The Sheisty Saga

by T. N. Baker

  “Yeah, could be, unless the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and she got herself caught up in her own mess. We’ll just sit on this one, push it to the side, and let the animals do what they do best–kill each other off,” said Smith.

  * * *

  Jay Wright wasted no time getting to the hospital, doing 110 miles per hour on the Van Wyck Expressway. Under any other circumstances, Epiphany’s mom would have been car sick from that type of speed, but this time was different.

  “Hurry, Jay, hurry,” she hollered.

  They arrived at the hospital in five minutes flat. Jay pulled up to the front of the emergency entrance. Both of them hopped out of car and rushed through the double door entrance of the emergency waiting room.

  “Sir, excuse me. You can’t park there,” said the flashlight security guard.

  Jay pushed past the guard. Right now, his only concern was his daughter and finding out her condition. Then, he wanted the bastards responsible for trying to kill her, even if he had to take shit back to the old school way of handling beef.

  “Excuse me, miss. We’re looking for our daughter, Epiphany Wright. She was shot and brought in by an ambulance a couple of hours ago. Can you tell me where we can find her, please?” Tiara said to the lady behind the information desk.

  The lady punched Epiphany’s name into the keyboard and directed them to the intensive care unit. Once they reached the ICU, they still had to follow the same procedure again.

  “Excuse me. I was told that we could find our daughter here. Her name is Epiphany Wright. She’s twenty-two years old and she was shot,” said her father, this time getting even more impatient and hoping that she could assist them. Before the nurse could answer any questions, the doctor walked up.

  “Excuse me. I’m Doctor Frye. Did I over hear you asking about a young woman that was shot? Are you her parents?”

  “Yes, we are. Is she okay, doctor?” Tiara asked.

  “Come with me, please,” the doctor said. “It’s been a long morning.” Doctor Frye let out a sigh as the three of them began walking down the corridor. “Your daughter was shot with a .38, which is a very powerful gun, in the chest. When she was brought in, she had already lost an enormous amount of blood. We had to rush her into surgery right away. Her heart rate was fading fast, and we were without a doubt going to losing her.

  “I had no choice but to authorize an emergency transfusion to get her heart to start pumping again. It was successful. She also has a ruptured lung that I was able to save. That’s the good news. The bad news is the baby your daughter was carrying did not make it.”

  “Baby! Wait a minute, what baby?” Her mother was shocked.

  “Yes, your daughter was in the very, very early stage of her first trimester. Unfortunately, she lost a lot blood, so the oxygen supply to the baby was cut off. Your daughter apparently miscarried before she even got to the hospital.”

  Tiara’s jaw dropped. Jay Wright wrapped his arm around his wife but couldn’t bear to look at her.

  “Also, I noticed a lot of bruises on her body, which leads me to believe that whoever shot her had beaten her first. That could’ve been the initial cause of the miscarriage. Either way, the child would not have survived. As of now, your daughter’s condition is still critical. She’s in a coma, and due to her injuries, she’s on a respirator. Your daughter is definitely a fighter, and I strongly believe she will pull through this.”

  Chapter 49

  On his way to the hotel he’d been staying at for the past week or so, Tucker tried calling Malikai’s cell phone several times, but didn’t get an answer. He figured Malikai probably got caught up with Epiphany all over again. Even though Mali never told him, Tucker knew his boy was still sprung the fuck out over her conceited ass.

  Right now, he could’ve used some of his boy’s advice. Malikai had been there for him from day one, before the money, cars, and even Keisha. So, his feedback about what Tucker should do about the situation with Keisha, the videotape, and the nigga she was fucking on it, was needed. There was no doubt that he still loved Keisha with all his heart, but at that moment, he wished her dead.

  Mali would understand and never sugarcoat anything just to spare his best friend’s feelings. He would give it to him raw and be honest about it.

  Once he got to his room, he plopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling until he finally fell asleep. At about six in the morning, Tucker’s cell phone and two-way started going off like crazy. He ignored the first few rings, assuming it was Keisha ready to plead her case, but after tossing and turning to the vibrating sound of his two-way and the constant ringing of his cell, he became annoyed and finally went to answer his phone. The caller ID displayed Momma D.

