Stone de la Bru Familia

by Peter Mack

  The sun was beginning to make its decline from the sky. Stone didn't want to be pulling away from the curb in the dead of night; not out of fear but of security. There were plenty of hungry men on the streets in the night looking for a chance to be killed.

  Stone slipped on his black leather jacket with BRU Capo embossed across the back. This jacket was not for sale and only given to family members. He tucked his Glock .45 into a reinforced inside pocket meant for this purpose.

  Keasha's door faced the concrete walkway. It was open. Through the gray screen he could see the silhouettes of several shapely women moving about. The smell of fried chicken met him as he stepped up the three steps.

  "Is that my baby daddy?" came the high-pitched voice of Paradise. Stone smiled despite himself as the screen door opened, her long fingernails bright in the waning light as they clutched a handle.

  "What's up, Stone! We heard you were getting married… How you gon’ cheat on me like that?" she asked, smiling with new braces on her teeth. Her shapely body was sheathed in a sleeve of cotton that dropped to her ankles from the top of bubbly brown breasts. Her long dark weave nearly obscured the view of those heavenly mounds.

  "What's up baby girl," he replied with a soft kiss on her warm, sweet smelling cheek.

  "I shoulda made you kiss me on the lips," she whispered after him as he walked into the small apartment.

  In true ghetto fabulous fashion it was appointed with the finest leather couches (upon which attentive, smiling women sat watching videos and gossiping), plasma screen television (where music videos play), glass tables and the smell of cronic smoke.

  "Hey, Stone. How you doing?” Keasha said from beyond the living room.

  She stood at the dining room table tending to a head of wild hair seated before her. Gold and diamonds jangled from her wrists and sparkled on her tapered fingers. She was as cool as a man and twice as deadly simply because she was beautiful in a hood way. Her big, dark eyes studied him as he made his way to her.

  "Straight like a pair of eights," Stone said as he walked under the bright light of the dining/kitchen area where the smell of fried chicken was strongest.

  "That's not very straight at all" she replied with a small smile. Keasha never expected a square answer from him. "Pooky called earlier. He asked about you."

  "Where he at?"

  "They just move him to New Folsom."

  "Wasn't he at Soledad?"

  "Yeah… Why?" she asked, her interest piqued, always a fan of new information.

  "No reason." There was something familiar about the woman sitting in the chair before Keasha. He caught her glance as she looked up from the magazine she was reading. He was initially drawn to her because she seemed very poised and professional, then there were the dark, round eyes that he'd seen before.

  "Excuse me miss…" he ventured, pulling her eyes back up from the magazine. "Do I know you?"

  The pretty woman with smooth, dark, shiny skin and wavy long hair said, "Not that I can remember."

  Keasha looked on with slight amusement. Stone studied her for a moment. "Naw… I never forget a face."

  "You don't know him Ebony?" Keasha asked, causing the uninterested woman to give it more thought. She looked to Stone with renewed interest.

  "You do look a little familiar…"

  "This is Stone Sweetwater," Keasha offered. Stone didn't see how this would mean anything to Ebony, but when her eyes widened in surprise he knew that there was something to the name.

  "Are you any relation to Marcus Sweetwater?" Ebony wanted to know. Stone let out a loud chuckle that drew the attention of the women lounging on the sofa, throwing his head to the ceiling.

  "OH SNAP!” he bellowed, "you worked with my brother! I remember seeing you that day when they arrested him." Her dire predicament was occurring to him in stages as Paradise sidled up next to him and placed her arm over his shoulder.

  "She lucky she ain’t in jail,” Paradise offered.

  "Mind your own business, Paradise," Keasha warned, her eyes directing the would-be instigator back into the living room. She rolled her neck hard before following Keasha's silent instruction.

  "You got caught up in a real way, hunh?" Stone asked, remembering that the feds tried to implicate her in the fraud of the Century 21 office. "You really didn't know about the secret office with the Irish dude?"

