by Tranay Adams
Bloc!
Tiaz ducked feeling something hot whiz past his ear. Stooping low, he turned around and looked to the burning establishment. A smoking Savino stood inside of the doorway of the restaurant, pointing his wafting gun at Tiaz. Half of his face was charred and his right eye had discoloration from the explosion. His suit had been burned so badly that half of it clung to his burned flesh like a second skin. Bloc! Bloc! Bloc! Tiaz ducked and ran out of the way of the gunfire and pulled out his Beretta. He stooped low beside a parked BMW and peered up through its driver side window. He was just in time to see Threat running up on Savino, squeezing off. The man’s body jerked from each bullet he took until he eventually fell over with his legs going up in the air. Savino tried to rise from where he had fallen to recover his gun, but the little nigga ran up on him, giving it to him all in his mothafucking chest. Poc! Poc! Poc! Poc! Poc! “I got the crown now, bitch!” Threat spoke of the imaginary crown of the hardest nigga in the streets him and Savino had been beefing over. He then lowered his smoking gun to his side, having finished off Savino and taken a deep breath. It was almost over. One more nigga to go and Tiaz would finally have his revenge. Looking over his shoulder, Threat saw Tiaz motion him over with his gun. He came running over to him looking around to make sure no one was watching them. Although he didn’t see anyone, he could hear police sirens and fire trucks rushing to their location. Threat jogged to a stop once he’d reached his crime partner. He breathed a little heavier than usual from the run. “We gotta get up outta here ‘fore The Ones turn out, Crim. Help me get this sack of shit inside of the trunk so we can roll out.” Tiaz told him. Threat nodded and tucked his gun at the small of his back. He then popped the trunk of his father’s Chevrolet Caprice. He and Tiaz grabbed an unconscious Cordell under either of his arms and dragged his ass over to the trunk. On the count of three, they grunted and hoisted his ass over inside of the trunk. Threat shut the trunk closed and ran over to the driver’s door. He hopped in behind the wheel and cranked the hood classic up. Once Tiaz had pulled his leg inside of the automobile and slammed the door shut, he pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. Adjusting his rearview mirror, he looked up into it and saw the burning restaurant in the background. He also saw the red and blue lights of approaching police cars and the red lights of fire trucks.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO Tiaz rode shotgun in the Chevrolet looking at the wounds at the center of his palms he’d gotten the night Cordell nailed his hands to the armrest of his chair. The scars that the wounds left behind felt funny and every time it was really cold or raining outside his hands would ache. Threat looked back and forth between the windshield and Tiaz. A frown was on his face as he wondered if his right-hand man was okay. “You good, my nigga?” Threat questioned with concern. Tiaz dropped his hands into his lap and said, “Yeah, I’m straight. We almost there?” He asked him. “Yeah, in about ten mo’...” Threat’s words died in his throat once he heard bumping around inside of the trunk. Tiaz went to say something and he held up his hand, stopping him. “You hear that?” Tiaz sat where he was quiet trying to listen for the noise again. Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump! The pounding grew louder and more aggressive. “Yeah, I hear it. That’s that bitch ass nigga banging around inside of the trunk,” Tiaz’ face twisted and his nostrils flared. “Yo’, homeboy, calm that shit down in there, ‘fore I have the homie pull this bitch over!” Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump!
“That’s it. Pull this mothafucka over! This nigga thinks I’m bullshitting with his ass.”
“Alright,” Threat told him, putting on his right turn signal and pulling over to a dark area of the road. In a flash, Tiaz hopped out of the car and headed to the rear of it. He knocked on the trunk and his homeboy popped it open.
“Fuck I tell you, huh?” Tiaz leaned over inside of the trunk, repeatedly punching Cordell in the face until he was breathing out of breath. Grabbing hold of the trunk, he lifted his foot and stomped him out furiously. He then spit on him and slammed the trunk back shut, walking around the car to get back into the front passenger seat, breathing hard. He told his right-hand man to drive off and he did.
“You good, Crim?” Threat inquired, seeing the blood on his knuckles.
