by Leo Sullivan
“What the fuck!!” The other killer yelled in disbelief as I kicked the gun so that it was far away from him. “I’m gonna kill your little ass!” He squirmed around like he was trying to get up, but he was bleeding out.
I hit the hall light so he could see me before I stood over him. “You killed my moms and pops. I wanted you to see my face before I send you to hell.” I squeezed the trigger and put two bullets in his head. Those two fucks were my first two bodies, but they wouldn’t be my last.
I picked up the phone and called Uncle Pete. He would know what to do next. After I explained what had happened to him he was shocked.
“What the fuck young buck? I’ll be right over,” he had said.
He rushed over and we went over a story to tell the police officers. The story was that someone had broken into the house and out of fear I called Unc who only lived a few blocks away. When he got there the door was open and he came inside. After he found his sister and brother in law’s bodies he went upstairs to check on me and Merlia. Once he was on the second floor he saw the two men about to enter Merlia’s room. When he was in my parents’ bedroom he remembered the registered gun that was in the drawer. He used that gun to shoot and kill the two men. Neither of us knew who they were or why they were there.
Of course the police had their suspicions about why the murder had happened. They wrote it off as a robbery gone wrong being that they didn’t have evidence of anything otherwise. My father and Uncle Pete were infamous on the streets as gang leaders and the cops were aware of that. They could never pin any charges on them though and called them the “Teflon Brothers.”
All I knew was that day had changed my life forever. I was sad about the murder of my parents, but it had made me cold and fearless. I couldn’t wait to take over and lead the Cues. It would be like nothing the city of Atlanta had ever seen before.
Chapter 1
May 1991
School had just let out and it was a few days before Memorial Day weekend. I slipped my feet into a fresh white pair of Air Force Ones and then put a white A snap back over my black wave cap. I sported a low cut although it was the era of the high top fade. To keep up with the time I did have a curve part cut in the front. I was on my pretty boy thug shit back then, so I had to keep it true to my personal style. I was like the LL Cool J of ATL with the ladies and he didn’t sport a damn box.
The phone line in my bedroom rang and I knew that it was Ace. He had already paged me a couple times, but I was on the phone with a hottie I had met on the block a couple weeks ago. Her name was Niley, which was a weird name, but I liked it.
She was a sexy petite with wide hips to be only 16. I especially loved her smooth mocha complexion, pretty eyes and deep dimples. She was originally from Brooklyn, NY and had moved to ATL right before school had closed. Being that she was from up top, she was already out for the summer. I loved her sassiness. Lil’ ma had more mouth than the chicken heads from my hood, but her accent made that shit sexy as fuck.
I picked up the phone. “Yo’, what’s up homey?”
“Ain’t shit,” he said with some loud ass NWA joint pumping in the back ground. “You goin’ to Quent’s pool party tomorrow right?”
“Damn skippy mufucka. I’m there,” I said as I grabbed my pager and clipped it to my light blue Guess Jeans.
“A’ight nigga. I’m headed to the park and shit. You already know what it is. Them hoes ready and willing my homey. This money got ‘em beggin’,” he laughed.
I chuckled. A nigga was only sixteen, but I had already seen more than most men decades older. My birthday was in August and I would be a senior in high school the following school year. To say that the life I lived made me wise beyond my years could pretty much sum things up. After what I had seen and done, there was no trace of a childhood left.
“I’ll meet you out there man,” I said and hung up.
* * *
My grandparents on my father’s side had disowned him for marrying a black woman, so we never knew that side of the family. My mother and Uncle Pete’s father had walked out on them when they were very young and their mother had died when I was a baby from cancer. After our parents were killed Uncle Pete sold the house and took me and Merlia in. He wasn’t married to Aunt Ramona yet, but when they got married she fell into the role of mother naturally. She didn’t have her own children, so she treated us like we were biologically hers. I couldn’t ask for a better person to fill in for my mom. No one would ever take her place, but it was nice to have someone who was close.
