The Union

by Tremayne Johnson

  All she said was, “she’s around.”

  Mox didn’t want to force her to talk about it. “Okay. That’s good. At least you still have them.”

  “They’re both dead to me.”

  He wasn’t too fond of that statement. “That ain’t cool Priscilla. Please don’t say things like that around me.”

  She was rattled by his remark. “Oh, really? Huh…” She turned her lip up. “Well, what’s your story, Mr. Daniels? You can’t be the only one asking questions. First of all, what color are your eyes? I never seen anybody with eyes that color and what about you mother and father?”

  “My eye color is called true amber. I really don’t know too much about how and why I have them, but I do know that they’re very rare.” Mox took a breather and relaxed back on the velvety cushion. He closed his eyes. “As far as my parents…they’re dead.”

  A mini smiled appeared on Priscilla’s face and was immediately gone once she understood he wasn’t playing.

  “You’re not joking, are you?”

  He opened his eyes and sat up. “I don’t joke about shit like that. That’s why I asked you not to say what you said.” Mox stood up and walked to the window that overlooked Pelham Road. “You should be grateful that both your parents are still here. Never take that for granted because when they do go… it’s over. You don’t get any more.” He turned and looked at Priscilla. “I wish I could bring my parents back.”

  Before she became too emotional, Priscilla stood and went over to Mox. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  He interrupted her and placed his index finger to her lips. “Shh… I’m good, don’t worry about it.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Five years ago.”

  Priscilla was taken aback. She couldn’t comprehend how a person who lost both parents only five years ago was so poised and level headed.

  “That shit don’t fuck wit’ your head?”

  “Hell yeah; every day… I try to block it out, but the fact is, the person who killed them is still on the streets and that bothers me.”

  “That’s crazy.” She said, returning to the kitchen. “Excuse my poor hospitality, would you like something to drink?”

  “Sure. A glass of water is cool.” Priscilla poured two glasses of water and sat back on the couch. “Now, enough with the formalities; wassup wit’ this sixty-thousand in one night?”

  She laughed. “I knew that was coming sooner or later. Come here, sit down.” Mox took his seat next to Priscilla. “I’ma be straight forward with you, I’m usually not this open to people about my personal business, but I like you and I see you’ve got potential.”

  “Oh yeah, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but for real… you know you can have anything in the world you desire… all you gotta do is believe in it and work hard to achieve it. The boundaries are limitless.” Priscilla sipped her water. “This time last year, I was homeless, dead broke and on the verge of a nervous breakdown until I met someone who changed my life. His name is Juan Carlos Ortega and he’s a Columbian drug lord. I’m not gonna lie, at first our relationship was physical, but after things didn’t work out, we continued to have a business relationship.”

  Mox was thrown off. “Why you tellin’ me this?”

  “Because, Mox. This man will give me anything I want. He already gave me another opportunity at life, and now it’s my turn to give someone else a chance to live out their dreams.”

  He still didn’t fully comprehend where she was going with the conversation.

  “Are you serious, or is this some type of joke?”

  “No, I’m serious… look.” She got up from the couch and went into the back room. When she returned, she was holding a brown shopping bag. She placed it on the black and white marble top coffee table. “Open the bag.” She said.

  Mox peeled the bag open, reached inside and grabbed the contents out. He placed the two, taped up, rectangular packages on the table.

  “What the fuck is this?” He asked.

  “What does it look like?”

  He grinned. “Look like cocaine to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You got it all wrong if you think you gon’ have me out on some corner slangin’ ten and twenty dollar bags of coke. Not gonna happen.” He stood up like he was about to leave.

  Priscilla grabbed his arm. “That’s not what I think, just sit down and let me explain it to you. It won’t take long, and if you don’t agree, then you can leave. No love lost.”

  He sat down and finished the rest of his water. “I’m listening,” he said.

  “One of these,” She touched the package. “Goes for twenty-five thousand dollars in the streets. I get them wholesale from Juan Carlos for only ten thousand; therefore, the profit on each one is fifteen thousand. I’m willing to split the fifteen in half with you if you help me move them.”

  “Help you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that? Priscilla, I ain’t never sold drugs a day in my life. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “This is why I’m here, Mox. I’m gonna show you everything you need to know and I guarantee you in a month’s time, your whole life will be different. All you gotta do is follow my lead.”

  Priscilla’s verbal abilities were immaculate. She could broker a million dollar drug deal and in the same sentence, turn around and slick talk her way out of trouble. It was gift that God had given her, and she had Mox hypnotized within minutes. The crazy part was; her feelings for him were genuine.

  “What about your boy, Deandre?”

