by Mike Sanders
As I sat up, I noticed more blood on the bedspread and even more spots on the floor leading to the bathroom. All of a sudden, memories of what I had done came crashing down on me like hurricane Katrina.
“OH-MY-GOD! Please, don’t let him be dead! Please don’t let him be dead,” I quietly prayed over and over as I slowly climbed off the bed. I was rubbing my bruised throat. It felt as if I’d swallowed a golf ball. In a daze, I followed the red droplets that led me to the nightmare I’ve been living with ever since.
I’d found the guy lying on the bathroom floor in a puddle of his own blood with his eyes wide open as if he were staring at something. As I looked down at the bloody body on the floor it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was dead. I felt my stomach’s contents rising in my sore throat as I lunged for the toilet. I called “Earl” until I had nothing left in my system to throw up. I was so dazed and confused that I didn’t know what to do. I kept trying to remind myself not to panic but damn, a bitch had just killed someone.
As I knelt over the cold toilet I couldn’t control the sudden stream of tears from cascading down my cheeks. I pondered over whether or not to call someone, maybe Justice or even the police. However, I immediately dismissed that idea with thoughts of jail creeping into my mind. I kept saying to myself that it was self-defense and although I had the bruises to prove I’d been attacked I still didn’t want to chance someone finding out what I’d done. I knew it was stupid of me not to tell anyone but I was young and scared shitless!
I looked down at that dead body once more and briefly thought about something my father had once said. He’d once said that if a man dies with his eyes opened, he probably deserved it. I wasn’t quite sure if this guy had deserved it or not and I definitely hadn’t had any intentions of killing him, I’d only wanted him to leave me alone and stop choking me. But he wouldn’t stop.
I turned away from the lifeless form, contemplating on what to do. After a long moment of debating I decided to clean myself up and wipe away any traces of me ever being there. I took a towel and wiped down anything I could remember touching since I’d entered the room. I cleaned that room better than any maid could’ve ever done, and I was exhausted as hell when I was finished.
After being certain I’d gotten rid of all possible prints I grabbed my things, including the murder weapon and fled the vicinity. I was so glad I hadn’t told anyone that I would be with him that night. No one had seen me enter or exit the room either. Two days later, the incident had been reported as a senseless homicide with no possible suspects and no motive. However, a sistah was still petrified because I’d watched enough C.S.I. to think that someone would still find out..
I ended up graduating, and to this present day I still have flashbacks of that fateful night whenever I as much as simply smell weed. I still haven’t told anyone about that dark secret. Not even my best friend in the world, Justice. Although she knows about what my mom did to Ty, I could never bring myself to tell her that I too had taken a life. Justice had always thought I was this naïve little chick who has never done anything wrong except getting busted with those clothes at Neiman Marcus, and making a few bad decisions when it came to men. Only if she and everybody else knew.
Recently, I’d been rather content with my life. I’d finally gotten the energy to kick Travis’s no good ass to the wayside and had finally gotten a job in which I could cope with as a real estate agent’s assistant. It wasn’t much but it paid the bills and kept me clothed. I was gonna miss all that dough Travis used to break a sistah off with, but I’d rather have been broke and happy than a paid fool.
My money situation had been the main reason I had told Justice to hook me up with Monk and D.C. My cup was running dry and I sure could use those few extra dollars on the side. For that reason, I was more than ready to get down for my crown with them. Setting people up to be robbed was not something I was proud of, but it was all in the game and a sistah had a helluva thirst to be quenched!
My life was far from perfect, but then again whose life isn’t? I’d gotten totally comfortable in my own skin and was satisfied with myself. Nevertheless, dead bodies continued to haunt a sistah beyond imagination.
