Crazy Kind of Love

by T. Styles

  “Who are you?” He asked panting, struggling to breathe as blood dripped down the stairs.

  “You can call me Karma if you want to,” I said.

  “Karma?”

  BOOM!

  I pulled the trigger. His blood splattered my clothes as brains and bone exploded everywhere. I ran back downstairs, stepping over Victor’s dead body as I made it to the front door. Lourdes was still was on her knees, crying hysterically over the dead woman. It was then that I realized what she was holding wasn’t a gun but a phone. It lay next to her on the carpet.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go,” I yelled to Lourdes but she wouldn’t move, she just cried harder. In the distance, I heard a siren blaring. The clock in my mind was telling me it was time to go.

  “No, God! No,” Lourdes cried harder. I reached down and tried to pick her up by her waist.

  “We gotta go,” I said urgently. But Lourdes acted like she had no intention of leaving. She resisted me and began to fight. I continued to wrap my arm around her waist as she kicked and scratched me.

  The chopper damn near fell out my hand but I managed to lift her up, kicking and screaming like a mad woman, and carry her back into the vehicle. We were both dripping with other people’s blood as I made a left on Mean St.

  I snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “That girl you shot was my thirteen year old daughter, Feather! That is what’s wrong with me!” Lourdes cried and looked at me with her face covered with fresh tears and blood. Her daughter’s blood.

  I swerved, almost hitting an oncoming car and my heart sank in my chest. I pulled the car over into a 7-Eleven Gas Station. I wished there was a way I could stop time and check out of life, but there wasn’t. The only thing I could do was hold Lourdes in my arms and whisper a declaration of love as she cried. It was one of the worst days of my life. I had just killed a child.

  God, help me!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LOURDES

  BALTIMORE

  I was sitting in a tub inside of a motel with my knees held tightly against my chest. I felt breathless and lightheaded. I couldn’t believe the status of my life. I couldn’t believe how much violence I’d seen in the past month. Something needed to change and soon.

  I was consumed with hate. I wanted to be left alone but privacy was impossible. Preacher was on his knees outside of the tub, washing my back softly with warm water. My lips pressed against the top of my knees so hard that my teeth dug into my flesh.

  I’d lost my child. My only child. She wasn’t perfect. In fact, she was a cold murderer but she was still mine. As I remembered how vicious Morgan was, I started to wonder if it was Morgan’s psychotic past, and not my drug use, that caused our daughter to be tainted.

  When we pulled over at the 7-Eleven, I did all I could to run away from Preacher. I wanted to score some dope but he was on me like a second skin. What he didn’t realize was that he couldn’t watch me forever.

  When he wiped the sides of my arm with the soapy water, my hair dampened. Preacher took a rubber band off of his wrist and pulled my damp hair into a messy bun.

  “Baby, your knee is bleeding,” he said to me softly. “Are you biting into your skin?”

  I lifted my head and saw my knee. The place where my teeth were embedded into my flesh was now open and leaking blood. I didn’t feel the pain. Or maybe I did and it felt good so I continued to go with it.

  He dipped the washcloth into the water again and washed my blood away. I now saw my pink flesh, like I had far too many times this week.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I said softly. I wasn’t really talking to him. I was trying to get my mind together, trying to organize my thoughts. “Did you actually just kill my child?”

  “I didn’t see her, Lourdes. You gotta hear me, baby. When I fired at the house I thought I was hitting Holliday, or somebody with him. Your body was covering her in the doorway and I made a mistake. It’s not an excuse but it’s the truth.”

  I wasn’t sure if I believed him. It probably didn’t matter anyway. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him anymore. Whether he was right or wrong wouldn’t bring her back. So I sobbed. I cried so hard my temples throbbed. I wanted to get high so badly I was shaking.

