by Leo Sullivan
In the background, there was the cacophony of sounds, like human anguish, voices resonating in what sounded like the gallows of hell. Men, chained and fitted in cells, awaiting a faith that their destiny had already chosen: Death by lethal injection. They would spend idle time, awaiting their destiny in mental torment, waiting for the grim riper to call their names.
“King… y-you can’t call here anymore,” I stammered in a high pitch tone.
My eyes began to water, and my entire body was shaking as Caesar watched me with his eyes hooded in contempt. King didn’t say anything on the other line for a few moments as I held on the line. Our silence was a thief, stealing borrowed time from a dying man. Then, finally, King said something as Caesar continued glaring at me, his face beginning to crease into a formidable frown.
“Oh… I get it. If that’s how you want it, it’s cool,” King replied.
“Tell that nigga why!” Caesar said loud enough for him to hear as he slid closer to me, invading my space.
“It’s because… I’m pregnant. I’m about to have a baby and get married to my fiancé, Caesar.”
I closed my eyes as a tear cascaded down my cheek then I quickly mopped at it with the back of my hand, hoping that Caesar didn’t see it. No matter how much I denied it, King still had a hold on me.
A pregnant pause followed. I held my breath until King started speaking again.
“Oh… Listen, I’m happy for you and dude. I wish you nothing but the best. I was just calling to tell you that I was granted an appeal from the 11th circuit. They gon’ give me a hearing concerning the DNA hair fiber. After that, I’m hoping to either get a new trial or they gon’ have to set me free or rule against me again.”
“What? Who? I mean, how? There were three bodies—that baby was murdered and they said that somebody possibly molested her.” I was spilling my words out like I had diarrhea of the mouth. The baby kicked my ass like a horse and then stopped again when I pressed my hand to my stomach.
“I told you I wasn’t guilty. I ain’t do that shit and I’m sorry you got caught up in all the madness. I never wanted to hurt you. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about you and what happened. I only wanted to protect you, but somebody set me up—” King was saying before Caesar snatched the phone out my hand.
“Listen, my nigga, what she sayin’ is you don’t need to call here no-muthafuckin-mo’! She got a man!”
“So this must be Caesar,” King began, chuckling a little after he said it. “You the little nigga that used to sell weed on the block, outside my trap. I’m sure you remember me and my legacy. Do me a favor. Don’t get on the phone tryna impress Sunday and write a check yo’ ass can’t cash. I’m tryin’ to respect you, bruh, ‘cause, in reality, she’s my old chick and I’ma be home soon. You need to let her tell me not to call. I don’t need to hear that shit from you, bruh, if you know what I mean.”
The entire time I looked on, appalled. King had never spoke to me in this tone, but I could easily pick up on his current temperament because I knew him best. He was furious but, like always, his voice was cool and calculated, like a grizzly bear walking on ice. When he got like this, he was lethal.
“Hey, tell this nigga I said don’t call no fuckin’ more!” Caesar ranted and threw the phone in my lap.
I picked it up with trembling hands. I could feel the baby moving around inside me, like he could sense there was something wrong. I tried to speak but it came out jumbled and jagged like I was lock-jawed, causing me to chew on my words until I finally managed to say what I intended. It was my heart speaking, not my mind. Deep in my heart, I knew I would always love King; I just wasn’t in love with him anymore. Or at least, I didn’t think I was.
“King, if you do get out, they gon’ kill you. Don’t come back here, don’t call my phone, and don’t contact me. Act like I never existed… like you never knew me. I never want to see you again, King, you hear me? You fucked it all up!”
I knew as soon as the words came out my mouth that I was being too emotional—too personal. I still harbored feelings, feelings that I wanted to bury in a tomb. Even then, my feelings for King were too deep to ignore.
I hung up the phone and began to sob uncontrollably as Caesar stood over me. There was no compassion in his heart, no empathy, no nothing for me when it came to King. The only thing he ever showed in regard to me and King was jealousy and rage. I knew that no matter what I said he could tell that I still loved King and probably always would. King and I had been together for over eight years; I’d suffered three miscarriages and a broken heart over him.