  Maybe the nigga stayed at his mother’s house last night, he thought as he picked up the cell. He heard the unbearable sounds of a mother’s cry. His heart ached instantly. Afraid of the possibilities, he hesitated for a moment.

  “Momma D, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “O lawd, lawd, lawd, my son is gone. He’s dead, Tucker. Malikai is dead. The police came and wanted me to go identify his body, but I just can’t. Tucker, what I’ma do now? My only boy is gone. What I’ma do?” she asked.

  Tucker was crushed. This can’t be, he thought. There was nothing he could say or do that would ease her pain.

  “Momma D, get dressed! I’m on my way to get you,” was all he said before ending the call. In disbelief, he called Mali’s cell repeatedly and got the voice mail each time, just like he had when he tried to reach him last night.

  “Nah, Mali, not you, dawg,” Tucker mumbled.

  Malikai wasn’t only a business partner to Tucker. He was like his own flesh and blood, the only nigga he could trust with his life, money, girl, and his kid. Mali trusted him just the same. He was a genuine dude. Tucker knew this for a fact, because he had tested his loyalty on several occasions, and Malikai passed every time with flying colors. He was alone in this world for real now.

  He got up out of the hotel bed, got dressed, and headed over to Momma D’s house. She opened the door wearing a wrinkled dress, mismatched shoes, and her wig was on crooked. She was an emotional wreck. Tucker didn’t know what else to do besides wrap his arms tightly around Momma D to console her.

  “Momma D, come on. We gotta go do this. Maybe it ain’t him,” Tucker said, trying to be hopeful for both of them.

  “No, Tucker. I . . . I can’t go see my son lying dead on some cold metal table with his brains all over the place. I just can’t and I won’t. The police already showed me his picture anyway. I know it’s him. The streets done took my son from me. This cruel world done killed him. All I had left is gone. I just buried my husband two years ago, and now I gotta bury my son. No, you go for me, Tucker. You were like a brother to him, and I can’t see my boy looking like that. I just can’t.”

  Mrs. Delores had always been like a mother to Tucker, especially ever since his moms passed away when he was eleven. She never treated him as anything less than a son, and he depended on her for the motherly love she gave to him. She was such a sweet old lady, the type that would feed you a good hot meal if you were hungry and give you half of her last dollar if you needed it. Tucker had mad love and respect for her. He even gave her the nicknames Momma D and Mom Dukes, both short for Delores, her first name. So, to see her suffering caused Tucker a great deal of pain.

  He planted a kiss on her forehead and headed for the morgue. On his way there, it was so ironic that Puffy’s tribute to Biggie, “I’ll Be Missing You,” was playing on the radio. Tucker refused to believe it until he saw him. He phoned his boys from the Dirty South, Peewee and Cornell, to tell them the news.

  Everything became a reality when he stepped into the morgue. Tucker’s body caught an instant chill from the cool temperature in the place, and the smell of dead people gave him a nauseated feeling. The coroner asked him what his relationship was to the deceased.

  “I’m his brother.” Tucker followed the man to
another room, where he saw his best friend lying dead with a head the size of a basketball and his brains oozing out on the table.

  His stomach felt very weak from the sight of Malikai, and his emotions were mixed with pain, anger, and sorrow. Mali was the closest thing to a brother he had, and his loss was too great to ignore. Tucker disregarded the words of his father and shed a few tears. Then he started to beat up on himself, feeling responsible for not being there to protect Malikai. He had failed as his brother’s keeper. To him, he was just as much to blame as the nigga that had pulled the trigger.

  Looking at Malikai lying there like that was hard on his eyes. Tucker leaned over Mali’s corpse and thought about all the good times they had shared. There were so many memories to hold on to. Malikai, twenty-five, was too young to die. He was just starting to live life and just like that, it was over.

  “Damn, Mali, we should have left this drug game alone a long time ago. It’s over for me now. This shit is so played out. I’m done! I don’t want to do this shit no more.” Tucker spoke to Malikai as if he could hear him.

