Clown Niggas

by T. Styles

  “Fuck that business plan! We gotta do something else! And now! I thought when I killed his bitch and kid then he would—”

  Spyrit leaped up and jumped in his face. The room felt like it was inside a tornado and he prayed that Ryan would correct himself and say something that made sense. “Fuck you just say to me?”

  Ryan looked into his eyes long and hard before grabbing a wing off the table. “Tell E.M. I said I’ll be back later.” He turned around and walked out the door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “This Time He Won’t Get Away.”

  The faucet ran as Wyld stood next to Amelia looking down at the running water. Steam rose from the tub although the temperature in the bathroom was chilly. “I hope you don’t mind, Wyld. I figured you’d want to sit inside and relax. Since it’s been a long day.”

  He looked at her and then down at the cream tile floor. Everything about his life irritated him at the moment.

  “If it’s too hot I can make it cooler.” She paused. “I don’t know how you like it.”

  Wyld laughed and zoomed the palm of his hand down his face. “I don’t bathe or whatever the fuck you call this.” He pointed at the tub. “I prefer the shower. My wife usually…” He exhaled, remembering he was a widower. “You know what, it don’t even fucking matter.”

  “I’m sorry…I was just trying to help. I know you’re going through it with losing your wife and all I want is to be a friend.” She smiled. “No ulterior motives.”

  “Everybody wants something.” His jaw twitched. “So stop fucking around and tell me what’s your thing.”

  Her eyes expanded. “Wyld, I’m just helping. I don’t want anything from you. I promise.” Her voice was soft and full of commitment.

  “I hear all that shit and it’s still not making sense.” He roared. “So why you here?”

  “I don’t know…I—”

  “You know what, just get out.” He opened the bathroom door wider. “I can do this myself.”

  “Sure, maybe I can warm the soup up.” She nodded and stepped out of the bathroom. “Let me know if—”

  He slammed the door in her face and she moped down the hallway, stopping before the entrance of the living room. Feeling overwhelmed she leaned against the cool wall and pressed her palm against her lips to muffle her cry.

  “What am I doing here?” She thought to herself. “It’s so clear he hates my fucking guts.”

  Taking a deep breath she stood up and walked toward her purse that sat on the sofa and grabbed her cell. She needed to speak to her drug sponsor but when she picked up her phone she noticed two text messages from her cousin Tawny. Although she claimed to be off drugs Amelia heard from the streets that she was as true a crack head as ever.

  The weird messages Tawny left made her believe even more that the claims were true:

  Dis nigga came N my mouf and ain’t give me my money.

  Can u give me a few bucks to pay my rent?

  I’ll hit U back soon. I promise.

  “What the fuck?” She shook her head.

  Irritated, Amelia tossed the phone back in her purse. With her emotions off the charts she was now craving crack too. Not a day went by where she didn’t think about vanishing her problems by picking up the pipe but fear of being raped again and not being able to pursue Wyld stunted her efforts. After escaping an HIV scare when she tested negative, she was serious about going clean, at least she hoped.

  She was just about to prepare dinner when the bathroom door came flying open. Wyld appeared on the other side with a white towel wrapped around his waist and his face wet. “You know what…I don’t know what your thing is or who you are but I need you out my crib.”

  “I was about to make—”

  “Are you listening?” He frowned. “Get the fuck out of my house before you won’t be able to!”

  “But I—”

  “Bounce, bitch!” He yelled. “Now!”

  Amelia looked at him, grabbed her purse and ran out the door crying.

  The burgundy comforter that still smelled of Anna’s perfume was wrapped around Wyld’s body as he lie in bed. He was still brewing over his predicament and how her life was snuffed out along with his first born for reasons that were still unclear. He knew he couldn’t stay in the dark long because he had to find out who was responsible. Not only that, but as a drug boss he had an enterprise to run. People depended on him at his best and he needed to shake the misery and soon.

  But who could think about that now?

