by Tranay Adams
“Now why wouldn’t I kill this lil’ mothafucka, huh? Tell me why?” His lips peeled back into a sneer. “Gemme one good goddamn reason. And maybe, just maybe I’ll let ‘em walk.”
Melvin was quiet for a time as he looked away trying to conjure up a good enough reason to have his son exonerated.
“Welp,” Cordell shrugged. “I guess this is goodbye, junior.” He cocked the hammer of his revolver with his thumb and moved to squeeze the trigger.
“No! No! No! Wait!” Melvin shouted, seeing his son’s brain about to get splattered.
“You better start doing a whole lotta talking real fast.” Cordell’s eyebrows arched and his nose scrunched as he gritted his teeth. Tiaz squeezed his eyelids closed tightly, waiting to be delivered to heaven or hell, whichever came first for people who’d done the dirt he’d done.
“The money, all of the money we’ve stole since we’ve been kickin’ in does.” Melvin spoke fast, hoping to change the course of his baby boy’s fate.
“Money, huh? How much are we talking here?”
“Half—half a million dollars.”
“Five hundred big ones, huh? I hear ya talking, but chu gone have to show me something.” He put the hammer back into its rightful place and took the pistol away from Tiaz’ temple causing him to sigh and relax. “I want that money right here and right now. So where is it?”
Melvin closed his eyes and swallowed, taking a deep breath, thanking the Lord for sparing his offspring. When he peeled his eyelids back open, he started rattling off the address where the money was hidden and where he’d stashed it.
Cordell sent his men after the loot. An hour later they returned with a Puma duffle bag. He ordered them to unzip the duffle bag and hold it open. When they did as instructed, his eyes were pleased by the contents inside. One of the henchmen zipped the duffle bag back up and dropped it at Cordell’s feet.
“Now your end of the bargain.” Melvin nodded to his boy, keeping his eyes on his abductor.
“Right. I am a man of my word.” Cordell turned to one of his men. “Release the boy.”
The henchman worked the nail back and forth with the hammer causing Tiaz to frown and clench his teeth, blood splattered on the scratched up hardwood floor creating a small pool.
Snikt! Thump! Snikt! Thump!
The nails made their noise as they dropped to the floor, stained with blood. The henchman kneeled to the floor, sitting the hammer down and unsheathing a knife. He sliced the duct-tape around the boy’s ankles and snatched it loose.
Tiaz rose to his feet wincing as he looked at his wounded hands. He quickly forgot about them when he realized his father hadn’t been set free, yet. He ran towards him but Cordell stepped in his path. He stared up at him like, Get the fuck out of my way or get your ass bowled over.
“Give us a minute, please.” Melvin asked of Cordell and he moved from the young nigga’z path. “Come here, son.” He winced, aching from the injuries to his hands and face. His boy stepped before him. “Get outta here, son.”
“Pop, I’m not leaving here without you. Fuck these niggaz.” He mad dogged all of the opposing men in the room, then he looked back to his father.
“Listen, you gotta get outta here now. If you don’t, we’re both dead. Please.”
There was silence as father and son stared into one another’s faces, their eyes saying what their mouths hadn’t the courage to mention. Melvin hadn’t been too big on affection with his first born, so he let his actions show him what he couldn’t verbalize.
“I love you, son.” Melvin told his son for the first time ever in his entire life. Although the young nigga hated to have to hear it at a time like this, he realized that it was better hearing it now then to never have heard it all.
Those words made Tiaz’ eyes turn glassy, but he refused to shed a tear in front of the men present. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around his old man firmly. His father kissed him on the cheek and the side of the head.
“Go, son, go! Get outta here.” Melvin threw his head towards the door.
“I love you too, pop.”
“I know. Now gone son, get!”
Tiaz headed for the door, glaring at the henchmen as he went along. He stopped at the one that had just opened the door for him, hocking up spit and hawking it into his face. The man closed his eyes and brought the end of his bandana up to his face, wiping his face clean. Tiaz crossed the threshold out of the door. Going down the steps he heard the muffled commotion coming from inside of the house he’d just left.
“It’s time to pay your tithes, Mel.” He barely heard Cordell say.
“Ol’ Melvin Petty has always been good for it. I always pay my debts.”
“And that’s why I fucks with chu.”
