by Lady J
For The Love of a Goon: A Miami Hood Love Story 2
By Lady J
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© 2016
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
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All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
One
As the cab drew closer to North West 12th Avenue, Meek couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. He was a wreck, but at the same time he tried to hold himself together on the outside. He wanted to scream out in anger, and he had the urge to rip a nigga’s head off with his bare hands. When the cab slowed down and stopped at the emergency entrance of University of Miami Hospital, he quickly reached into his pocket, tossed the fare at the driver, then hopped out and ran to the doors.
In the lobby, he stopped at the information desk. Once he found out where his brother was, he ran to the elevators and impatiently rode up to the fifth floor. When the doors parted, Meek sprang from the elevator. He walked the halls, turning his head from left to right, reading the information signs strung up on the hospital walls. He strolled past the waiting room and stopped when he heard a female voice yell out his name.
Moe jumped up from her chair and ran into his arms. She hugged him so tight, as if it was for the very last time. When she released him, he lifted his hands and wiped the tears that had soaked her entire face. As he looked around the small waiting area, Trent was holding onto Carmen, who was crying like a baby, and Roshel’s mother was sitting quietly in the corner with a stream of tears running down her face.
“What happened? Where’s my little brother?” He finally spoke after taking everything in. “What’s Ms. Jay doing here?” he whispered, tilting his head toward Roshel’s mother.
Moe stared up at him silently. She didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news to her fiancé. She was heartbroken herself behind the two tragic events that had happened all in the very same day. Just an hour after Carmen had called for help, Trent had called to inform her of Nino’s shooting; they were both rushed to the same hospital.
“Baby, you might want to sit down.” Moe gently took his hand.
“No, tell me what’s going on, Moe,” Meek demanded, refusing to take a seat.
“He didn’t make it, Meek,” she replied weakly before wrapping her arms around him again. Moe cried out as it hit her that Ro just might not make it either. “Ro’s in a coma, she tried to take her own life.” She sobbed uncontrollably as she spoke.
Meek stood still as her words pierced his heart like someone had stuck a knife straight through it. This was it; the nightmare that had been haunting him was playing out right before his eyes, but he never thought it would’ve been Nino. He slowly released himself from Moenisha’s grip and backed away, leaving the room. He ran down the hall and found the room he was looking for. Meek watched through the window as the hospital staff pulled the tubes and IVs from Nino’s body as they attempted to clean him up. Meek busted into the room and slowly walked up to his brother.
“Sir, you can’t be in here,” one of the nurses stated.
Meek paid her no attention as he stared down at his little brother’s lifeless body on the operating table. The holes in his chest were as big as golf balls. Nino wouldn’t have made it after the first two blows to the chest. In all, he had been shot seven times, and had died on the operating table just fifteen minutes before Meek had arrived. He stood there with the emptiest feeling inside. It was like his soul had left his body as well. Besides his mother and Moe, Nino was the only other person he would trade his life for. He was his little brother and the closest person to him. They hid nothing from each other, and had been that way since they were juvies coming up in the hood.
“Wake up, lil bro.” Meek grabbed Nino’s shoulder and shook him. “Nino, get up,” he said as reality hit him that his little brother was gone forever.
Meek collapsed to his knees as he shed tears for his brother. Nothing had never hurt him more than to see Nino in that state. The hardest thing he’d ever have to do would be to leave the hospital, knowing his brother was lying up in there dead. He couldn’t gather enough strength to get himself off of the floor. His legs started to feel like dead weight, and all he could do was let his tears flow. At that moment, he felt as if his world would end.
The staff helped him to his feet. He was disoriented and confused. Meek didn’t want to leave the room. As he was forced out by the staff, he let out a loud, unruly roar as the beast inside of him erupted from within. He punched the walls, ripped the framed photos off, and tossed them to the ground. Trent and Moe both ran out into the hall at the sound of Meek’s voice. She felt his pain as he screamed out. Trent ran down the hallway and grabbed Meek. He put him in a bear hug and held him tightly until he seemed to calm.
“We gon’ get them motherfuckers, blood,” Trent said as his own tears poured from his bloodshot eyes.
Moe stood back and watched helplessly as the scene unfolded. She wasn’t sure what to do or say to Meek at the moment. She felt his pain as he cried out loud on Trent’s shoulder. It was truly a nightmare come true.
Moe closed her eyes and prayed for the strength to get through this without breaking. She knew she had to be strong for Meek and Carmen. She re-opened her eyes, sighed heavily, then stepped to Meek and Trent.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” She reached up and pushed Meek’s long dreads back from his face. “He’s in a much better place. Now, maybe he can rest.”
Meek gently took her hand in his, then turned and left the hospital.
All that night, Meek laid around in bed, unable to get the images of his brother out of his head. He was deeply traumatized by the open chest wounds and the huge amount of blood that had leaked all over the floor. Not only that, the phone call from Trent still echoed in his head, as if he had just gotten the call. The flashbacks of himself and his brother growing up as kids began to come back to back as he silently let his tears flow. Meek had never shed tears over anything or anyone; he was always so hard. But after losing his best friend, he couldn’t hold them back.
