by Noire
“Parlez vous France?” he whispered in her ear as he cupped his hand over her mouth so hard she was momentarily paralyzed. He hooked his other arm around her chest and lifted her in the air.
“Wanna see my French tickler?” he asked, carrying her toward the stairwell entrance.
The maid bucked. She twisted and squirmed and tried to hold on to the doorframe as Whitey barged through the stairwell entrance with her in his arms.
He flung her against the wall the moment they were inside. Then before she could draw a breath he thrust the flat of his palm against the ridge of her nose and snapped it.
“Aggh!” she cried out weakly. All the fight was gone out of her as she gripped her gushing nose and slid down to the floor.
Whitey stood back and lit a French cigar as she gasped and writhed on her knees in pain.
“Avi,” he said after taking his first toke. “The Belgium dude who does the diamonds. Which apartment?”
Stark terror was in the maid’s eyes as she cupped her broken nose and cried. “I-I-I don’t know!” she babbled with a stream bright red blood flowing into her palm. “I don’t know!”
Whitey was disappointed. This bitch wasn’t French. Her accent placed her from somewhere in South Jersey.
He toked his cigar again and the ember at the tip glowed orange-red.
“Avi. What’s his last name?”
The frightened young woman shuddered as she sat back on her ass and shook her head from side to side. “Please!” she whimpered, blood spraying from her nose. “I don’t know his name! I don’t have that information!”
Whitey sighed heavily. He squatted down close beside her and smoothed her bangs away from her sweaty forehead. He gripped its warm roundness firmly in his palm. He took another puff from his cigar and then maneuvered himself until his knee was pressing against her feeble chest. Extending his arm, he leaned his full weight down on her forehead and then took the cigar from his mouth and aimed the glowing ember toward her right eyelid.
Immediately she squeezed her eyes closed and tried to jerk her head away.
“Avi?” he asked simply, then pressed the ember to her eyelid and listened to it sizzle.
Her scream was immediate and intense. It was a bloody-fuckin-murder scream, but Whitey didn’t even hear it.
“Avi?” he repeated.
“I don’t know!” his captive whimpered as she tried to wag her head from side to side. But that simply wasn’t true. She did know. Whitey knew she knew. And after one more deep eyelid burn that made her shit her drawers as the orange embers nearly melted straight through to her eyeball, she told.
Finishing her off only took a minute or so. By the time her tongue was protruding from her mouth and her eyes had rolled back in her head, Whitey had already formulated his next steps.
He wrinkled his nose as the smell of loose shit and sizzling flesh rose in the air. After taking one last toke before clipping off his cigar, he brushed off his suit and exited the stairwell with his stomach growling.
Whitey walked out into the sunshine hungry as fuck. He had skipped breakfast, and now he had a taste for a nice Belgium waffle, or maybe even a slice or two of delicious French toast!
CHAPTER 14
No Rest for the Weary
There were smiles greeting her from every direction as Jewelz walked down the hall of the hospital’s oncology ward. Most of the staff was familiar to her as she had been down this road before. And as she made her way to the nurse’s station she got warm greetings and “welcome backs” out the ass.
It had taken two more home visits and quite a few more harassing phone calls, but she had finally agreed to come into the clinic to sign some paperwork stating that she was voluntarily withdrawing herself from the cancer treatment program.
Jewelz had no problem signing the documents because aside from her hair loss and fatigue she’d been feeling pretty good during the day. She figured it was just all the partying and hanging out she’d been doing with Handgun Goody that had her feeling tired and run down at night. She had been doubling up on her vitamins and supplements but she still wasn’t going back on no damn chemo.
Besides, with the BBU acting funny Slick had told everybody to take a short break, so she was gonna start catching up on her rest and get more sleep now that they had stopped going out on missions every other night.
Jewelz was placed in a small office, and a few minutes later she looked up as the door opened and her smiling doctor walked in.