In my bathroom, still standing before my mirror, I tried to shake all those thoughts and return to the present. I reached for one of my towels so I could dry the water from my face. After wiping away the freezing water, I opened my medicine cabinet and browsed over all of the different types of sleep aides that occupied the shelves. I opted for the Valium. I popped two of the potent pills followed by a glass of tap water before re-entering my bedroom area. The pills usually allowed me to fall asleep in a dream-free, comatose-like state and I was hoping this night would be no different. The sleep aides kept me from dreaming about anything, especially Ty and the murder that I had committed years earlier.
I crawled into my large bed and wrapped myself up in the satin sheets like a butterfly inside a cocoon. My eyes closed and I let the Vs bring about Zzzs.
CHAPTER SEVEN CARLOS
You mean to tell me that nigga was at the park Sunday?” I was in disbelief while listening to what Dave was telling me. “That nosey ass bitch Sabrina who Joe be fuckin’ said she saw him and two other niggas on bikes out there but she didn’t say who the other two niggas was. I’on’ know how you missed that nigga,” Dave replied as he counted the last stack of my dough. He wrapped it in a rubber band and placed it inside a duffel bag with the rest.
Dave, Lil’ Joe, Ali, and I were sitting in Dave’s living room conversing. Ali and I had stopped by to collect the money that Joe and Dave owed me for the fourteen kilos I had fronted them a week earlier. We were in the middle of discussing possible locations for another stash spot when Cross’s name had come up. I couldn’t believe this nigga had been at the park the same day I’d been there and I’d missed him. God had to be watching over that nigga!
Dave placed the duffel bag on the sofa next to me and yelled in the kitchen to Lil’ Joe.
“Yo, Joe, call that bitch Brina back and tell her Los wanna holla at her!”
I was thinking that was a good idea because I really wanted to speak with her.
Dave relaxed back in his Lazy Boy and asked me, “How many more of them joints you workin’ wit?”
He was inquiring about how many kilos I had remaining. Before I could respond Ali took it upon himself to respond for me.
“We got eight and a half more and that’s the last of it.” Ali was puffing on an apple-flavored Black & Mild as he spoke. He kicked his feet up on Dave’s coffee table and relaxed as if he were at home. He added, “It’s gonna be next week when we re-up again.”
I just sat back and enjoyed the cool air that was circulating throughout the room and let Ali handle my business. After all, he was the lieutenant and that’s what he got paid to do. I was lost in thought about that nigga Cross. I was itching to find out who the other two niggas were who’d been at the park with him. I was willing to bet money that it was them snake ass Lake View niggas. I’d had a run in with some niggas from the Lake View neighborhood a while back and ended up having to check one of them nigga’s temperature. So, I just knew it was them niggas.
Joe was speaking on his cell phone when he walked into the living room.
I heard him say, “Tell Sabrina I said holla at me when she get back. Yeah, you know who this is, one.” He ended the call and told me that Sabrina wasn’t home but he’d be sure to get at me as soon as she returned his call.
We kicked it for a little while longer before I decided it was time to leave because me and Ali had more stops to make and more money to collect.
I arose from the sofa and told Dave and Joe, “I’m ’bout to be out.”
I gave them dap. Ali followed suit while grabbing the duffel bag with the money in it.
“Don’t forget to holla at a nigga if B get back at you,” I told Joe over my shoulder on my way out the door. I was speaking in reference to Sabrina.
As I stepped out onto th
e front porch I heard the sound of Joe’s cell ringing.
I was almost at Ali’s Escalade, which was parked in the driveway, when I heard Joe’s voice, “Yo Los, hold up!”
I turned to see Joe’s large frame almost taking up the entire doorway. He was holding up his phone.
“It’s Brina!” he stated.
I strolled back up the walkway and met Joe halfway as he handed me the phone and kept walking past me to holla at Ali. I spoke into his phone, “What it do!”
“Hey, Carlos,” Sabrina’s voice crooned through the phone.
“What up, ma? You got somethin’ to tell me?” I was getting straight to the point.
Sabrina didn’t respond so I spoke again, “Hello?”
Silence.