  Ebony shook her head seriously. "I didn’t know nothing about that. Like I told the feds… All I did was follow instructions. Whatever your brother told me to put on the paper that's what I did. He handled the rest."

  "Is that what they want you to say in court?" he asked, looking to her with a chilling stare that seemed to quiet the small apartment. All eyes were on her, awaiting her answer.

  "I don't know anything," she replied, the threat of tears evident in her voice.

  "She's good Stone. She wouldn't be in my house if she wasn't. Marcus got more to worry about than what she got to say," Keasha said as she lay her comb on the table and walked to where he stood.

  "Sorry my brother got you mixed up in this drama, but let me ask you a question. Are you charged with anything right now?" Keasha was looking into his eyes with a silent plea as he asked this of Ebony.

  "Yeah. Conspiracy to commit fraud."

  "Have they offered you a deal in exchange for your testimony against Marcus?" Keasha placed her hand inside his elbow and gently pressed.

  "There's nothing I can say Stone. Honestly." There was fear in her voice.

  "Stop it Stone. This is not the time or the place. She didn't play no part in that. She ain't got no power." This last statement turned Stone’s eyes to Keasha. What he saw there was a private communication directing him to leave it alone for her sake.

  Ebony looked on with slight apprehension. She'd heard of Stone through her friend Misty. She didn't want to be on the wrong side of him or his friends. She had no clue that Marcus was his brother; they were nothing alike. The women in the room waited with baited breath while Stone decided what he was going to do next. When he smiled at Ebony all sound seemed to return to the air.

  "You got the bad end of the stick," he said with a point of his finger to Ebony. "I'm sorry about that."

  Keasha smiled proudly at him before turning to Ebony. "I'll be right back girl. We need to handle some quick business."

  "Nice meeting you," Ebony said with some relief.

  Keasha led the way from the kitchen and into the hallway. "Why was you so mean to her?" she asked as they entered the last bedroom on the right. A large round bed stood in the center of the floor surrounded by mirrored walls. To the left was a small open armoire that looked to be a shrine to her husband Pooky, who was locked up.

  "She's tough," he replied absently as she moved to a low table near the closet.

  "Here's the stuff you needed. Brock and Traci need two good birth certificates and Social Security cards," she said as she handed him a blue folder with BRU stenciled across the middle.

  Inside the folder were surveillance pictures of the social worker who was trying to take Serena from him and place her in a foster home. The photos showed the stern black woman entering a sex shop with a tall white man.

  "Who is this?" he asked Keasha, holding the photo up.

  "Info is on the back."

  Stone flipped through the photos and quickly learned that she was having an affair with a white man, her supervisor, while married to a black man who worked construction. There was further evidence that she owed nearly half a million dollars in taxes.

  "Damn, how we know this and the feds don't?" he wanted to know.

  Keasha shrugged. "You gotta ask the higher ups that question. I'm just a lowly foot soldier." She said this sadly. "But I'm proud of you though. I knew that you were going to be made."

  "How'd you know?"

  "Because I recommended you."

  "Why?" he asked, wondering how she got the power to recommend.

  "To tell you the truth… I told Brock James about you and he said
he would talk to Milo. I don't know what happened from there… Next thing I know Brock told me that you were made." She looked at him thoughtfully before asking, "Was there some type of blood ritual or something?"

  Stone looked to her sharply while he digested the social worker’s credit history and residences she owned. She had way more assets than her paycheck would allow. "The formal ceremony was in Milo's office. I just took an oath and…"

  "What kind of oath?" she asked excitedly, nearly jumping from the bed.

  “You know I can’t tell you that… But I'm supposed to meet everybody Friday. At least the BRU Capos of their region."

  "Brock and Traci are going to be there to pick up the documents." Keasha said this in a low voice.

  It was incredible to Stone that he was now helping the notorious Brock James get new identification. He was a hood legend who'd been on the run for years for drug trafficking, racketeering and murder. As a BRU lieutenant he was given top priority. Stone felt as if this was his first test.