“It’s good to see you, Diamond,” he said, extending his hand. “How’ve you been feeling?”
“I’m good Dr. Ford,” she answered. “I’ve been feeling pretty good.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re feeling okay, but you’re still a very sick person, you know. Despite how you may feel, your body can’t fight this disease on it’s own and you could take a downhill slide at any time,” the doctor told her with serious concern in his eyes.
“You really need to take the rest of the chemotherapy that we have scheduled for you. The doses you already took are still working in your body, but they’re not enough. Every day you forego additional treatment is a day you allow your cancer cells to multiply and a day of potential healing that you give up.”
Jewelz nodded her head as she looked around the office that had mad medical degrees and certificates mounted on the walls.
“I understand all that, but I can’t finish the chemo right now. I’m not saying I’ll never finish it. I’m just saying I can’t finish it right now.”
The doctor leaned forward and frowned at her like he just didn’t understand.
“I’ve never had a patient stop chemotherapy treatment before they even get halfway through it, Diamond. What could you be doing that’s more important than saving your own life? Whatever it is, can’t it wait?”
Jewelz shook her head.
“No, it can’t,” she said thinking about the date that she had planned with Handgun Goody’s fam later that night. “I’m doing a lot of stuff right now. Important stuff that I can’t do if I’m sick and can’t function. I’ll get back on my treatments soon. I promise.”
The doctor shook his head sadly. “I hate to say it, but this thing could kill you, you know. By the time you come back in to resume your treatment it might be too late.”
Jewelz nodded. She was an informed patient and she knew what kind of death she was facing.
“I know,” she said signing the paperwork as she stood up to leave. “But that’s a chance I’ll just have to take.”
CHAPTER 15
Brother for Brother, Mother for Mother
Slick sat inside a beat-up hoopty with his seat reclined low and a chrome ratchet gripped in his hand. It had taken him a few days to track down the youngest Goode brother, Razorblade Goody, and tonight Slick had followed him to a party being held at an apartment on Chester Street in Marcus Garvey Houses.
Just like Haz had done with Big Slick, Razorblade took advantage of the popularity and status that came with having an older brother who was a kingpin. He kept a few yes-men type niggas by his side and a flock of young hoes ready to jump on his dick. Razorblade had a nice ride parked outside and a pocket full of money. That’s all you needed in order to be somebody in the hood.
But what the youngblood didn’t have was the slightest idea that a wolf like Slick had been on his heels for half a week. It was only a matter of time before the baby hoodlum made a mistake. And it would be a mistake that Slick would capitalize on to turn his little ass into fertilizer.
As Slick sat watching a crew of niggas smoking blunts and drinking on the porch of the small building, the light on his phone vibrated. It was a text message from Jewelz.
About to meet momma for dinner. I’ll save you a plate baby. Call me on your way home.
Slick smirked then put the phone in his pocket. Jewelz was about to carry out her end of the coordinated attack that they had planned together. She had found out where Handgun’s mother lived and she was about to turn
her old ass into a distant memory.
Slick was about to hold up his end of the plan too. Suddenly his mother Kea’s face flashed in his mind. Her eyes were hard and her lips were frowned up as she looked down at him. Slick blinked real hard and shook his head.
Stay focused nigga. Now ain’t the fuckin time to start catching no guilty conscience. Kea’s gone and she ain’t coming back. Fuck that! Goody had a hand in taking my mother away and now his fuckin momma gotta go too. But Miss Goode won’t be traveling alone. Her baby boy Razorblade is going to hell in a casket right behind her.
Seeing Kea’s image flash before his eyes angered Slick. He wasn’t no natural born killer, but life-altering situations had made him this way. If them niggas Haz and Dirty Mike hadn’t massacred his entire family then maybe he woulda turned out to be somebody completely different. But his trauma and loss had him hell bent on revenge, and tonight he was gonna get him some.
Sorry, Momma. I’m about to hit these bitch-niggas where it hurts the most. Right in their fuckin hearts!