“You just remember when it’s all said and done, they gone bury me a G, you hear me? Bury me a mothafucking G! A G! A...”
Bop! Bop! Bop! Bop!
Once the shots went off, Tiaz closed his eyelids and tears shot down his cheeks. He never broke his stride as he headed out of the front yard of the house.
Tiaz was sure of one thing at that moment; he wouldn’t rest until he avenged his father’s murder. With the assistance of Threat, he was going to track down all parties involved. His execution of them was going to be swift and carried out with extreme prejudice.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE Tiaz climbed in behind the wheel of his father’s car. He then tore off lengths of the fabric of his wife beater, tying them around his wounded hands. It took him some time to tighten the rags around his hands being that they were extremely sore and aching, but he finally managed. He had to hotwire the vehicle since he didn’t have the keys, but even that proved to be difficult due to his hands. Tiaz tried to grip the steering wheel of the automobile, so he could back out of the space, but he couldn’t manage to do so. His hands had proven to be his handicap. Giving up, he threw open the door and hopped out. He found himself running down the sidewalk, as fast as he could. Occasionally, he’d glance over his shoulder to see if Cordell and his men were following him, but they weren’t anywhere in sight. Before Tiaz knew it, he had made it to his destination, which was Threat’s house.
***
Breathing heavily, Tiaz made it to the backyard of Threat’s house. Looking in through the window, all he could see were the ruined white blinds. Some of them were broken off at their corners. He believed that this was from his homeboy peering out into his backyard to see what was going on inside of the alley. Through the broken off parts of the blinds, Tiaz could see that the bedroom was dark, but he saw flashes of blue light, which he gathered was the television set. Raising his fist, Tiaz knocked on the window and waited for his homeboy to answer him. He looked over his shoulders and ran over to the gate that led to the backyard to see if anyone had followed him. For some strange reason he had the feeling that Cordell would change his mind and send his men to shoot him down like a dog in the streets. Hearing the window being opened, Tiaz ran back to it, just in time to see Threat sticking his head out. He was bare
chest and wearing brown Dickie’s shorts which sagged off his ass and showing off his boxers. His face was fixed with a frown and his gun was in his hand. “Tiaz, is that chu?” Threat narrowed his eyelids trying to see through the darkness. He garnered that it was his partner in crime from the outlining of his body. “Yeah, it’s me, Crim.” Tiaz said, the pain in his voice was evident. He tried to mask it, but he couldn’t help it. “Thought chu was an enemy or some shit, homeboy. I was about to start...” his words died in his throat when he saw his right-hand man’s bruised and battered face as well as his rag tied hands. “Aww, not my nigga! What happened to you? Who did this to you, homie?” Threat tucked his gun at the small of his back and grabbed the pane of the window, hopping out of it. He landed to the ground on his bending knees and rose to his feet. He grabbed Tiaz by his shoulders and looked into his face. His tearing eyes twinkled in the dim lighting that the light posts out in the alley provided. “They killed ‘em, they kille
d ‘em.” Tiaz broke down crying, tears sliding down his cheeks. His shoulders rocked and his hands trembled. Usually, Tiaz was the pillar of strength and checked his emotions. Under no circumstances would he ever want anyone to see him like he was now. His being this way would have someone thinking that he was weak, and he couldn’t have that. This was because his reputation was everything to him. As of now, his street credibility didn’t mean shit to him; he’d just lost his father. His old man was the only man on this God forsaken planet that he’d ever loved, besides his homeboy, Threat. “Who, nigga? Who are you talking about?” Threat frowned as he shook his main man trying to get the answer out of him. “Cordell. Cordell, Savino, and the rest of them niggaz under his thumb,” Tiaz sniffled and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. Bringing his head back up, he looked Threat directly in the eyes. “I swear ‘fore God, Threat. Once I heal up, I’m gonna kill every last one of them niggaz! Fuck ‘em all. I’m not sparing a soul, on my momma’s grave. You feel me?” “I feel you, homeboy. And I’ma ride witchu when you ready to roll.” “Thanks.” Tiaz used the lower half of his wife beater to wipe his face. Threat gripped his main man’s shoulder and looked him in his eyes. “You straight, homie?” “Nah, I’m fucked up, homeboy, but I will be in time. At least I hope so,” he admitted. “You can stay here as long as you want. I’m sure my granny won’t mind once I tell her what’s up.” “Good looking out, that’s love.” “No doubt.” “I’m strapped out here, Crim. I ain’t got no fam or nothing. A nigga broke.” “Look at me, homie, look me dead in my mothafucking eyes,” he began, keeping eye contact with Tiaz. “As long as this lil’ nigga breathing, you always got family. I am your brother. Whatever I have is half yours. Long as I got it, you got it. That’s how it works with family. You hear me?” Tiaz nodded. “I love you, my nigga, and we gone lay all of these busta ass niggaz down ‘cause the nigga that they took wasn’t just yo’ father, he was mine, too.” At that moment, Tiaz embraced Threat like a brother. They stood where they