  He was just about to try and get some sleep when he heard a loud thump out in the living room. Sliding the gat from under his pillow he eased out of bed crept toward the bedroom door and slipped into the living room. The moment he bent the corner he saw 18-year-old Game Show rummaging through his kitchen drawers.

  The youngin, who had gotten his name for being a pro at every game show alive, was also a career drug addict. Although the habit was heavy Wyld had given him a pass. Born on crack, it was inevitable that he would develop a taste and craving.

  Still, Wyld couldn’t believe his eyes and had to double take just to be sure he was seeing straight. What caused him to be so bold? “Game Show, fuck you doing in my crib?” Wyld yelled. “Are you crazy, nigga?”

  Game Show dropped the pack of double A batteries in his hand. Jaw hung he said, “I thought you were…you were going out of town. I…I was—”

  “Robbing me!”

  Game Show looked around for a weapon as Wyld jotted across the room and knocked him to the floor with a forearm to the throat. Game Show tried to get away but it didn’t work. Wyld was taller, quicker and insane. With hands wrapped around his neck Wyld was about to squeeze the life out of him until he heard keys jingling and saw the front door fling open.

  “Wyld, I gotta talk to you about—” Spyrit stopped in his tracks when he saw them tussling on the floor. “What the fuck is going on?” He rushed toward them and pulled Wyld away, just as Game Show slipped out the door and into the night.

  Wyld took off after him but it was too late. Game Show caught wheels and there was no way he was catching an addict. Defeated, he turned around and stomped into the house, stepping right into Spyrit’s face. “You see me laying hands on this nigga and instead of standing back you help him escape?” He pointed at the door. “Fuck wrong with you?” His hand dropped.

  Spyrit held the side of his head, the cool air from the open door rushing over him. “Since when did you have a beef with Game Show? I walk in and saw you about to kill the little nigga so I stopped it. I’m confused on what’s going on anyway.”

  “No! What you did was help the nigga get away.” Wyld said as he stabbed a finger in his chest. “He broke into my fucking house! I earned the right to kill him.”

  “Broke into your house? What…what would possess him to do that? The kid’s a fiend but he’s not crazy.”

  “That use to be the case but I guess shit changed because that’s what he was doing.” Wyld flopped on the sofa and threw his face in his hands. “He thought I was out of town. At least that’s what the streets thought I was doing after I buried Anna.” He looked up at him. “Anyway, I’ll catch up with that nigga later and this time he won’t get away.” He exhaled. “But what you doing here?”

  Spyrit walked slowly to the sofa and sat next to him. “I don’t even know how to say this but we have to have a serious conversation. About Ryan.”

  “Aight…what about him?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ryan

  “I Was Feeling A Little Sentimental.”

  Ryan stepped into the open door of the living room as Spyrit was sitting next to Wyld. He could tell he interrupted a conversation and felt he came at the perfect time to prevent his cousin from bumping his lips.

  “Why the door open?” Ryan asked. “After what happened to Anna I’d think you’d be a little more careful than this, Wyld.” He scanned over the two again, trying to feel them out.

  Wyld looked up at him from the sofa and sighed.
“The little nigga Game Show tried to rob me. He thought I was out of town and called himself sliding through to make a come up. I tried to take his head off but your boy stopped me.”

  Ryan looked down at Spyrit who stood up.

  “He did, did he?” Ryan said, as his jaw twitched. He stared at Spyrit steadily but soft enough not to alert Wyld about the growing beef. The glare could’ve been taken a number of ways. “This nigga always in the way.”

  “What’s up?” Wyld asked. “Why you here?”

  “Just checking on you after the funeral today.” Ryan shrugged. “I mean we family right?” He paused. “I wouldn’t have to come over here if you answered my text. Where your phone at anyway?”

  “Nigga, I got a lot on my mind and I just buried my family,” Wyld said. “And answering phones ain’t fitting in with things right now.”

  “I understand.” Ryan nodded. “I thought we were going to the gym later, Spyrit. I hit you and you didn’t get back with me either. I’m feeling like the ugly girl at the party.”

  Spyrit adjusted his stance. “Was rapping to Wyld that’s all.”