Slick got hyped when the door opened and he saw Razorblade Goody stumbling out of the apartment with his arm around the shoulders of a nice thick chocolate girl. The two were slipping off alone, without any of his yes-men following them. The chick laughed out loud when baby boy slid his hand across her waist and gripped her meaty ass cheek, and then bent to nuzzle her neck.
Slick grinned. Razorblade was dipping off to get him some pussy, and this was the type of error that Slick had been waiting patiently for him to make.
Slick coulda picked him off right there without even getting out of the ride, but he wanted to do something a little more dramatic. He was gonna send a message to the Goode Brothers Gang, and a stray bullet wouldn’t make his statement clear enough.
Slick started his car and slowly pulled outta the parking space. Razorblade patted the young girl on her jiggly ass again and then walked over to the driver’s side of his car.
Slick slid his toolie under the front seat and rolled his window all the way down. He reached for the Molotov cocktail on the passenger seat and lit that shit as he pulled right up on Razorblade’s ass.
“W’sup young blood,” Slick said quietly. “That Goode Brother shit is dead out here, B.”
With his dick hard and his head in a haze of drugs and alcohol, Razorblade wasn’t quick enough to react. He barely jumped as the glass bottle splashed down at his feet, and in the next moment he was engulfed in flames.
Slick pulled away from the curb looking back through his rearview mirror with a wicked grin. A big ball of human flames was rolling around in the street and the sound of a horrified female screaming her head off filled the air.
Slick drove through the intersection smirking to himself. One of them porch niggas might run up and take a long-distance piss on Razorblade, but wasn’t nobody gonna get burned up tryna put that nigga out. He’d be a crispy muthafuckin steak bone by the time the ambulance arrived. Oh yeah, the Goode Brothers Gang was about to hear his message loud, and they were gonna hear it clear too.
Slick drove with one hand and leaned back in his seat as he replied to Jewelz’s text.You ain’t gotta save me no plate, baby. I just ate a nice big juicy Outback steak. It was kinda burnt, but that shit was great. I’ll holla.
$$$$$
Jewelz was wearing a dark blue Housing Authority maintenance uniform that she had picked up just for this special occasion. She was also rocking a brand new wig and had caked her face up with a bunch of make up. She was so done up that she couldn’t even recognize herself when she looked in the mirror.
Standing outside the apartment door of her target, she took a deep breath.
Gone in there and get your shit off, girl, she urged herself. She’s just a mean old lady and this is probably gonna be the easiest hit you’ve ever done.
But an unfamiliar sinking feeling entered her stomach and Jewelz hesitated. She had never zipped up an older black woman before. Matter fact, she had never in life fucked with an elder or hurt somebody’s harmless grandmomma.
Uh-uh. She mentally kicked herself in the ass. Fuck the dumb shit. That harmless old lady spawned a half-dozen fuckin demons! It’s her fault that every last one of her sons turned out to be all fucked up!
Jewelz was there to handle her handle and there was no turning back. Her and Slick had spent a lot of time planning this shit. She got ready to shake that shit off and do what she had come to do.
Fuck all this sentimental shit. That old bitch ain’t special! How many innocent mothers have her sons caused to grieve over their children? Them monsters of hers have caused so much suffering that it’s only right that their mama should catch some of that hell too! She’s probably a ratchet old bitch anyway!
Jewelz was armed with a clipboard, a metal wrench, a small caliber pistol that wouldn’t make too much noise, a small bottle of poisonous herbs, and a piano wire that she could use if the situation called for it. She knocked on the project door and waited.
“May I help you?” called a shaky voice from the other side. Jewelz heard a slight click and knew the old lady was looking through the peephole. She could have put her gun up to the lens and popped her right then and there, but that wasn’t part of the plan.
“It’s Housing,” Jewelz called out loudly.
“Housing? At this hour? Is there something wrong?” the old lady asked sounding worried.