were locked in the moment. What Threat had said made Tiaz feel a little better, but once he got his revenge, he’d feel a lot better. “I love you, bruh.” Tiaz said to him. “I love you too, homeboy, you my mothafucking nigga. Straight up,” he kissed him on the side of the head. Ten months later Cordell sat at the head of a table inside of a restaurant known as Elegance. The upscale establishment was widely known for its food, music, entertainment and service. They were pretty well rounded as far as cuisines were concerned, but they specialized in Italian entrées. If you wanted some good Italian food, Elegance was definitely the place you’d want to try. Anyway, tonight was a special night. You see, Cordell had just closed a deal on some of the sweetest cocaine money could buy from his new plug, Black Jesus. So he’d gathered all of his lieutenants to personally thank them for helping him build his empire and give them a gift. Cordell and his lieutenants finished eating their food and wiped their mouths with their cloth napkin. As soon as they’d done this, the last person on duty, the chef, pushed out a cart occupied by silver platters with bubble lids. The chef sat a platter each before the men sitting at the table. He then approached Cordell who reached inside of his suit and pulled out a hefty envelope. He passed it to the chef and he thanked him, sliding the envelope inside of his uniform. The man went into the back where he changed out of his uniform and headed out of the door. “What’s this, boss man?” Savino asked, looking back and forth from the silver bubble lid on his platter to the nigga whose employ he was under. It had taken some time but Cordell was finally able to convince his thuggish ass to put on a suit for the occasion. The mothafucka had planned on showing up in a Dickie suit and Chuck Taylor’s, but thankfully his boss was able to persuade him. “Just my way of thanking each and every last one of you niggaz here at this table for helping me build and establish this empire of mine,” he stopped a wine glass at his lips. “Y’all gone ahead and take a peek.” He took a sip of the wine, savoring its expensive taste before swallowing. Although Cordell was in a suit, he also wore a gold crown and a gold saucer sized medallion and several icy gold rings. He claimed to be The King of the Steets, so he dressed himself up to look like royalty, street royalty, as far as jewels were concerned. Cliiing! Cliiing! Cliiing! Cliiing! Cliiing! The men sitting at the table pulled off the silver bubble lids, one by one. Sitting on the platters before him were small black jewelry boxes labeled Rolex in gold with a matching crown above it. Smirks appeared on Savino and the men’s faces when they saw the boxes with the gold letters on them. Gently, they opened the boxes and revealed their respective watches. All of the watches were different, but they all were beautifully crafted and one of its kind. Cordell smiled from ear to ear seeing his men happily sliding on the Rolexes that he’d bought them. He observed them holding up their wrist to their faces and twisting and turning the watch adorning their wrist. “Good lookin’ out, Cordell.” Savino said. “Appreciate this, boss dawg, this watch hard as a mothafucka!” Another one of the men stated. The rest of the men gave Cordell their praise and thanks, as they admired their watches. “Don’t mention it. Y’all niggaz stick with me, and next time I’m gonna be giving you keys to Ferraris and shit. Watch and see what loyalty, dedication and determination gets you,” he went to take another sip of wine, and a car alarm sounded from outside in the parking lot. He sat the glass down and looked through the large picturesque window. He could see the headlights of his Mercedes Benz 600 Flashing on and off, as the vehicle’s alarm blared loudly. “Shit.” “That’s you, Cordell? I thought that was my shit.” One of the lieutenants said. He’d just put his car keys back inside of his pocket. “Yeah, that’s me.” Cordell confirmed. He’d pulled out his car keys and turned the alarm off. When he went to take a sip of wine, the alarm sounded again and he turned it off. It came on again and that’s when he rose from the table, adjusting his leather belt. “You, gentlemen, have to excuse me, but I gotta check on my car. It must be faulty wiring or something that keeps this mothafucka going off,” he walked off talking under his breath. “Mercedes...top of the line my ass. As much money as I paid for this fucking car, you’d think the goddamn alarm system would at least be in working order.” Cordell pushed open the door as he crossed the threshold out of Elegance. He made his way toward his car with his hands inside of his slacks. His alarm went off again and the headlights of his Benz flashed on and off again. He scowled, shook his head and cursed under his breath. “Fuck that! I’m taking this son of a bitch back. They’d just gone have to give a nigga a new one.” Cordell went to pull his keys out of his pocket when the restaurant suddenly exploded. The force behind the blast sent Cordell flying through the air and crashing down on the hood of an X5 truck. He rolled off the hood and smacked down on the surface. As soon as the restaurant exploded, fire balls and broken glass came erupting out of all the windows of the establishment. Severed arms, legs, torsos and heads came along too. Some of the body parts landed on the windshields of parked cars, cracking their glass into cobwebs. While others smacked up against the backseat windows of vehicles and cracked the windows. Other body parts, which were burning, landed on the ground.