“Brina?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” I heard her sigh deeply. Anxiety was evident in her voice when she spoke again. “I told Joe I didn’t wanna get involved in this shit.”
“What shit? Who was wit’ that nigga Cross?” I asked with raised eyebrows. I was anxious to find out who this nigga was hanging out with; because nine times outta ten if they were robbers as well I’d basically found the niggas who had jacked my spot. When Sabrina spoke again her words stung me like a wasp!
Hesitantly, she reported in a hushed voice, “D.C. and Monk.”
“D.C. and Monk? Fuck Nah!” I tried to control my anger, but the words just leapt out of my mouth involuntarily. I told Sabrina, “Good lookin’.”
I closed the phone, disconnecting the call.
Ali and Joe walked up to me because I was still standing there, looking off into space with a dazed expression on my face. It was as if Sabrina’s revelation had stricken a nerve so deeply within my core that I had momentarily become paralyzed with anger. I stood there with my head down and Joe’s phone pressed against my forehead.
“What she say?” Ali asked.
I didn’t answer him because I knew as soon as I would’ve repeated what Sabrina had just told me, Ali and Joe would have surely jumped the gun. Carelessness was something I definitely didn’t need.
“What that bitch say, my nigga?” Ali repeated himself.
I ignored him and handed Joe back his phone. I simply walked over and climbed into the passenger’s side of Ali’s truck.
“Let’s bounce,” I told my lieutenant as he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. I let my window down and told “David” and “Goliath” I’d be in touch with them as soon as I had gotten some more work. They both stood in the driveway and watched as we pulled off.
Once Ali and I were out of Dave’s driveway I let the window back up and reclined my seat. Then I adjusted the two air conditioner vents in front of me so I could cool my head. Ali reached over and turned down the volume of his sound system so that Young Jeezy could play at a decent level. My nigga knew me well enough to know when I didn’t feel like talking, so he kept quiet and allowed me to think.
I’d always known that 85 percent of communication is non-verbal and that eye contact and body language speaks volumes. But I never actually understood exactly how much truth was really behind that philosophy until at that very moment, I was sitting in Ali’s Escalade staring up at the roof.
I had seen D.C. and Monk at the park and they’d acted as if everything was gucci. I had also peeped the way they’d eyeballed me and my niggas, and how nervous they looked when we had rolled up on them.
Fuckin’ body language and eye contact.
I was wondering how in the hell I’d missed Cross. I know all three of them had to have seen us coming, but where the fuck was Cross when we pulled up? And Justice, that grimy bitch! I fucked her trifling ass that same day and she’d acted as if she didn’t know anything about that shit.
Mark knew Justice so I knew she wasn’t the one who had knocked on the door, but I bet that bitch was in on it! If Monk did it; Justice was down with it too. That’s how they got down. I swore on everything I loved that if that bitch had something to do with that shit or even knew anything about Monk doing it, I was gonna make sure her and her snake ass brother had double closed-casket funerals. All at my expense! Then I’d ship their punk ass daddy some flowers to Chicago to show my condolences. They just didn’t know—they’d fucked with the right one this time!
While I was lost in thought about Justice and her brother, my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller’s number and saw that it was Face.
“Yo, lemme hit you back,” I said as soon as I answered the phone. When I ended the call I looked over at Ali and asked, “You know how I always say to watch the crease between a nigga’s brows when he talkin’ to you?”
I was pointing to the crease between my own eyebrows for emphasis.
I added, “And remember how I always tell you to watch his facial expression when he shakes your hand?”
“Yeah, what of it?” Ali replied while bobbing his head and keeping his eyes on the road.
I told Ali, “Well, Monk and D.C.’s handshakes don’t match their smiles.” He looked over at me with knowing eyes. I was letting him know that those two niggas were playing the game sideways.
“You gots to be kidding,” he stated. He looked like he was hoping I was joking.
“Nah, I’m dead serious.”
