Hulk tried to speak. “Vi… to,” his words were low, but Mox heard him. “Said, fuu--ck you.”
Mox stood and emptied the clip into Hulk’s stomach.
Vito?
He cut his thinking short and rushed over to Kim. His heart fluttered, and immediately tears washed his face. He dropped to his knees. He couldn’t believe it. He picked her up and held her in his hands.
“Kim,” he whimpered. “Kim, wake up baby.” Mox wiped the stream of blood seeping from her lips just as he had done with his mother years ago. His heart felt like it was about to explode. Hearing sirens in the distance, he jumped out of his daze and carried Kim’s limp body to the sofa.
Mox stood still for a moment and looked around. Damn. He thought. My prints all over this muthafucka. It wasn’t enough time to wipe the entire apartment down, so Mox threw his boots on, snatched his coat and made his exit.
“Oh, shit.” He turned on his heels and went back to get his HD camera. “Definitely can’t leave this.”
__________
Vito paced back and forth in his shiny, hard bottom shoes, tapping the wood floor with each step. “I can’t believe this shit.” he cursed.
“Vito, sit down!” The Old Man hollered from his chair. His voice, hoarse from bronchitis.
Vinny Telesco had been watching his youngest son have a nervous breakdown for the past forty-five minutes. He had no clue of the situation, but all the bickering and foul language gave him reason to believe something transpired.
“What happened, Vito?” Mikey questioned.
Nervous, Vito pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it. Normally The Old man would make a big deal of him smoking in the house, but he let him get away with it today.
“Vito, you hear your brother talkin’ to you?”
“It was a fuckin’ hit, Mikey. That black bastard Mox put a hit on us.” He answered.
“Mox?”
“Yeah, Mox.”
“When’d this happen, Vito?” The Old Man asked.
Vito took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out.
“Bout a hour and a half ago.” He puffed the cigarette. “I slid down to Pellegrino’s to have some lunch, ya know, a lil’ penne n whatnot and this fuckin’ junky, umm…what’s his name?” Vito thought hard. “Oh yeah, Sunny. Sunny Gallano. He walks in and you know me, I’m duckin’ the fuckin’ guy ‘cause he’s always beggin’. So, I’m in the back by the kitchen and all of a sudden I see this fuckin’ loser he’s standing in the middle of the joint holding a fuckin’ sawed off.” Vito took another drag and continued. “So, you know me, Mikey. I go for my rivoltella (Pistol) and we shoot it out.” He fibbed.
Immediately, The Old Man knew Vito was telling a lie about shooting it out. He raised both these boys and knew exactly what they were capable of. Vito was a bit on the timid side. He just used the family name as a crutch.
Mikey found it hard to believe also. “So, you twos is shootin’ it out in the restaurant, huh? Then what?” he inquired.
“I finally got a clear look through all the smoke and I hit the guy.” Vito lied again.
“So you took him down?” Mikey said. “Where does Mox come in this at?”
“Fuckin’ Sunny screams out his name before he starts shootin’ up the place.”
The Old Man looked at his eldest son. “Mikey, what you think?”
“I don’t know, Pop. Sounds kinda funny to me.” Mikey tried to make light of the situation. “I mean, why would Mox get drunk Sunny to do a hit for him? It just doesn’t make sense to me.”
“It makes perfect fuckin’ sense, Mikey. That fuckin’ moulie wants to start a war!” Vito argued.
The Old Man had heard enough. “Cool it, Vito,” he cautioned. “Here’s what we do.” He turned to Mikey. “Vegas is coming up in a few days, see what Cleo has to say about this. Until then, sit tight.”
A dim-witted expression came over Vito’s face. “Too late.”
“What do you mean too late, Vito?” The Old man questioned.
“It’s too late, pop. I sent, Hulk.”
“Ahh, nah, Vito! What you go and do that for?” Mikey steamed.
The Old Man struggled to stand up from his chair. He was furious. He wasn’t afraid of Mox, but he had so much respect for Cleo, that he didn’t want to harm him. Let alone go to war with him.
He slung Vito a look that spoke volumes and then faced his eldest. “Mikey. Get Tommy on the phone. Tell him we got a problem.”
TWELVE
“Chris, make the next right, and then a left at the stop sign.” Cleo directed, sitting in the back seat of his favorite livery cab.
The town car slowed at the stop sign and Chris hit the left blinker.
“One day I might be able to own one of these nice houses back here,” he dreamed.
“Nothing’s impossible, Chris. If you work hard enough I’m sure you can get anything you want.”
The cab cruised at a moderate 15 miles per hour down Tall Spruce Circle in Kensington Woods. It was one of the wealthiest areas in New Rochelle, New York.
Cleo sat back staring out the window at the placid scenery. He wished his life could be as simple as some of the families in this community, but it wasn't, and now it looked like it was going to get worse.
“One twenty-one Kensington Circle, sir.”