  He looked away and Ryan stepped closer. “For real?” he asked. “About what?”

  Wyld looked up at them both. “What’s up with you two niggas? Tell me something. It’s been a long day and I gotta get some rest and then find Game Show tomorrow. The last thing I have time for are these family trials.”

  Ryan stared a little longer at Spyrit. “Ain’t nothing up with us, cuzo. Like I said, I’m here to check on you. I had no idea that my stay drunk cousin Spyrit would be here too. I guess I’m feeling a little sentimental since my man just died and was spending too much time on what doesn’t matter. My bad. I don’t think ya’ll know him but it made me appreciate family.”

  “Who is he?” Spyrit asked.

  “Marx…and it’s fucked up how he died too.” Ryan walked over to the fridge and grabbed three beers. He handed them both one and kept the other for himself.

  Wyld, who didn’t drink sat his on the floor.

  “I mean, I like Marx but he wasn’t loyal. He told somebody who didn’t have shit to do with a matter a secret of Phillip’s, Marx cousin. Phillip found out about it and killed his own flesh and blood. Guess he didn’t have a good sense of humor.”

  Spyrit swallowed the lump in his throat upon hearing the quiet threat.

  “And you think that’s cool?” Wyld asked.

  “Fuck no,” he said dramatically. “Family should be cherished. Although I also believe that disloyalty should be rewarded in kind.” He looked at Spyrit. “Don’t you, man?”

  Spyrit stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m about to hit the streets,” he said looking at Wyld. “I just came by to make sure you were okay.” He looked at Ryan and then back at Wyld. “Hit me later.”

  Wyld stood up and gave him dap. “Yeah, I’m about to get some rest anyway. At least try to. Put the word out that I want Game Show’s head. I’m paying big.” He dapped Ryan.

  “I’ll let you know if I see anything too, cuz,” Ryan interjected. “Let me walk you out, Spyrit.”

  When they left Wyld locked the door and Ryan jogged in front of Spyrit, blocking his path. “I’m not even mad about what you were about to do. It’s in your makeup so I kind of expect it.”

  “Ryan, I don’t know what you talking about but you changing before my eyes, slim. And you need to pull yourself together before somebody do it for you.”

  Ryan moved closer. “So you gonna lie? Because I know you were about to tell Wyld what I shared with you in confidence.” He dusted Spyrit’s shoulders and straightened his shirt. “And like I said it wasn’t your fault about your snitching ways. The fault lies with me, cuz. Because I should’ve made clear what the consequences would be if you violated my trust.”

  Spyrit grew angry and clenched his fists. “Are you threatening me, nigga? Because I’m getting sick of your shit.”

  Ryan looked down at his hands and faked as if he were intimidated by throwing his palms up in the air. “Little old me, threaten you?” He dropped them. “Never. You my blood. So why on earth would I do that?”

  “Then what the fuck are you saying?”

  Ryan laughed. “Let me be my clearest ever. I love you, Spyrit. And I want a little more love back. But it’s up to you to make that happen.” He walked toward his car and opened the door. But before he eased inside he said, “Oh…that story I told you in the house was a premonition of what’s to come. Not a fact. Names were changed to protect the guilty.” He paused. “Be careful when it comes to me and my business. Be very careful. You could end up on the wrong end of my barrel.” Ryan got into the car and sped off, tires screeching loudly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Quaykiesha

  “I Feel Like I Got The Wrong Cousin.”

  Spyrit’s apartment was so hot that despite it being 90 degrees outside, it was still cooler than his bedroom. The extreme mugginess didn’t stop horniness from making his dick stiffen when Quaykiesha walked her naked ass past him after returning from the bathroom, her light skin shimmering due to the heat. Small yellow piss drops hanging around her pussy lips.

  As a result Spyrit was flat on his back as Quay sucked him off. The room was so hot sweat drip down her sides. Two long blue and silver French braids hung over the front of her body, the tips stopping right above her almond colored nipples.