  All I wanted Feather to do was get some help. Suddenly my body felt weak. I couldn’t move my limbs and I slumped forward. Preacher stood up, bent down and hoisted my wet, naked body out of the tub. He walked me out of the bathroom and toward the bed, leaving drops of water behind us. When we were in the bedroom, he lowered my body to the mattress and went back into the bathroom to grab a towel. When he returned, with love and sensitivity, he dried my body off and tossed the moistened towel to the floor. I curled up in a ball and continued to cry as he cared for me as if I were a baby.

  Standing by the bedside, Preacher kicked off his shoes, jeans and t-shirt. I anticipated him holding me, but at the same time I hated him. I’m so confused. How could I be in bed with the man who just took my child’s life?

  He slid into the bed wearing only his boxers and pressed his warm body against my back. When his body was mashed against mine, he pulled the covers over both of us and the heat from our bodies made me relax. For a second, I felt protected. I felt safe.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” he said in a deep voice. “I should not have sent you to the house to knock on the door. I just needed to know, Lourdes. I needed to be sure you were with me in this shit.”

  I didn’t respond. Hadn’t I already proved how much I cared about him?

  “Look what you told me at the last minute,” he continued. “You told me that you were engaged to the man who wanted us both dead. Everything hit me so quickly.”

  I continued to cry. I couldn’t formulate the words to express how I felt because I didn’t know how I felt. All I knew was that I wanted to get high but he would never let me out of his sight, especially now.

  “I’m here for you, baby,” Preacher continued. “You can cry. Let it all out. I’m not going nowhere.”

  He rubbed my arm briskly and I could feel his warm breath on my nape. His heart was beating fast and I sensed he felt guilty.

  “I’m hungry.” I sniffled. “Can you go get me something to eat?”

  “Of course. What you want?”

  “Anything. Some potato chips from the vending machine downstairs is fine.”

  Preacher hopped out of bed and slid into his jeans and tennis shoes. He looked down at me and said, “I know I told you this already, but I love you.”

  I wiped my wet eyes. “I know, baby.”

  He peered at me once more, exhaled and then dawdled toward the door. When it slammed shut, for a moment, I didn’t move. I was too afraid to follow the voice in my head that was giving me clear directions. Realizing time was not on my side, and that Preacher would return in any minute, I got out of bed and moved toward the dresser.

  I looked down at his. 9mm. I took a deep breath and picked it up while examining it closely. It’s amazing how much power a gun has. One bullet has the power to kill. It has the power to threaten. It has the power to protect. But what it also has is the power to right wrongs.

  “Feather, I’m sorry I wasn’t a good mother,” I said to myself. “I’m sorry my sickness and addiction to drugs may have contributed to you being a monster. If I could take it all back, I would, but I can’t.” I cried harder and the muscles in my stomach ached.

  Sweat rolled down my face and I wiped it away. I swallowed and exhaled. “Mama, I love you. If you’re looking down on me I hope you aren’t disappointed in what I’m about to do. But I can’t live here anymore. I just can’t.”

  I pushed the barrel of the gun against my temple. My finger slowly crawled toward the trigger and I pressed down firmly.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PREACHER

  BALTIMORE

  Like broken glass, crushed into a million tiny pieces was the only way I could describe my heart as I stood outside the motel
door with my mind in a fog, the reality of the tragedy continued to consume me. I had accidently killed Lourdes’ daughter and Lourdes was in a tailspin spiraling downwards, mentally and physically. She was deteriorating right before my very own eyes and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Then to complicate matters, my own daughter was possibly being tortured and raped, Steve had given me a deadline to give him the stolen money from the brinks truck heist or he was going to kill her and my baby mama, Tanya.

  “Shit! Fuck!” I cursed out loud and ran my fingers through my nappy hair as cars passed on the main thoroughfare in a rough section of Baltimore city.

  They say God will only put on you what you can bear. Well I was bearing too much and it felt like I was my own worst enemy. Aside from everything, the grim reality was, I couldn’t save Feather, may her soul rest in peace with the angles, but I could save my child. I needed to find get my hands on that money as soon as possible, if I had to use it to get my daughter back so be it. She was worth it.