Meek clearly envisioned himself giving his little brother piggy back rides through the hallway of the small two-bedroom apartment in the projects they shared with their mother. He then flashed back to the first time he ever put a gun in Nino’s hand and taught him how to aim and shoot. Meek couldn’t help but to blame himself for leading his brother down a path of destruction. If it wasn’t for him turning Nino into a street nigga, he would still be alive today.
The guilt was killing Meek as he popped up from the bed and sat straight up. Moe sat up also and turned on the lamp beside the bed. “You good, baby?” she asked as she softly rubbed his back.
“Yeah, I’m good. Go back to sleep, Moe.
Moe lay down and watched him as he got up from the bed and turned on the light in their closet. Meek grabbed a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie. He swiftly put the jeans and hoodie on over his boxers and wife beater, then stepped into a pair of black Timberland boots. Meek grabbed a black duffle bag from the top shelf and headed out of the bedroom. In the living room, he took a seat on the sofa and called Trent.
“Yo,” Trent answered, just as wide awake as Meek was in the middle of the night.
“Suit up,” was all Meek replied t
hen hung up.
Moe could hear the loading of bullets and the cocking noises from her bedroom as Meek prepared for a mission. She wanted to get out of the bed and stop him, but she knew that no matter what she said, there was nothing she could do to stop him or make him stay. His mind was already made up, and this was just how hood niggas handled their beef in the streets of Miami. Where Meek was from, it was kill or be killed, an eye for an eye, and he was out for blood. At that moment, he didn’t care who he had to lay down. Somebody was about to feel his pain.
Moe listened as the front door opened, then the sound of him locking it with his key from the outside. She got out of bed and walked to the bedroom window just in time to see him pulling away in her car. Damn! she thought. She knew what was about to happen, and all she could do was hope that he made it back home to her unharmed. She made her way back over to the bed and lay down. Moe tried to rest, but she couldn’t fight the urge to pick up the phone and call Meek.
“What’s up, ma?” he answered.
“Be careful, whatever you do. See you when you get home. I love you, baby,” she finished.
“Always?” Meek asked.
“Always,” she replied, then the line clicked.
She was at peace for the moment as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Two
Random thoughts of bloodshed invaded Trent’s mind. He wanted whoever was responsible for pulling the trigger on Nino dead. He sat on the front porch of his girlfriend’s house, trying to get his mind right before Meek arrived. He lifted the bottle of Hennessey to his mouth and took a long deep gulp. He then put his blunt to his lips and hit it a few times. He was just as dazed and confused by it all as Meek was, but one thing he knew was that it was time to catch another body.
Trent was by far the most gangster of them all. He was a few years older than Meek and had been in the streets all his life. He had pulled countless licks in his younger years before he started selling dope. It was like he was born with this hood shit in his blood. Ever since he first stepped off the porch, he had been a goon. He never chose this life; it chose him.
At the sight of Meek pulling into the driveway, he snatched up his bottle of Hen and headed for the passenger side of the car. “Blood, what it do?” he asked, hopping into the front seat. “You good, homie?”
Meek waited until Trent was inside then backed out of the driveway. “Hell no, fam,” he stated honestly. He wasn’t okay at all, and probably would never be the same after losing his brother.
“Do you know where these clowns hang out at?” Meek asked.
“On the East side. Them niggas be over there at Twan’s spot on 3rd,” Trent replied, re-sparking his half smoked blunt then passing it to Meek after only two hits.
He was secretly excited to be going on this mission. He just couldn’t wait to put one in a nigga’s head for what they did to Nino. He was like his little brother too.
“All them weak ass niggas gotta go. We wiping the whole spot out,” Meek said as he hit the gas and flew to the East side of Miami.
When they pulled up at their location, Meek turned off the lights, but left the car running. He reached over his seat and collected his duffle bag full of weapons. He opened it and pulled out a AR 15 then clipped the hundred round drum in the bottom and turned his attention to Trent.
“You strapped, right?” he asked before they made their move.
“And you know it, man!” Trent lifted his Tech-9 up just enough for Meek to see he was ready to go to work.
He lifted his shirt at the same time with his other hand, showing off the .45 he had tucked away in the waistband of his black Robin Jeans. He took the extended clip out of his right pocket and pushed it up into his gun.
“You ready to get into some gangsta shit, lil bro?” he asked, pulling the two ski masks he had rolled up in his left pocket out.
He handed one to Meek, then put the other one over his head. Meek slipped on his mask and nodded his head, signaling he was ready to go. Trent double checked himself once more before he and Meek both opened their doors and crept up on the lawn of the old run down house. There were two cars parked in the yard, and from what Meek and Trent could see, the lights were on in the front room of the home. Trent made his way up to the porch and tried to peep in the window.
