The Union

by Tremayne Johnson

  “You know where I’m at.”

  “Cool, I’ll be through in a minute.”

  Mox relaxed into a deep nap, and when he got up the clock read 4:25 pm. He and Brandi had slept the entire day away.

  He tapped her shoulder to wake her up and realized, Gene, the delivery man hadn’t arrived yet. It was a bit unusual because he always made his deliveries before 3 pm on Saturdays.

  Mox walked Brandi upstairs to the master bathroom and the doorbell rang. His natural instinct was to look up at one of the twenty-five cameras he had placed throughout the house, but he remembered the system had been down for the past few weeks.

  “Go use the bathroom. This might be the delivery man.” He told her and rushed down the hall to his bedroom.

  He sneakily pulled the curtain back and saw the dark colored delivery truck parked in front of his driveway. Some of his tension was eased at the sight of the well-known vehicle.

  Mox snatched the .357 Sig off his dresser on the way downstairs. He definitely wasn’t about to get caught slipping.

  “Brandi. You alright in there?” He stopped in front of the bathroom, tucked the weapon in the small of his back and let his T-shirt cover it.

  Brandi yelled. “Yes! I’m okay!”

  “Alright, let me know when you’re done.”

  The bell rang again as Mox hurried down the steps to the front door. “I’m coming, Gene,” he turned the knob. “You a little late to—”

  The barrel of a shotgun was gawking at Mox’s chest, and before he got to finish his sentence, the explosive blast sent him flying to the floor.

  By the grace of God, he only caught a few pellets in the abdomen. He rolled over to get from in range of the next discharge, and the slug ripped the expensive floor tiles to crumbs.

  He reached for the Sig tucked in his pants, but he didn’t feel it. He panicked slightly and then scoured the area. It was lying on the floor about ten feet away and must have come out of his pants when he hit the ground.

  Mox rolled across the floor like he was on fire and made it to the gun. He palmed it and dashed to the steps where he finally got a few seconds to think while the gunman reloaded.

  At first he didn’t recognize the shooter, but then he saw that the man sent to take his life was Tommy Telesco.

  Mox made it to the bathroom door and called out for his daughter. “Brandi! You still in there?”

  “Yes Daddy. I’m scared. The thunder is getting louder.”

  He touched his side and immediately his hand was covered in blood. The wound was burning. “Stay in there until I tell you to come out, alright?”

  “Okay, but I’m done.” She said.

  “Just lock the door and get in the tub.”

  Brandi did as she was told.

  Meanwhile, Tommy crept up the steps with destruction in his eyes and fresh slugs loaded into his weapon. Ready to fulfill the order he had been given.

  He raised the shotgun, plucked the trigger and the blast tore away chunks of the hand crafted, wooden banister.

  Mox ducked and shielded himself from shards of debris in the air. His opportunity came and he let the barrel fly, tossing rounds through the smoke filled atmosphere.

  A bullet hit Tommy’s upper shoulder. He stumbled and dropped the weapon, but one bullet wasn’t enough to immobilize the brawny assassin.

  After he regained his balance, he picked the shotgun up, but instantly he tossed it back down after realizing he had no more slugs. He went for the small .38 revolver in the small of his back and capped off two shots, hitting nothing.

  Mox inhaled. He paused and thought about his daughter. She was the only reason he had to live. He was not only willing to put his life on the line, but also prepared to take one if that’s what it took to make sure nothing happened to her.

  Light sweat formed in his palm as he gripped the compact cannon. He could hear Tommy’s footsteps getting closer with each passing second. His timing was perfect. As soon as the Mafioso henchman rounded the corner, a .357 projectile smashed into his cheek. The contact from the bullet cracked his jaw and broke his nose on impact.

  Tommy went down and Mox rushed over to finish the job.

  He looked at the helpless tough guy. “At a certain point in our lives we all gotta go, today just happened to be your day.”

  Fire shot from the nozzle of the Sig and a bullet landed between Tommy’s eyes. Mox didn’t have to check to see if he was dead. He never second guessed his work.

  The bathroom door came open and Brandi’s innocent face appeared in the crack. She glanced down at the bloody giant.

  Mox hurried to where she stood. “C’mon, baby we gotta get out of here.” He grabbed her arm.

  “But what about, Surprise Saturday?” She asked, her voice sweet and gentle.

  “I’ll make up for it.”

  Mox scurried through the house with Brandi by his side. He entered his bedroom and quickly emptied the $125,000 dollars that was in his safe into a Luis Vuitton duffle bag. He checked the dresser drawer, picked up his HD camera and tossed it in the bag also.

  His truck was parked at the entrance of the house, but leaving out the front door wouldn’t be the smartest decision. His other car was parked in the garage so he threw the bag over his shoulder and he and Brandi made an exit out the back of the house.

  FOURTEEN

  Chris turned the wheel and made the right onto Mox’s block. A line of unmarked police cars filled the street and homicide detectives were combing the scene.