  There was only one problem. Would the 1.2 million dollars still be there were I left it? I needed to talk to Steve and ask him for more time as well as talk with my lawyer Don Weinstein and have them play the video back at the Christian Center where Steve’s henchmen did the house invasion to show I was acting in self-defense. I also needed to talk to my grandmother.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone, just as a patrol car pulled into the motel parking lot, I pretended to continue to look for phone as I dropped my head down so they couldn’t see my face. My heart pounded a thousand beats per second, instinctively. I reached for my banger and remembered it was in the hotel room.

  I heard the squad car’s breaks squeak as it came to a stop. I still didn’t dare look up, pretended to pat my pockets, searching for something .The cop car continued to sit idle. I heard the sporadic crackle of the police radio.

  They were calling for back up?

  I didn’t know whether to take off running or to walk back inside the hotel and engage them in a gun battle. One thing I did know I had no intentions on going back to prison to serve out a life sentence.

  Then suddenly, I heard the brakes squeak and the patrol car drive off. I exhaled a deep sign, my breath fogged in the chill of the night.

  I needed my phone. I abruptly turned around and headed back inside the room.

  ****

  I walked into the motel room, startling myself as well as Lourdes, she only had on her panties as she held my gun to her head. Her back was towards me as she faced the window, the light of the motel’s neon sign flashing on her body.

  “What are you doing?” I asked in a strained voice.

  She didn’t bother to even turn around before she pulled the trigger.

  Click!

  She sniffled, as she looked straight ahead, hand trembling.

  I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and listened to my heart talk to Lourdes. “When I was in prison…one day I came in, and my cellmate had hung himself. His mother died of cancer. He had no family, nobody to love… it was sad. For some reason, I just looked at his body rocking, swaying back and forth. That was the first time in my life it dawned on me, lack of love or having nobody to love will kill you, like a flower with no rain.”

  She remained silent as I continued to talk.

  “Lourdes, you have somebody to love you… I know this sounds crazy with the way we meet and all, but crazier things have happen. In my heart and soul, I do love you…And I know you got feelings for a nigga.” I choked up. I took several timid steps towards her as the neon sign flashed, enveloping both of us in a yellow and pink glow.

  Lourdes finally spoke. “You took the bullets out, didn’t you?”

  I nodded yes.

  “You knew I would try to take my life?”

  “I had a feeling.”

  “You have no right to love me. Everything I love dies,” she said as she continued to sob.

  “I’m not dead. You love me, or you feel something for me at least. Sometimes God puts people together for a reason. You are my reason to live, I am yours,” I said delicately taking several more steps closer. I could smell the sweet fragrance of her skin.

  “I… I just don’t want to be alone like that guy who hung himself because he had nobody to love.”

  “Why did you have to say it like that?” she asked through her tears.

  “Because that’s the way I feel right now, Lourdes.” I whispered in the dark as I took tiny steps and got close up on her. I pressed my body against her back and we merged like torn souls mending, healing each other.

  I reached for the gun and sat it down. It was empty and couldn’t hurt anyone.

  I pulled her into my arms and she cried harder.

  “Just get it all out. Cry your heart out, baby,” I said. “My grandma told me that the best thing you can do is get it out your system.” I caressed her back as she sobbed in my arms. I would never know how it felt for a woman to lose her only child but as a man, I knew that was an experience I never wanted to have.

  ****

  THE NEXT MORNING 10:45 AM

  For the first time in my life, I listened to birds chirping as sunlight streamed through the curtains and I watched Lourdes sleep with a peaceful expression on her face as I built up the courage to tell her what I needed to do. Then, suddenly, she stirred in her sleep. Her eyes popped open as she recognized me sitting in a chair with the window up.

  She blushed like a schoolgirl. “Why you staring at me?” she asked.