“Yeah, I’m straight.” He let the window down and threw out the balled up napkin he’d taken out of the glove-box to wipe the blood off his knuckles. The balled up napkin hit the ground and tumbled a little before settling. Tiaz then let the window back up. “This is it coming up ahead,” he pointed with his finger.
Threat made a left off the road and into the woods, rolling over twigs and brittle leaves hearing them crunching and snapping beneath the chrome rims and tires of the Chevy Caprice. The only thing that could be seen was the red brakes lights at the back of the car as it traveled through the darkness. The Chevy Caprice stopped. Threat and Tiaz hopped out, making their way to the trunk of the vehicle. They opened the trunk and for the first time, Threat saw Cordell after Tiaz had worked him over during their last stop. Cordell’s right eye was swollen with a bluish black ring underneath it. His nose was fractured and bleeding. There was also speckles of blood on his suit.
“Alright, homeboy, get cho punk ass out the trunk,” Tiaz and Threat grabbed Cordell under either of his arms and hoisted him out of the trunk. When they took him out he nearly fell. His legs felt like cooked noodles underneath him and he was having trouble standing. This was because his legs had fallen asleep during the long drive over to the location. Still, that didn’t stop the young niggaz from helping him over to the front of the Caprice. The headlights of the classic vehicle were shining, illuminating what was a six foot deep hole in the ground. Beside the hole there was a shovel standing straight up in a pile of dirt the color of coffee beans. When Cordell seen the hole his eyes bulged and his head whipped back and forth between Threat and Tiaz. He hollered out disrespectful shit at the young men. He struggled to get loose from their grips, turning from left to right violently, but never breaking free. Seeing that his efforts were useless, he decided to try a different approach to the situation. Abruptly, he slumped and allowed his knees to be dragged through the dirt and leaves, dirtying the knees of his slacks. The dead weight did little to stop Threat and Tiaz from pulling him along. He made their job harder, but they hoisted his ass back up by his arms and kept moving forward with him.
“Fuck this, I’m not finna keep dragging this bitch ass nigga along,” Threat wiped his shiny forehead with the back of his hand. He then looked at his hand and saw that it was wet from his perspiration. “Gotta nigga out here sweating and shit.” In a flash, Threat whipped out his .45 automatic and pressed it into Cordell’s crotch. “Check this out, my nigga, you gone get cho ass up and walk over to this hole or I’ma shoot cho mothafucking balls off. That’s on everything,” he scowled and clenched his jaws, showcasing the skeletal bone structure in his face.
Cordell shut his eyelids briefly and took a deep breath. He then climbed up on his feet, standing tall. Threat tucked his banga on his waistline and punched Cordell in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The blow caused his eyes to bulge and him to double over in pain.
“That’s for making me break a sweat out this mothafucka,” he hooked his arm with the crack king’s and then said, “Now, bring yo’ ass on!”
Threat and Tiaz walked the crack king over to the pre-dug grave. They turned him around so that his back was at the six feet hole and he was facing them. Tiaz then went to stand beside Threat, and they pulled out their respective guns. Afterwards, they turned their hateful eyes on the man that had ordered Melvin’s death, trigger fingers itching. “Any last words, ol’ hoe ass nigga?” Tiaz asked. Although he hated the nigga’z guts, he was still going to give him the respect of reciting his last words.
“Yeah,” Cordell nodded, “Yeah, I got some last words, fight me, goddamn it! Fight me right here and right now! Any nigga can pick up a gun and pop something! But it takes a real man to go from the shoulders and throw them mothafucking hands. You feel me, huh?” The cr
ack king stared Tiaz in his eyes, hoping he’d go for the bait he’d cast out on the line.
Tiaz and Threat exchanged glances.
“You tryna squabble this fool?” Threat asked him in a hushed tone.
“Yeah, I can take ‘em.” Tiaz looked from his homeboy to Cordell. “I’ma beat the brakes offa his mothafucking ass.”
