by Kenya Wright
Noah held no emotion in the next words. “What do you think? And stop looking at her.”
Cold fury. That was all I could see come from her. If she’d been close, I bet she would’ve tried to stab me again.
Try it, bitch. Just fucking try it.
Butterfly scanned the area, probably counting all of the people and guns around her and brought her focus back to me. “You’ll never keep his attention.”
I flashed her a fuck-you-smile. “How would you know, bitch? You’ve never had his attention.”
Butterfly shook and I knew it wasn’t fear. She was furious. I pulled the gun out of my purse. 305 cursed on my side. Noah kept his gaze on her, not even knowing that I’d raised my own gun and pointed it her way.
“You’re going to end this with him.” My hand shook a little, but I meant it with all of my heart. Enough had been enough. She’d terrorized my man for too long. Then she’d gone into my dorm room and took my family album. I was glad that Noah wanted to leave the game, but I didn’t think it would be enough for her.
He didn’t know how amazing he was. And he damned sure didn’t get how hot that cock made women. If he’d given her ten percent of the loving he’d given me, she would never quit.
We had to end this here. “You’ll never get Noah. That’s clear. I’m not from the streets, Butterfly, but I will kill you. I’ll spend days doing it. I may not have your flash, but I’m a lot smarter, because if you’d had any brains, you’d realize that there is no winning his heart. It’s already gone.”
Noah glanced over his shoulder. Shock covered his face.
Sam moved his gun’s target from Noah to me. Silently, Crusher left his spot with his gun still in the air and aimed at Sam. Mo came out of his hiding spot and kept his gun on the back of Sam’s head.
And then the cops took out their guns.
Calming my nerves, I kept my attention on the bitch. “Did you graduate from school, Butterfly?”
“Fuck you.” She spat at me.
I grinned. “Can you count how many guns are on Sam and you?”
She didn’t turn or look around. All her fury stayed on me.
“That’s okay, sweetie.” I winked. “I’ll do it for you. Mo is behind you pointing at Sam.”
Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look over his shoulder. I didn’t blame him. Crusher was directly in front of him.
“And then we have Crusher targeting Sam.” I whistled. “Sam, I don’t know you, but are you really ready to die for Butterfly, because the bitch can’t get laid?”
Sam cleared his throat. “Look. I was just hired to have her back. No other guy would do it. Noah has every guy shook out here.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “But you’re not shook?”
Sam quickly glanced at Noah, who was now fucking smirking at the scene. “Naw. I mean. Look, I’m not shook, but I’m not going to die for this bitch.”
Butterfly blinked as Sam raised his hands in the air and gave Crusher his gun. “She told me it wouldn’t even be a gun battle or anything since she knew Noah. Said that he would never shoot her next to her mother’s grave.”
“Yeah, but I would,” Fuji said and he pulled the trigger.
There was no sound, yet the bullet dashed through the air and slammed into her forehead within seconds. She’d tried to say something, but everything had happened too quickly. Her mouth had opened and I swore she’d been whispering Noah’s name, but none of us would ever know.
Blood spilled from the hole in her forehead. Her body lost balance and collapsed. Sam lost the only bit of courage he had.
I bet your shook now, huh?
And then all of those cop guns targeted us. Bullets Fired. All of them filled us. None of them missed. 305’s face exploded. Holes filled Noah’s chest. Fuji lay on the ground as I collapsed, feeling nothing, but knowing that I’d been hit.
I’m dying!
I screamed, but no sound left my lips. As I fell to the ground, I tried to turn my head, but couldn’t. The only person in my view was Noah, dead and coated in blood.
No! No! No!
I woke up screaming.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Noah pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around my shivering body. “What did you dream about?”
“We were at Butterfly’s mother’s grave and I killed Butterfly and the police shot all of us and she never fell for your whole leaving the position or anything and you were killed and I was shot, but I felt nothing—”
“Baby. Baby.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “It was a dream, baby. It was just a dream.”
Tears fell from my eyes. “This isn’t a game.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m scared, Noah.”
“I know.”
“Your plan sounds all easy and great, but. . .”
“I may have to take further action?”
“No.” I tried to hold back the other tears. “Let’s just leave here.”
“Your family is here and mine. We can’t leave them with a pissed Butterfly.”
My bottom lip quivered. “I don’t want you to have to kill anyone else and I don’t want you getting killed yourself.”
“Then I have to be careful.” He hugged me some more. “I’ll have to take my time. Think every move through. Power up too. Get as many loyal people around me. I’ve got an ally that may help this all end soon.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No.” I rose from his chest and stared at him. Moonlight spilled in from the window and glowed along his face. “You can’t keep me out of this stuff anymore. Every time we’re separated something happens. I want to be next to you the whole time.”
“We’ll start that in a few days.”
“No, today.”
He glanced at his watch. “The day has actually started. It’s five in the morning. Let’s say tomorrow.”
“Why not today?”
“Because I have to go somewhere and it’s dangerous.”
“Then I don’t want you going.”
“It’s not that dangerous for me.”
“Where is it?”
“A friend’s house.”
“Who?”
“His name is Aristotle.”