  “I don’t think you wanna go down there.” Chris warned.

  Cleo lifted his head and glanced out the window at the disorder. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Make the U-turn, Chris. Get me outta here.”

  “Anywhere in particular?”

  “The projects.”

  Six minutes later, Chris pulled the Town car over and Cleo got out and walked into the projects.

  After Christmas and New Year’s had passed, there weren’t many people wandering about in the projects. It actually resembled a ghost town.

  The frosty winds kissed Cleo’s cheeks and he tugged at his wool hat, pulling it down over his ears. He slowly approached two young guys as they stood on the strip, engaged in a heated conversation about sports.

  “Man, fuck Kobe. That nigga’s a snitch!” Tyrell shouted. The kid he was talking to shook his head and kept his mouth shut. He knew how Tyrell got when he became angry.

  “Youngin, wassup?” Cleo interrupted.

  Tyrell stepped away from his conversation and greeted Cleo with a handshake.

  “You tell me, Boss. I was out here all night waitin’ for you.”

  “What I tell you about that boss shit?”

  “My bad. Jus’ tryna show respect. That’s all.”

  Tyrell Michaels, the gullible sixteen year old, would do anything to get a name in the hood. He had a few shootings under his belt, but for the most part, he was a low level hustler looking for a come up.

  Every now and then, Cleo would come through the hood and drop some work off for Tyrell and his team to move. It was never anything too big, a few ounces of weed, maybe a couple hundred grams of coke. It was more than enough to put Tyrell on, but all he wanted was a rental car for the month, some new gear, and all the weed he could smoke.

  Cleo whispered in Tyrell’s ear. “Did Mox come through here?”

  Tyrell nodded toward the building. “He’s upstairs.” He told the kid he was talking to that he would see him later and him and Cleo walked into the building.

  They exited the elevator on the sixth floor and Cleo knocked on Dana’s door.

  “Who is it?” She yelled.

  Cleo gestured for Tyrell to say his name.

  “It’s me, Tyrell.”

  The door swung open and the two men entered the apartment.

  Dana was barely dressed in a tank-top and a pair of tight fitting shorts that accentuated her ass cheeks and made her camel toe obviously visible. She had light beads of swe
at sitting on her forehead, her hair was pin wrapped and she was breathing kind of fast.

  “Fuck you in here doin’… workin’ out?” Tyrell joked, but his guess was right. A workout DVD was playing on the 30 inch television.

  Dana slammed the door shut and locked it after they came in.

  “Damn, Tyrell. Do you ever go to school?” She asked.

  He brushed past her and took a seat on the sofa. “I can’t get money in school.”

  “Maybe not, but you can get a fuckin’ education. Duh.” She sassed, rolling her eyes at her little cousin. “Wassup, Cleo? Mox is in the back.”

  “How you doin’ Dana? Can you tell him I’m out here, please?”

  “Sure.”

  Dana went to get Mox, and Cleo grabbed the fold up chair that was against the wall. He took a seat next to the sofa.

  “Yo,” He whispered. “I hope you don’t be tellin’ Mox about our business?”

  Tyrell straightened up and looked at Cleo. “Nah. Hell no.” he shook his head. “Mox be on his bullshit. Him and my cousin always talkin’ that school shit. Fuck that. I ain’t tryna go to school, I’m tryna get this money.”

  Cleo smiled and nodded his head. He knew Tyrell could be manipulated easily, and he planned to take advantage of his weakness.

  “Aight, cool. Keep this low.” He reached into his bubble coat and passed Tyrell a brown bag. “That’s 200 soft and three zones of sour.” Cleo lifted his coat and grabbed the gun off his waist. He cocked it and placed it on the small, wooden coffee table. “Have that next week, you heard?”

  Tyrell smirked at Cleo and agreed. “I got you.”

  When Tyrell looked up, Mox was coming down the hall. He was shirtless with gauze wrapped around his mid-section.

  Tyrell raised his eyebrows twice to inform Cleo.

  “Why you ain’t in school?” Mox questioned, as he entered the living room.

  Tyrell sighed and glanced at Cleo. “See.” He picked the remote control up and hit the power button. “Mox, I don’t wanna go to school. Let me hold somethin’?”

  Mox told Tyrell to move over so he could sit on the sofa directly across from Cleo. He snatched the remote out of his hand and changed the channel.

  “You running wit’ young niggas now, Cleo?” He picked the gun up off the table and turned to Tyrell. “This you?”

  “Nah, that’s mine.” Cleo reached for the weapon, but Mox pulled away.

  “Tyrell, give us a minute, please.”

  With no hesitation, Tyrell rose from the sofa. He picked up his coat and went to leave.

  “Aight, Mox… lata, Cleo.”

  The door shut and Mox cocked the barrel back on the handgun. He saw a bullet was loaded in the head. He dumped it on the carpet and then he hit a button and a full clip fell out the bottom.

