A Hood Legend

by Victor L. Martin

  “I ... I’m the nigga dat floss on dem dub deuce twinkies,” he said taking another pull on the coke-laced weed. He smoked half the blunt before putting it out. He felt damn good. There was money in the stash spot, coke was cut and now being shipped to its buyers and a new whip was sitting in the driveway next to his Escalade EXT—both on chrome. He thought of Tina, wishing he could see her one more time. “Silly- ass bitch!”

  Menage stopped and ran his fingers across the crash bar of DJ’s candy red Escalade. Next to it sat a platinum Corvette C-5 convertible with a kit. He didn’t recognize either vehicle, but he figured that one of them was DJ’s and the other belonged to company. He patted his leg, calling Vapor, and walked up to the door and rang the bell.

  DJ was in the kitchen warming up pizza and talking on the phone with some young girl that just finished school and thought he was God’s gift. She already had a threesome with him, and she found the experience pleasing and fascinating. The older woman that he brought to the hotel did things to her that had her trembling and drained by the end of the day, and she owed it all to DJ.

  “Hold on a sec,” DJ said sighing angrily. He laid the phone on the table as he went to the door. He left the phone just in case it was another girl, even though he told them to always call first. But the coke, weed, and glass of Remy had him slipping. Convincing himself that it was a girl, he smiled and adjusted his erection in a way that caused a print; maybe it was a booty call. He flung open the door without asking who it was or looking through the peephole. His high quickly vanished as he stumbled back and fell on his ass. Menage stood in the doorway with hate in his eyes and gripped his Glock 9 behind his leg. Vapor sprinted into the apartment baring his fangs, emitting a low, deep growl. DJ’s teeth chattered and his bladder became weak, warming his midsection.

  * * *

  Myrmidon walked into the small cabin with a tray of warm food for Chandra. Closing the door with his foot, he set the tray on a table in the corner.

  “I’ll take the cuffs off so you can eat,” he said reaching into his back pocket for the key. “And don’t bother trying to escape; I doubt you can swim thirty miles to shore—not to mention the sharks. Anyway, I’m not a babysitter but you will talk to no one but me.”

  When the cuffs came off, Chandra rubbed her swollen wrists and tenderly touched the bruise near her hairline.

  “There’s a first-aid kit under the sink in the bathroom ... I’ll check on you later.” As quickly as he entered the cabin he was gone.

  She listened to him lock the door from the outside. Maybe she could find a weapon—swimming was out of the question. She slowly made her way to the small bathroom and looked in the mirror. She was beyond tears now, so what she saw had no major effect on her. Her left eye was sealed shut. Searching for some pain pills, she suddenly realized that she was topless and her skirt was halfway torn from her body. She took off her ripped panties and tossed them in the trash. After searching the drawers back in the small room, she found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. They would have to do for now. After cleaning herself up as best as she could, she tried to stomach the food that was left for her; she needed the energy to go on. She kept telling herself over and over to be strong but she felt so scared, so alone. She faintly called out Menage’s name and wished it were all a dream. She prayed for herself and her child until she curled up on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

  * * *

  “Yo, son, what the hell wrong wit’ you?” Menage said putting away his Glock 9. “Easy, boy,” he said giving Vapor a quick rub to calm him down. He walked into the apartment and reached out his hand to help DJ up off the floor.

  “You ... you ... y-you,” DJ stuttered as he stood up on rubber legs. He paid no attention to his pissy jeans. “Now dis some shit,” said DJ lost for words.

  “But yo, nigga, we need to talk. And it’s a long story.”

  They stepped into the living room and Menage frowned his nose at the odd smell in the air. DJ, still shook, sat down—pissy jeans and all. As Menage told him about Felix’s secret plan, DJ looked at him like he was a ghost. Vapor growled repeatedly at DJ and bared his fangs every time he looked at him. Finally the story was coming to an end.