King had been with me since I was fifteen and he was seventeen. I was with him back when he was nothing but a small-time drug dealer and jack-boy. Then the day emerged, like a prickly thorn, when he grew through the ghetto concrete and became a ruthless drug lord and a notorious killer; hated by many but respected by all. King hit a big lick and robbed a Haitian gang in Miami, overseen by his own plug, and came up with 500 kilos of coke each valued in the streets at $24,000. With everything he needed to build his empire in his hands, King never looked back, and I was by his side.
Caesar knew of King even before I got with him. On more than one occasion, he had thrown up in my face during a fight about how he’d seen me riding with King in his convertible Bentley and other fancy cars, some that I couldn’t even remember us being in. Even in King’s absence he was still present a part of my life, like an ugly scar that wouldn’t go away.
On my right shoulder, near my breast plate, I had a big flaming tattoo embellished in pink and purple roses with the words, ‘King & Sunday Forever’ in the middle. Caesar hadn’t noticed the tattoo until the very first time he made love to me. After he saw it, he had trouble getting an erection. He never told me why, but I already knew.
I tried to conceal the tattoo as much as I could and even made a promise to Caesar to one day have it removed but what I couldn’t have removed was the indelible print he had left on my aching heart. That much was apparent from my conversations with him whenever he called.
“You still love him, don’t you?” Caesar shouted over me.
“No, I love you! Please, don’t start this again. Please, Caesar,” I sobbed harder, wrapping my belly in my arms.
“I don’t know what to think. And then there is this whole marriage thing; you’re ‘bout to be my wife. You’re pregnant with my baby but it feels like you still got feelings for that other nigga. Maybe we need to rethink this thing.” He began to pace across the floor.
I looked up through my tears, startled.
“Rethink what? I love you. I don’t want to live without you, Caesar...”
With my arms spread wide, I reached out to him. He shook his head at me and I winced, not because of him but because the baby was stirring hard in my stomach. My abdomen got tight and I sucked in a sharp breath. I wasn’t due for a month or so.
These must be Braxton-Hicks contractions… my body is just gettin’ ready.
“If he does get out and come home, I feel like this is going to be in issue.”
“You heard what I told him. I don’t want to see him ever again, you heard me tell him that!”
“No, what I heard was you warn him not to come back here so he don’t get killed. Then you went into all that shit ‘bout not contactin’ you which sounded generic as fuck to me.”
I sucked in deep breath. His accusations were starting to annoy me, maybe because he was more right than wrong. I expelled a wary sigh as if trying to control my breathing and calm my mood as not to excite the baby. I couldn’t remember the baby ever being so active before. It was like he was feeding off my emotions.
“We have too much invested in each other for you to feel like another man can take your place. I love—”
“Too much invested? I’ve only known you for barely two years. You was fuckin’ that other nigga for nearly a decade and you still driving the Benz he gave you, wearing the jewelry he bought and let’s not forget that big ass tat
too on your fuckin’ breast with his name on it.”
He was belligerent as he snatched at the shirt that I was wearing in an attempt to expose the tattoo. I swatted his hand, clawing at it with my long fingernails, nearly drawing blood. The moment had become volatile that fast.
“Hold up, nigga, you really in your feelings? First of all, what am I supposed to do, give away an expensive car and jewelry that was given to me? It’s not his shit, it’s mine!”
Caesar opened his mouth to speak but I cut his ass off.
“I’m not done! As for the tattoo, I already told you that I was goin’ to get it taken off, but now I don’t have the time or the money for it. And the jewelry he gave me, is just that: Something that was given to me. It’s old.”
“Yeah, right. You gon’ keep that ugly ass shit tatted on you forever. Stop lying!” he spat back, raising his fist like he was about to hit me.
That was it! I was on my feet with the quickness, ready to fight his ass if it came to it. I wasn’t one to let a man put his hands on me.