  "You going with me, right?" he asked.

  She swooned like a schoolgirl while batting her eyes. "Why of course, Mr. Sweetwater. It would be my pleasure." She straightened up then. "Oh shit! I have to buy something to wear!"

  Stone pulled a thick square of money from his pocket and snapped off ten one hundred dollar bills and handed them to her. "You gotta be fly to ride with me."

  "So, who is this girl you supposed to be marrying?"

  “She’s the opposite of everyone in this house." This drew a playful slap from Keasha as she jumped from the bed. Stone closed the folder and retreated through the door amidst Keasha’s playful laughter.

  When they emerged through the hallway all eyes were on them. Ebony was still seated at the dining room table. "Take care of yourself," he said to her.

  "I want to take care of you!" Paradise said seductively from her seat on the leather sofa. She played her fingers like the piano when he looked at her.

  "I'm demanding and aggressive," he responded. This caused an uproar of cheers and pronouncement from the women. Paradise stood from her seat.

  "That's what I'm talking about. I need an aggressive man." she cheered.

  "Don't encourage her." Keasha pleaded as she ushered Stone through the doorway and into the night air. "Be careful Stone," she said, her words surrounded by the excited cheers he'd created.

  Stone took a deep breath. He was still thinking of the oath he'd taken. He could hardly say what really happened. He held hands with the infamous BRU Capo himself, Isiko Cooks, who’d flown in from Baltimore, and Milo Sempier.

  Together they recited the words to the Constitution scribed on parchment paper. The thickly rolled scroll was held by the three of them together as it smoldered under a light burning, with the intoning of what it was to be a member of the BRU family. He couldn't say that his heart didn't beat widely during the entire burning and didn't settle until Milo and Isiko welcomed him home; a place where loyalty was everything and brotherhood was family.

  Chapter Three

  Stone Sweetwater was up early. Today was to be a day of serious business. The social worker was supposed to show up at some time during the morning. She was determined to see him without Serena.

  Her reasoning was that the father, who was locked up, had final say-so. What the fuck kinda say-so he got? Stone asked, thinking that any say-so he had was forfeited when he went to prison. And this final say-so was to have Serena live with his mother who was a part-time alcoholic.

  Candi told him enough stories about Serena's grandmother to know that she was not equipped to raise a little girl. Everyone involved knew that granny only wanted Serena so she could receive money from the county.

  This frustrated Stone to no end. There was no one who cared for Serena or could provide her with the good life as well as he could. He'd already checked her into a private school and purchased private health insurance for her. He didn't even want money from social services. All he wanted was to be her legal guardian.

  Stone worked to keep the frustration from his heart. This was why he pulled all of his cars out of the garage and washed them himself. He'd been in the backyard since daybreak. He started with a black Range Rover. Next the Harley-Davidson bike and the Viper truck. He was now on the beastly BMW. There was still the ‘79 regal and ‘69 Camaro to soap up, rinse and Armour – All.

  "Hey lil bro," Lillian called from the back porch, holding a phone in her hand. "Coretta's on the phone." Her slim, shapely figure was hid beneath a baggy black BRU Capo nylon tracksuit that Stone recognized as his own.

  "You bin in my room?" He'd turned from the bimmer with the soapy goat hair mitts covering his hand.

  "Of course not!" Her smile betrayed the lie. "Coretta says what do you want for lunch? I want some orange chicken from Tao's…"

  "You better stay outta my room." He waved her away with this, giving her permission to tell Coretta whatever she wanted. He heard the words orange chicken and then soft laughter. He resisted the urge to turn for the smile on Lillian's pretty face.

  "He's washing his toys," Lillian teased into the phone. They were having a good time discussing Stone. "She wants to know if she can bring her car for a detail… Shoot! I need mine done too."

  Stone rounded the back of the BMW to rinse the trunk off, looking to Lillian. He smiled, knowing she didn't expect him to say what he was about to say. "Y'all better hurry up."

