“Victoria!” His body deflates as he races to his dead wife. The second he touches her, she flops over against his chest. “Oh. My god. Noooo,” he cries out in anguish. He holds her for a long while, before easing her back against the sofa like he’s handling a delicate flower.
“Touching. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you actually gave a shit about somebody else.”
Melvin jumps to his feet and charges toward me.
POP!
A bullet slams into his right shoulder and he spins around. “Aaaargh!”
“I suggest that you slow your muthafuckin’ roll, Captain.”
“You’re a dead bitch.”
“Maybe. But not today,” I tell him. “And certainly not by you.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Who said that I wanted anything?”
Melvin’s face goes from angry to incredulous. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m settling all my old debts.”
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
“That’s what those doctors kept telling me. I have a lot of people to thank for that—but instead of my letting shit slide, I’ve decided to stop playing the victim. Only I’m not doing that forgiving and forgetting bullshit. I’m going biblical. Eye for and eye type of shit.”
The color drains from his face. “Oh, God, Christopher. What did you do to Christopher?”
“Relax. He’s fine. You don’t think that I would hurt my own grandson, do you? He is my grandson, isn’t he?”
Melvin grunts.
“I guess we should be grateful that he’s not some kind of retard or something, seeing how his mommy and daddy are brother and sister.”
“Stop that! Stop that!”
“What? Are you still denying the truth?”
“You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” he seethes. “If you’ve harmed one hair on his head, I’ll . . .”
“What? You’ll do what?” I cock my head at him. “Haven’t you figured out how this is about to go down—or do you need me to draw a picture?”
“What? You’re going to take my grandson just because your old girl, Dribbles, stole your baby? Hell. Did you ever think that the boy was better off?” he rambles off. “Who the fuck puts a baby in a goddamn oven? Your apartment was trashed and you was strung the fuck out.You should be happy that somebody stepped in and raised that boy. Smokestack stepped up and Mason turned out to be a fuckin’ good man. A true muthafuckin’ soldier. I’m glad your ass never got the chance to know him before they put him in the earth.”
“Dead? My baby is dead?”
Melvin throws back his head and laughs. “Yeah.You didn’t know about that, did you? Your precious Mason was killed by his big brother Terrell. That’s a Shakespeare tragedy for you.”
Each explosive revelation is like being hit by a Mack truck.
When Melvin finishes his tirade, he’s glaring at me while I remain in shock.
“Dribbles stole and raised my baby?” I ask, standing up. “You knew where my baby was the whole time—and you left me in that jail?”
Now was the time to take all that shit back, but Melvin threw up his head and talked down his nose at me—like he’s always done. “So the fuck what? You weren’t doing shit but pissing your life away. Locking you up probably saved your life, but do I even get a fuckin’ thank you card?”
“Oh. I’m sorry.Thank you.” POP! POP! POP!
I walk around the desk and jam my finger on the trigger. POP! POP! POP!
Melvin jerks around on his feet until I empty my clip in his ass.When I stop he collapses to the floor with a river of blood streaming out of his mouth and chest, but I’m not satisfied.
“You sick muthafucka. How could you do that shit to me? How could you!” I drop to my knees next to his body and proceed to pistol-whip his ass until my arm grows tired and I’m covered in his blood.
My baby is dead. I’ve lived with that possibility for over twenty years. I accepted it. At least, I thought I did. But now that I know for sure, I slip into mourning all over again. Terrell killed his own brother? No. Say it isn’t so, God.
The cool reserve that I’ve worked so hard to maintain is gone and I’m racked by grief. I roll off Melvin’s dead body, sobbing.
Thump!
I jerk my head up to see a little boy in Batman pajamas, staring wide-eyed back at me. “Christopher.”
I move to get up and the boy takes off running. “Wait, Christopher. Come back.” I leap to my feet and take off after the kid toward the front door.
“Christopher, I’m not going to hurt you.” I give chase. “I’m your grandma.”
He opens the door and collides into someone on the other side just as they’re about to knock.
“What the . . .” The woman’s head whips around to see the boy blow past her.
For me, time slows as I attempt to slow down, but I’m also having a minor heart attack when the woman turns back toward me while standing beneath the porch light. I know those blue eyes anywhere.
“Dribbles.”
47
Ta′Shara
″All is well. ” That’s all that Profit ever says nowadays. Somehow we both have made it through hell only to become ghosts in our own lives. If you can call what we do now as living.
I don’t.
Love sustains our hearts while revenge consumes our souls. It’s been months since the Vice Lords lowered their leader, Fat Ace, into the ground. And since then, Profit hasn’t missed a Saturday where he would come out to his brother’s grave to shed a few tears and give the proper respect.
Him and Lucifer.
They are a solemn pair; Profit with his broadening shoulders and mounting muscles and Lucifer with her growing belly. More than once people have mistaken them for a couple and more than once I’ve wondered if I’m out of place for remaining by his side. I can’t bring a smile to his face or hope to his heart anymore—hell, I can’t even do that shit for myself.
There is chaos in the streets. The Gangster Disciples and Vice Lords have the entire city on lockdown. The minute the sun goes down, scared citizens run into their houses and lock up their shit. The rest of us spill into the streets, hunting each other down like animals.
