Two dudes come on either sides of him and hold him down. Grabbing his dick, I quickly slice his balls off.
Everybody laughs.
“Phantom didn’t give you enough to eat?” I laugh. Never really referred to myself as that. This some news media shit, but I run with it. “Open your mouth, mi amigo. You’ve been acting hungry as fuck.”
Nacho shakes his head through grimaced bloody teeth. There are tears streaming down his face, and I ain’t never been hated more in my life.
“Open up, por favor,” I say in a soothing voice. When he doesn’t comply, I shank him in the belly. His mouth opens in a bitch ass cry and I stuff gooey, bloody balls into his mouth.
A’ight. I’m fucking sleep deprived and torture has never been my thing. I say, “Nacho, I forgot. The reason I actually came for you in the first place. Popeye told me you was fucking over my little sister. That ain’t good. Now because my sister is married, you wanna know what that means. In Colombia, instead of the parents or brothers, the husband has the last rights. Lemme allow Popeye the honors to burn you.
Popeye had been standing there, just looking straight through this dude. We used to roll hard in the past. Dude was always just like me, quiet and waiting. So I know his anger is heightened to the max.
Getting into my Challenger, the cries come even louder as I leave. Back in the house, it’s 7:47 when I take a shower, and climb back in bed by 8 am. My girl looks so sweet with speckles of paint in her hair and on her skin. I kiss her lips, praying for God to give me the strength to tell Rockwell everything.
“Rocky, forgive me…” I whisper in her ear. She smiles in her sleep.
Three years ago…
“Sup, y’all niggas ready to piss on Marcel’s parade?” Chuey readies his Tek9.
“Buck up or get fucked up, mi amigos,” Sean says.
I’m quiet. My mind is on one thing, revenge. My girl sent Marcel to have me killed, at least I thought. She had me fight Big Bo, the nigga that damn near raised me! Can’t touch Rockwell, won’t ever do that. But I’ma murk the shit outta Marcel. It’s 7 of us. Trek got his own bone to pick with Marcel having been a nigga’s OG. Trek’s wife, Shemika’s trigger finger is ready. Even more hyped, is Trinidad, who’s checking the clip in her two Glocks. We step into the projects, and kids get ghost from the playground as their mom’s call. We start into the building, up the stairs and bust through the doors. A gang of OGs is sitting at the table playing bones. Nigga’s ain’t stay ready. Marcel cusses and ducks, to grab his gun soon as he lifts up to shoot, hundreds of buckshots fire from my sawed off Mossberg blow that nigga away.
A few more dudes get bodied in seconds. Blood is all over the walls. We out just as quick, as I step to the exit of Marcel crib, I see Rocky’s father, Thomas.
Chapter 48
ROCKWELL
I’m feeling like a queen. Trinidad stepped foot into the house, looked around at all the lovely touches and bounced! Wasn’t no way to top this. Could I stoop to her level and send a picture of me and Lorenzo messing around in my den? While thinking about that, I start for the pantry to grab more champagne. The DNA test should be here within a few days, but I told Lorenzo that at the function I had something to tell him about Junior. I already know my nigga knows he is Junior’s dad. Hell, he knew it the second he stepped into my fashion store. I guess I’ve finally come up with the right words to apologize. So champagne will only do once he accepts my apology for lying.
We also need to toast to my divorce.
When I open the door, I notice it isn’t a pantry. Had seen Chuey coming out with bottles of wine to impress his more boujie females. So I flip on the light and start down the stairs. It’s a basement. I see the wine rack right in the corner, along with shelves full of food. These nigga’s will never go hungry. Then I stop at some foil brick that line the wall all the way to the ceiling. Mounds and mounds of these bricks.
COKE!!!
Raphael got pissy when I threw away the little he had. This shit is bigger than a walk in closet, and I can’t throw it all down the toilet!
I grab two bricks and dig through the plastic, confirming my notion that this is drugs. Holding them, I go up the stairs. The music has gone deaf in my ear. My son is show boating for Rita, Elisha’s nephew and the rest of them on the opposite side of the pool. Lorenzo is just around the corner on the other side of the house turning over a slab of ribs.
