by Wahida Clark
She approached the casket without looking left or right and tossed two roses on the casket. One black and one yellow. No one understood what it meant, but they knew it meant something. When she turned and walked away, she looked directly at Dark with a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Jerome, who is that?” Crystal asked with a hint of worry in her tone as the woman walked away.
“Joy. Cisco’s wife,” he replied, remembering her face from the night he had gone to murder her. She had arrived with some dude, but Dark couldn’t see his face. He was all over Joy and her security was all over her and the mystery man. Dark was forced to fall back, realizing he couldn’t pull off the hit.
After the funeral, Born stepped to Crystal and Dark. He gave Dark a pound and Crystal a hug. “I’m sorry for all this,” Born told her. “Big Choppa will always live on as a legend. If you don’t mind, I wanted to speak with you for a moment,” Born requested of Crystal.
Dark started to speak up and assert his authority, but then he felt confident enough in his game not to be pressed. Born and Crystal stepped a few feet away.
“Like I said, Big Choppa will be missed.”
“I miss him already,” Crystal remarked, holding back all but the trickle of a single tear.
“Shit about to get crazy, for real. Muhfuckas breaking bread with you and smilin’ in your face, but ain’t got your best interest at heart,” Born said.
Crystal looked at him, tearless, and on the offensive. “Meaning?”
Born was a little thrown by the sudden flip in her attitude. “Meaning, the people around you.”
“Like Dark?”
“I’m not speakin’ specifics. I—”
“Oh no, but I think you are, Born,” Crystal cut him off with a huff. “I am so tired of people tryin’ to tell me about my man. I think I should know my man better than y’all, because I’m the one fucking him!” she snapped.
“Sometimes the best way to see someone is not look at ’em,” Born schooled her.
“Look, Born,” Crystal began, getting loud, “Dark is my man, and we’re gettin’ married! Period. End of story! If my own goddamn Daddy couldn’t tell me nothin’, what makes you think I’m listening to you? Like you said, Choppa is gone. But guess what? I’m here, and I’m in charge, got that?”
Born smirked, and inside he recognized that she was dumber than he thought. “Loud and clear,” he replied sarcastically, then walking off.
• • •
Cisco’s original Oak Ridge Team, his cousins, Dana and Wes, along with Big Darnell, and Reggie, all sat in Dana’s basement while Mook and Mac broke down the situation.
“Look, the nigga’s on the fast track to take over Big Choppa’s family. That’s major paper right there!” Mac said, trying to convince the crew.
Mook had already put Mac up on game. “They had to go, yo!” Mac added. He didn’t really give a fuck, but he was the type that wanted to avoid a problem if he could. If they decided to ride with Dark, so what? Cisco was gone, and none of these other niggas had a plan.
“Man, I don’t trust that nigga,” Darnell spat. “You seen what he did to Dread. What the fuck gonna stop him from doin’ us like that?”
There was general agreement all around. Mook checked his watch. These niggas were the living dead.
“Man, where the fuck is Rob?” Mook asked Mac, suspiciously.
“I called that nigga five times and sent him three texts,” Mac replied.
“Hit him again,” Mook told him and then turned to the crew. “So, what’s it gonna be by a show of hands? We rollin’ wit’ Dark, or we gonna do our own thing?”
The vote was unanimous for doing their own thing.
“Fuck Dark!” Wes spat. “The nigga killed my cousin, so you best believe he gonna get his! Besides, we can fuck with my nigga Ray Ray. He doin’ big things.”
Mook shrugged, looking at Mac who had just hung up after trying to call Rob.
“Then that’s what it is,” he remarked. Then without hesitation, he and Mac pulled out their guns and took aim.
“Man, what the fuck—” Reggie stated, but his voice and life were drowned out under the barrage of bullets.
They were all caught totally off guard. Wes and Darnell weren’t even strapped. Dana and Reggie at least tried to go for their guns, but the attempt was futile. Mook blew the top of Reggie’s head all over the old picture of dogs playing poker hanging on the wall, while Mac fired four shots into Dana’s chest from almost point-blank range, exploding her heart instantly. He then put the gun in her mouth and blew out the back of her head.