We had moved to Decatur into a nice, big brick house on McAfee Rd. It was a less than fifteen minute drive to the city, so I didn’t mind the move. Unlike Lakeshore, McAfee wasn’t far from the hood. I learned early that the streets had a strong hold on me. The rush of being out there in the middle of the action was a rush stronger than any drug; even pussy.
It was like I was a young hood star and the city was in the palm of my hands. Knowing my destiny boosted my ego and caused me to be a cocky lil’ nigga. I knew that Uncle Pete was getting close to OG status and it would be my turn to run shit soon. I was already shining, but soon the glow from a nigga would be blinding them fools. I was ready for my moment to be ATL’s next street king. Uncle Pete was currently clutching the title and he wasn’t letting it go for shit. Not until he passed the baton to me. When he did I was going to take off running with that shit.
When I pulled up to Longdale Park the spot was flooded with cars, niggas flossing and mad flyy honeys. My head was spinning as I took in bare thighs in short shorts and belly buttons in midriff tops. A nigga’s hormones were crazy out of control as I thought about getting between some legs. Shit, I had plenty of them to choose from.
There was a DJ spinning some hot tunes, grills burning, basketball games jumping off and lots of wild teenagers. I loved my city because niggas knew how to have a good ass time. We were young, reckless and ready to get into some shit. I slowly pulled my whip into one of the few empty parking spaces and got out. All eyes were on my hot ass black 5.0 with Dayton rims. The hate dripped from the niggas and the love poured from the bitches.
As I leaned on my ride I spotted Ace, Mont and Tre approaching. They were my ride or dies for life. I had been close to Mont and Ace since elementary, but we had bought Tre into the crew when he moved from Florida two years ago. When that nigga popped those jack boys last summer I knew he was a soldier. They had tried to sneak up with their guns drawn when I was pushing my red Mustang with the white racing stripes. He was in the back and let off both his pieces on them niggas. They hit the pavement and we peeled off. My nigga was growing into a cold blooded killer and I knew he would be an asset to the Cues. Uncle Pete was training us for the take over and we were living for it. In the meantime we would enjoy what remnants of a youth we had left before that shit became official.
My boys pounded me up and we started politicking. As I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun, I saw Niley’s fine ass stepping out of the passenger side of a pimped out, white, old school box Chevy.
“Ain’t that yo’ piece right there?” Ace asked nudging me in the side.
“Yeah, I thought you was pushin’ up on that,” Mont chimed in when that lame ass nigga El got out from the driver’s side.
I smacked my teeth at the sight of that fool. Our pops were beefing back in the day because of the drug game and the fact that my old man had got more respect on the streets. Cuban or not, Cue was the man and El’s pops couldn’t take it. The inferiority he felt was thought to be the reason behind my parents’ murders. A war between the Cues and the Kings went on for years, but a truce was finally in place. That was only because the Kings had waved the white flag when El’s dad got hit in the back with some shells that left him paralyzed from the waist down. There were also a lot of bodies on their side. After my pops died Pete was the next in line to reign until the rightful heir could take over.
That nigga El was my nemesis and like every other superhero, I guess I had to have
one. We had been rivals seen the day we found out about one another. It didn’t matter if it was girls, territory, or who was the richest. No matter what, we were in competition. So far that nigga was winning the first round for Niley. My plan was to scoop her fine ass up before he could hit. Yeah, it was about to be a TKO out that mug.
“Yo’, lil’ mama’s bad as hell,” Mont said with his eyes glued to Niley’s curvy frame. “You gon’ let El bag her?”
She was sporting a stone washed jean romper and a pair of pink high top Reebok Princess kicks with the Velcro straps. Her hair was cut like Salt N Pepa were her idols. That asymmetrical do with the blonde in the front was that shit. The northern flavor she brought to the table made her irresistible to me and I had to have her. It wasn’t just because I wanted her. Part of it was because I didn’t want El to have her. No, correction. I didn’t want El to have her first. I couldn’t let him show me up in front of my homeys.
I smirked at Mont like he should’ve known better. “If she like lames that’s on her.” As I shrugged my shoulders they laughed and slapped each other five. “If she wants a real man, then I’m right here. I’ll let her choose. I ain’t bought to sweat ol’ girl for no play.”
