Bury Me a G 4

by Tranay Adams

  Tiaz looked surprised seeing that he and his old man had run up racks like that. Now, he knew that they had run some checks up, but never did he figure that they had made that dollar amount. “Pop, don’t play with me,” Tiaz said. He couldn’t believe that they had really made that much money. “How much did we really make in these streets. Seriously though, don’t lie.” Melvin shut the book and locked it, looking at his son, he said, “Long as you’ve known yo’ father, has he ever lied to you about anything?” He spoke of himself in third person. “No,” he had to admit. “That’s right. I been keeping it real with you since the day yo’ mother pushed you outta her womb.”

  “True, true,” Tiaz nodded. His old man was right. He always kept it one-hundred stacks with him. Melvin placed the black book back inside of the safe and shut it. He then motioned for his son to sit down on the bed and he sat down beside him. “Truthfully, I should have been stopped doing this shit. I was only doing it to be able to pay the rent up for a few months and get the bills from outta my hair,” he spoke honestly. “I got that money and then some.” “Then why did you keep on going?” “When I lost your mother I felt dead inside. I was a walking, talking zombie. I was alive, but I wasn’t exactly living. It wasn’t until I picked up that mask and that gun that I felt alive again, son. The rush and high I got outta making those fools out there part with their money and drugs,” he looked ahead at nothing as he clenched his fists tightly, causing veins to bulge in his hands. From the look on his father’s face Tiaz could tell that he was passionate about what he was talking about. “Man, I tell you. It made me an adrenaline junkie. The action, the drama, the threat of knowing that shit could go down bad at any given time put me on cloud nine. I couldn’t get enough, so I kept doing it and doing it,” the excitement left his eyes and he rested his hands on his knees. “I was all in with this shit until I got the scare of my life.” “Oh, yeah? What was that, pop?” Tiaz’ forehead wrinkled with concern.

  “Tonight, when you took those bullets that was meant for me. I thought I had lost you forever,” Melvin placed his hand on Tiaz’ shoulder. At that moment, for the first time, Tiaz saw the glassiness in his father’s eyes and knew that he was on the verge of shedding tears. This was as vulnerable as he had ever seen him. He was so used to him being solemn and without much emotion. “I lost my queen, I’m not tryna lose my prince. The more I think about it. I had no business bringing you in on this thing of mine. It was far too dangerous. I’m sure your mother is turning over in her grave right now.” Staring into his father’s eyes, Tiaz could definitely feel his hurt. He loved his father immensely and he didn’t want to see him crying. He really didn’t want to stop getting it how he lived either, but if it was going to make his old man feel better, then he was going to turn his back on the game. Tiaz rose from off his seat and paced the floor with his hands on his hips, thinking. He licked his lips and massaged his chin. Suddenly, he stopped and looked to his father. “Alright, pop, I’ll give this up, but only on one condition. We gotta get out in the field one more time. I’m asking that we hit one last lick, just one,” he held up his finger and looked at his old man with serious eyes. Melvin ran his hand down his face and took a deep breath. He looked up at his son and said, “Why?” “Why what, pop?” “Why do you need to do this last job? We gotta ‘nough paypa to blow town right this minute. We wouldn’t even need to pack. We could just go, just hop into my car and drive.” “Well, I’ma tell you the truth, straight up. It’s like you use to tell me, you don’t bullshit a bullshitter.” “That’s right.” “There this nigga named Cordell; he’s got the streets on smash with his work. He’s arrogant, flamboyant, runs his mouth and thinks he’s God. The mothafucka believes that there ain’t nobody out here with balls big enough to rob his ass.” “Lemme guess, you gotta show ‘em you that nigga with balls, right?” “You right, pop. I gots to be that nigga,” Tiaz smiled and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. “You know, if you swat a beehive enough times you’ll eventually get stung, right?” “I hear you, OG. But I gotta show this fool that my daddy didn’t raise no mark. ‘Fore as long as I got guns and heart, I’ma bring it to any nigga, you feeling me?” “Yep,” he nodded and interlocked his fingers underneath his chin. Staring ahead, he thought long and hard about what his son was asking him to do. He knew all about Cordell, and he wasn’t anything to play with from what he heard. He knew that there would be consequences and repercussions if the crack king found out that him and his son robbed him. Still, he was contemplating on riding with his son on this last lick. Although he wanted to, he couldn’t back out. Not now. Growing up, his son had always looked up to him like he was something special. Although Melvin knew otherwise, he didn’t want to taint that image that his offspring had of him. “Fuck it! We gone roll. One more job isn’t gone hurt us. We’ll get in and get out,” Melvin said as he rose to his feet and outstretched his hand to his son. “Put her there, partner,” he said, refered to him shaking his hand. Upon hearing his father’s answer, Tiaz broke out in a wide smile and hugged him. This caused his father to smile and he embraced him. They then broke their hug and stepped back from one another. “Like I was saying,” Melvin began, “we gone roll out on this one. But as soon as we pull this caper, we getting the fuck outta dodge, deal?” “Deal,” Tiaz dapped up his old man and sealed the deal. Melvin then kissed him on the side of his head and patted him on his back affectionately. Although it wasn’t the ‘I love you, son’ Tiaz was looking for it still made him feel good. ***