Wes tried to make a break but got stopped dead in his tracks with two shots to the back of the dome. At the same time, Mac put his gun to Darnell’s forehead and hissed, “Pussy-ass nigga, I been wantin’ to do this.” He blew his brains out.
When the gunshots ended, their ears rang, and the room smelled of gunpowder, blood, and shit. Mac’s phone rang. It was Rob.
“Yo, Rob, where you? You just missed the meetin’,” Mac said and winked at Mook.
“I got caught up with this bitch. Mook wit’ chu?”
“Nah, man, Mook already bounced. I’ll bring you up to speed when I see you,” Mac said, and then hung up.
“What up, doe?” Mook asked.
“Nigga say he was fuckin’ a bitch. I don’t know. He sounded mad paranoid. He don’t trust that nigga Dark.”
Mook laughed. “Smart man!”
Mac laughed with him. “He at the crib now.”
“I’m ’posed to be gone, right?” Mook assumed.
“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” Mac told him.
One look around the room and it was clear it was time to get out of Oak Ridge.
“A’iight, maine, but yo—” Mook began, but Mac waved him off.
“I got you, maine. I ain’t never give a fuck about none of these pussies runnin’ with Cisco. I’ll take care of it.”
“Say no more.”
Chapter Six
It was true that Rob had been fucking Demetria damn near nonstop for the past twenty-four hours. But he also had a bad feeling about Mac coming to town. Why hadn’t Dark come? If it was supposed to be a major sit-down, and the boss ain’t there, it’s either a setup or the boss didn’t trust them. Well, Rob didn’t trust the boss. Now that Mac said Mook was gone, Rob called Darnell to get the heads-up.
No answer.
He called Reggie.
No answer.
Dana.
No answer.
By the time he got to Wes, he knew.
No answer.
He didn’t believe in coincidences. Rob was a true street nigga, so he left nothing to chance. He told Mac to come over. He would hear him out, but he’d be on point. Rob and Mac were cool, but he knew if it came down to it, Mac wouldn’t hesitate to throw him under the bus. And Rob couldn’t blame him, because the feeling was mutual.
His buzzer rang, which meant Mac was at the door. Rob lived on the fifth floor of an apartment building. He walked out on the balcony and looked out. The infinity shaped pool was directly underneath the balcony, and beyond that, the parking lot. Nothing looked strange. No exhaust of a waiting car, no shadows lurking.
Still, he tucked his .40 caliber in the small of his back and waited for Mac’s arrival.
Minutes later, Mac knocked and Rob peeped out of the peephole. Mac was alone.
“Yo,” Rob called out, before opening the door.
“Nigga, you know who it is,” Mac answered, being his usual impatient self.
Rob detected nothing in his voice. He thought, maybe he was being too paranoid. He relaxed a little and opened the door.
“Fuck you doin’ in here? Smokin’ that shit?” Mac cracked as he walked in.
“Naw, givin’ your girl time to get dressed and hide in the closet,” Rob shot back.
They laughed and dapped each other up.
“What up, though? Why you ain’t come through? The nigga Mook wanted to holla at the whole team,�
� Mac reported.
“What’s good?”
“The team is expandin’. We ’bout to hop the border into Carolina. But since you ain’t show, bitch-ass Darnell and, Reggie got, the nod,” Mac lied, but got a little laugh to himself over his got-the-nod comment.
Rob shrugged it off. “Fuck it, more for us here. I don’t know shit about Carolina no how.”
Goddamn, this nigga watchin’ my every move, Mac thought. He continued to make small talk as he tried to find an opening to pull his gun out and get shit over with. His adrenaline was on booster because he knew Rob was a street nigga, so he had to be on point to catch him slipping.
“Yo, maine, lemme get somethin’ to drink,” Mac requested.
“Nigga, you know where it is,” Rob shot back. But all the while thinking, This nigga been going to get it himself.