And I’m no different.
Once I dreamed of escaping this life, these streets, and now they feel like a second home. While Profit busts his ass making moves, I’m right by his side, proving how much I deserve to be his ride-or-die chick. If I don’t do it, another bitch will.
It’s not to say that I don’t have to watch my own back. I’ve racked up plenty of enemies in a short time.
I close my eyes while the rain pelts my body. Add the cold February wind and you’d have three potential Popsicles on the verge of catching their deaths. At long last, Lucifer is the first to turn away from the gray tombstone to slosh her way back to the waiting vehicle. I glance over at Profit and have to reach out for his hand to try to bring him back to earth with me.
“Baby, let’s go.” I might as well be talking to myself because I’m sure that my words don’t penetrate. Stepping back, I gently tug his hand. After a few tries, he turns toward the car.
“It’s time,” he says, barely above the sound of the accelerating rain. “I’m ready.”
His words are like an ice pick to my heart. It’s not that I didn’t know that this moment was coming. I did. It’s that the stakes are so high and, being honest, the odds are stacked against us. After all, Python is a legend out here, and his killing Fat Ace has elevated him to icon status.
“Are you sure, baby?” I ask.
Profit pulls his hand from mine so that he can walk to the other side of the SUV and climb in behind the wheel.
Sighing, I climb into the vehicle as well without looking into the backseat where Lucifer stares out the window toward Fat Ace’s grave. I don’t know why I thought that Profit and I would resume our conversation, but after he turns over the engine and pulls off, I see that
I’m sadly mistaken.
During the drive back to Ruby Cove, there is just the soft, steady whirl of the car’s heater, struggling to fill the thickening silence. Again, I find myself stealing glances over at Python and seeing the same rock-hard expression, the same intense stare, and the same raw anger.
I understand that anger. I’ve lived with it for months now . . . and I’m exhausted. I twitch in my seat, wanting to say what’s on my mind, but not in front of Lucifer. Then again, the times that she’s not with us are few and far between. She has taken it on herself to train Profit to get him ready for some big showdown that they both claim is inevitable.
For months now I’ve watched Profit train. Nearly all the bullet holes LeShelle had scarred him with are now covered with tattoos; five stars, bunny rabbits, pyramids, but most importantly the name MASON stretched across his heart.
Niggas eyeball him and whisper about how he should take Fat Ace’s place as the people’s leader. Others still think the title belongs to Lucifer, pregnant or not.
We turn down on Ruby Cove and pull up outside Lucifer’s crib. When she doesn’t jump out, Profit turns to look back at her. “We’re here.”
He says it gently enough to jar her out of her little world. And without saying a word, she climbs out of the vehicle.
I watch Lucifer as she slowly walks toward her house. That’s going to be you if anything ever happens to Profit. I’ve lost count how many times that thought has crossed my mind and each time that ice pick chips another huge chunk away from my heart.
“Baby, we need to talk,” I say, turning back around in my seat.
Profit sucks in a small breath as he cruises down to Da Club ten minutes out.
Since he doesn’t stop me, I take it that his silence is a cue for me to spit out whatever it is I got on my mind.The problem is that I have so much that I don’t know where to start. “Let’s just leave,” I say.
I reach across the seat and take his hand into mine. “I know and understand that you want—”
“No.” He looks over at me. “I don’t want to do anything. I need to murk that ugly nigga Python. He still slithering around out there and killed my brother.” Venom seeps into his voice. “I know blood don’t mean shit with you and your family, but it’s a little different with mine.”
That jab hurts.
“Smokestack will be out soon. Let him handle it.”
Profit pulls his hand from mine. “What the fuck? Do you think your nigga is a punk or some shit? You want me to run out of this city with my dick tucked in between my ass and let other niggas fight my battles?”
“No.That’s not what I meant.”
“That is what you meant. Be woman enough to admit it.”
“WHAT?”
“Don’t think that I don’t know that you’ve been plotting and planning to dump this emotional bullshit on me. Your heart has never truly been down for this shit. You’re walking the walk and talking the talk but it’s all bullshit.Your heart ain’t VL.You ain’t no true Flower.”
“How the fuck can you say that shit to me? After what I’ve been through to be with you? What we’ve been through. Now your entire world is running with the Vice Lords? Shit. Whatever happened to us not wanting to be sucked into this street bullshit?”
“My fucking brother died that’s what happened! All that other shit is squashed. If you’re down, you’re down. If you’re not . . .”
My shock grows. “If I’m not what?”
Profit jerks his gaze away.
“No. Finish your muthafuckin’ sentence. If I’m not what, Profit? You want me to go? Leave? Then maybe you and Lucifer can hook up since clearly she’s the fuckin’ kind of bitch you like?”
“Ta’Shara—”
“No. Fuck you, Profit!” I jerk the car door open and race through the pouring rain and into Da Club. However, the minute I run in, an army of guns jerk up and point at me.Two seconds later, Profit runs in behind me.
“Ta’Shara, I didn’t mean . . .” He freezes, seeing that we’re surrounded. He goes for the gun on his hip.
“Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah,” a low baritone warns. “I wouldn’t do that, if I was you.”
Profit stops, waits, and then heeds the warning and let his hands fall back to his sides. “What the fuck y’all niggas want?”
A man steps forward. My eyes are instantly drawn to his big, bulky frame donned in ink black. But it’s the man’s face and that damn forked tongue slithering across his thick lips that get my blood boiling and my hands balling into tight fists.
Python smiles as he locks gazes with Profit. “Hey, Superman. I heard that you’ve been looking for me.”
“Then you heard right,” Profit growls, his hand still itching to go for his gun.
Python’s thick, rubber-band-like lips spread while he flicks his forked tongue at us. “Well, here I am. Speak your mind.”
“I’m not interested in talking. I want you dead.”
“A lot of muthafuckas want that shit. What makes you so special?”
“I’m going to be the one that actually does it.”
Python snickers. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
The room grows stifling hot while I feel myself choke on the tension. I don’t know what Profit is thinking, baiting this muthafucka while we’re outnumbered.
Python lets the words hang in the air for a long time while his black gaze burns a hole in Profit’s skull. Just when I’m ready to beg one of them to say something, Python’s smile returns. “Well, what do you say that we go ahead and settle this now?”
“What—so your boys can do your dirty work?”
“Nah. Just me and you—some old-school cowboy shit.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Profit, don’t.” I tug on his arm, but he shrugs me off.
“Your boys are just going to let me kill you and then walk away?”
Python’s smile widens. “Sure. You have my word.”
He’s lying. “Profit, don’t do this.”
“Then let my girl go first,” Profit negotiates.
Python’s gaze slithers toward me and I physically become ill. “A’ight. Deal.”
“No! I’m not leaving.” I grab Profit, but then someone else snatches me by my waist. “Let me go! Profit! PROFIT!”
He refuses to look at me.
I kick and scream as I’m dragged to the door. “PROFIT! PROFIT! PROFIT!”
“PROFIT, NOOOOOO!”
“Baby, baby. Wake up!” Profit rattles me by my shoulders.
I bolt up in bed, unable to catch my breath.
“Baby, what is it?”
I’m confused by the darkness and unable to remember where I am.
“T?” Gently, he pulls me over into his arms. “You must have had a bad dream.”
A dream? The graveyard, the rain, Lucifer being pregnant—all a dream?
“But it all seemed so real.” Maybe it’s of things to come. Python’s sinister face surfaces in my head and then the next thing I know, I dissolve into tears.
48
LeShelle
The moment the Douglases’ house comes into view, my clit starts thumping. Every light in the place is out and from what I can tell there’s no nosy neighbors milling about. My only concern is my girl, Kookie, twitching in her seat.
“What the fuck is up with you?” I snap.
“Nothing,” she lies, looking around again. “Are you sure that you want to do this?”
“I have a debt to settle,” I tell her, shutting off the engine and killing the lights. “And I always settle my debts.” I peek over my shoulder to see my babysitters pulling up behind us. “Let’s do this.”
We climb out of the car, pop open the trunk, and hand out gas cans over to June Bug and Kane. At least they know how to follow orders.
Kookie still looks jittery as shit.
“Don’t tell me that you’re scared.”
“Bitch, please. How many times I done rode dirty with your ass? How are you goi
ng to ask me something like that?”
“Then what’s up?”
She shakes her head and spits out that lie again, “Nothing.”
“Well all right then. Grab a can.”
I remember the kind of bullshit locks the Douglases have on the house and I get past them easily. It turns out that they haven’t changed the security password since I moved out. Stupid muthafuckas.
“Nice place,” Kookie whispers, looking around.
I press a finger to my lips and then direct June Bug and Kane to splash off around on the bottom floor, and then direct Kookie to follow me upstairs. I head straight to Ta’Shara’s bedroom, feeling my clit pump in double time. Outside the door, I set down the gas can and pull out my gun.
I got you, bitch. Opening the door, I flip on the light switch.
The room is empty.
What the hell? I walk into the room and look around. I check the closet and under the bed before turning to Kookie. “I thought you said that she was released.”
Kookie shrugs. “That’s what I heard.”
My cell phone rings. Damn.
Shit!
I rush to shut it off, but it’s too late.There’s a rustling down the hall.
Fuck!
“Ta’Shara, is that you?”Tracee races out of the master bedroom to Ta’Shara’s room.When she spots my ass, she gasps and pulls up short.
“Surprise.” I level my gat at her.
A second later, Reggie comes rushing in behind her, tugging on his robe. He doesn’t look up until he crashes into his wife’s back. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I thought it was past time for us to have a little family reunion.” I smile as I edge closer to them. “Where’s Ta’Shara?”
Neither one of them speaks.
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
Tracee swallows. “She moved out with her boyfriend.”
“Oooh. Did she now?” My blood pressure climbs. “Tell you what—why don’t we go back into your bedroom?” I wave my gat, but neither one of them moves.
POW!
A single bullet rips off the lower lobe of Reggie’s ear.
He jerks back with a roar. “Aaargh!”
“REGGIE!”Tracee rushes to her husband.
Gangsta Divas Page 26