  Tiaz and Melvin walked around the living room dousing everything with gasoline. Once Melvin was done, he tossed his gas can aside causing it to spill some of its contents. Still holding on to his gas can, Tiaz stood over the trap niggaz. He watched as they squeezed their eyelids shut and shook their heads, blowing their noses as the overwhelming odor of gasoline burned their nostrils. The men gagged and huffed feeling the fumes of the flammable liquid invading their lungs, threatening to poison them. Fearful of losing their lives, they squirmed around trying to get free.

  “I ain’t gone kill you niggaz, man. Nah, this shit here is bigger than you and me. See, this shit is about an old nigga that thinks the G shit he laid down in the eighties still holds up today. This my way of telling ‘em, nah, you may have pumped fear into niggaz back in the day. But chu definitely ain’t pumping fear into this mothafucka standing right here!” Tiaz smacked his hand up against his bulletproof vest which was strapped over his upper body. With that said, he approached the coffee table where wrinkled stacks of money, a block and a half of cocaine, and four black handguns resided. He poured what was left of the gasoline on the items on the coffee table before tossing the gas can aside. He then watched as his father drew a machete and went down the row of trap niggaz slicing off their gags and bondages. Melvin then opened the door to the crack house and stood aside, allowing the terrified men to escape. The men stood where they were. They were afraid that it was a trick and they were going to get slaughtered if they moved. “Y’all niggaz gotta choice,” Tiaz began, striking a bluish yellow flame with his Zippo lighter. “You can either haul ass outta the door, or stay here and perish with Cordell’s house and all the rest of his shit.” Having stated that, Tiaz dropped the Zippo lighter onto the items on the coffee table and everything went up in flames, instantly. Seeing the fire sweep all around the living room, the trap niggaz ran out of the burning house. Crossing the threshold out of the yard, they all scattered in different directions screaming and hollering. Melvin sheathed his machete and made his way out of the door. Tiaz gave the house one last look, watching as the flames ripped throughout the living room. Satisfied, he strolled out of the door. He came down the steps and found his father sitting behind the wheel of the getaway car. Tiaz was halfway out of the yard when the house exploded with a golden orange light. Fire erupted out of the windows, sending flames and broken glass rushing out into the night’s air. The young nigga didn’t even flinch; he kept right along walking until he’d cleared the
yard. Once he was in the passenger seat of the vehicle, his father threw the gear into drive and pulled off. The message that Tiaz left was clear. He definitely had balls big enough to oppose Cordell.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Melvin pulled into the back parking lot of The Bar Fly and killed the engine. He then looked to Tiaz who was staring out of the window.

  “You good, son?” Melvin asked Tiaz of his injuries from being shot.

  “I’m okay, pop.” “Alright then, you got that nigga J-Murda’s chain?” “Is a fish’s pussy waterproof?” He held up a black velvet bag with golden drawstrings.