He pushed the door open and hopped out the Town car.
“Aight, Chris, I’m good.” He said, peeling a crisp hundred dollar bill from his stack.
“You sure you don't want me to wait, Cleo?”
“Nah, go ‘head. If I need you, I’ll call.” Cleo replied.
Cleo hurried down the driveway to Mox’s 3500 square foot estate. Usually, when Cleo got to the front door it was open because Mox would see him on the surveillance cameras. Today it wasn’t, so he rang the doorbell.
“C’mon, Mox open the door.” He whispered. Then he rang it again.
After two more rings he stepped back to get a view of the second floor and yelled. “Yo, Mox!”
A shadow moved behind the blinds and then they slid open.
Mox was standing in his robe, holding his AK47 trying to see who the fuck was yelling his name. Noticing Cleo, he rushed down to open the door.
He barely passed the threshold and Mox was already screaming.
“They killed Kim!” He slammed the door shut. Mox clenched a bottle of Perrier Jouet in his right hand.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Cleo was confused. He followed Mox into the living room.
“Fuck them spaghetti head muthafuckas!”
“Mox, I told you now wasn't the time to be startin’ a war. We can't afford that right now.”
Mox looked at Cleo like he was crazy. “I ain’t start shit. They kill one of ours, we kill one of theirs. You know how this game is played. Kim didn’t deserve that.”
Cleo was still lost. “Hold up...hold up. I don't know nothing about Kim or none of that shit. What the fuck happened at Pellegrino’s?” he questioned.
“Pelle, who?” Mox laughed, but it wasn’t a joke. He took a swig from the bottle then plopped down onto his chaise lounge.
“Pellegrino’s, Mox. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. You sent that fuckin’ drunk in there to shoot up the place.”
Mox’s brow furred. He stood up and faced Cleo. “I ain’t sent nobody to do nothing... and I don’t know what the fuck a Pelleninos or Pellepinos or...” he hesitated, “whatever that is. All I know is that I was getting’ my dick sucked and the phone rang. I saw it was you, so I picked up. Right after I said I’ma call you back, somebody start knocking on the door.” Mox tipped the bottle again. “Kim went to see who it was and all I heard was a cannon. I had to let a couple go in order to buy some time and then I got low.”
Cleo interrupted. “Aight, so what that got to do with the Italians?”
“Are you serious, Cleo?” Mox couldn’t understand Cleo’s reaction. “That big, pasta eatin” muthafucka spit Vito’s
name out before I fixed him.”
“C’mon, Mox stop lyin!” He yelled.
Mox was offended. “First of all, lower ya muthafuckin’ voice in my crib. Second, when have I ever lied about some shit as serious as this?” His eyes were trained on Cleo. “Don’t let ‘em brainwash you, cousin. You of all people know how I get down.”Cleo didn’t know how things would play out. The monthly sit down was days away and here he was stuck in the middle of a potential war with the Telesco crime family.
“Aight, listen. Let me apologize for yellin’ in your home, but this is what gotta happen.” He took a seat. “We got a few days until Vegas, Mox. I know they killed shorty, but I need you to be cool until we sort this out. I spoke to The Old Man, and as long as you don't move, they won’t move.”
Mox shook his head. “I don't trust ‘em.”
“Trust me, Mox. Please?”
__________
Christmas day came, and light snow flurries fell from the sky like confetti. Children were out in full swing by 9:30 am riding new bikes and racing remote control cars.
Hustlers huddled on street corners hustling and the homeless sought refuge from the blistering cold weather.
Even though Mox had never received a gift on Christmas, it was still one of his favorite holidays. Growing up, he always looked forward to waking up early on this day and rushing across the hall to Cleo’s house just to play with his toys. Cleo didn’t get much either, but it was more than what Mox had.
He put his Moncler bubble coat on and tied a scarf around his neck. He knew to dress appropriately, because he would be standing in the wind for most of the day.
His phone rang as he was getting into his truck.
“Hello?”
“Mox, I think I’ma cool out today. I don’t feel like being bothered.” Cleo said.
He was anticipating this call. For his first Christmas home, Mox spent a few thousand dollars on gifts for some of the less fortunate kids in the community. He rounded up a few teens from the Boys & Girls Club and they were going to pull up to the projects in a big trailer and hand out gifts to everyone who came out.
“C’mon Cleo, it’s my first Christmas back. Don’t make me come over there and snatch your big ass out the bed. It’s for the kids, man.”
“I ain’t feeling it Mox. I got a lot of shit on my mind.”
“You ain’t the only one. Last night I had to make that call to Kim’s people. Imagine how I’m feelin’.”
“Word. I might come through. No guarantees though.”
“Aight. Peace.” Mox tossed the cell phone in the passenger seat. He knew he wasn’t coming. It was the same thing every time with Cleo. If it didn’t benefit him in any way, shape or form, he wasn’t with it. His selfish ways hadn’t changed at all. They just grew worse.