  “So, man,” Menage said looking off in the distance, “somebody got my girl and don’t nobody know a fuckin’ thing.” He covered his face with his hands and muttered something that DJ couldn’t understand.

  “So ... you been outta the hospital since ... Friday?” Menage nodded his head yes. “Uh ... so what you gonna do now, I mean—”

  “DJ, fuck the chop shop, the dough, fuck all that shit; I’m out the game. I just want my shorty back, yo.” Then he asked DJ if he had company after remembering the two cars out front.

  “Nah, not yet, but I got this chick coming over tonight. What’s up?”

  “Nothing really. I just peeped the two rides out front.”

  “Oh, yeah. I got the truck last week and the ’Vette yesterday.”

  Menage’s mind was on other things besides asking DJ where he got the dough for the whips outside. DJ told him that he could crash in the spare room down the hall. He finally noticed after going to his room that he had pissed his pants. Mad with himself for having allowed Menage to put fear in his heart, he punched the wall and cursed him. He knew that silly-ass Tina would have a fucking fit when she found out that Menage was alive and well. Fuck her. If Menage were out of the game, the chop shop would be his. He just hoped that no one would find out who was behind the two hits. His mind went back to Tina and how she would probably spill it all if she ever got caught in a trap. DJ pondered the possible repercussions of killing Tina while he was in the shower. What would Dwight do?

  Menage was in the back room lying across the bed. He was fully dressed with the light on while Vapor lay curled up on the floor. Menage couldn’t fully trust anyone and didn’t plan on changing that fact. He looked up at the ceiling with his hand behind his head under the pillow, gripping his glock. He tried his best to stay awake, thinking it would do some good to be up for Chandra’s sake. His mind said one thing, but his body said another. Sleep came easily and about half past midnight he awoke. He rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. He took off his holster and then his shirt. He walked out into the dark hallway to go to the bathroom when he bumped into someone and turned on the light.

  “Oh, shit,” said Lisa taking a step back. “Damn ... you scared me.”

  “My fault,” Menage said as Vapor poked his head between his legs to sniff Lisa. She looked at him from head to toe.

  “You must be DJ’s friend; he didn’t tell me your name. Is that your truck out front?” When she saw his bare chest and the fresh wounds, she instinctively reached out to touch him.

  “You need to put something on that. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Before Menage could stop her, she turned and went back down the hall. By the time he was done using the bathroom, Lisa was coming back down the hall. Menage wished she would just leave him alone. She followed him into the room with Vapor sniffing her feet.

  “Do he bite?” she asked.

  “Sit down, Vapor.” Vapor whined and retreated to the corner. Menage sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his shirt.

  “No, just lay back and I’ll put this on you,” she said holding a tube of ointment. Menage frowned. “Look, I’m a nurse and if you don’t keep that clean it can and will get real messy. Now lay back. It won’t take long.” Slowly he lay back, slipping a hand under the pillow behind his head.

  “So that’s your ride out front?” she asked again.

  “Yeah,” he said as she gently began applying the ointment to his chest.

  “Bullet wounds ... how many times were you hit?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, wishing she would shut up and finish.

  “Well, my name is Lisa.” She waited for him to say his name. “And yours?”

  “Menage,” he said looking at the ceiling. Lisa stopped rubbing the wounds, but her hands lay flat on his upper chest.
<
br />   “Something wrong?”

  “No ... uh ... the name is just ... one of a kind. It’s like menage ... you know that sex thang ...” she said, but stopped short when she saw that he didn’t crack a smile. She knew this couldn’t be the same Menage her cousin was stressed out about. He was in a coma. But Benita said he drove an Escalade—check ... had platinum teeth—check ... and said that he was fine as hell—double check! If Benita weren’t her cousin she’d run her hand down his firm stomach, follow his happy trail and see what he was packing between his legs. Hell, DJ was out cold.

  Menage snapped her out of her sexual vision. “Are you ’bout finished?”

