by Styles, T.
“Damn! What about Courtney? What dirt you got on her?” Farah moved in closer, loving to hear gossip.
“This is heavy.”
“I’m not gonna say nothing!” Farah grew anxious. “I don’t even know them. Plus you got dirt on my friends. If anything this will make us tighter.”
“I guess you right,” Lesa said, getting more buzzed by the sip. “Well, she got a son by her boyfriend’s brother.”
Farah covered her mouth. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Yeah, her boyfriend wanted a son but he couldn’t produce. I don’t know what was going on with his nut. Anyway ... his brother Rod got like eight kids he don’t take care of.” She sipped her martini. “So one day Courtney got his brother drunk and fucked him raw. She knew she was ovulating because she was tracking her cycle, so it was nothing for her to get pregnant. Nine months later, she had a baby and passed it off as her man’s. And since the father is his brother her son looks just like him.”
Out of the blue Farah said, “Let’s tell people we cousins.” She was excited.
Lesa looked at her over the rim of her martini glass. She wondered where that comment came from. “What? Why?” She giggled.
“Because I feel you like family to me. And since you’re beefing with your friends, and I’m beefing with mine, we might as well live life. Plus we both light skinned, we both cute, and we both fly.”
Lesa put her glass down and said, “I never asked you but I’m gonna now. How come you always talk about light skin this and that? You even put it in your ad for a roommate and that kind of fucked me up.”
“Because niggas love red bones.” She smiled. “I know you get it all the time when you out in the streets because I do too.”
“I know, but I’ve seen some of my darker friends pull badder niggas than me.”
“I bet you more times than not you get the nigga.” She poured another martini. “I heard our pussy better than theirs, too. It ain’t our fault.” She paused. “So we cousins or not?” Farah raised her martini glass, and Lesa thought for one second before clinking her glass with hers.
“Cousins it is.” Lesa took a few sips before saying, “Oh ... I almost forgot to tell you. Vivian James came by when you were in the room with Chloe. She said to tell you to be careful; somebody killed the dude Kirk, who tried to rape you, in the building. Sliced the big vein on his dick and everything.”
Chapter 23
“I don’t wanna shoot you, but I can’t make no promises either.”
—Slade
Finally Slade would be able to see his brothers after what seemed like forever. He pulled up to Public Storage and drove toward his unit. Entering his code, he waited for it to automatically open, revealing all of his brothers, with the exception of Knox, inside. The Baker Boys were beautiful, each of them standing over six feet tall, and in Mississippi, it was said that they were built to last. Their bodies were chiseled as if they were just released from prison.
Slade and Audio walked into the unit and embraced their family. To be separated from each other was hard because they were together all the time. The moment Brian Baker, aka Killa, and Major Baker saw Slade’s and Audio’s faces, they knew something was wrong. Slade was the leader in the family and if he was rocked, they knew the foundation was in trouble.
“Where y’all been?” Slade asked. “We were supposed to hook up days ago.”
“I know, man. Shit was crazy,” Major said, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. His manner was “easy does it” and he didn’t get rattled about too many things. “We spoke to Knox some days back and he said not to use cell phones from here on out. He don’t trust nobody ... not even the phone company. He said he gonna hit us at Markee’s when he can link up with us. For now that’s the only number he feels safe enough to call.”
“He also said hold out on going to Markee’s crib, but we couldn’t call and tell you. That’s why we called Ma. He said he might still be followed,” Killa responded, leaning up against Slade’s truck. Killa was the violent type, who was sometimes arrogant. “We been sleeping in this bitch.” He pointed to some pillows and a few sheets in the corner. “We were good though.”
“But what’s up, bro?” Major asked. “You look out of it.”
“You heard from Devon?” Killa asked.
“Naw,” Slade said.
“What’s going on then?” Killa asked, following his eyes, which moved everywhere but on him. “Everything cool?”
“Is Ma okay?” Major interrupted. “Please don’t tell me that white mothafucka got Ma. I knew we should’ve brought her with us. But she wouldn’t listen, saying she could handle herself back home ...”
“It’s Devon,” Slade said in a low voice as his brother continued to rant and rave.
“Now something happened to her and its all our fault. What we gonna ...”
“It’s Devon,” Slade said again in a low voice, which still couldn’t be heard over Major’s.
“I’m on the first thing smoking back home. I don’t even give a fuck—”
“It’s Devon!” Slade yelled. Now he heard him. “It’s not Ma.” Both Killa and Major breathed a sigh of relief.
His words stung. Killa felt off balance and moved toward the wall for support as Major battled with the space around him by throwing wild punches into the air. Their cousin was like a brother to them, and it fucked them up that he got caught up in the middle of their war. If they were to tell the average person their story it would be unbelievable. Life was normal before the police came to them for help some months back. They’d take one look at their police records, which were thicker than a bestselling book, and draw an immediate conclusion, but they’d be wrong.