“Uhhh,” Cordell struggled to lift his head up, looking through narrowed eyelids at the burning restaurant. His blurring vision went in and out. Suddenly, his head smacked down to the ground. He lay where he was unconscious. The golden orange flames of the fire that was devouring what was left of Elegance illuminated Cordell’s form as he lay flat on the ground. The light of the fire shining on him cast his shadow on the asphalt that was the parking lot grounds. For a minute there wasn’t any sound besides the crackling of the flames of the fire. Then Tiaz approached and stopped before Cordell, staring down at him with hatred in his eyes. Down at his side, his healed, scared hand, held on to a detonator. He hocked up phlegm and spit on Cordell. As soon as he did, a brown El Camino with shiny chrome rims stopped beside Tiaz. When he looked up, he found Chief hanging out of the driver side window, one hand gripping the steering wheel. “We straight?” Chief asked. “Yeah, we good,” T
iaz tapped his fist against his chest. “Alright then, I’m outty five thousand,” Chief threw up his hand and peeled off. Chief was the chef that had sat out all of the silver bubble lid platters before Cordell’s lieutenants and left the push cart behind. On that pushcart, beneath the white cloth, was a C4 explosive. This explosive was set off by Tiaz. Chief was the cat that had met Melvin back at The Bar Fly and hired him to kill J-Murda who had been carrying on an affair with his wife. The contract was filled and Melvin was paid. But the men kept in contact in case Chief decided to have his wife murdered. If the child she was pregnant with wasn’t his then Chief would pay to have his wife knocked off as well. Once the baby was born Chief found out that the child wasn’t of his bloodline. It was then that he called Tiaz to whack out his wife. Having lost his mother as he was born, Tiaz couldn’t bring himself to cap off Chief’s wife so he tapped Threat to step in. The little nigga handled his business, but Tiaz didn’t want money. This was because Tiaz learned that Chief was the chef at Elegance, Cordell’s restaurant, and he wanted to enlist his help in exchange for the murder of the man’s wife. The favor was for him to roll the push cart of explosives out into the dining room, which he did. All he had to do after that was leave and stay until the kills had been confirmed.
Tiaz looked on as Chief pulled out of the parking lot and made a right. As he went down the street and disappeared from out of his sight, the young nigga pulled out a detonator and pressed the button on it. Instantly, a loud explosion shook the ground and a flash of light illuminated the sky as a fireball shot up into the air. The sound of the explosion was so great that it set off the alarms of the nearby vehicles aligning the street. “Rest in peace, godfather,” Tiaz said as he looked up into the sky and crossed himself in the sign of the crucifix. Chief was the correctional officer that was giving Tiaz, Melvin’s best friend, a hard time while he was on lock. He had put a hit out on Tiaz because he’d turned down his sexual advances. You see, Chief was bi-sexual. He liked pussy and dick. He’d taken a liking to Tiaz and wanted to run up in him, but homeboy didn’t get down like that. The nigga felt embarrassed and humiliated when Tiaz shot him down, so he went ahead and put in the order to have him murdered.