“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Banko slammed on the brakes, making Bonnie’s head slam against the back of the passenger’s seat. “I swear, this motherfucker and his son gonna drive me into the grave,” he roared. “My word must not mean shit to that bloodline.”
When Bonnie lifted her head up to catch up with what was going on and her surroundings, her eyes bucked out wide. Jerome was staring back at the car with even wider eyes like he was looking at a ghost or the devil in form. “What in the fuck are you doing over here? You better not be cheating on me with no PJ pussy. Better yet, ya ass better not be trying to sneak no high behind my back.”
Jerome dropped the TV but hadn’t made a move. With all the open space around him, he felt trapped. He knew what the consequences were if Banko caught him. All of a sudden the high he’d stolen from his grandmother for didn’t seem so important.
Despite Bonnie and Banko staring at the same person, they had total different interests in him. Banko had run Jerome out of the projects because he was nothing but bad luck for Patrice eleven years ago, and vowed death would come his way if he ever laid eyes on him again. And Bonnie just wanted answers. Taking off her seat belt, she no longer cared about how crazy Banko was acting or driving. Matter of fact, she didn’t care about why he was screaming or what for. She was acting off a one-track mind. Jerome was her man and she wanted to know what he was doing over here. Never once did she wonder where her youngest daughters were. She hopped out the back seat without a second thought and darted toward Jerome.
Banko hadn’t paid the slightest attention to Bonnie or the words flying out of her mouth. He was too concerned as to why Jerome was at the Sojourner Truth Homes in the first place. This nigga better not be conspiring with that tricky-ass son of his. I swear I’ll kill both of they asses in blood and deal with Patrice later. His thoughts were all over the place. All he saw was red. Reaching over into the glove compartment, he pulled out his pistol and loaded one up top.
“Didn’t I tell yo’ cracked-out ass to never step foot in this hood again? Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my sister? What are you doing over here, nigga?” Slamming his fist against the steering wheel, Banko swerved into oncoming traffic and hopped out ready to make the word he’d huffed into Jerome’s face eleven years ago come true. With his pistol drawn ready to bust fire, Banko’s adrenaline was pumping.
“This is far as I’m taking you. It’s obviously some crazy shit going down up ahead.” The taxi driver pulled over to the side of the road.
Neighbors of Sojourner Truth Homes, those driving by, and even pedestrians walking at their own risk watched with their phones out as Banko held his pistol to Jerome’s head. The crowd was growing by the second. No one feared for their life because they knew where Banko’s anger was directed. They all wanted something to gossip about later.
“Hey, get out or you’ll be riding the other way, girl. I don’t tread into the projects when there’s beef brewing.” The cab driver nudged Star.
She was too busy caught up in what was unraveling before her eyes to be present in the moment. Upon pulling up, she’d instantly recognized Jerome, her mother, and even the man who was driving the Challenger who was holding the gun to her stepfather’s head. Star didn’t know who he was, but figured Jerome’s territorial ways over her mother had caught up with him. Because Star didn’t know who Jerome really was and what he really represented to her, she could only fathom this whole ordeal was in some way because of Bonnie.
“Hey, y’all are about to miss all the action on the porch. Your brother got a gun pulled out on some unfortunate nigga,” a boy hollered at Patrice, flying past the porch toward the action himself.
It only took one person to spread a buzz in the projects. The second Banko slammed on his brakes making horns blare out was the second someone peeped out their blinds, windows, and even ran to see what was going on. So far, they’d witness Jerome pee on his pants and beg for his life.
“What? Banko? Oh my God,” Patrice sprang up running behind the growing crowd.
Rello was six paces behind her, sluggish because the liquor was weighing him down. Banko having a gun pulled out on someone wasn’t new to him. Especially since his uncle had just whipped him up with the same one. He was nonchalant about the whole situation until mother started screaming, crying, and running toward Banko like lightning speed.
“Banko! What are you doing? Calm down and tell me what happened,” Patrice pleaded. “Think first and react later.”
“What in the hell is this cracked-out coward doing here, Patrice? Was he here to see you or that failure of a son y’all share? I told ya ho-ass baby daddy I’d give him a final blast on the real if he came back to the projects and here he is.” Banko was trembling with resentment. No one could talk sense into him if they tried. When he finally noticed Rello over his sister’s shoulder, he thought for sure they’d all been conspiring against him. “My word is bond around this motherfucker. I make the final word and y’all best respect it.” Banko proved his point to everyone watching.
One gunshot rung out into the air, hushing everyone for a brief second but Jerome indefinitely. He fell to the ground with blood squirting from his throat then Bonnie’s shrills broke the silence.
“Oh my God, please no. Please don’t take my daughters’ father,” Bonnie cried and yelled because of the moment. She fell down by Jerome’s side; but deep in her heart, she knew she truly wasn’t saddened. He’d been nothing but a get high partner, an abuser, and a monster to Savannah and Samantha. For all these years she’d been turning a blind eye but she no longer had to.