I toss the bricks at him. They dust over his face, shoulders, and jeans. He wipes the white powder away from his silky black hair and shoulders.
I shout, “You’ve had me and my child in the same house as drugs?”
These goons and their sidepieces start to crowd around.
Lorenzo rubs at his face saying, “Rocky, Mommi, lemme just talk to you–”
“This is a lot of drugs. A lot! That Phantom person do you… do you work for him?” I stutter, eyebrows knitted together and heart torn in half yet again. I’ve seen the news hype, whoever the guy is, he’s evil. My heart wants Lorenzo to say no. There are things that my mind wants me to doubt. Even when we were younger, I knew Lorenzo would lie to me. It was always about the shit I really didn’t want to know. So that was okay. The scary shit about my bae grinding for Uncle Marcel, selling my uncle’s guns–selling burners to stupid people had to be the worst thing, right? Now I just need Lorenzo to lie. Just tell me whatever, anything but–
“It’s me, Kid. I’m the one they call Phantom,” Lorenzo says, pulling off his shirt and shaking the rest of the powder out of his hair.
“That ain’t all he is!” shouts some random female, that I had seen earlier trying to console Trinidad. At least I think, the girl is a beautiful dark chocolate and has on the same hot green bikini but I can’t tell as my eyes blur with tears.
Guns go out at her, from niggas and a few bitches alike. Stunned, and glad Junior and the rest of the family and kids are around the other side of the house, I block their path standing in front of this bitch and shout, “What the fuck is going on!”
Why am I taking up for some irrelevant ass bitch, but something tells me ol’ girl is going to tell me the truth. With me in the way, all the guns drop.
“Lorenzo, you gon’ tell her?” she asks, but quickly adds, “Ya dude killed ya daddy, that’s what. BOOM!”
I’m stunned. How can this woman have so much hatred for me? What the fuck have I done to her? I don’t even know this bitch’s name.
Now Lorenzo has his gun aimed at her. “Move over Rockwell, baby just go in the house so we can talk.”
I can’t even look at him. I turn back to stare at her. The pit of my stomach knots, it all makes me want to throw up. I remember back when Marcel used to scare me with the shit he would say, the way he would act. I’d hurry the fuck up and get ghost. There are some things about family that’s best kept unknown. Yeah, my uncle could fuck over blood with the quickness. But I just look this bitch up and down, we ain’t ever crossed paths. She has no reason… I bite my lip, holding in the anger then say, “I haven’t done shit to you. You may wanna go before these niggas take you out.”
Her top lip curls and she looks at me like she could give a fuck about me. Homegirl stands there, as if she’s realizing that I’m the reason all the guns are no longer pointed at her. Even Renz has his gun down at his side now. Yet she glares at me, so I ask, “What have I done to you?”
“I’m just tryna look out for you ma,” this fake bitch says, rolling her neck. “Somebody had to stop you from tryna front like you queen of the hood when your ass got a mansion and married to the muthafuckas these nigga’s putting down. You stupid, fuckin around with a nigga that killed your daddy!”
“Nah, that isn’t right. That’s a lie. My daddy got into an accident down at the factory he worked at,” I try to rationalize it, even with all these muthafuckas staring at us. I was getting ready to sign a clothing designer contract when I heard that my father was hurt. Raphael wanted us to stay in Italy and make sure one of the businesses that wanted to front m
e was chosen. I spent a few days thinking about it. By the time I came home Dad was dead. Marcel and some other nigga’s from Hoover Project were dead, but nobody told me it was related.
“It’s true,” she assures. That unnecessary ass hatred of me is still in her eyes, but like before no matter how much this bitch is angry with me, I know her words are true. Trinidad. I realize that muthafuckin’ crazy hoe Trinidad has to be behind this. I think back to a text she sent me. It was between all those texts about how good she fucked ‘our’ nigga. Yeah, that bitch had told me to stay away from him then. Now I am…
Without words, I feel all eyes on me as I start walking from the side of the house to the back. Lorenzo tries to take my wrist but I snatch my hand away. In the backyard of this large home, the music is still on. Earth, Wind and Fire for Rita and her homegirls. Everybody is enjoying themselves, but it’s time for me to go.