“Word,” Ace said as he put a pair of shades on. My dude was cool as a fan. He always had that calm, laid back swag about him. It was like we balanced each other out. I was closest to him out of all my boys. It was like I was fire and he was ice. I lit him up when he was too damn lax and he chilled me out when I was over the top. It had always been that way.
Mont was the one I could always count on to do my dirty work. He just wanted to be down so bad that he would do anything I asked. He had the leader in him, but he knew when to bow down. His loyalty was like nothing I had ever seen before. That nigga was always ready to hustle rain, sleet, or snow. He knew that sleep wouldn’t make him no money. That nigga also knew that the early bird got the worm and it wasn’t nothing out at night but cops and jack boys.
I had found out in a short time that Tre was a natural born killer. When he shot those niggas he didn’t even flinch. My instinct to kill was there too, but Tre had some kind of need for it. It was like he was trying to redeem his soul by taking them. It was more of a sport for him than anything else. Once he had a taste of blood he was ready for more. He talked about killing niggas like it was a simple hunting trip. I didn’t even take murder that lightly. We were young, but each of us were dark. We were all missing one parent, or in my case, both. The void was a lot to fill, so we did dumb shit not to feel.
I pulled a joint from behind my ear and lit it up. The sweet aroma of the weed wafted around my head as I blew the smoke out. After taking about three more tokes I passed it to Ace. My eyes settled on Niley who had drifted off toward a picnic table. El was off with some of the members of the Kings. We all often chilled in the same neutral areas without getting into any shit, but maybe some kind of summer chaos was due to liven things up.
Mont coughed before giving Tre the blunt.
“You a’ight man?” I asked finally peeling my eyes away from the flyy girl I wanted for the night. She wasn’t going anywhere. I would get her later. “Can’t handle the cannabis?” I teased.
Mont grilled me. “Don’t try to play me man. Keep clockin’ El’s girl and shit like you been doin’ since she got out the car.”
I laughed sarcastically. “For real homey? You mad ‘cause I called you out?”
He just shook his head without saying another word. Mont did not want to go back and forth with me. He wasn’t going to win.
Saving Sierra by Leo Sullivan and Karmel Divine
Coming Soon…
CHAPTER ONE: DESPERATE TIMES
A fuchsia colored sky hung low over the horizon, embellished by a cluster of ominous black clouds that held me spellbound as I stared up in wonder. Not just in awe at the universe, but at what I was about to do for Sierra. As far as I was concerned, I really didn’t have much of a choice, it was that or death.
Me and my Uncle Ray had been sitting idle for nearly ten minutes inside a smoke-filled, stolen Chevy with the ignition guts hanging out from the damage the dent puller had done. We had splacked the car earlier the morning from a parking lot.
A billow of smoke hung around Uncle Ray’s head like a halo as he puffed on the blunt and spoke. “Listen Nephew, as soon as we walk in, I will approach the teller. You just stay posted at the door, when I announce ‘this is a hold up, everybody freeze’.” My Uncle turned to me with a purposeful scowl and said, “Don’t let no muhfuckin' body walk in or out that door, if they do, you start blasting they ass! Na'mean?”
All I could do was nod my head, yes. I didn’t trust my voice to speak. I pressed my hand hard down on my lap to stop my leg from shaking. I was just that scared. At twenty-two years old, I was about to do my first robbery, and it was a bank robbery.
Actually, it all came about by accident, well sort of. I was supposed to be the driver of the get-a-way car. Steve and my Uncle were supposed to go inside the bank. Then something happened with Steve, he never showed up for the job. All my Uncle would say, with a malicious grin was “Steve had an emergency.”
“You alright nigga?” My uncle asked as if seeing me for the first time.
“Yea.” I lied as I watched a white lady walk her dog from a distance. A tempestuous clap of thunder erupted in the sky, threatening rain. He passed me the blunt.
“Puff on that, you look scared then a muhfucka.” He gibed.