They did regular shit they were known for in their neighborhood but nobody expected more from them than minor crimes, with the occasional fist fights due to stealing someone’s girl. When a motorcycle club called Killer Bees came into town, whose ten members were convicted of crimes ranging from rape to murder, everyone knew they would be trouble. Houses were vandalized, women were raped, and people were brutally beaten and robbed. It wasn’t until people started showing up dead that the police realized the crimes were serial and systematic. When the crime spree first happened, the Baker Boys were being brought in one by one to answer for the sudden crime wave. When each of them were able to provide solid alibis, the city officials realized what they knew all along: that the murders were not their MOs.
Eventually crime was so bad that it was hard for the police department to handle without getting the FBI involved. Sheriff Kramer was arrogant and didn’t want outside help because of past issues that occurred in his town that he was unable to handle. He feared his job was on the line. So when the sheriff came to Della Baker’s house to speak to her five sons and nephew Devon, she knew something was up. The sheriff was essentially deputizing her sons, saying that if they helped him get rid of the biker club, he would forever be in their debt, and so would the city’s officials. Della said she appreciated his debt, but she wanted the charges on the auto theft against Audio dropped, which he accepted. All the brothers, except Knox, thought about how much they’d be able to get away with in Natchez if they looked out for the sheriff. Knox didn’t trust him one bit. He saw troubles miles away but when they shook his hand it couldn’t be stopped.
One by one the Baker Boys, under Della’s leadership, assisted the sheriff and deputies in getting rid of the bike club. Things were going great until an official police officer shot and killed another officer while taking down the last member. The officer’s murder changed the rules of engagement. Instead of accepting responsibility, he convinced Sheriff Kramer to say Knox and his brothers were to blame. He didn’t want to be under investigation only to lose his benefits, since his seven-month-old baby was in a hospital dying of cancer.
So behind the Baker Boysbacks the police changed the script saying that they, in conjunction with the biker club, caused all the murders, including that of the officer. Before long everyone wa
s looking for the brothers, wanting them brought to justice immediately. In neighboring counties, any officer with a badge was looking to get his hands on the men responsible for killing one of their own. The underground message was clear ... shoot to kill. Sheriff Kramer wanted them dead, and not alive to stand trial. But there was one problem. During the original conversation Sheriff Kramer had with Della, Knox was smart enough to record the entire meeting on his cell phone. When he learned of the recording, he offered $100,000 to whoever turned them over dead or alive. Della Baker would die before she saw her boys harmed in anyway.
When Della learned of the hit, she went into hiding in Mississippi, and ordered her sons to DC to stay with her nephew Markee until they could be reunited. Before they left, Slade made an executive decision and ordered the brothers to split up, since everyone was looking for five black men. Slade and Audio went together and Killa and Major went their separate ways. Knox decided to go solo and Devon stayed behind to protect Della. Everything was working out until Devon came out of hiding to buy groceries. Sheriff Kramer couldn’t believe his luck when he spotted him, and hours later he was dragged behind the back of his car. With the news of Devon’s murder everyone was wondering if Knox received the same fate.
“Devon’s dead?” Killa repeated. “How?”
“They got to him and strapped him to the back of a car. He was dragged to death and they said they couldn’t even recognize him if he didn’t have his ID.”
“We gotta watch our fuckin’ backs!” Audio spoke out. “Them crooked-ass cops not playing and why should we? I’m telling you if a cop step to me, DC or not, I’m blowing his mothafuckin’head off!”
“Calm down,” Slade said, looking at his brothers. They pushed their feelings down deep and listened to him speak. Besides, if he snapped, everyone would be in danger and it would take days to calm him down. “For now we gonna stay past Markee’s and wait for Knox’s word, since the only number he can reach us on is at his crib. We need to lay low. No getting into shit with niggas out in the streets.” He looked at Audio.
“Not for nothing, Slade, but I hope you taking your own advice too. Because once you lose it, you lose it.”
Silence.
“I’m talking about you” Slade said. “Not me.”
“I’m not feeling staying at Markee’s. You know how that nigga be tripping about his place and shit,” Major said. “With Devon dead, I might be liable to snap on that fool if he come at me sideways.”
“Yeah, we not gonna be able to stay there long, Slade. We gotta find another place to rest, man,” Killa said. “I’d rather stay here.”
“Fuck that! It’s cold’an a mothafucka in this bitch,” Major said. “I can’t do another night.”
“We ain’t got no choice. It’s Markee’s place or nothing. We gotta keep our heads on and get our family back.”
“We not gonna be able to let Ma stay down there too long by herself. It s just a matter of time ’fore they hurt her,” Killa said.
“Fuck you saying that shit out loud for?” Slade said as he jammed his finger in his chest. “You speaking that shit into existence? That something gonna happen to Ma? Y’all so busy barking ... you better think before you talk.”
“That shit is real!” Killa said. He was trying to hold his tears back. His own words made him sick to his stomach. “They bound to get at her if we don’t get her out of there.”
“She can hold her own,” Slade said, looking at them. “Plus they want us, not her.”
“What about money? We not gonna be able to do shit without paper,” Major said.
“That’s what I been saying. We can’t even bring Ma out here if we wanted to. Right now we broke as shit,” Audio said. “I feel like a fuckin’faggy.”