  The shine was no longer worth the headache, heartache, or losses that came along with the territory. Tucker was eighteen when he started selling drugs, and it had taken him every bit of the ten years he’d spent hustling to realize that this game wasn’t fair. There was a lot of money to be made, but it would never make you rich, nor would it let you go without paying a price. Either you lost yourself, your freedom, or your soul at the end of either road. It wasn’t worth it. Tucker would never gain anything from hustling that could replace his loss, so for him this was the end of the road. Malikai’s death was surely his wakeup call, while he still had half a soul left. The game, as he knew it, was over.

  Chapter 50

  Shana couldn’t help but wonder what Smitty’s “You owe me” comment meant as he walked out the door, but she didn’t spend too much time dwelling on it, ’cause more than anything else, she was happy he had finally left her and K.C. alone. Shana wasted no time taking advantage of her “alone at last” thoughts as soon as she closed the door behind Smitty. Her man was home from jail, and it was time to put some good ol’ freedom pussy on his ass. For the past couple of months, she’d been giving it to him with restrictions, due to the rules of their conjugal visits.

  Shana fucked K.C. until his nut sack started running on empty, putting him into a comatose sleep for the rest of the night. That was a good move on her part, because shortly after that, the phone started to ring off the hook. It was Chasity calling just to harass her. Shana decided to pick up and hear her out, but all she would say was, “Bitch,” and then hang up, so Shana turned off the ringer. Still, she couldn’t sleep, thinking about the stunt Chasity had pulled earlier, the crank calls, and wondering how much further she was gonna take things.

  I swear if I would’ve known the girl was a psycho, I would’ve never fucked around with her. She also thought about Smitty coming to her rescue with the quick cover-up. That was real suspect to her, because her vibes for Smitty weren’t right from day one. She could tell he was a sheisty individual. Being from the streets, where game recognizes game, it wasn’t hard to tell who was grimey off of one sit-down conversation. Smitty fit the bill in every sense of the word, so when he said she owed him, he meant it, because it wasn’t in his character to look out for her for nothing. Without any doubt, Shana knew he had some shit up his sleeve. She just didn’t know what to expect.

  Maybe I should have just been straight up with K.C. about what went down while he was locked up. Shana never thought his life sentence would really get thrown out, so she kept her secret to herself. Now, she had to make sure Smitty kept it.

  K.C. had issues with the fact that his mom was a lesbian. It was because of that, she knew it would matter that she had been with Chasity, especially since she was his wife. In no way did Shana feel she was a lesbian, or even bi-sexual, for that matter. In her eyes, it was just a little bi-curious experience that got out of hand.

  Now Chasity is trying to fuck up everything, but I won’t let it go down like that. First thing in the morning, she decided she would change their phone number and begin her search for a new apartment.

  Chapter 51

  C-God felt it would be best to stay at a motel for a couple of days, at least until he got his head right. He figured if niggas knew where Mike was resting on the low, they more than likely knew about his spot.

  As Ness dropped him off, he gave him direct orders. “Yo, go to my crib, get the yayo, the guns, and here, this is the combination to the safe. Bring my money too,” he said, handing him a small piece of paper with six digits on it.

  Money, Ness thought to himself as jackpot bells went off in his head. “How much money?” he asked C-God out of curiosity.

  “Shit, I don’t know. It’s enough, though. What the fuck you worried about it for? Just bring it to me.” C-God knew exactly how much money he had, but this was a test to see if he could trust Ness. “Oh, and don’t forget the scale, a’ight. Can you handle that? ’Cause yo, y’all li’l niggas don’t be on top of shit like my man Mike. A nigga gotta get all specific, breaking shit down for y’all slow-ass muthafuckas. So, I’m trusting you to get my shit and bring it to me. Don’t fuck up! A’ight, one!” C-God said, giving Ness a pound and then getting out of the hooptie.

  Ness quickly agreed and sped off. Wasting no time, he pulled out his cell phone and called Smitty.

  “Yo, what up, Smit?”

  “What up, nigga? How’s it going down?”