“I can’t see shit,” he whispered to Meek, who was standing at the steps of the house.
He lowered his head and tried to focus on the voices he heard coming from the inside. “It sounds like about two or three of them.” Trent lifted his head and asked, “We going in?”
“Damn right,” Meek said on his way up the steps.
He lifted his long powerful legs and abruptly kicked the door in. As soon as the door flew off the hinges, he upped his AR and started to shoot. The two men sitting in the front room scrambled, falling over each other, trying to shield themselves from bodily harm. Meek released the trigger and lowered the AR down by his side. The dust from the cocaine on the table had clouded the room, and for a minute, he couldn’t see a thing.
“Well, well,” Trent said once the dust cleared. “Ain’t you two the same mother fuckers who got away from me the other day?” he asked the two trembling men balled up on the floor. “Fam, these the same two clowns who tried to hit our spot last week. Somebody’s missing, where that other fuck nigga at? And all we wanna know is which one of y’all pulled the trigger on our lil’ brother,” He asked calmly as if he wasn’t there to kill them.
The men talked over each other, trying to tell Trent what he wanted to know. “Shut that shit up! I can’t understand y’all. One at a time, bitch ass niggas.”
“It’s just the two of us. He’s not here. He’s the one who killed your people. Please don’t shoot us, mane, it wasn’t us.” One of the guys whined from the floor.
“What’s his name and where can I find him?” Meek asked.
As the man shouted out a name and address, Trent pulled out his cell phone and noted it. He stuck his phone back into the pocket of his jeans then turned his Tech on the two men on the floor. “Thanks guys. You fellas have been amazing this evening. Too bad I gotta blast y’all ass.”
He stepped back about five inches then pulled the trigger, letting the bullets fly at close range. He twisted up his face as the blood splattered from their bodies and splashed on his cheek. He then turned, grabbed Meek, and jetted out of the busted up front door.
Once they had piled back into the car, Trent asked, “We going to get that nigga tonight?”
“No, we gon’ surprise that fool. He gon’ be expecting us once he finds out about his homies being smoked. He’ll try to hide, but as long as we have his girl’s address, finding his ass shouldn’t be a problem,” Meek said.
“No, fuck that shit, Meek. I say we go over to that bitch house and smoke him and his girl right the fuck now.” Trent said, overheated and ready to bust on the next nigga. He rambled on as he reloaded his Tech. “Why not just gone off his ass and get it over with?” he finally finished.
“Because, It’s almost five a.m. By the time we make it over there it’ll be daybreak. Who ever gets away with bodying a nigga in broad daylight?” Meek gave him a look as if he was waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, you’re right, fam. Just take me back to my girl’s crib. We’ll get that fool tomorrow night,” Trent said.
Meek dropped Trent off, waited until he was inside, and then pulled off. He quietly rode home with just his thoughts. He didn’t give a damn about the young men he and Trent had just sent to an early grave; he was angrier than ever. He wanted the one who pulled the trigger and ended his brother’s life. It was no longer about the robberies, the drugs, or anyone else, he had to do this in the name of Nino.
On the other hand, Meek really wanted to know why. Why was his little brother the target when he and Trent were the ones running the streets? What could Nino have done that was so bad to make them want him dead? He wanted answers. He knew he’d had some trouble with a few niggas in the past, but
he would have never thought it would come to this.
Meek pulled Moe’s car up behind his truck and turned off the engine. He sat there with his mind running in circles. Everything in him screamed him that something was going on that he didn’t know about. He started to question all the wrong things his brother could’ve done to piss these guys off. He tried hard to remember some of the conversations he’d had with Nino prior to him getting killed. The only beef he knew his brother to have was with this punk out of Fountain Heights projects over a trifling ass female they both were in a relationship with. That was the only thing he knew his brother to be involved in.
Meek had a lingering feeling that there was something bigger that his brother had hidden from him that had led to his demise. He wondered if Nino could’ve robbed them and done something even worse. The unsettling feeling of him dying without answers was eating him up as he cracked the car window just enough to let a cool breeze in. He lifted the ski mask he had in his lap and wiped the sweat from his face, then folded it back up and tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie.
In the driver’s seat, he peered up at the sun that had just begun to rise. Smiling from the feeling of knowing Nino was probably looking down on him at that very moment, he let his head fall back on the head rest and just watched as the beautiful night sky turned into morning.
“Yo, I know how we can get moms up out of here,” Nino said as he and Meek sat out on the roof top of their apartment building.
“Oh, word? Look at you trying to make moves and shit. How then, since you know?” Meek teased him as the two passed a Black and Mild cigar back and forth to each other. It was dead in the middle of summer, and the rays from the sun burned into their skin. Nino had on a pair of cargo shorts with his t-shirt tied around his head to catch the trail of sweat dripping down his face. Meek had on a wife beater, a pair of gym shorts, and his mother’s favorite house shoes.