Rob followed him into the kitchen. Mac took out the two-liter of Pepsi, and then grabbed a glass out of the dish rack. He had his back to Rob as he poured.
“Yo, I tried to call y’all niggas . . . all y’all, but ain’t nobody answerin’ their phone,” Rob remarked.
“Yeah?” Mac said, sipping his soda and turning to face Rob. “I think they went out to the strip club or somethin’.”
“Maybe.”
The tension grew. Mac felt he had to make a move. This nigga knows! he thought. Now Mac himself felt on the defense. He downed the soda, but before he brought his arm down, he threw the glass at Rob’s head.
“Fuck!” Rob grunted as the glass barely missed him, and he reached around his back for his gun.
Mac saw him reach and knew he didn’t have time to reach too. He lunged at Rob and rocked him with a left hook that would’ve dropped him any other time, but in a life-or-death struggle, pain is irrelevant. Mac grabbed Rob’s hand that gripped the gun.
“Bitch-ass nigga!” Rob cursed as he used his free hand to pummel Mac’s face with stinging blows.
Rob had the gun out, but Mac had his arm pinned back. He tried to angle the gun to shoot Mac in the foot.
Blam! Blam!
The bullets tore the floor up, but found no flesh. Both were reaching for their guns with one hand and stopping each other from pulling the trigger with the other.
But Mac was taller and stronger. “Nigga, you dead!” Mac barked.
He head butted Rob viciously. Rob stumbled back off balance. He let go of Mac’s hand, pulled his gun, but sprinted around the corner into the living room to clear his dazed head. Mac let off a shot, splintering the doorsill but missing Rob. Rob let off two shots as he dived over the couch. Mac fired and missed. Rob then fired around the couch to keep Mac pinned down. That’s when he discovered something ugly. His clip was empty.
“Shit!” he whispered. He knew if he didn’t do something, it was over for him. Mac wouldn’t wait; he’d come at him with guns blazing because he always kept an extra clip.
“Muhfucka, you might as well come out!” Mac taunted.
There was only one thing to do. He looked at the balcony. The pool was directly below. Rob had to jump. He knew if he landed wrong, he could break his neck, but it was a chance he had to take.
“Fuck it,” he gruffed, throwing his gun aside and getting in a crouched position. He sprang off the balls of his feet and launched himself at the balcony. In two bounds he was out of the doorway and grabbing the rail.
Mac heard him, but all he saw when he turned the corner was Rob’s body going over the rail, like he was hopping a fence. At first glance, Mac thought Rob was killing himself. But then, he remembered the pool, and he ran over just in time to see Rob, his arms flailing and legs bent, free-falling toward the pool.
Mac leaned over the rail and emptied his last few shots. Three of them split the water like miniature torpedoes, but one struck Rob in the thigh right before he hit the water.
“Aaaarrrgghh!”
Booosh!
Rob felt like he was breaking through a pane of glass and he was being smacked all over his body. On top of that, the chlorine seeped into his gun wound which only intensified the pain. But at least he was alive. He dragged himself out of the pool, staying under the extended lip of the balconies, limping his way to the parking lot. In the distance, he heard the sirens getting closer. If he could just make it to his car and lie low. He limped faster.
The Oak Ridge police skidded up the parking lot, three cars deep, responding to the 911 calls from several tenants. They spotted Rob half-limping, half-running, soaking wet, and his right pants leg covered in blood. They jumped out and trained their guns on him.
“Freeze! Freeze! Get down on the ground!”
“I’m shot!”
“Now! Get down now!” they bellowed as they surrounded Rob.
He quickly complied.
Mac saw the police skid up and arrest Rob. Several more cops entered the building. He knew they were on their way to find him. He looked down at the pool.
“Man, fuck that,” he mumbled. Even if he could jump without the police knowing, he wasn’t about to try. Still, he had to get out. The stairs were dead, and they’d be watching the elevators, so unless he grew wings, he knew he was trapped.
Unless . . .