  “Listen Mox, the only reason I fuck with Deandre is because his sister and I are real close. She asked me to put him on so he could help out with their bills and that’s what I did, but he ain’t you, Mox. They only reason he’s in that position is because I put him there.” She rose from her seat and faced Mox. “These niggas out here don’t want nothing but a few thousand in their pocket to front with, some new sneakers, and a bunch clothes. I know you want more outta life than that Mox.”

  They eyed each other steadily. The chemistry was evident and highly explosive. Mox didn’t have to say a word; she already knew what he wanted.

  “And you ride around in the car with him because…?”

  “Because, he can’t be trusted and he doesn’t have a business mind. If I give him something, I ride around with him until he finishes it. I take my cut and I go, but all that comes to an end the second you tell me yes.”

  Mox took a minute to process everything Priscilla was speaking on. This type of opportunity didn’t present itself on an everyday basis. He had two choices; struggle and hope things eventually get better or take action and make an immediate change.

  “So how’s this supposed to work?”

  They smiled at each other, and then Priscilla instructed him on everything he needed to do.

  November, 2001…

  Mox was beginning to establish himself as one of the main suppliers of cocaine in Westchester County and he managed to stay under the radar because he was smart and he knew how to move.

  He hadn’t bought a car yet, he didn’t wear jewelry, and he was still living in his aunt’s apartment in the projects, but on occasion he would spend the night with Priscilla.

  Their mental and physical bond was amplified and Mox’s feelings were as strong as he had ever known them to be for a woman other than his mother. Over a year’s time, they had formed an allegiance on respect, honor and trust. They even came up with a mantra and had it tattooed in the same spot behind their ear. It read; Let no-one stand before WE and it was written in script with blood red ink.

  Mox was 16 years old and in love with a woman that was three years older. At least he felt like he was. He had never known the true meaning of love, but when Priscilla was in his presence he experienced completion. It was as if she could almost fill the void of his mother in an odd kind of way.

  After the two most important people in his l
ife were taken away so abruptly, Mox pledged to himself that the next person to touch something he loved would die. And his word was bond.

  The day Mox accepted Priscilla’s offering is the same day she cut all ties to Deandre. Of course, he had no idea why she so abruptly stopped coming around, but the word would soon hit the wind like a hustler with poor quality work; and he would find out that Mox was now the one in power.

  The unexpected shift in ranking was something that Deandre didn’t think too highly of. In fact, he was ready to do something extreme; and he did.

  __________

  The entire day had been tranquil and stagnant. Mox lazed in his boxers on the spongy sofa in Priscilla’s living room, punching buttons on the remote control. He was looking for The History Channel. It was Tuesday, his day off and he was waiting for her to come back from food shopping.

  The house phone rang, Mox leaned up and stared at it lying on the table in front of him. He let it ring until it stopped. He never answered Priscilla’s phone. If it was her, she would call his cell phone.

  As soon as he went to lie back, his cell phone rang.

  He ruffled through some papers, saw Priscilla’s name on the caller ID and fumbled to get it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Wassup you bitchassnigga!” The caller laughed loudly.

  Mox thought it was a joke. “Yo, stop playing on the phone. Where my girl at?”

  “Shut the fuck up and listen! I got yo bitch, nigga… and if you wanna see her lil’ pretty fuckin’ ass again, I’ma need you to go get a bag, put a hunit thousand cash in it and wait for me to call this number back in twelve hours, ya dig?”

  Mox took the phone off his ear and looked at the screen a second time. It did say Priscilla. He got up from the couch and went to look out the living room window.

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Oh, you think it’s a joke nigga…” He slammed the phone down on a table and Mox pressed the speaker to his ear so he could hear better. He could only make out some rustling and the sound of a wooden chair being dragged across the floor.

  The caller’s voice was getting louder. “Hurry up nigga, bring that bitch over here!” He picked the phone back up. “You think I’m playing, nigga! I got somebody wanna holla at you.”

  A scream came from the other end. “Hellllppp!” Mox’s eyes lit up.

  “Shut up bitch!” Mox heard the slap of a hand hitting someone’s flesh. “Say hi to your little boyfriend.” He put the phone to her face.

  “Mox help me, please???” Priscilla cried.

  Deandre snatched the phone back. “A hunit thousand nigga! Twelve hours!” Then he clicked.

  Mox dropped the phone and pressed his temples with the palm of his hand. “Arrhhh!” he belted.