“If he’s a friend, why would it be dangerous?”
He chuckled to himself. “Everyone thinks his house is haunted.”
“Why?”
“Because every time somebody goes there, a person dies.”
“Is this Aristotle killing them?”
“Not always. People just end up dying.” He pulled me back down. “Let’s go to sleep and talk more about this later.”
“Wait.” I climbed out of his arms. “What do you mean people are always dying there and he’s not doing it? Are the walls choking people?”
“No.”
“I don’t want you there.”
“I have to go. He’s probably the only one who can run Din City and help me with Butterfly.”
I sat up and crossed my arms. “I’m going.”
He put on that neutral mask and I rolled my eyes.
“Mary Jane, I don’t know if the place is cursed or not. Personally, I think the whole thing is bullshit. But I’ll be damned if I have you go.”
“I’m going.”
“Look.” He rose and his voice held anger. “You’ll stay here and—”
“No, you leave me here and I’ll fucking disappear.”
Something passed over his face and it didn’t look safe or sweet. In fact, I didn’t think I would ever threaten him like that again. I got the feeling that if I ever did try to escape him, he’d destroy the country looking for me.
I swallowed down my fear. “I’m going, Noah.”
“He’s lived in this house for five years,” Noah said. “Let’s say that three people walk into the house. Only two people will walk out. The house has a history of dead bodies. It’s at the point now that anybody who visits him will make sure they come in a huge gro
up. I plan on bringing twenty motherfuckers. But the odds are never clear.”
“This sounds ridiculous.”
“Still, people die every time. It’s not from Aristotle, always. Although, he is known for killing a motherfucker right after cooking him breakfast and serving coffee.”
“You’re trying to scare me.”
“Someone always dies and not solely from gangster shit. Zebo died from a heart attack in Aristotle’s living room. Granted, he was a fat fuck who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day.”
“Why can’t you meet this guy somewhere else?”
“He doesn’t leave his house. It’s like he and the house have symbiotic relationship. They feed off of each other.”
“Now you’re over exaggerating. I’m still going Noah. I’m too scared.”
“T. Chow choked on a fucking bone in Aristotle’s kitchen.”
“I’m going.” I lay back down on my pillow.
“Sizzle had a seizure on the back porch.”
I rolled over. “We have to do this together so you won’t get killed.”
“I haven’t been killed yet.”
“You’re welcome.”
I fell back to sleep with his laughter behind me and dead bodies piling up in my dreams.
Chapter 28
Noah
A Fool followed custom and cremated his dead father. He ran home and said to his ailing mother: "There are a few fire-logs still left. If you want to stop suffering, get yourself cremated on them."
–Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)
Once we woke back up, Mary Jane was in not in a mood for love making. My baby was determined to get me out of this street life and the both of us safely away from Butterfly. She rose to shower, not even giving me a kiss or letting me cuddle that fat ass for too long. Minutes later, she’d dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, while I still held my dick and wondered how I was going to get it inside of her.
Once she’d put those kinky curls into a ponytail and for whatever reason smeared Vaseline over her face, she stared at me with her hands on her hips. “Noah?”
Still, I sat in the bed, gripping my dick. “What?”
“Focus, Noah.” She walked out of the bedroom and yelled over her shoulder, “Let’s get this field trip to the haunted house over with.”
I groaned.
She’s fucking making me crazy. If this house doesn’t slaughter someone, I damn sure will.
Although we headed out to Aristotle’s house during the day, storm clouds hovered over during the journey and cast out the sun. So dark and cold around us, it looked like the middle of night. The scent of rain hung in the air. Lightening zig zagged across the black sky as thunder crackled with each mile.
Fear didn’t run in my men’s hearts, unless someone brought up two things—the Ebony Forest or Aristotle’s house. The guys understood bullets, guns, and all the different forms of man-made items designed to kill another human. But when it came to unexplained things, odd happenings, and spooky legends, my soldiers turned into scaredy cats really quick. On these streets, one knew they could die, but Aristotle’s house had the wrong odds. Each visit someone was guaranteed to never walk out again.
Stop thinking about that stupid shit. Focus.
I’d told Mary Jane that the house was haunted to scare her. It wasn’t that I didn’t think a curse hovered over the property, but. I didn’t spend my time pondering crazy things. Either it was or wasn’t an evil place. It never killed me, so I didn’t fuck with it.
But now, Mary Jane sat on my left, and slowly I wondered, if she and I would make it out with no problem.
Everything will be fine. 305 and them are just getting this crap in my head.
No one was happy about today’s mission. Crusher played no music. He drove with a deadly concentration that caused me to push the divider up between us. Mary Jane sat next to me and tightly held my hand. Rasheed, 305, and Mo sat across from us with stony expressions. Ten different cars followed my limo. Without seeing them, I knew men shook inside their vehicles. If Aristotle’s property had been on Rasheed’s death list, triple numbers would’ve hit the chart.
Twenty-one people will enter the house, if I count Mary Jane. How many will leave?
Far out in the south, among Din city’s farmland, Aristotle’s two floor house stood on unfertile ground. Nothing grew there. He’d tried a garden and it died before anything sprouted.