  “Yo, man, this nigga don’t have a clue. He thinks it was that kid Tucker.”

  “Oh, word. That’s a good thing.”

  “I know, but yo, he’s sending me over to his spot right now to get his shit–all of it, yo!”

  “Yo, you for real, dawg?”

  “Hell yeah, nigga. I got the combination to his safe. I’m heading over there right now!”

  “So yo, fuck all that other bullshit we talked about and let’s get his ass now. How much shit he working with?”

  “Yo, he ain’t say, but that’s his spot, so everything is probably up in there. I just ain’t wanna straight gank his ass like that, ’cause then he gon’ know I did it.”

  “Man, fuck that punk-ass muthafucka. He handing his shit right to us, and with Mike gone, that nigga ain’t shit, dude. Besides, niggas ain’t feeling him like that no more in the hood. I’m telling you, if we come around and start showing these niggas mad love, they gon’ flip on that nigga C, son. Word up!”

  Ness pulled up into a parking spot in front of C-God’s building. He turned off the car and sat in silence for a moment, thinking about how C had treated him like some punk-ass chump. Never once did C say “Good looking out,” or “Thanks, man. You saved my fucking life.”

  “Yo, you still there?” Smitty asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah.”

  “So what, muthafucka? You need me to come hold your hand or something?” Smitty sensed some hesitation in Ness.

  “Nah, dawg. I got this. I’ll hit you when I’m done.”

  “You sure, nigga? ’Cause I’m sensing some nervousness in your blood.”

  “Nigga, I got this. l’ma hit you back!”

  “A’ight!” said Smitty.

  Ness entered C-God’s Hempstead apartment, and greed took over instantly. Inside were ten kilos of uncut cocaine wrapped tightly in clear plastic, about 200 G’s in the safe, and three guns. He thought about what Smitty had said: C-God did hand everything to them, but he hadn’t expected it to be on a silver platter.

  All types of come-up schemes ran through his mind as he placed the keys in a plastic garbage bag, poured a bottle of fabric softener on top to conceal the scent, and then packed it all inside a duffel bag filled with dirty clothes. There was no way Ness could take everything down to the car all at once, so he figured he’d take the drugs first and then come back for the money. He planned to leave the guns behind.

  Ness entered the elevator with the duffel bag strap
ped across his shoulder. When the elevator doors opened, he headed toward the double doors and spotted the FBI everywhere. Starting to panic, his instincts told him to run like hell, but where was he going to run to? The best thing for him to do was play it cool and proceed with the plan.

  Exiting the building, Ness walked past them as calmly as possible. He’d been arrested enough times to know that a reaction or the slightest sign of discomfort is what they looked for. Just as he had reached nearly twenty feet from the car, a voice called out to him.

  “Hey, boy, where you coming from?” an officer asked.

  Ness, shitting bricks, managed to remain calm and speak without showing any signs of nervousness.

  “I’m coming from my girlfriend’s house. Is there a problem, sir?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Is there? It’s pretty early in the morning, boy. Where are you heading to? Did your girlfriend and you have a fight? ’Cause that’s a big ol’ bag you got there.”

  “It’s just some dirty clothes I’m taking over to the laundromat. You know, underwears, socks, and tees.Would you like to take a look, sir?” he said, unzipping the bag just enough to expose the dirty clothes he had lying on top of the coke. Ness was scared shitless, but he had to take his chances, hoping it would throw him off.

  “No, that’s okay, son. By the way, what did you say your name was again?” asked the officer just as he was headed back toward the building.

  “It’s Calvin. Calvin Greene, sir,” he said, smiling and lying his ass off. He knew damn well he had never asked his name in the first place.

  “Would you happen to know a fellow in this building that goes by the name C-God?” the officer asked.

  “No, officer. I don’t. Why? Did he do something bad, sir?” Ness pressed for info.

  “Let’s just say he’s one of the bad guys.”

  “No way, officer. I stay away from them bad guys.” He was really laying it on thick. “Far away! I’m a good guy, you know. I have a nine-to-five. As a matter of fact, I was just promoted to supervisor at my job.”