“Take me? Take this nigga standing before you?” Cordell looked at him like he must have been crazy thinking that he could stand a chance against him. “Boy, you must have slipped, fell, and bumped yo’ mothafucking head. Shiiiit, you better ask somebody ‘bout this one right here. My knuckle game heard ‘round the city! If I ain’t known for nothing else it’s putting lil’ punk ass niggaz like you on they backs, ya understand me, you lil’ mothafucka you?” He spat on the ground and allowed what he had said to marinate in Tiaz’ brain. He only hoped that the young nigga’z pride would get the best of him and he’d give him that fair one he was looking for.
“Hold this,” Tiaz passed Threat his gun.
“Yeaaah, that’s what I’m talking about, baby. Come on and get this ass whipping.” Cordell licked his lips and smiled wickedly.
“Fuck this nigga, man, don’t let ‘em get in yo’ head. Let’s blast his ass, bury him, and bounce back to the hood.” Threat tried to reason as he held a gun on either side of him.
“Nah, Crim, I’ma show this fool how niggaz from the set give it up. You feel me?” Tiaz pulled his shirt from over his head and tossed it upon the hood of the Caprice.
Threat looked back and forth between his homeboy and Cordell. He saw in the older man’s face that he really thought that he could whip his right-hand man’s ass. That really made him want to see his comrade beat the old head’s ass.
“Fuck this nigga, T, beat his ass, homeboy.” Threat egged his brother from another on.
“That’s the plan, Stan.”Tiaz replied, pulling his belt tighter on his waist and then buckling it. He then pulled the orange bandana from out of his back pocket and drew Threat’s from his back pocket. “Lace me up, my nigga.”
“Fa sho’,” Threat tucked the burners on him and began tying the bandanas around his homeboy’s fists. While he was doing this, Tiaz was mad dogging Cordell. The older man’s head was tilted down and he was glaring up at him threateningly, jaws clenched so tight that his bone structure was shown in them.
“What we playing for, OG?” Tiaz inquired.
“Blood,” Cordell replied.
“Good enough for me,” he cracked a smirk as Threat tied the last bandana around his fist. He then went to wiggle his fingers and cracked his knuckles.
“Y’all two niggaz can play for blood, but I want that chain around his neck,” Threat pulled out his guns and pointed one of them at the gold chain holding the saucer sized medallion around the crack king’s neck. “We can get a lil’ wager going. You put hands on the homie and you walk outta here; you don’t, and the chain is mine, deal?”
“You got it,” Cordell answered, keeping his glare on Tiaz. They were mad dogging one another unflinchingly.
“Alright then,” Threat turned to face his comrade, giving the crack king his back. “Gone and fade this nigga. Even if you do lose, I’ma pop his ass and we still gone walk off victorious.”
“Nah, homeboy, if I lose, you let old head walk. That’s the deal, no sucker shit. We stand-up niggaz, we live by our word. You hear me?” Tiaz asked, looking his best friend in the eyes. “Even if I lose, you let ‘em walk. You got that, my nigga?” Threat nodded. “Then let me hear you say it then.”
“Even if you do lose, let old head walk.” Threat repeated what he had been told.
“Good. Now, let’s get this mothafucka cracking.” Tiaz teetered from foot to foot and started shadow boxing. His fists were coming out so fast that they looked like blurs.
Threat stepped over to the Caprice and opened the driver’s door. He sat down on the seat and stuck his head outside the door, saying, “Alright, I’ma shut these lights off, when they come back on, y’all niggaz do yo’ shit.”
While he was talking, Cordell was shadow boxing as well. Finishing up, he stepped before Tiaz who was stretching his limbs. The older man did the same, preparing himself for the fight. Once they were done prepping, they stood before one another with their dukes up.
Threat’s eyes stayed on them as he brought his hand to the switch that operated the headlights of the hood classic.
I should have my fucking head examined going along with this shit. We shoulda just peeled this nigga’z cap back and dropped his ass in that hole so we could bury ‘em and get the fuck on, Threat thought and shook his head. He was always letting Tiaz’ talk him into doing shit he didn’t really want any parts of. Fuck it! That’s my nigga and I’ma right ‘til the death of me. If this is what he wants then let’s get to it then!