  Lisa looked into his eyes and smiled. “Yes, but I’ll leave you a few packs to put on yourself when it gets dry again,” she said standing up and wiping her hands on a towel that she’d brought in with her.

  “No doubt, thanks,” he said getting up and following her to the door. She turned and hesitated.

  “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Menage didn’t reply. Lisa was telling him on the sly that if he wanted her to come back into his room she would ... there was just something about his eyes. He shot her down when the door gently closed in her face.

  Now back with DJ, she took off her uniform and got into bed. He was still asleep. So the hero’s alive and well, she thought to herself. She knew Benita would flip out once she told her about running into Menage. She sensed that he was in a foul mood and thought that maybe in the morning she’d tell him she and Benita were cousins. It’s odd though. Circles within circles—DJ, Dwight, Tina, Menage ... oh, well ... Lisa’s thoughts eased as she curled up next to DJ and called it a night.

  Sometime during the night, Menage left and went to stay on his speedboat that was tied up at Bayside. He buried his face into the pillow, murmuring Chandra’s name as he cried himself to sleep. He was finally learning the true meaning of love.

  * * *

  Detective Covington was home in bed with his wife. There hadn’t been any calls or leads about Chandra. Detective Hamilton was asleep in the guestroom. For some reason, they both knew that they’d need all the rest they could get.

  Chapter 8

  Song Cry

  Monday

  Bayside Pier–6:30 a.m.

  Menage sat in the cockpit of his speedboat watching the sunrise as Vapor was curled up asleep at his feet. He had just gotten off the phone with Felix. There was still no news about Chandra and he didn’t feel that there was anything good about that. He still felt helpless, but there was nothing he could do but wait. He tried to think of who would hold so much hate for him to try to kill him twice and then take his girl. DJ crossed his mind. He did blow up quick; maybe the chop shop had a good week or something.

  On his way from DJ’s apartment he had called Dough-Low and left a message on his voice mail. They were to meet at three, but until then he needed to be alone to think. He ran his tongue over his six platinum teeth and stared at the sun from behind his tinted Gucci shades. Spring break was already jumping off. Out on the pier, mostly white girls in skimpy bikini tops and thongs walked back and forth or rode by flashing their tits on crowded boats and jet skis. Vapor woke up just as two college girls walked up to Menage’s speedboat. They were astonished by its size and appearance and he could see that they were shocked to see him—a black man—sitting in the cockpit. Vapor ran to the stern, barking and growling viciously at them. They quickly headed in another direction. Menage took off his shades, squinting his eyes from the glare of the sun. It was going to be another hot day with a high of ninety-four.

  * * *

  Dwight lay wide-awake in bed with Tina. Last night was hell. He had told Tina he had a headache because Menage was on his mind, but it was really the guilt he felt inside because of what happened between he and Latosha. Tina had cooked a chateaubriand, double thick beef tenderloin steak for him, but he hardly touched it. She sensed a funny vibe and started to fuss with him about how he needed to get over Menage and get on with his own life. At one point he was going to tell her what he’d done, hoping their love was strong enough for her to understand. They ended up having very intense sex and when it was over, Tina had a big smile on her face and told him he needed to come home that way more often. She didn’t realize that her comment made him feel as if she wasn’t happy with his sexual performance in the past. But he didn’t know how to question her; he was the unfaithful one.

  “Shit,” Dwight said under his breath so as not to wake Tina. He thought of how he had sex with Latosha without using protection. He thought that maybe she was on the pill ... he sure as hell hoped so. As he continued to think of Latosha, he was shocked to feel the blood starting to pump between his legs. He had to get her out of his mind but whenever he closed his eyes, he pictured her with her legs cocked open and wet dripping sex. His penis grew. He slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Throwing cold water on his face, he smiled and wondered what Menage would say if he was around. He had his head down with both hands on the marble sink when Tina wrapped her arms around his waist. She licked his back as her hands slid down into his boxers. He was semi-hard, but her soft fingers quickly brought him to fullness.

