and jumped out the barstool. “Come on! We gotta go!”
Joaquin heartlessly snatched his pocket knife out the guy’s hand. His girlfriend immediately went to console him.
After wiping the blood on his army fatigue pants, Joaquin put the knife away. He then followed his brother outside—where they nearly ran into a group of bikers.
“You boys came over here lookin’ for trouble?” the leader of the gang asked. He resembled Mexican actor, Danny Trejo.
Joaquin prepared to step forward but Jag put his hand up, stopping him. “Look, we don’t want trouble. Nobody told ya boy to go flyin’ off the handle—”
“Man, fuck negotiating with these clowns!” Joaquin cut him off. “Get the fuck up out our way ‘fore we shed blood!”
The leader’s gaze slowly shifted from Jag to Joaquin. He couldn’t believe the aggressive youngster had threatened him. With no remorse the biker spit out a mouthful of tobacco which landed on the tip of Joaquin’s crisp Timberland boot. All of a sudden the twenty year old blacked out…
6
The moment Cameron heard the jingling sound of keys outside the front door she rushed to it. Before Jude could stick his key inside, Cam swung the door open. Her frustrated expression quickly turned to concern after seeing her husband’s bloodstained clothes.
Cameron had planned on laying into Jude the minute he walked through the front door, but her anger towards him quickly dissipated. He hadn’t been home since she watched him leave with Rumor. Although she needed answers she knew she’d have to wait for a good explanation.
“Wh—what happened?” Cameron asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Whose blood is this?”
Jude side-stepped Cam and entered his home. The same home King had dropped half a million on for his ‘play-son’.
“Jude? Answer me! What happened?!”
Jude gradually walked through the house, dragging behind a heavy scent of sour diesel. It had been three hours since King was gunned down. After driving around aimlessly until his tank was on E, Jude finally decided to go home.
“Jude?” Cameron called after him. Her voice trembled with fear. She was afraid that the blood covering his clothes belonged to him.
Silently, Jude walked inside the sitting room and took a seat on the golden gown chair from Neiman Marcus. It would take Cameron weeks to scrub the blood out of the $2500 silk chair.
“Jude…Say something,” Cam insisted.
Jude stared off into space. He was in a zone of his own; his body was there, but his mind was elsewhere.
Cameron didn’t know what to do so she walked over towards him, and dropped down to her knees. Jude gently ran his fingers through her short hair as she rested her head in his lap. Earlier she’d received the good news that she wasn’t pregnant…and now this…
“He chose me, Cam,” Jude said in a hoarse tone. “He chose me…”
***
Jag was doing eighty-two on the highway when Joaquin groaned in his seat. They were driving through Columbia, South Carolina when he finally came to.
“My fuckin’ head is killin’ me,” Joaquin said. His temples throbbed in pain, and he felt as if he’d just awakened from a coma.
Jag didn’t respond as he kept his intense gaze locked on the road. The radio was turned off, and the only sound perceivable was the soft purring of the engine.
Joaquin went to touch his head—but paused when he saw dried up blood on his hands. It wasn’t until then that he remembered blacking out. Unfortunately, he couldn’t recall the damage he’d done.
“What happened?” Joaquin asked. He knew for a fact that he had hurt someone, but he didn’t know to what extent.
Jag hesitated. “It ain’t important right now,” he said, keeping his gaze on the dark road ahead. Every few minutes, he glanced at the side view mirror to make sure the police weren’t tailing them. “Apparently, some shit popped off in the A. As soon as we get into town we gotta attend an emergency meetin’.”
Joaquin looked confused. “Is everything straight?”
Jag grimaced. “We’ll find out when we get there,” he simply said.
Truthfully, Jag already knew everything that happened. He just didn’t want to risk Joaquin getting upset, and ditching their plan. Just because King was gone didn’t mean they couldn’t make money. It only meant they’d have to take orders from a new head in charge.
***
Jude hadn’t even noticed that he’d dozed off until his cellphone rang. He looked down at Cameron who slept peacefully with her head in his lap. He then smoothed his thumb over her baby hairs. She looked so at ease, and it hurt him to know that wasn’t the case.
“Hello,” Jude answered in a muffled voice. Not only was he tired, but he still had the same bloodstained clothes on from earlier. There was nothing Jude wanted more than to shower, and climb in bed with his lady.
“We need you down at the Warehouse,” Mike said matter-of-factly. He served as an assistant/informant to King. He was also the operation’s main accountant.
“We?!” Jude repeated skeptically. “What for?” he asked exasperated. He wished this shit was all a nightmare, and he was still dreaming—but he wasn’t. This was his reality no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
“Man, you know as well as I do what time it is.” With that said, Mike disconnected the call.
Jude released a sigh of frustration. Too much shit was happening all at once. Why me, he asked himself. Why am I even doing this shit?
Jude looked down at Cameron, and brushed a bloodstained finger against her cheek. Suddenly, he remembered why.
As gently as he could, Jude scooped Cameron in his arms, and headed to their master suite. After carefully lying her down on the plush king size bed, Jude leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead.
The stubble along his jawline tickled Cam’s skin, causing her to
stir awake. “You’re leaving?” she whispered. Her eyes were open but extremely low. It felt like forever since she’d gotten a good night’s sleep.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to go…,” Cameron paused. “I’m scared…” With everything going on she didn’t want to be alone. Memories of Aso breaking into her home haunted her at night.
Jude leaned his face closer to Cam’s. “You trust me?” he asked in a low tone.
Cameron thought about him climbing inside Rumor’s car and pulling off. Although she had her suspicions, Cam said, “Of course.”
Jude framed Cameron’s face with his large hands, and looked deeply into her eyes. “Then trust that I ain’t gon’ ever let shit happen to you. You hear me?”
Cameron closed her eyes, and nodded her head.
Jude kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her soft lips. Slowly her suspicions dissipated. Nothing or no one in the world made her feel as secure as her husband.
Jude stood to his feet, and pulled the comforter over her body. After making sure she was comfortable he quietly left the room. Cameron stared up at the dark vaulted ceiling as she listened to Jude’s descending footsteps.
Cameron quickly snatched the comforter off after hearing the front door close. With all the bullshit occurring, I could’ve at least told him I loved him before he left.
Jude was extremely vague about his “career” so Cameron didn’t know what type of danger he was in. Truth be told, she didn’t want to regret not telling him she loved him if something were to happen, God forbid.
As soon as Cameron reached the front door, she swung it open—but Jude had just pulled off. In disappointment, she watched the thin cloud of smoke left from his BMW evaporate.