I was scared, and if anybody would know, my uncle Ray would. He was my favorite Uncle, my mother's younger brother. He was also the black sheep of the Family. At thirty eight years old, he had spent over half his life in prison.
When I was two, he taught me how to tie my shoe laces; he taught me how to ride a bike at four years old. He would also get me drunk or we would get blunted at one of his many chicks’ crib. My Uncle got me my first piece of pussy when I was twelve years old. So it was a no brainer to come to him for help. I needed seventy-five thousand dollars to save Sierra. With no hesitation, my Uncle put me on the lick, but I was only supposed to be the driver not a gunman.
“Shit.” I hissed, disgruntled. He gave me a long sideways look that said, ‘nigga don't punk out on me’. I was not a bank robber, but I was broke and I needed the money. The only crime I had ever committed was selling a little weed and pills while I was in high school. We were not rich, but my mom was a school teacher. I was the only child. She gave birth to me when she was fifteen years old and named me Bryce Wilson after my grandfather who was dead. Everyone said I was handsome just like him. I could have gone to college on a football scholarship; instead I got a hustle using my charm on chicks to make a living. Then the recession hit and chicks started asking me for money.
__________
8:54 a.m., I glanced at my watch. In six minutes, we would be entering the bank. The traffic on the main thoroughfare, Tennessee Street was dense. We were parked outside of the Wells Fargo Bank in the rear parking lot. My gut feeling was telling me to back out and I was seriously thinking about it.
Uncle Ray reached into the green army duffle bag on the floor and retrieved the oldest, raggediest double barreled sawed off shot gun I had ever seen.
“Huh, Nephew.” He said passing me the shot gun.
I hesitated, he saw it and read me like a page in a book and said menacingly, “nigga remember I told you Steve had an emergency?”
“Yea,” I said meekly.
“The emergency was da nigga backed out on me doing this caper, so I slumped his punk ass, making him an emergency to his family when somebody find him in the dumpster on Alabama Street.”
“You did what Unc!” My jaw dropped. I knew he was serious. That explained what looked like blood on his shirt. I grabbed the shotgun. He smiled slyly, with his top lip sneered. In the distance, a fire truck siren blared. Both of us stalled and stared at the lady with the dog walking by. This time she looked at us suspiciously as she passed.
“Young Nigga,
we finna be rich, it should be close to a mill in this bitch. Two hundred stacks for you and the rest for me.” He smiled with a gloating grin.
I didn't even bother to correct him about the math as it related to our split, because I knew my uncle was a goon. He had taken guys on licks and once they pulled the caper off, he would rob them. Besides, all I really needed was seventy five thousand dollars for Sierra.
“No matter what happens, I ain't going back to the chain gang. I'd rather be carried by six than judged by twelve. Them crackas gonna hav'ta take me out in a fuckin body bag, before I do another bid. We walking out that bank together with all that cheddar. Na'mean nephew?”
All I could do was look at that raggedly ass shotgun and nod my head yes once again.
9:00 am
“Showtime, young nigga!” He exclaimed excitedly. I felt my heart ricochet across my ribcage. He reached into the duffle bag and passed me a pair of latex gloves and a President Obama Halloween Mask.
“Wha- da-?” I started before he interrupted.
“Nigga we got a black president! I’m tired of wearing them dead presidents crackas mask when I’m doing a caper. It’s time to represent our race, the original black man. The cream of the crop.” He said in an evangelical voice like one of them chain gang preachers. This time Uncle Ray came out of prison a Muslim. He had also turned into a ghetto philosopher. My mom said he was burned out extra crispy in the brains department. As I looked at that raggedy ass shotgun I was starting to believe her.
“No matter what you do, don't take them damn gloves and the mask off until we make a clean getaway out the bank.”
“Okay.” I said solemnly. All the while, I could feel my stomach grow tight; churning and twisting like I was getting one of them shit cramps. He reached for the chopper and the duffle bag just as a little old lady pulled up beside us in a blue caddy. We stepped out the car, and into the realm of the unknown. Men on a mission. I was headed to the point of no return.