Junior and his friends are jumping off the diving board into the pool. “Baby, get out the water. Time to go.”
Rita’s smile instantly fades. “Rockwell, mi amor, what’s the matter?”
Finally that feeling, the one where you are so numb that nothing even matters goes away. I scream, “Pahleez! As if you DON’T know?”
“Oh God.” The color drains from her face.
I snatch Junior’s arm, so he’ll walk a little faster. “Rita, you and I should be straight for a while–for a lifetime. Please don’t come to any of my son’s games–ever.”
Chapter 49
LORENZO
I know my goons took out that bitch for snitching to Rockwell because, soon as Rocky went around the side of the house, ol’ girl was punched dead in her mouth. Some of my crew took her unconscious body toward the basement door. Little mama is going to choke on her own blood soon, but I’m still standing in the same muthafuckin spot. Half the other bitches over here are to shocked to move. Yet they keep their gums clamped. And its quiet as fuck over here.
“Just give Rocky a minute, cuzzo,” Chuey says.
Then Moms is in my face, crying those big ass crocodile tears.
“Usted no es mi hijo–You aren’t my son,” she says. “If Rockwell and Junior never see me again, I will never see you. You wanted to know why I told you not to come back to Hoover? Why you shouldn’t be some stupid ass cartel thug? Nigga,” she pauses, pointing behind her, “Mi corazon– My heart… my grandbaby is the reason why you shouldn’t have brought your ass back here!”
She cusses me and says I’m just like my Uncle Santiago. Moms hates her little brother with a passion. I stand there and take it from the woman that’s almost a foot shorter, who birthed me. Rita spits on the ground before me and steps off. Don’t get no more disrespectful than that.
“Niggas, bitches, it’s time for you to get the fuck out,” I grab the posts of iron grill and toss it over. Hoes start running and dodging the hot coals and slabs of ribs spilling their way.
Then I’m standing in the middle of a large backyard, cluttered with beer bottles, empty juice boxes and half eaten plates of food.
The snitch ain’t breathing anymore, I know.
Moms is so muthafuckin’ disappointed in me.
My dumb ass sister, Blu, is only God knows where.
Rockwell won’t fuck with me. Not after this. But I know who will.
~~~
Thirty minutes later, I’m banging on Trinidad’s door. She comes to it in jeans and a bra, looking down as it gets. Then she smiles, surprised and elated to see me. This afternoon she looked at me like this was the end before rushing out all dramatic like.
“Papi, what’s wrong?” She closes the door and hugs me tightly.
“Rockwell found out about that hit we all did on Marcel and them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Fo’ sho’? Trick, is you really sorry?” I ask, with her still in my arms.
“Yes.” She nods, cheek rubbing against my chest.
“That’s good.” My hands go to her throat, fingers wrapping all the way around her neck. “Mommi, I know you used to chop it up with the pussy, right? I fucked with bitches, you fucked with bitches,” I tell her while letting my hands squeeze tighter. “But then I told ya ass no more hoes. This pussy is mine!”
“I–I…di… didn’t,” Trinidad says.
“Another thing I know is, only a bitch would pull some stupid ass muthafucking move like that. You told ol’ girl what to say to Rocky, huh?”
She chokes, her eyes plead, but I don’t need to hear another word. Deuces to my down ass bitch. Trinidad’s nails dig into my thick forearms so hard that blood starts to drip down my elbows but I don’t feel shit.
It takes a minute but her mocha skin becomes an ashy tan color. Blood vessels burst in her eyes, as I squeeze the life force out of Trinidad. Her left leg begins to twitch spasmodically as I choke this bitch to the floor.
After laying Trinidad’s lifeless body down, I shut her eyes. Then I grab a beer out the refrigerator and sit at the kitchen table and think till it gets dark. How the fuck am I gonna get Rockwell back after this? The girl was my childhood best friend. My fam! Shit, Thomas had just gotten out of the hospital. He rarely if ever came around Hoover Projects. I was going to tell little mama about what happened. But it just wasn’t the right time yet.
When I step outside Trini’s apartment, Blu is coming up the steps.
“Hey,” she mumbles. “Trini home?”
“Nah.”