The trailer pulled into the parking lot and the children's faces lit up like Christmas lights when the back doors to the massive vehicle opened up. Mox and his handful of helpers stood smiling with red and white Santa hats atop their heads and a plethora of toys surrounding them.
Mox lived for days like this because he was once one of the less fortunate. Each time he gave a gift out and was thanked, his smile spread wider. The hood loved Mox, especially this hood.
From his peripheral, Mox spotted a familiar face. He jumped down from the back of the trailer and advanced toward her.
“Priscilla?” He called.
The joyless young lady stared at Mox, trying to recognize his face. Her hair was in shambles and her garments were unkempt. Drug use was obvious, but she still seemed to have a sparkle of flair that lingered.
In less than a minute, she recalled his face. How could she not remember? She grinned, but then her pleasure immediately turned to sorrow.
“You see what these streets did to me, Mox?”
“You stronger than this, Priscilla.” He looked over her haggard frame. Mox wanted to cry.
“You always told me I was strong, Mox, but this shit is stronger.” She admitted.
A curly haired little girl tugged at Priscilla's sleeve. “Mommy, I want a present.” She pressed.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Yes, and she's gettin' on my last nerve about these damn toys.”
Mox kneeled down in front of the little girl. “She's gorgeous, Priscilla. Hi there, beautiful, what's your name?” he inquired.
The little girl smiled and answered. “Brandi.”
“Hi Brandi, my name is Mox and me and your mom are very good friends. Let me ask you something, Brandi. If there was one toy you could have in the whole world...what would it be?”
With no hesitation, Brandi shouted, “Dora!”
Mox couldn't help but laugh at her glee, but he didn't have a clue what Dora was.
“Ok, what's Dora?” Brandi pointed to a three foot doll sitting on the back of the truck. “Oh, that's Dora, well let's go get her.” Mox grabbed Brandi's hand and led her through the sea of children while Priscilla followed. He yelled for one of the helpers to get the doll.
“Mox, you don't have to do this.”
“Yes I do. Here you go, Brandi.” He sat the doll right next to her.
“Thank you.” She said.
Mox watched her eyes shine and her lips curl into a smile. This is what life was about; being able to have a hand in someone else's happiness. Mox enjoyed these moments.
Priscilla looked at Mox. “Why do you do this?”
“Because if I don't, who will? I sold a lot of drugs out here, you know how it was. I took away from plenty of mouths and destroyed more than enough families pushing work through here.” Mox reflected. “I'm in a position now that I'm able to give back to the people that gave to me, so it's only right.”
Priscilla eyed Mox. “What about us, Mox?”
In the back of his mind, he was thinking the same thing. He and Priscilla had a past that was so strong; the energy could still be felt.
He and Priscilla met when Mox was fifteen and she was 18. She loved her some Mox and at the time, she was ready to do any and everything he asked.
Unbeknownst to Mox, Priscilla was a few weeks pregnant when he went on the run. Nine months later, she pushed out a 7 pound, 5 ounce baby girl and named her Brandi.
Priscilla did all she could to contact Mox, but he cut his ties to the outside world when he became a fugitive. She even went as far as finding his whereabouts through the internet and writing letters to him while he was incarcerated, but she never received a response.
A few years passed, and Priscilla became involved with one of her younger brother's friends named Ryan.
Ryan was a fairly decent, local cocaine dealer. He was seeing a few stacks a week and Priscilla preyed on his weakness of lust. She let him let him taste the pink candy and had him wrapped up like a car wreck on the interstate from that day forward.
Ryan was into popping pills heavy while he and Priscilla were together. One night, he convinced Priscilla to take a double stack ecstasy pill with him after she had been complaining about being stressed out. In a time span of less than ninety days, Priscilla had become addicted to hard core drugs. There weren't many that she hadn't tried, but ultimately her drug of choice became cocaine.
“I don't know, Priscilla. I guess we both went our separate ways.”
“No, Mox...you left me. You left me sittin’ in a fuckin’ parking lot.” She stated.
“I ran because I was scared, Priscilla.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of losing you. I didn’t wanna go in there and be stressed out worrying about what you doing, so I cut all ties. I felt it was something I needed to do in order to get through that situation.”
“And how long ago was that? It's been more than five years, Mox.”
“You right, but I don't know what you want me to tell you.”
“You don't have to tell me anything.” She announced, grabbing the child's arm. “At least say goodbye to your daughter. C'mon, Brandi, we're leaving.”
Mox brushed her wo
rds off. “Don’t lie like that, Priscilla.”
“Lie? No Mox, I'm not lying. Look at her eyes, familiar huh?”
He kneeled down to get a better view and right away, his knees got weak. He stared, and Brandi smiled. Her eyes were rare and he knew because his were the same.
The color is true brown amber which is a very uncommon color in human beings. They have a brownish, yellow tint and they're uniquely wolf like.
The Union Page 9