  Lillian grew animated. "Girl, he said to hurry up. It is not often we get to put him to work!" Lillian leaned back with her laughter, her beige face reaching for the sky. "I know that's right! See you in a minute girl."

  Stone's mother appeared behind Lillian, hitting her gently with the opening of the screen door. Lillian stepped forward on the porch, careful not to fall over the edge. Mabel looked to her curiously.

  "Don't you fall now," she warned with wide, dark eyes before looking to Stone with one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. "Baby, the social worker is here for you." His mother's voice was a plea to be on his best behavior.

  "Send her around the side mama."

  "She's in the living room. Maybe you should come on inside and clean up a little bit," Mabel suggested.

  She was rarely without an apron over a flower print dress. Her large breasts and wide hips only added to her matronly disposition. Long black hair (pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck) and smooth black skin was a reminder of the extraordinary beauty of her youth.

  "She'll be all right out here mama," he replied, moving to the other side of the BMW to spray water over the soapy top. He didn't see any reason why he had to stop what he was doing for someone who wanted to take Serena away from him. Besides, what he had to say was better said out of earshot of his mother

  "If you say so," Mabel said at length before turning back into the house.

  "You gone have that poor woman out here in the hot sun?" Lillian wanted to know, shielding her own eyes now, suddenly infected by their mother’s sensitivity to sunlight. "You know she's probably wearing a suit," she added in a lower tone.

  Stone smiled to her mischievously. "So, what you about to do?" His question caught her off-guard. She considered protesting his subtle suggestion for her to make herself disappear (she'd wanted to stay), before turning abruptly into the house.

  Stone was watching her as she stopped in mid-stride through the doorway. Something in her posture told him that the social worker was right in front of her. He turned his attention to the rims as Mrs. Karen Cartwright negotiated the back porch and looked out towards the backyard of luxury automobiles.

  "Mr. Stone Sweetwater?" the thin, dark skinned woman asked. Her words came out fast. If they were cars on the highway they'd rear end one another at the slightest lull in traffic.

  The red linen pantsuit clashed against her dark skin with purple paint over her eyes. Why did black women paint themselves purple? Stone wondered as he observed her carefully stepping down the porch in red high heels.

  “I forgot your name
," Stone answered as he moved around the front of the BMW.

  A large Rottweiler lounged lazily in the shade of the house. He looked up suddenly when Mrs. Cartwright rounded the trash bin which obscured him from view. She jumped to the grass, startled, nearly dropping the bright red folder and lizard handbag she cradled in the crook of her thin elbow.

  Stone watched her silently along with the animal, whose eyes were intently upon her every frightened move.

  "He wont bite unless you do something crazy," Stone advised, resisting the urge to laugh as she struggled to pull the heel of her shoe from the dirt while keeping a wary eye on the uninterested dog.

  "His name is Max." Stone tapped his leg and the beast reached his full height and trotted to his side. This seemed to ease Mrs. Cartwright’s fear as she moved to the spot she’d jumped from.

  "Is he trained?" she asked, trying to regain her composure.

  In response Stone snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot along the yard where a lemon tree stood by a wooden bench. Max confidently strolled by the social worker with a casual glance in her direction. His leisurely pace seemed to relax the shook woman. Max found a spot at the base of the lemon tree and lowered his body to the cool grass, his massive head resting on his paws while his eyes looked alertly to Stone.

  Stone was watching the thin lady as she surveyed the backyard. "You seem to do all right for yourself," she said with a slow nod of her perfectly coifed head of curly hair held tight to her scalp in pineapple rows.

  "Fair to middling," he responded as he sprayed the hood of the BMW. He'd heard this in a movie and waited for the right time to use the cool phrase. He was closer to her now, aware that she had a lot on her mind, mostly having nothing to do with the welfare of Serena.

  "And what did you say you did for a living?"

  "Pray."

  This brought a smile to her thin lips before a cloud passed over her face, signaling a return to the purpose of her visit. "Well, that might be true, but how about your employment?"