Slade rubbed his callous hands over his bald head. His brothers were right and he knew it, but he was in an unknown city, and didn’t know the ways of the land. How could he make moves when he wasn’t able to see clearly? “I gotta think,” Slade said, jumping into his truck. He didn’t know if he was gonna scream or cry, but he didn’t want to do it in front of them.
“Where you going?” Audio asked.
“To clear my head.” Slade put his black knit hat on in the back seat, and then drove down the road, observing his surroundings. For a thirty-two-year-old man, who’d never before left the state of Mississippi, he might as well have been a ten-year-old kid roaming around DC without a parent. He was alone and responsible for his entire family and that was a lot of mothafuckin’ pressure.
His mouth was dry, so he decided to grab something to drink. Parking at a convenience store, he walked in and moved toward the cooler. A few girls in the corner looked at him and smiled while on their groupie shit, but he didn’t smile back. Slade was so fucking fine that wherever he went, women couldn’t help but notice. His looks were both his gift and curse because men were intimidated and women made him weak so he took them in doses.
Walking up to the counter, he pulled the hat over his face and the weapon out of his pocket. His eyes were covered, but through the fabric he could see clearly. Aiming at the clerk he said, “I’ma need all the money in that register, ma’am.”
At first the woman thought it was a joke until he cocked the weapon. “Please don’t shoot me.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t wanna die. I got kids and a family.”
“I don’t wanna shoot you, but I can’t make no promises either. Now put the paper in the bag and cash me out for the night.”
The sixty-four-year-old woman nervously opened the register and placed a total of $1,200 in a plastic bag before handing it back to him. He took the cash and backed out of the door, aiming in her direction. His heart broke momentarily because the woman reminded him of his mother, who he was sure was her same age. He jumped in his truck and peeled out before anybody could spot him. Robbing innocent people was not his thing, but he knew at that moment that he’d do it again if it meant providing for his family. Slade saw the look in his brotherseyes and knew they were desperate and capable of anything. He would rather take charge of the situation, and do the crime, than have to worry about the three of them.
Six miles up the street, he could no longer control his stomach contents as he thought about what happened. So he parked the truck, opened his door, and vomited. His stomach muscles pulled as he released everything he ate that morning. What fucked him up was not that he robbed the lady, but that everything in him wanted to murder her for no reason.
Chapter 24
“Bitch, if you knew me you wouldn’t be nowhere near my face.”
—Farah
Farah was sitting across from Coconut at Mamma’s Kitchen. Although she invited Farah out, she seemed uninterested in anything she was saying at the moment. “What’s wrong with you?” Farah finally asked, stirring her Sprite with a straw. “You had an attitude all day. Plus you haven’t talked to me since you came over when I was sick.”
“Why should anything be wrong?” Coconut said in a conniving tone. “I mean, you haven’t been talking behind my back, have you?”
“Coconut, it’s obvious you still mad at me about that smack down thing at my party. Which is fucked up because I didn’t want to play that game anyway. As a matter of fact, you made me play that game before you would even be cool with me in school.”
“I’m not even thinking about that shit. I want to talk about loyalty and lies.”
“So you gonna tell me what’s bothering you or what? Farah tore a piece of bread off her roll before chewing with an open mouth.
Coconut sipped her Coke and said, “I talked to Rhonda when you were sick. At your house.”
“And?” she said, craning her neck outward. “I wish you’d stop beating around the bush.”
“And she told me you said you bought all of the gifts I got for her shower.” Her nose flared wildly. “Why would you lie on me like that? You supposed to be my best friend!”
“And you’re supposed to ask me instead of assuming! She was caught red-ha
nded and she loathed confrontation. “Just because you talked to Rhonda don’t mean it’s the truth! You were never a real friend if you think I would lie like that. Just keep it light!”
“She also told me you said that Jake was broke.” She rolled her neck. “My nigga ain’t never broke.”
“Oh, my God! That bitch is really lying now! She the one who said that shit!” Farah yelled, trying to be believable by putting on a performance. “Not me! What I look like saying that when I asked you to move with me? You ain’t got no job so he was gonna be the one to pay the rent.” She tried to touch Coconut’s hand. “Why would you let her break us up?”
Coconut snatched away and said, “You’re so fucking weird, and I can’t believe I let you come in between two girls I knew my whole life! The moment you stepped to me you were trouble!”
“I can’t believe you’re doing all of this.”
“It’s true! The first thing you did was invite yourself to a party you weren’t invited to on the bleachers. And now that I think about it, I believe you been erasing numbers out of our phones to keep us apart. Natasha would probably be alive today if you hadn’t come in our lives!”
Farah had gone too far and she saw it in her eyes. She would do anything to undo some of the lies she told, but fear of abandonment made it hard. “Coconut, please, let’s not do this.”
“It’s too late, and I don’t think I can be your friend anymore.”
“Why?”
“I just told you the reason.” She paused. “Unless you come clean. Did you or did you not lie on me?”
“Everything I told you was true. You gotta believe me, Coconut. Please.” In the middle of the conversation Farah was suddenly preoccupied with something in her food. What she was really doing was a poor job of faking it, to get Coconut’s mind off the subject while she attempted to come up with a better lie. When she looked up, Coconut was still waiting for a response. “What?”