Mac glanced over the balcony. The balcony below him was only a hang jump away. He didn’t waste time. He tucked the gun securely in his waist and carefully climbed over the balcony railing. Mac slowly lowered himself until his body was about two feet from the balcony beneath him. To get a little momentum he swung his feet a few times. Then he finally released his grip landing solidly on the balcony. He glanced down to check, but no police had been looking up. Mac was good. He planned on hiding out right there until the police left, but then he looked up. A white girl dressed in only a long T-shirt stared at him with wide eyes looking as if she were about to scream.
Heather had been watching Twilight again for a second time until she thought she heard rumbling coming from the apartment overhead. Once she heard the shots she knew she wasn’t just hearing things. She forgot all about the vampires and wolves and trained her ears on the sounds above her. Being this close to that gangsta shit made her pussy slick. Heather was a small-town girl in love with the idea of city life. That’s why when she saw Mac on her balcony she wasn’t about to scream. She was about to yell, “That was you?” She had seen him before. In fact, she had flirted with his boy Rob in passing a couple of times, but they simply hadn’t gotten together yet.
Mac put his finger to his lips. “Shhh! Chill! I just need a place to lay low, li’l mama. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
That was the last thing on her mind. She slid the patio door open. “Then come on, before they see you!” she told him.
Surprised but not hesitant, Mac came in. She shut the screen and the curtains behind him.
“I know you!” She smiled.
“Well, now, I know you. Thanks.”
“I’m Heather.”
“I’m . . . Mike,” Mac lied, as they shook hands.
He could now breathe because he had gotten away. But that was the easy part. Now, he had to tell Mook he fucked up and Rob slipped from between his fingers.
• • •
“Yeah.” Nick hit the speaker button on his cell that was lying on the table. He was sitting at his desk in his den counting money and placing them in neat stacks. He was in Detroit for only a few days.
“Hey sexy? Let me find out you forgot about me,” Nyla teased as she stretched across her king-sized bed. “You just up and disappeared.”
Pause.
“Who is this?” Nick muttered, half listening and not catching the voice.
“You must be kidding me, right?” Nyla purred, pouring it on thick. “I thought I had the sexiest voice you ever heard. If that was true, then how could you forget?”
“Now, li’l mama, I’ve been havin’ a hectic day. My mind ain’t right. Just tell me your name,” Nick said, keeping it smooth but getting impatient.
“Tiny.”
“Oh! What up, sexy? Goddamn, where you
been?” Nick stopped counting and picked up his cell.
When she heard his voice brighten up, she knew he was still open.
“If you would’ve been checkin’ for me, you’d already know,” she flirted sassily.
“True, true,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But you know the game. Tomorrow ain’t promised—gotta make it happen today. But, yo, I’m checkin’ for you now. What up?”
“Uh-huh, I bet,” she replied.
“For real. Holla at your boy.”
“Well, if it’s like that, I’m trying to see you. A sista needs to get wit’ you,” she told him, cutting straight to the chase.
“Shit, you already know then. Let me take care of something, and I’ma get right back.”
“Don’t keep me waitin’.”
• • •
Once they were in the hotel room, Nyla wasted no time going to work. She needed Nick totally open so he would lead her right to Shan.
Nyla took him in her mouth and began to give him pure head, no hands. He put his hand on the back of her head and began to fuck her face. Her tight jaw action and flexible neck had Nick ready to bust off. Sensing that, she pushed him back on the bed and climbed on top of him.
“I need you to fuck this pussy good, daddy,” she moaned, gripping the base of his dick and sliding it deep inside her.
Nick grabbed her ass and let out a grunt from the back of his throat as Nyla began to work her pussy muscle on the head of his dick. He grabbed her hips and began bouncing her on his rod, hitting her spot.
“Yes, daddy, yes!” she squealed, loving the way he stroked her pussy.
“Turn over,” Nick demanded. He wanted to watch that ass bounce while he beat it.
Nyla got on all fours and spread her legs wide, arching her back. Nick ran the full length of his dick up in her and began to long stroke her hard. She threw that pussy back like a champ. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slapped her ass, urging her on.