“So that’s what Sabrina said, huh?”
“Yeah, but this ain’t nothin’ but a reality check for a nigga though. I’on’ put nothin’ past a thirsty ass nigga like Monk anyway. So a nigga should’ve halfway expected that shit from him. And I’d already told that nigga that if he was to ever try me I’d send his lil’ ass to hell.”
I sighed deeply as I leaned back against the headrest and listened to the music that was playing just above a whisper. I was thinking about what had to be done.
True enough, this situation was a reality check for a nigga but deep down inside I was halfway hoping that check would bounce. Me and Monk had our minor disputes in the past, but I had stayed off his ass on the strength of his sister. I’d been good to him and Justice for as long as I could remember and this is how they’d chosen to repay me?
Fuck being Mr. Nice Nigga, I thought.
I’d always known that certain muthafuckas had a tendency of mistaking kindness for weakness. But an old head once told me to, “Pick up a bee out of ‘kindness’ and learn its limitations. It won’t be long before that bitch turns her ass to you and releases that stinger!”
As I sat back and pondered over this I realized that it was time for a certain clique to get stung.
CHAPTER EIGHT MONK
Dressed in all black, D.C., Cross, and I were riding down 1-77 in the Chevy Caprice that D.C.’s little cousin had stolen for us. We were headed to Rock Hill, South Carolina, which was only twenty minutes outside of Charlotte. Me and D.C. had finally hooked up with the girls from the park who were driving the BMW. The girls’ names were Tandora and To’Wanda. Tandora was the one who had been driving and To’Wanda was the passenger.
D.C. and I had met the girls out on dates twice since that day we’d met them, both times at expensive restaurants. They had never invited us over to their place because I figured they were trying to be discreet about where they lived. But what they failed to realize was the fact that they were dealing with habitual stick-up kids, and it was our job to find out things like that!
We’d followed them home on several occasions to try and find out who their men were. But as it turned out, the two women were roommates and didn’t even have men. The mini-mansion, the BMW, and even the two matching Range Rovers were theirs. These bitches were PAID!
From my observation, I determined that Tan was more than likely the one who was handling most of the business because we’d witnessed two Hispanic-looking dudes whom I presumed to be Dominican also visit the house regularly. They came like clockwork on Tuesday and Friday nights baring briefcases and only staying for brief periods of time. I assumed that they were more than likely picking up, dropping off, or stashing either money or dope.
If the dudes were dropping of
f or stashing, we knew we could wait for them to leave, then run up in there and rape them chicks for whatever was in the briefcases and whatever was in the house. But if they were picking up, we’d probably be assed out if we waited for them to leave. So, we came to the conclusion that we’d fall up in there on the two girls and wait for the dudes to arrive, and then make them all get naked. It was the only way to guarantee we wouldn’t miss anything.
We already knew the girls were at home this Friday night because D.C. had spoken with To’Wanda earlier in the evening and she’d made it clear that they would both be staying in. D.C. had called under the pretense of trying to get them to meet us out somewhere for drinks. If the girls hadn’t been home when he called, D.C. had suggested that one of us hide under one of the girls’ vehicles until one or both of them arrived. Then we would force them into the house at gunpoint. I looked over at D.C. as he sat on the passenger’s side loading the clip to his .45.
I laughed and told him, “Of all the things you ever lost in your lifetime, I know yo’ mind is what you miss the most.” To me, his idea of hiding under the car was ludicrous as hell, but he was dead serious!
“Why my idea gotta be so crazy? I kinda liked it,” D.C. stated. Cross interjected from the back seat, “Man that’s some ole Dead Presidents type shit. That shit only works in the movies.” “Dig this, I got it all figured out,” I stated while keeping my eye on
the speedometer because we definitely didn’t need to be getting pulled
over for speeding.
I didn’t have a valid driver’s license; we were all dressed in black with
black gloves and ski masks, plastic-tie handcuffs, duct tape, and pistols