  “What’s good, Cleo?” He placed the empty weapon back on the table.

  Cleo smirked. “You tell me. I went by the crib, shit was crazy. You alright?”

  Mox got up and went into the kitchen a few feet away. He snatched a bottle of champagne from the fridge and picked up the ashtray with a fresh cigar in it.

  “Yeah, I’m good, but before I get in to that, wassup wit’ you and that young nigga, I hope you ain’t the one giving him work?”

  Cleo looked Mox in his eyes and told a blatant lie. “I ain’t never gave that little nigga nothin’.”

  Mox didn’t believe him, but he let it ride. “Okay, so we on the same page as far as that goes,” Mox popped the top off the bottle of champagne. “Now, this other thing… this shit just went to the next level.”

  “I told you to let me take care of it. I knew this shit was gon’ get outta hand.”

  “It’s too late for that, Cleo. Don’t you understand… they came to house… while my daughter was there, what would you do?”

  “I wouldn’t have put myself in a situation like that in the first place.”

  Mox got up and went over to where Cleo sat. “You been on some real bullshit these past few weeks. What’s good wit’ you?”

  “You don’t listen, Mox. And when you don’t listen that’s when I get put in a fucked up position.”

  Mox had no problem reading between the lines. He knew just what Cleo was getting at.

  “So, they sent you here to kill me?” He smiled.

  Cleo kept a stern face. “Yup…”

  Mox walked to the coffee table, picked the gun up and put the clip back in. Then he cocked it and held it out to Cleo. “Here’s your gun… shoot me.”

  Cleo pushed the gun out his face. “We too strong for that Mox, cut it out. But you asked, so I had to tell you the truth. Yeah, The Old Man ordered you dead and he basically told me that I gotta be the one to do it.”

  “And what you tell him?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything. You still breathing right? I came here to let you know that I’ma ride this out wit’ you. I’m loyal to family first. Let no-one stand before WE. Remember that?”

  Mox smiled. “It took you long enough.”

  He still didn’t fully trust his cousin’s actions. There was something about Cleo’s body language that made his words unbelievable. Mox detected it the last time they had a conversation, but he never jumped the gun.

  Cleo relaxed in his chair. “So, what’s the deal wit’ Javier?”

  Mox took a long swig of the champagne. “He had to get low. Two police got shot. One died; the other one still in the hospital. That shit is crazy.”

  “So, what’s your plan now that we ain’t fuckin’ with the Italians. Money is gonna slow up, Mox.”

  “Just be cool. I got a few things I’m working on. You short, you need some paper?”

  “Nah, I’m good right now.” Cleo responded.

  “Listen, trust me, I’ma handle this. Our first order of business is Vinny Telesco.”

  FIFTEEN

  “Pop, hurry up, you’re gonna be late!” Mikey screamed as he walked out the front door.

  Vinny struggled to his feet from the cozy sofa and then mumbled a few cuss words. He screwed his face up at the thought of another doctor visit. It would be the third one this week and he was growing very tired of it.

  “Goddamn doctors get on my nerves, Mikey…”

  “I understand pop, but ain’t nothing I can do about it. Doc says you need to come in today, says it an emergency.”

  “Everything’s a fuckin’ emergency according to him.”

  Mikey held the car door open while the aging, ailing Mob Boss crawled into the backseat of the limo. And then he slid in beside him.

  “Jimmy, Take 87. It’ll get us there faster.” Vinny’s voice was dry and raspy. He coughed.

  “Pop, you alright?” Mikey anxiously sat up.

  “Yeah, Mikey. I’m fine.” He spit in his handkerchief and put it back in his coat pocket. “Where’s your brother?”

  “I don’t know pop. He said he had something to take care of.”

  “Hmph…” Vinny relaxed on the fine leather and stretched his long legs in the spacious limousine. “The nerve of that guy.” He was worried. “You gotta watch over him, Mikey. You know Vito ain’t the brightest M&M in the pack.”

  “Yeah, I know pop.”

  “Just don’t let nothing happen to your brother. And what’s going on with this Mox situation?”

  “Not too much. I haven’t heard anything from Cleo.”

  “He’s not gonna do it. Mikey, I want you to handle that. And after Mox,” Vinny looked out the window at the passing traffic. “Take care of Cleo.”

  “But, Pop—”

  Vinny cut in. “But nothing. Just do what I tell you”

  Vinny sat back in his seat, speechless. It was out of his hands. There was nothing no one could do or say.

  The partition came down and Jimmy tried to get Vinny’s attention. “Excuse me, Boss.”

  Nobody heard him.

  Mikey finally said something. “Why you so caught up on Mox, Pop?”

  “I got my reasons,” he answered.
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  Jimmy tried again. “Excuse me, boss.”

  “Yeah, Jimmy.”

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  Mikey turned to look out the back window, but he couldn’t see out because of the dark tint. He was edgy, but Vinny kept his cool. “How far till the next exit?”