  When Wise Earl found out his nephew was hustling and then witnessed for himself, the magnitude in which he did it, all he could do was offer his prudent knowledge to the young hustler on the come up. Mox internalized his words,

  If you in this game for the sole purpose of getting rich, then you gon’ have to forget about anything you love. Because the second a nigga see you got love in your heart for something, they gon’ try to take it away from you.

  At that precise moment, Mox could hear his uncle’s sharp, raspy voice vibrating in his ear, repeating those exact words.

  He was nervous, his hands were shaking, and he was pacing back and forth. Calm down Mox! He inhaled a breath of the cool central air that flowed through the apartment and closed his eyes. He tried counting to ten like he had seen someone do in a movie, but every time he got to four his concentration would shift.

  Mox hurried to the back room and threw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. He opened the large closet at the back of Priscilla’s room, slipped into a pair of sneakers and grabbed the Northface book bag that was buried in the corner.

  The worriment was swelling and his thoughts were wandering.

  I hope they didn’t touch her?

  What if I give these niggas the money and they still kill her?

  “Fuck!” He tossed the bag onto the queen sized bed and stood at the foot with both hands over his face. His breathing was heavy. He silently prayed and asked God;

  Why?

  Mox bent down, unzipped the bag and started pulling stacks of money out. Once he reached ten, he closed the bag up and went back into the living room.

  Paying the $100,000 ransom wasn’t a problem or a second thought. If that’s what it took to get Priscilla back, it was a small price to pay.

  He searched the table and the couch for his phone, before spotting it on the floor by the window. When he picked it up, he saw a missed call from Javier, his co-worker/Lieutenant.

  A thought stumbled into Mox’s brain and he quickly cooked up a scheme, but he needed help. He pressed the seven numbers into his phone.

  It rang two times and Javier picked up. “Mox, I was callin—”

  He cut in. “Javier, I need your help.”

  “Yeah, anything Mox… you alright?”

  “I… I can’t talk over the phone. I’m on my way to you,” he stuttered.

  “Aight, I’m here.”

  Mox went to the kitchen and got the keys to Priscilla’s other car. He snatched the book bag and went to meet up with Javier.

  Eleven hours and fifty-five minutes later, Mox’s cell phone rang. He looked around the room and then he answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “You got that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mox envisioned Deandre smiling ear to ear.

  “Aight, this is what it is… I want you to—”

  He broke in. “Hold up, homie…” the phone went silent for a few seconds and then Mox picked it back up. “ I got somebody wanna holla at you.”

  “Deandre, please… let that girl go!” his mother cried. “They gon’ kill us!”

  Deandre couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Mrs. Foster and his little sister, Shelly, were tied to two chairs with their wrist and ankles duct taped, confined to a soggy, dark room that reeked of urine.

  Tears covered their faces, but they kept their eyes on Javier and his two Mexican comrades that were off to the left holding fully automatic weapons.

  “Deandre, you there?”

  “Yo, I swear to God, Mox… if you touch my mother or my little sister, I’ma fuckin’ kill you.”

  “You still makin’ threats?” Mox put the phone directly in front of his mouth. “I got your mother and your little sister over here duct taped and tied up. I’m ‘bout to flip a coin. Yeah, read between the lines, nigga. Now this is how we gon’ do it… give Priscilla that phone and when she calls me and tells me she’s safe, I’ll let your people go.”

  Deandre shot back. “I don’t trust you.”

  “You got no choice.” He clicked.

  Twenty minutes later, Priscilla called Mox and let him know that she made it home safe.

  He released the Foster family without harm.

  Two weeks later, police found Deandre dead in his car, parked in the back of the Stop & Shop Supermarket on Palmer Avenue. He had suffered two gunshot wounds to the head.

  Following the Foster boy’s murder, Mox could no longer duck in the shadows and creep below the radar; he was on front-street now. The whole city knew about it, but the police didn’t have enough evidence to charge him and he was fully aware of that.

  Right after he killed Deandre, Mox went back to Priscilla’s to shower and go to sleep.

  No nightmares.

  No visions.

  Not even a thought about it, but his whole world changed after that.

  THREE

  A slight glare from the sun’s rays squinted through a crack in the window shade as Mox sat at the foot end of his twin sized bed finishing off a second bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. His attention was on the exclusive news flash that came across the 32 inch screen in front of him.

  It had been ten months since the World Trade Center bombing and the magnitude of t
he destruction was still inconceivable. He watched as video recordings played back the frightening incident that touched the world. All of his thoughts were on the families that suffered the loss of a loved one and how their lives were abruptly transformed within minutes; and he could identify with them. He felt the same pain they did.

  The fateful loss of his parents was still fresh on his brain and the only way to cease the recurring visions was to find out the truth.