Those who stood by didn’t know what all the arguing was about; but they did continue to film and take pictures. The few who called the cops left the scene and would beg to differ on the truth if ever questioned by Banko or his soldiers. They even watched the skeptical crying scene Bonnie was putting on by Jerome’s side. Her thirst was real and even recorded when she stole the jewelry from his pockets and ran into the projects. She only cared about getting high and locking herself away in the short stay instead of going home to Savannah and Samantha as the only parent they had left.
Karma had caught up with Jerome. In his passing, he left two baby mommas, two daughters, Georgia Mae, who would just shook her head without sympathy and limp away with her cane, and a son he’d abandoned eleven years ago as a young boy.
“Oh my God, Banko, do you know what you’ve done?” Jumping on her brother’s back, Patrice was losing her mind in disbelief. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you kill him? Why? Why? Why?” Patrice was going hysterical smacking her brother upside the head and in his face. She didn’t care about the body on the ground; she only cared that her life was about to be over. If Banko went to jail behind murdering Jerome, the life he’d tried protecting her with in the first place would come to an end. “Who is gonna have my back now? Who is gonna hold up our family?” All Patrice saw was the end.
Everyone surrounding them had camera phones. By now, even social media had witnessed her brother kill a man in cold blood. There was no way Banko could deny he was a murderer if he wanted to. Although he was loved by fiends, he was hated by do-gooders of the community. They thrived on sending delinquents away. Banko didn’t blink a feeling of remorse or flinch when he heard police sirens from afar. He knew they were coming for him and that’s when the final wire in his brain snapped.
“Get the fuck off of me before I shoot ya ass next. I wouldn’t be out here going Rambo for a nigga if it weren’t for you in the first place.” Banko flung Patrice off him. Her body hit the pavement like a rag doll but that only knocked the breath from her lungs momentarily. “I’ll kill anybody who goes against me. I told his black ass to stay away from here back in the day or I’d kill him; and I meant just that. Who in the fuck was this nigga to test me? I bet he’ll listen now,” Banko spat. He was uncontrollable or at least he thought he was.
Patrice looked up from the pavement in total disbelief that her brother had spoken and treat
ed her so foul to her and in front of so many people. The two things that kept their bond tight was trust and love. But now she saw Banko’s love was only for control and respect. As the sirens got closer, she turned toward Rello with sorrowful eyes. She was trying to say, “You’re all I’ve got left.”
Rello didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t believe he was staring at his father bleeding out on the pavement with a gunshot to the neck. He looked around at the crowd, at his mom, at his uncle, then down at his ticking Rolex.
“What the fuck is up, nephew? You got a problem? Some words you wanna get off ya chest about me killing ya pops in cold blood?”
The crowd stood in shock. Banko, Patrice, and Rello had always been the cream of the crop of the projects, but today they were no different from all the other families who were broken apart by dark lies, drugs, and drama.
“Naw, Unc, you call ’em like you see ’em and the coward had to die.” Rello shrugged his shoulders.
No one knew his intentions but everyone was in shock when Rello walked over to the dead body of his father and poured a few drops of Hennessy over his face. With the glass bottle of Hennessy clutched tightly, he took it back and guzzled every last drop until the bottle was bone dry. He could barely stand by the time he took the rim from his lips. If the man I’m growing to represent just got killed by the hand of my uncle I’m sure my uncle will have no problem killing me. Seeing the red, white, and blue flashing sirens a few blocks away, Rello geared up to make a coward move. With as much energy as he could muster up, he took six quick steps toward Banko and slammed the bottle against the side of his face.
“All right, girl, you can hit me up later or whatever but you’ve gotta get out. I’ve witnessed enough and the cops are coming. I’m not trying to be around when they pull up.” The driver nudged Star again.
“Do yourself a favor and quit whining. You can pull ya dick back out so I can start jacking it.” Star reached over into the taxi driver’s pants. “I need to go pick my sisters up from daycare then get dropped off to my apartment. I can guarantee you a few good nuts.”
The cab driver hurried to unbuckle his pants. Wherever the girl needed to go, he’d take her as long as her hand was in his lap. He was well aware that she was using him, but he was using her too.
Before they pulled off, Star witnessed Rello slam a bottle against Banko’s head then take two bullets to his back when he turned to run. She didn’t know if he’d live or not, hustle or not, or if they’d ever reconcile. What she did know was that he was no good to her now and she was on to the next.
Notes
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Shipping and handling-add $3.50 for 1st book, then $1.75 for each additional book.
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ORDER FORM
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Shipping and handling-add $3.50 for 1st book, then $1.75 for each additional book.
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Shipping and handling-add $3.50 for 1st book, then $1.75 for each additional book.
Please send a check payable to:
Urban Books, LLC
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ORDER FORM
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97 N. 18th Street
Wyandanch, NY 11798
Shipping and handling-add $3.50 for 1st book, then $1.75 for each additional book.
Please send a check payable to:
Urban Books, LLC
Please allow 4–6 weeks for delivery
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Girls From da Hood 10
Treasure Hernandez, Blake Karrington, T.C. Littles
Copyright © 2015 Urban Books, LLC
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Girls From Da Hood 10 Page 38