Threat flipped the switch and the lights went out, leaving them in complete darkness. It was pretty much quiet that night besides the hoots of an owl. Suddenly, the headlights came back on and shined on Tiaz and Cordell. The illumination of the twin orbs made them appear as silhouettes moving before the Caprice.
Cordell attacked Tiaz with finesse and vigor. He gave him two haymakers to the face that whipped his head from left to right. He then followed up with an uppercut that sent his young ass stumbling backwards in a hurry. Tiaz fell up against the grill of the Chevy and bumped the back of his head, grimacing. When he peeled his eyelids back open, he saw the bottom of his rival’s dress shoe flying at him, full speed ahead. He moved his head to the left at the last minute and the man’s shoe got caught inside of the custom grill of the vehicle. He winced as he repeatedly tried to yank it free, but it wouldn’t budge. Tiaz came back up and punched him in the crotch, causing him to throw his head back and howl in pain, grabbing between his legs.
When he did this, Tiaz hopped upon his feet and rushed him. He lifted him up off of his feet and charged forward, slamming him into a tree. The impact from the collision caused brittle leaves to fall from off the branches. Tiaz pulled back from off his rival and gave him body shots. The back to back blows doubled Cordell’s over and he grabbed his sides. Abruptly, he clapped Tiaz’ ears and caused them to ring with an eerie siren. The young man staggered backwards holding his ears and wincing. When he looked back up, Cordell snatched up a big ass crooked branch and swung it at his head. Tiaz ducked it, and when he came back up, he found himself having to dodge wild swings of the branch. He dodged the last swing of the branch by bending backwards. Once he came back up, he kicked the dirt and sent some smacking into Cordell’s face, burning his eyes like mace. The crack king hollered out and tried to get the stuff from out of his eyes. That’s when Tiaz rushed and tackled him to the ground. Once he had him on his back, he pinned his arms down with his knees and rose up. He stared down at his face and clutched his fists tightly. His fists went one after another, slamming into Cordell’s face, rearranging his bone structure and bruising him. Tiaz didn’t stop until he was exhausted and his upper half was glistening from sweat. Looking down, he saw that Cordell’s face was bloody and swollen. His right eye was bloodshot and his nose was twice its size. A mouthful of blood left his teeth red. His jaw was broken so his mouth was moving like a fish out of water.
“That’s it, that’s what I’m talking about, my nigga, you whipped that ass!” Threat jumped for joy and swung on the air.
Tiaz wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and stood to his feet. He grabbed Cordell by the back of his shirt with one hand and pulled him towards the grave he’d personally dug. He breathed heavily, chest leaping up and down, as he dragged his defeated foe over to the six foot plot. Afterwards, he snatched the gold chain from around his neck and tossed it over to Threat. Once the shorter man caught the chain, he held it up around his neck to see how it would look on him.
While he was doing that, Tiaz snatched the shovel out of the pile of dirt and stepped to his business, which was burying that cock sucker, Cordell.
Threat stashed the
chain inside of his pocket and placed his hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “You okay, my nigga?”
“I’m straight, homeboy. I told you I was gone spank that ass, didn’t I?” Tiaz began shoveling dirt into the grave. The dirt crashed on top of Cordell’s chest and slid underneath his chin. The crack king turned his head from left to right, moving his mouth animatedly.
“Sho’ did,” Threat agreed, smiling and dapping him up. He then grabbed the other shovel which was lying on the opposite side of the pre-dug grave and assisted his homie in burying Cordell.
“Gaaagh!” Cordell gagged and coughed on the dirt that landed inside of his mouth. Half of it was covering his face and the upper half of body. He spat some of the dirt out, but there was still some inside of his mouth. All he could hear were the grunts of the young niggaz as their shovels hit the land, scooping up piles of it. Then there was the sound of the dirt smacking down upon his submerged form inside of the grave. As he listened to these continuous noises, he called out as best as he could with a broken jaw, “Bury me a G! Bury me a G! Bury me a mothafucking G!
THE END
AVAILABLE NOW BY TRANAY ADAMS
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