  Knees pressing into the damp carpet Quaykiesha looked up at Spyrit who was sitting on the edge of the bed moaning, his legs wide. Mouth full of dick she asked, “Almost there yet?” It tasted as if he had climaxed because he was sweating so much the salty liquid rolled into her mouth.

  He sat up. “In a minute.” He moaned and continued to pump into her throat. “Just keep it right there.” He grabbed a warm bottle of vodka on the table to his right and gulped it down.

  “But it taste like you did already, Spyrit.” She frowned. “You sure you didn’t? My knees hurt and I’m—”

  “Not yet, baby.” His voice was stern. “But you gonna make me lose it if you keep running your mouth.”

  Quaykiesha rolled her eyes although the heat in conjunction with the constant dick jerks she was making caused her to feel dizzy. She set her mental clock for one more minute and she was done with the nigga. If he hadn’t cum by then he was gonna have to suck his own dick.

  After two minutes of the same, he still hadn’t reached an orgasm and she was angered when she gazed up and saw him slurping on the vodka bottle like he was giving head. “I can’t do this no more, Spyrit.” She released his penis, leaving it to its natural stance. “It’s hot as fuck in here.” She stood up and wiped her lips with the back of her hand before rinsing her mouth in the open bathroom.

  Spyrit was upset for a second and drank some more liquor. Suddenly he didn’t care anymore. “Sorry, we can go to—”

  “I’m tired of going over E.M.'s house!” She yelled. She walked into the bedroom and looked down at him. “I know you got to have money enough to get another place, Spyrit! So why we here?” She paused. “The only thing you care about is getting drunk and it’s such a turn off. When we getting a place together? Better than this.”

  “You gotta give me time, Quay.” He got up, wiped his dick with a dry towel on the table and moved toward her. His pole was still hard and poked her in the belly. “I’m gonna do right by you,” he lied. “Any day now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You been saying that for months but we still in this fucking dump.”

  “Quay!”

  “I’m sorry but I’m speaking real.” She tossed her arms in the air. “To tell you the truth, sometimes I feel like I got the wrong cousin. Maybe I should’ve went with Wyld when he offered me up in the VIP room at the strip club that night.” She walked away and flopped on the edge of the bed. “But it’s too late now huh?”

  Spyrit turned around and stared down at her. “Why you say that shit to me?”

  She laughed. “Your dick is trash, your mental drive is weak and you a dr
unk. So you tell me, why wouldn’t I say it to you?”

  Spyrit’s nostrils flared. “Disrespectful bitches like you get killed out here every day.” He took another swig of vodka. “So give me one reason why I shouldn’t do it now?”

  She looked at his swaying body; rolled her eyes and giggled like a two-year-old holding it’s feet. “Umm…let’s try this.” She pointed at him. “You know better than to put your hands on me. Let’s keep it real. We’ve wrestled before and when it comes to strength a drunk like you don’t have shit on a bitch who can hang hands free on a pole with her thighs.” She slid on her t-shirt. “So get the fuck out my face before I embarrass you, alchy.” She grabbed her purse and stormed out.

  Quaykiesha walked into the apartment she shared with her roommate and frowned. The moment she opened the front door she knew Tawny had been lacing her joint with crack cocaine yet again. “Really, Tawny? In our house?” She tossed her purse and keys on the table in the living room.

  Sitting on the floor next to the glass table, Tawny’s dark chocolate skin was slightly grey and her eyes so wide they were about to pop out because she was smoking so much. Her tight curly hair was tied in a bun, which sat on top of her head. “Why you here?” She fanned the smoke in the air.

  “You playing right?”

  “Quay, you’re barely home half the time. How am I supposed to know if you moved out or not?” She took another puff and blew funky white clouds into the air.

  “Let me give you a clue on how you should know…if you still taking my money than I live here. Whether I toss bloody tampons in the trashcan or not.”

  Tawny shook her head and pulled again. “You so fucking gross.” She paused. “Anyway, I was just playing. Why so uptight? I know you just left’s Spyrit’s house so you should be dicked down and smiling instead of being evil.” She shook her head. “What’s wrong with you?”