  “Mmm ... early bird gets the worm, huh?” she said stroking him. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes as her thumb rubbed pre-cum over the swollen head of his penis. He tried to turn around but she stopped him and continued to please him with her hand.

  “Listen, baby,” she said stroking him, “I’m sorry about snapping at you last night, okay?” She went on licking his back and smiled, knowing she was driving him wild. Dwight went to turn around again and Tina let him this time. He began rubbing her thighs and she was pleased by what stood up between her legs.

  “It’s okay ... let’s take the day off ... just you and me,” he said. Tina took off her teddy and smiled. Pulling down his boxers, she dropped to her knees and put his stiff penis into her mouth. Dwight braced himself against the sink as Tina’s tongue twirled around his shaft. She wrapped her arms around his waist and took him deeper, causing him to moan out her name.

  “Ahhhh ... I love you so fucking much, Tina!”

  * * *

  “How the hell can we do two cases at one time!” Hamilton exclaimed sitting across from Covington’s desk.

  “Listen, Ham, the chief said so and I tried to get us out of it ... I couldn’t,” he lied. “But four—no—five people slain at a stoplight in broad daylight—plus a kidnapping ... we’ll have to split up. You stay on the shooting at Menage’s house and I’ll see what’s up with this ... whatever the hell it is,” Covington said. He was happy that the chief allowed him to take the case; now he didn’t have to worry about anyone else snooping in his uncle’s affairs. He also wanted to make sure that Menage’s case didn’t go unsolved. Menage wanted his girl back, but maybe whoever tried to kill him had nabbed her. However, the bodyguard had said they were going for Felix’s girl and it was a mix-up—a big fucking mix-up, so maybe it was no tie to the hit on Menage.

  “So what leads do I have to follow up on of any real substance? I mean, all we got is DJ sleeping with all those women. By the way, did you check to see if the girl in the picture was Dwight’s girl?”

  “Nah, not yet,” Covington lied.

  “Why the hell not, Covington? Geesh!”

  Covington tapped out a Newport and lit it. “The way I see it, it’s a waste of time. Just go back to Menage’s place and check it out again; maybe we missed a clue or something.”

  Hamilton cursed and lightly hit his desk with a balled fist. “Now we’re going in circles.”

  “Calm down, man. We can’t and won’t solve ’em all, so don’t sweat it. And that means don’t let it bother you,” Covington said laughing.

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” Hamilton said. “So what’s with the stoplight thing yesterday—got any leads or anything?”

  Covington leaned back in his chair and blew out a ring of smoke. “Ever heard of Felix Marchetti?”

  Hamilton’s
mouth dropped open. “You mean Marchetti as in the Marchetti crime family in New York and over in Spain?”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “I heard bits and pieces about the family. But what do they or Felix have to do with the kidnapping? Please man, don’t tell me this is the Mafia ...”

  “No, he didn’t do it, but apparently a girl was taken. We don’t know who that girl is; no one’s talking to the police, as you might guess. But the limo belongs to Felix Marchetti and he hasn’t given a statement. We really can’t put pressure on him anyway because he wasn’t there.”

  “Criminal against criminal—saves us some time, huh? But good luck. Now back to Menage. After I check his place, then what?”

  “Check with the lab and make sure they have all the prints ... shit, it’s spring break; go down to the beach and relax ... get laid or something.”

  “You can be a smart ass sometimes, Covington, but I just might consider that,” Hamilton said smiling.

  “Well, Hammy,” Covington said standing up, “I’ll call you later and if you come up with anything, call me first or hit me on my two-way ... I swear I’ma make you the hippest white boy at this station.” Covington left the office and Hamilton wasn’t far behind. Another day’s work was about to begin.

  Washington D.C.

  “So have you located Scorpion yet? asked Troublefield.

  “Well,” Agent Lofton said, “I made the call like I said before, but he went ballistic and the line went dead.”