“Ugly?” I frowned, shouting in his face. “Ugly? It wasn’t ugly when you was fuckin’ me, kissing all over it. And I know you not givin’ me shit ‘bout the same car that you love to drive. Don’t try to belittle me over some simple shit because you jealous of King.”
Caesar’s frown deepened but I could tell that I’d really hit a nerve. Behind his steel glare was a hint of shock and embarrassment, as if I had knowledge of something he was embarrassed to admit.
“Why would I be jealous of him? Like really, this nigga locked up! And if he do come home, these niggas on the block gon’ kill him for what he did to that little girl. Them John Doe Boys done fell off, so they can’t do shit. That said, tell me why the fuck should I be jealous of a dead man?”
The John Doe Boys that Caesar was referring to was King’s crew, and we both knew that he was lying. Even in King’s absence over the years, they hadn’t lost a step. They weren’t as ruthless with killing, but still they ruled the city with an iron fist, with the help of King’s ex, conniving ass Makita, who couldn’t stand me. I had taken him from her way back in high school. She was just as gangsta as any man and that may have been what attracted King to me. Caesar knew of both of them and he knew how well Makita was running things. It was becoming more apparent from his ravings that he was hating hard.
“Fuck you, Caesar! You literally make me fuckin’ sick. Maybe we do need to rethink this marriage thing,” I fumed, crossing my arms across my chest.
Just then, Kirk, Caesar’s brother, walked into the room with his friend, Saz, stalking behind him. He had a slice of pizza in his hand and a can of Coke. He wore cutoff jeans and a Black Panther t-shirt along with matching flip-flops and socks. Saz sported an Avenger’s shirt, munching on a slice of pizza like he hadn’t eaten in years. Though he was a few years younger than Kirk, mentally, they were on the same level.
“Y’all want some pizza? It’s fresh out the oven. I got drinks, too. I made eighty bucks at the car wash today with my boy, Saz.”
Beside him, Saz continued chewing and wagged his head. “Yeah, me too. It was a good day for tips.”
I shot Saz a pointed look. He may have made some money today, but we all knew it wasn’t from working at no car wash. Saz was an up and coming corner boy who peddled a few dime and nickel bags for a few dollars every now and then.
“No to the pizza. We good,” Caesar said and waved him off.
Kirk gave me a sympathetic glance. I could tell he knew that we had been arguing and this was his way of defusing the situation. Even though he wasn’t that smart, when it came to human kindness, he was a sweetheart, like a gentle giant.
“I’ll take a slice, Kirk,” I said just to piss Caesar off. Plus, I was a little hungry, too. I knew, like always, he just wanted to rush his brother off. Caesar wanted nothing more than to continue to vent his frustrations out on me.
Kirk plodded over and gave me his slice of pizza on a napkin along with the unopened can of Coke. Watching him, Caesar was seething.
“Kirk, can ya’ll get da fuck out? I need to talk to her!”
He turned around and crinkled his brow at his little brother. “Hold up, man. You ain’t just gonna talk to me any kinda way, bruh.”
Kirk was slow in the thinking department at times, but he wasn’t no push over.
“Ok, I’ma say it nicely. Get da fuck out!” Caesar snapped.
Kirk scowled at his brother with a look of indignation and took several steps toward him, angrily raising his hand in the air.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. At that moment, both brothers ignored it, glaring at each other as Saz and I looked on anxiously. The knock came again, and Caesar tore his eyes away from Kirk before stomping over to the door and snatching it open. In his haste, he neglected to look through the peephole—a tragic mistake because, immediately, all hell broke loose.
My eyes filled with horror when I saw three masked gunmen storm in with assault rifles and handguns clutched in the fists of their outstretched hands.
“Nobody fuckin’ move!”
Foolishly, Saz instantly went for the gun he had stashed at his waist.
Big mistake.
KA-BOOM!
He was shot at close range right toward his chest. The impact from the gun sent him propelling backwards.