  Melvin smiled and said, “Cool. This a bar and you not ‘pose to be in here ‘less you at least twenty-one. You look older than your age though, so just in case anyone asks, you twenty-two. They ask for identification, then you reach for your wallet, and suddenly remember you forgot it back home. Got it?” “Got it.” “Okay then,” Melvin pulled out his gun and checked its magazine. He then smacked it back into the butt of his weapon and cocked the slide on it. The sound of clinging metal ripped through the interior of the vehicle. “Let’s roll.” Tiaz and his old man hopped out of the car and made their way towards the entrance of The Bar Fly. “Yo, pop, I gotta take a leak.” “When we get in here, gone and handle yo’ business,” he told him. “I’m sure I can hold it down. I don’t expect shit outta this meeting, there will be too many witnesses in here for a nigga to try some dumb shit.”

  As soon as Melvin and Tiaz pushed open the heavy wooden door of The Bar Fly they were enveloped by the dimly lit establishment. They stood where they were taking in the bar. There were people sitting around swigging cold ones and shooting the breeze, dancing around to the music pumping from the juke-box against the wall or playing pool. Melvin spotted Chief at a pool table playing a game against a stocky cat wearing an apple jack and a bushy mustache. The man took the occasional swig of his Miller Lite as he watched Chief handle his business on the table. “It’s clean up time, Jerry,” Chief announced to the nigga he was playing a game of pool with. His eyes looked to the bar and found Melvin. He gave him a nod of acknowledgement and he returned it. Jerry then focused on the ball he was trying to drop into one of the pockets of the pool table. “Clean up time? Nigga, you stay talking shit, just shoot the gotdamn ball, man.” Jerry said annoyed. Chief was kicking his black ass on the pool table and making him look bad in the eyes of his woman. Now, he was feeling humiliated because he’d been bragging to her all night how he was the grandmaster of shooting pool and no one could fuck with him. “Whatever, homeboy, you just have my paypa once I’m done handing you your ass in this here game.” Chief said and stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth. He zoomed in on the shot he had in mind, teases the ball with being hit by his pool stick. Abruptly, the stick struck the ball and it went flying towards the pocket he had in mind. He took the shot and the ball he planned on hitting dropped into its intended pocket. After taking the shot, Chief stood up straight talking shit and sharpening his stick with the blue cube. Looking to the bar, Chief signaled for Melvin to give him a second and took a sip from a glass of brown liquor. He then sat the glass down and leaned over the pool table, focusing on wrapping up the game.

  “The bathroom is down that hall and to your left,” Melvin pointed, directing Tiaz the men’s room. “I’ma cop a squat at this bar and order myself a lil taste.”

  “Okay, pop.” Tiaz handed his old man the velvet bag and went to relieve his bladder.

  Melvin sat down at the bar and motioned the bartender over, ordering up a Hennessy over the rocks. Once he’d gotten his drink, he slowly sipped it and glanced back over his shoulder at Chief. He found him winking and smiling at Jerry’s lady, boasting his gold crown tooth. She returned the gesture and Jerry gave her the evil eye. Chief then turned his attention back to the game at hand.

  “Man, I had to piss like a race horse.” Tiaz said, returning from the rest room. He took up the stool beside Melvin and grabbed a handful of cashews from out of the bowl on bar top, tossing them back. “So, is he here yet, OG?” “Yeah, he’s here. He’s playing a pool game,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Chief at the pool table. “Which one is he?” Tiaz asked, having turned around on his stool. “Right there,” Melvin nodded to Chief. “He’s the one that’s about to take the next shot, at the center table there.” “Got cha,” Tiaz shook the cashews in his fist before tossing them back into his mouth, munching them. “Pop, there’s something I been meaning to ask you.” “Spit it out, son,” Melvin took another sip of his drink. “Since, uh, you know, popped your cherry with that the other night...how do you feel?” He asked him of his first time killing in cold blood the night he hit Shivs’s people’s house. Although he was a street nigga he’d never murdered anyone before, and he never thought he’d have to either. But that changed once he chose the ski mask way.