“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m Miranda from the Housing maintenance department,” Jewelz explained through the door. She jumped right into character and started talking her game.
“The water pipes just busted in an apartment upstairs. A few of your neighbors called in to complain about a leak. I just need to check your bathroom to make sure we don’t need to send a plumbing team in for you.” Jewelz heard the door being unlocked and a second later a little old lady opened it.
“Hey sweetie,” the elderly woman said. She wore a raggedy old blue nightgown and had about ten gigantic pink foam rollers clamped in her thin hair. “Come on in and check it out. Lord knows I don’t need any problems with any floods.”
“Thank you,” Jewelz said as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
The apartment was small and typically modest, project-style. Old-school furniture covered in tight clear plastic was in the living room, and there were pictures of Jesus nailed to the cross hanging from the dingy walls.
Jewelz could tell right away that Handgun had told the truth when he said his momma didn’t accept none of her son’s drug money. With the thin linoleum and faded curtains it didn’t look like The Goode Brothers Gang was looking out for their mother at all.
Jewelz glanced down at her clipboard. “Are you Judith Goode? The leaseholder on the apartment?”
“Yes, I am,” the old lady said. “I’ve been living in this apartment for the past forty years and I ain’t never had a lick of trouble with no pipes! I suppose everything is getting old around here though, including me.”
“Well, I’m sorry for knocking so late,” Jewelz said with a smile. “I’ll check things out and be right on my way. This shouldn’t take long at all.”
Ms. Goode pointed down a short hall toward the bathroom. “Go on back there. It’s the first door on the left, sweetie. I was just finishing up my dishes so I could make myself some tea to help me relax. Would you like a cup?” Ms. Goode asked. “I make the best hot tea in Brownsville, young lady.”
“Sure why not,” Jewelz accepted the offer with a smile. “I couldn’t possibly turn that down. Thank you, ma’am.”
Jewelz walked down the hall and fiddled around under the cluttered sink in the small bathroom. There was all types of old lady shit up under there. PolyGrip. Rubbing alcohol. BenGay. Robitussin. Mothballs. Peroxide. A small red tin of Dixie Peach hair grease, and of course some good old-fashioned Vaseline.
Jewelz’s mind raced as she stuck her head under the sink and clinked her wrench back and forth against the pipes. Ms. Goode was nothing like she had imagined. Jewelz
had thought Goody’s mama was gonna be some old Newport-smoking self-righteous church hag with a hairy chin and a big-time attitude. But so far Ms. Goode seemed as sweet as pie and was making her feel real comfortable. She had the aura of a wise elder about her. Jewelz had never had a grandmother before, but Ms. Goode seemed to be exactly what she imagined a good grandmother would be.
After a few more minutes of tinkering under the sink, Jewelz put everything back in place and joined Dirty Mike’s mother in the kitchen.
“Everything looks alright in there,” Jewelz said as she scribbled some nonsense on her clipboard. “If you find any problems later on feel free to give us a call, but right now it all seems straight.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Ms. Goode said, relieved. “Now sit down and drink this tea, young lady. I don’t get much company so I’m glad you’re here. Even if it is kinda late. I don’t sleep much anyway.”
“Do you live alone Ms. Goode?” Jewelz asked pleasantly as she picked up the steaming cup and sipped from it. “Your apartment is very nice. It reminds me of my grandmother’s house,” she lied.
“Yes, I live alone,” the old woman responded. “I have six sons,” she said, pointing up at a row of elementary school pictures of cute lil boys that were taped to the wall. “Michael is the oldest, and there’s Melvin, and Malcolm, and Malik, and Marlon and Maurice. They’re all grown now, but none of them come by here anymore. Their father died a long time ago so I’ve just been hanging strong with the Lord. I don’t mind too much though.”
“Wow, that’s sad,” Jewelz said as she continued to sip her tea. “Why don’t your sons come by and check on you? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”