An earth-shattering scream pierced my ears as chaos ensued all around me. It wasn’t until I felt pain gripping my chest, my body fighting for oxygen to fill my empty lungs, that I realized the scream had come from me.
3
Sunday
* * *
My ears rang like someone had shot a cannon close to my head as a splash of incandescent white light exploded in my brain.
All the mask gunmen stormed in on us. They were moving fast as my world suddenly started to strobe on the precipice of disaster.
This can’t be happening.
“Where is the dope and money at?” one of the gunmen shouted. He was short and stubby, built like a tank, and dressed like one too, wearing an army fatigue jacket, blue jeans and boots.
“No, no! Saz, get up!” Kirk shouted at him; he was fanatic. I feared the worse. Kirk was unpredictable when he got caught up in his emotions. I had no idea what he would do.
One of the gunmen warned him. “Big man, shut the fuck up!”
“Y’all just shot my friend! Get up, Saz! Get up!” Kirk moved like he was about to go over and help him up as Saz wailed loudly in pain. He was alive but badly injured, from the deep red blood that was covering his chest.
One of the gunmen rushed over and violently struck Kirk upside the head with the butt of an assault rifle, opening up a deep gash that immediately started spewing blood. I dropped the can of Coke to the floor in shock and Caesar started to run to my side, only to be greeted by a pistol to the chest from one of them men.
“Bitch, where the muthafuckin’ money at?” another gunman said and placed a .9mm to my head. Through his mask I could see his diamond grill. His fetid breath was hot on my face and his bloodshot red eyes looked maniacal.
Unable to hold my bladder, I pissed down my leg onto the carpet. I had never been so frightened in my entire life.
“There is money and more drugs in the bedroom,” I said as my entire body shook.
In the next instance, I was nearly yanked off my feet by my hair as the shorter gunman rushed over and grabbed me, shoving me harshly toward the bedroom. The entire time I could hear Saz moaning in agony.
Then there was Caesar’s voice.
“No, Sunday!”
Bloom!
From the sound of metal against bone, someone had delivered him a blow to the head. I swallowed hard, walking faster as I lead the gunman to our bedroom to show him Caesar’s stash. It was in the back of my closet, in a shoe box, buried under other boxes, clothes and miscellaneous items. There was probably a total of nineteen-thousand dollars inside. Caesar had cut out a section of the wall and made a make-shift door for his self-made sa
fe. There was about twenty pounds of loud along with the money, our total life savings.
“It’s there,” I said, pointing to the door that led to the safe. The first gunman motioned to another man beside him who went to check. After he pulled out the contents inside, the first gunman turned back to me.
“Lie across the bed. Face down. Hurry!”
I closed my eyes and did as ordered, praying just like my Mama had taught me to in times of need, same as her mother taught her.
“Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadows of death, I will fear no evil. For thou are with me…”
My eyes pinched tight when I felt a pistol pressed at the back of my skull. My heart was pounding in my chest like an African drum.
“We got the money and his stash. Nigga, we hit the lottery! Let’s finish them off so we can be out.”
I prayed harder. “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me…”
Then things went from bad to worse. I heard Kirk growl and then there was a loud crashing nose, a huge thump against the wall and the entire apartment shook like an earthquake and a seismic boom! There was another tumultuous crash. I could hear what sounded like tables and chairs being overturned, bodies being flung, men yelling.
I was terrified.
“Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of my enemies. Thou anoints my head with oil. My cup runneth over…” I continued to pray as all hell erupted around me.
The struggle in the next room continued. I hoped that my prayers were going from my lips to God’s ears and Kirk was able to save us. Unlike Caesar, who was muscular, but much smaller in comparison, Kirk was nearly seven feet and almost three hundred pounds. He was massive and could be a problem; he had crazy, brute strength.
Suddenly, I heard one of the gunmen cry out in panic.
“Shit, man! He took my gun!”
I felt a ray of hope. God was in the prayer-answering business.
“Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life…
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!