The roof pointed up like the end of a knife. No trees or bushes hung around. Just scattered, brown grass and rocky sand. On the house’s top level, no curtains hung in the cracked windows, just this dreary blackness that couldn’t be overpowered by the sun. In fact, the windows appeared more like the place’s eyes. I swore they stared at us all as we drove up the long, lonely road.
Mud-smudged panels planked the huge surface. They barely hung in place. A few had fallen the last time I’d come here, two years ago. A fanged mouth sat on the house’s bottom level or more like this ungodly door that was six feet wide and creaked whenever we opened it. Carved wood and peeling burgundy paint, the door’s creatures never looked the same when I came. Sometimes, I swore I spotted angels fighting with demons. Other times, it was men, women, and children stabbing sharp things and gnawing at the others’ flesh. Slanted windows flanked the door as if to symbolize the corners of the house’s evil smile.
“Noah, what do you think of this place?” Aristotle held his big hands out and widened his mouth into a huge smile.
His brown dreadlocks sat on top of his head and had been shaped into his signature bird’s nest hair style. His dad called him Vanilla when he was young because his skin was lighter than everyone else in the family. Like the house, he towered over most in sheer terror and delivered sheer terror. As usual, he had a crumpled paperback stuck in his back pocket.
“Come on, man?” Aristotle grabbed the blunt from me and pointed to the house. “I just bought it. What do you think? Doesn’t she have character?”
“She has something,” I said. “I’m probably going to put a condom on my dick, before I walk in there.”
“Man, don’t be taking your dick out on my new property.” His laughter filled the decrepit field. Aristotle blew out smoke and handed the blunt back to me. “You’re just jealous, man.”
Aristotle’s mom came from the East, his dad from the West. His parents were destined to fail from then on. Neither family excepted the other. Friends mocked the short lived relationship. And then a baby was born that went back and forth from the East to the West each week during visitations. Half Puerto Rican and Jamaican, Aristotle never fit on either side. However, he found peace with me, since I was the only blue-eyed white boy in a Jamaican neighborhood.
In some ways, Aristotle introduced this life to me. The streets ran in his blood. Both families had known gangsters. His father even expected him to take over the West Gang when he grew up. Aristotle complained about it to me all the time. The stories romanced my young mind. By middle school, we were both heavy in the streets, but didn’t talk much. I served for the North, and Aristotle reluctantly stayed loyal to the West. But when we saw each other, we always showed love.
Then I took out the West, and I shot the remaining guys. War came. Many lost and Din City shifted from four gangs to two—the North and South. Aristotle was the only street person in the West. People had wanted him to stand up and do something, but the street life had never been his thing. Instead, he bought this place and only consulted with those who needed advice.
“Be serious, Noah.” Aristotle turned to me. “I’m out of Din City, man.”
“You mean you’re out of the game?” I asked.
“Naw, man. You know I like to shoot a motherfucker. I just don’t want to be for any particular territory. Fuck all of that. Why can’t we just get along?”
I inhaled more of the blunt. “Man, why did you bring me out here?”
“Because I see what you’re doing. You’re going to be the top dog one day. I see that shit.” He pointed to
his eyes as if I didn’t get it. “So, I’m telling you that I don’t want any problems. I want to be like a lone wolf and shit.”
“Lone wolf?”
“Yeah. You got to think of it like we’re all supernatural creatures and shit. Shapeshifters. You got a pack. They got a pack. I’m the motherfucker that’s only true to himself.” He grabbed a stick and drew a large circle. “This is Din City.” He drew a line in between the circle. “This is the North and that’s the South. You’re going to run all of this.”
I chuckled. “You didn’t need to draw an image to say that.”
He dropped the stick and put a rock near the South. “And this is me. I’m your rock when shit gets crazy, but don’t take my ass back there. This is where I stay, but I got you.”
“You’re not making any sense, man. I’m not going to give you this blunt. I’m going to keep this shit.” I chuckled.
“That’s why your ass needs to meditate more.” He tapped his head. That dreadlocked bird’s nest wiggled a little. “You have to keep your mind clear so you won’t get crazy. I know shit, man. And I know for a fact that when shit gets crazy for you, you’ll come out here and seek my help.”
“Because you’re my rock.”
“Yeah, mon.” He tried to get the blunt and I stepped away. “Noah, you’re fucking crazy.”
Aristotle had spoken the truth. When I had to plan the tough job of taking the top guys down, I drove out with several people and asked him for help. Of course, one of my guys died, but Aristotle had given me the best strategy to move forward. Time and time after that, he continued to be my council during distress and even convinced me to meditate.
Aristotle read so much, one could never discount the shit that he’d said. He devoured books. Ate those shits up like somebody was paying him. In this house, he sat there every day and read—large volumes on history, ancient spiritual texts, tons of world philosophies, and shelves of studies on any science one could imagine. There were more books in his house than anything else. At one point, he threw out his furniture and used his books for the same purpose. Everything was shaped by books—bed to couch, dining table to shelves.
He never left the house, just had food, supplies, and books delivered. And each time we came over to visit and sip from his knowledgeable mind, a person died.