  Melvin took a sip of his drink and hissed as he felt the liquid fire pouring down his throat. He licked his lips and swirled the dark liquor around in his glass. “Let’s just say it takes a really cold, calloused, sick and twisted mothafucka to murder someone in cold blood and not feel any kind of remorse afterwards. It's easy to aim a gun at someone. It's not easy to actually pull the trigger, ’cause when you take another man’s life, you gotta live with that for the rest of yours. You’re the one that's gonna see that man’s face you murdered every time you shut your eyes.” As Melvin spoke his mind he was assaulted with excessive flashbacks of the night he murdered Shivs, Tamara, and her man. There were muzzle flashes, blood, and horrified screams. Everything seemed to have happened inside his head theatrically. “So, before a man ever pulls a gun to take a life, he’s gotta ask himself. Am I ready to live the rest of my life with the memories of this man’s death haunting me and never going away?” Tiaz frowned. If what his father was saying was true then he was the cold, calloused, sick, twisted mothafucka that he was referring to. He had never been haunted by the lives he’d taken. In fact, Tiaz never felt anything about anyone that had fallen victim to his gun. The way he saw it, they were in his way of progress and they had to be eliminated. “You mean, the people you killed haunt chu?” Tiaz inquired. “Hell yeah, they haunt me,” Melvin said, turning around on his stool and sitting his glass down on the bar top. He then reached inside of his overcoat and pulled out a pack of Newport 100s. “There are a couple of them in here with us right now,” Tiaz looked around the bar with a confused expression on his face. He didn’t see any dead people that may be around them. “Don’t bother. You can’t see ‘em, son, but they’re here. They all have the same holes from the bullets I put in ‘em, too.”

  “Really?”

  Melvin lit up one of the Newports and blew out smoke. He nodded and said, “Yep.”

  “Well, are they saying anything?”

  “Mostly bitching about how I was wrong for peeling their caps back, and how they didn’t deserve to die. They piss and moan from time to time,” Melvin tapped the cigarette and dumped ashes into a clear glass ashtray that the bartender had just sat before him. “I’ll tell you this. I didn’t give it to anybody that didn’t have it coming. They were all scumbags and pieces of shit, just like me. One day it will be my turn, and when The Grim Reaper comes knocking, I’ll open the door and embrace my fate like the man that I am.”

  “Respect,” Tiaz nodded, admiring his old man acceptance of his fate whenever Judgment Day came.

  “Gotdamn it!” A shrill came from Tiaz and Melvin’s rear. They looked over their shoulders just in time to see the man Chief had been shooting pool with, Jerry, throw his pool stick to the floor.

  Jerry reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a gold money clip. After peeling off a few crisp bills, he tossed them on the pool table and snagged his woman’s arm on his way out of the door. The woman stumbled forward nearly falling from him pulling her along so fast. Jerry crossed Tiaz and Melvin’s path, cursing up a storm under his breath.

  Chief threw on his suit’s jacket and buttoned it up. Smiling, he
snatched up his winnings, folded them up and shoved them inside of his pocket. Chief then made his way in Tiaz and Melvin’s direction. Whilst in motion, he glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. Finally reaching the man he had made arrangements with to meet, he sat down on the stool beside him.

  “Scotch, Nigel,” Chief threw his finger up at the bartender.

  Nigel nodded and began making Chief’s drink.

  “You got something that’s gonna make me smile?” Chief asked Melvin.

  Melvin nodded and said, “Yep, and its right here.” He looked around cautiously before passing him the black velvet bag with the gold drawstrings.

  Chief thanked Nigel when he brought his drink back and sat it on top of a napkin. He then opened the velvet bag and peered inside. A smile broadened his face once he saw J- Murda’s blood speckled gold chain.

  Chief closed the bag back up and sat it aside on the bar top. He interlocked his hands and leaned closer to Melvin, so everyone wouldn’t be able to hear what they were discussing.

  “Did this cock sucker die screaming?”

  “Like a fourth grade sissy.” “Oh, really?”

  “Yep, cashed ‘em out,” Melvin told him. “He’ll definitely have a closed casket funeral.”

  “Good,” Chief took a sip of his drink. He then pulled a thick manila envelope from inside of his suit and placed it on the empty stool beside him. Discreetly, Melvin picked the envelope up and tucked it inside of his overcoat. “Keep in mind the last thing we discussed regarding my wife. Although the verdict isn’t in on that yet, when it is...” Chief didn’t finish what he had to say, he just gave him a knowing look. Melvin picked right up on it, too. “I got cha. Beena pleasure,” Melvin shook his hand. He then swallowed the last of his drink and rose to his feet. Melvin patted Chief on the back then said goodbye to him. He motioned for Tiaz to follow him as he made a beeline towards the door.