“Lorenzo,” she calls as I continue walking past.
“Nah, girl,” I stop at the steps,.“You came through my place last night acting a muthafuckin' fool. Moms ain't raised you to be feigning on the street. Selling ya body for a crack pipe–!”
“I didn’t use last night,” Blu mumbles.
“Man, fuck all the lies. I know about you and that muthafucka, Nacho! Whatchu doing over here anyway? So Trinidad will let you shower? Wanna clean ya stanky ass up so you can feel better while rocking the mic for ya’ next bit of crack? Yeah. Your ass coming down from that high? You too damn funky won't a nigga put no papers up for ya stupid ass!” I dig in on her, hating that it has become this way between us.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's whateva, Blu.”
“I heard what happened.” She twiddles her fingers. “Rockwell left…”
“Man, I don't even got time for this,” so I start down the apartment stairs.
She speaks louder, “I miss Rockwell too.”
When I don’t reply, she hustles down the stairs right up under me. “Me and Rocky were like sisters, Lorenzo. I love her just as much as you do.”
“Don't start. I remember all the times you threatened to tell her about my hustle! I bet you was a crackhead then.”
“No…I …me and Popeye were,” her eyes go to the ground. “I had to deal with Popeye and the baby and moms was acting like I wasn’t doing a good job and my doctor said… Never mind you don’t care anyway! Look just know this, I’m sorry, Lorenzo. I got nothing but love for you and Rockwell. I care about her.”
“Did you care last night when you cussed Rocky out? And had her worrying about you running these streets.”
Blu starts busting up crying. I keep it pushing to my car.
“Bro wait!” She runs in front of my bumper, like I’ma have to run her over if I get in and start. “Will you drop me off at Loveland?”
I press the push to start as she repeats herself. “Blu, I ain’t doing shit. Loveland Rehab is expensive as fuck. I spent a bankroll tryna get yo’ ass clean over the years.”
“I'll stay until they tell me I'm ready. I miss you. I miss Rocky. And moms and our sisters. I miss when we used to cook and dance and we was a family. Brah please don't be mad at me anymore.”
“Man, Blu, I ain't fucking mad at ya.” I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly. Tears start to burn my eyes, but I won’t let not one fall. “Blu, you was my closest, you didn’t even tell me that muthafucka touched you.” I cuss her ass out about the way Nacho treated her because really
, I’m fucking pissed at myself. Moms raised us this way. We try and try and try again to help somebody. Then we out.
This ain’t the way shit should go. Not with blood. So I tell her so. “Ma, I fucked up with you, girl.”
“I’m sorry, Lorenzo, I shoulda told you everything.”
“Nah, girl, don’t fucking apologize to me. Don’t ever feel you have to apologize to me. I’m your fam, you’re my responsibility. I love you, Blu.”
Her teary eyes look up to me. “Lorenzo, I love you brah. Will you please take me to Loveland. I’ma get better.”
“You wanna go to rehab, huh? One last time, Blu.” I hold my hand out to Blu. She shakes it…
Chapter 50
ROCKWELL
Of all the places, I go home to Momma’s house. A random chick said Lorenzo killed my father. That ain’t sunk all the way in yet. Really, I don’t know why I’m crying. But the tears stream down my face as Junior and I get out the car. He’s crying too. He wanted to go back to Rita. He wanted to go back to Lorenzo and ten year old Lorenza. He wants to be with all the Medinas.
“Never!” I scream at him. Then I stop and boo-hoo some more, and hug my child in the middle of the walkway. Soon as Mommy comes to the door, she ushers us inside quickly.
“Did Raphael?”
I shake my head ‘no.’ If I had come to Mom with tears the one time Raphael hit me, maybe she wouldn't have always been on his side. She never seen how badly he beat me that one time, but I had cried to her over the phone. Who knows if she was even listening? Raphael beat me because I didn’t give him enough attention. Mommy was prolly too depressed, too sad to even hear the words…
“Rockwell, you know about Lorenzo?” she asks, her look of relief brings another flood to my face.
“Son, go into mommy’s room. Go lay down in my old bed and watch TV.”
He sniffles and goes.
Loving a Colombian Cartel Thug Page 18