  I wanted to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But I had to tell her what I was about to do and that there was a strong likelihood I might not be coming back. So I had to sugar coat it to not just keep her calm, but to keep her out of harm’s way.

  “Gotta make a move and handle some business. I’ma be gone a couple of days. When I come back, you and I are going to go far away where we’ll never want for anything. Because we’ll be rich beyond our wildest dreams and I’m not just talking about money; I’m talking about my love for you, Lourdes.”

  Lourdes sprung from the bed like a Jack-in-the-Box, throwing back the covers. Her brow arched with concern as she looked at the AK-47 and the .9mm I had placed on the table and then back at me.

  “How many times do we have to go through this?” she yelled. “We’re a package deal. Despite what happened, where you go, I go! Especially now. Besides,” she sighed, “I don’t trust myself without you.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” she yelled pointing in my face. “After everything we’ve been through, I thought you would think higher of me. Or are you still on some ‘she’s a hoe’ bullshit?” As she ranted with an angry finger in my face, I couldn’t help but think that she was back to her old self, and I kind of liked it. In fact, I loved it.

  “I’m not nobody’s fool, nigga! I know that you’re going to do whatever it takes to get your daughter back and there might be some bloodshed, but you prepared me for this very moment and I’m ready to ride.”

  She walked closer and stood over me. “I’m ready, but now that I am, you won’t let me go,” she huffed unconsciously pushing her breast in my face.

  Then, the weirdest thing happened. I started to get an erection. I thought about pulling her on top of me and fucking her in the chair. Instead, I reared back in my seat and looked at her. I had to admit, she had a valid point. She was ready.

  My mind began to plot. “If you really ready, I got an idea. I’ma send you to this nigga named Tommy Outlaw. His brother’s name is Steve. And Steve is the one who kidnapped my daughter.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LOURDES

  Tommy Outlaw sat in the back of an old silver Buick Skylark with his heart heavy. Although he and his brother Steve were worth a lot of money, they were also wanted niggas and that caused problems in his social life. Even though breaking the law was their forte, it wasn’t the boys in blue who were after them this time. It was their own peers, due to all
the grime they’d caused in the streets. Their time was up.

  That’s why, when their mother died, Tommy had to see her body alone. He couldn’t go with Steve because together they drew too much attention. If he wanted to remain alive he had to stay low-key and unlike is brother, he did a pretty good job of it.

  Although Tommy had money, he couldn’t drive expensive cars. He had to purchase buckets from his local dealers on a weekly basis and tint the windows to conceal himself. Had it not been for his carefulness, someone would’ve placed a hot slug in his head a long time ago.

  Tommy’s driver, Mathew, pulled up to St. Francis Funeral Home and drove around the back. He parked the car, checked his surroundings and glanced at Tommy in the back seat. “We’re here, sir. Do you want me to wait for you?”

  “Fuck you think?” Tommy said with an attitude.

  Tommy’s thick eyebrows hung over the tops of his eyes and made it difficult for him to see whenever he frowned. His dark skin was riddled with scars from the past and he resembled a boxer who took too many blows to the face.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll be right here.”

  Before getting out of the car Tommy looked everywhere his eyes could land. His beef was so bad that he and his brother couldn’t tell people that their mother died. As a result, the funeral they planned was for close family members and friends, so only ten people would be present.

  Tommy placed his hand on the door handle. From his point of view, everything looked cool. In the parking lot behind the funeral home were eight black hearses. Around the property was a white picket fence, which was surrounded by trees. When he felt safe enough, he checked for the .45 on his waist and eased out of the car.

  Carefully he approached the back door and looked left and right. When the coast appeared clear he knocked on the door five times and waited. A chained up German shepherd, which protected the property at night barked loudly three times. It scared the fuck out of Tommy because he didn’t know it was there. He pulled his gun out and almost blew the dog’s face off before Mr. Martin, the owner, came out and stopped him.