by Cash
When I woke up, I was poking her violently like my fingers were shanks. “My bad, shawdy. I was dreaming about stabbing that rat nigga who told on my pop.”
She wiped sweat from my forehead and laid her head on my chest and we fell back to sleep holding each other.
That same day, Swag called to tell me that Smooth had been arrested. It was all over the news. They called him an alleged rogue cop. I kept abreast of the situation. That’s how I found out several days later that Smooth had been released on a $250,000 bond.
My trigger finger started twitching. He was fair game now. A civilian just like me! And I needed to get at his ass more so than before. Because now he was dismissed from the police force and facing serious legal problems. The $100,000 on my head probably looked better than ever. I felt it in my bones that he would come after me. But fate delivered him to me first.
One of the hood chicks that Smooth messed with was a lady named Pudding. It was crazy because Pudding had babysat me often when I was in grade school and I had developed a mad crush on her.
“Yeah, me and your pop used to laugh about that,” Inez recalled with a smile.
“Small world.”
“Yes it is.”
For a few days, I contemplated approaching Pudding and offering to pay her fifty bands to set up Smooth. But that would’ve left me vulnerable, so I nixed that idea and reverted to a time worn truth: When stalking prey just wait for them to show up at their bitch’s house. Pussy sets the best trap even when it is unintentional.
I watched Pudding’s apartment for a week before I broke luck. The night I pulled into the complex and saw Smooth and Pudding sitting in his Silverado truck immersed in deep conversation, I knew that it was now or never.
I circled around and parked a short distance away. By now they were out of the car and headed towards Pudding’s apartment. Luckily for me, Smooth didn’t go inside. He hugged Pudding at the door and then walked casually back to his truck, bracing himself against an unusually brisk November wind.
I slid out of my whip with a singlemindedness. My AR-15 was down by my waist, locked and loaded.
I raised the assault rifle, looked through the scope and located Smooth. I moved my arm over to the right a bit until the infrared beam was in the center of the back of his head. Then I squeezed off four successive rounds. The shots rang out like tin trays clapping together. Smooth’s head snapped forward violently, and his body slid down the side of the car. I hopped back in my car and backed up the street.
The assassination of Smooth did not bring the type of heat on the city that it would’ve brought had he still been on the force and in good standing. He had dirtied his badge and brought shame to the APD so they did not comb the ‘A’ looking for his killer. They gave lip service to finding the culprit, but that was the extent of it.
“I see you crushed that nigga,” said Criminal. We were cruising down Gresham Road in my SUV. A week had passed since I had bapped Smooth.
“Nawl, bruh. That wasn’t my work. I wanted to smash that ass, but obviously somebody wanted him worse than I did. What I’m hearing is that the police got him,” I said.
“They probably did.”
I don’t know why I lied to Criminal, I just did. He must’ve bought my lie, because he changed subjects. “Trouble, I’m not tryna get in your personal business, but I ran into Kamora the other day and she’s fucked up over how you just cut her off,” he said.
“Leave it alone, bruh,” I replied.
“Fam’, you ain’t being—”
“Bruh, leave it alone,” I repeated. There was no one Kamora could get to speak on her behalf and change my mind. I had closed that chapter. Criminal correctly interpreted that debating the issue was pointless, so he let it go and we drove on in silence for a few minutes.
We left the hood and hopped on I-20 East until I reached the Rockdale exit. We barely avoided getting side swiped by a dairy truck as I made a last second turn into a BP station to get gas.
After refueling, I got back behind the wheel and quickly explained things to Criminal as I pulled back into traffic.
I drove past a ranch styled crib out in a quiet subdivision and pointed it out to Criminal. “That’s where Byron lives. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get up in that bitch. The nigga is getting to the money, so I know he got a stash up in that bitch. Probably some of them thangs, too.”
“Let’s eat, bruh,” said Criminal, meaning that he was ready to pounce on the lick.
“We’ll do that, but let’s check it out for a few weeks. He ain’t going nowhere. Meanwhile, what’s the business with those Mexicans out in Buford you’re beefing with? You wanna go body some of those muthafuckas? I don’t like their asses no way. They all over the ‘A’ like they own this bitch.”
“Those niggas do think they’re running shit. Yeah, let’s go chop some of them down.”
Late that night, Criminal, two of his GF dudes and I rode out to Buford Highway and smashed five Mexicans. I didn’t give a fuck if the ones I shot weren’t involved in the beef with Criminal or not. They were thug looking essés and that was good enough for me.
Niggas run the ‘A’! They better bow down to it.
CHAPTER 24
I put my bangers up on the shelf long enough to spend Thanksgiving with my sisters. I picked Eryka and Chanté up and took them over to Inez’s to spend the day with Tamia. Ava came along because her family was torn apart and scattered everywhere.
Inez threw down! She baked a turkey so fat and juicy the meat melted in our mouths. She also cooked baked chicken, dressing, collard greens and cornbread, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, green beans and banana pudding. We all ate until we couldn’t eat another bite. Then we sat around and talked about our pop.
My sisters wanted a chain and urn like mine and I promised to get them each one. “I’ll call Juanita and ask her if she’ll give them some of his ashes. She probably has them out in the garage. I can’t stand that bitch!” said Inez.
Tamia rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. Chanté and Eryka laughed.
“She’ll give us the run around. Watch and see,” I predicted.
Just then we heard the front door open. In came Bianca and her daddy. He was on crutches. He looked at me and I slid my hand in my waist.
“Daddy, let’s go back to your house,” said Bianca, interrupting the tension between Fat Stan and me.
They left back out and Tamia took Chanté and Eryka upstairs to her room where they could talk about boys, probably. I could tell that her lil ass was on fiyah. “She gonna make me hurt some little boy,” I said.
“Oh, Miss Thang is hot! Hot! Hot! But I’m going to cool her off or kill her ass one. I’m way too young and fly to be a grandmother,” added Inez.
“Miss Inez, you are young and pretty. Can I ask ya why you don’t have a boyfriend?” Ava chimed in.
Inez stood up from the table and went and took my pop’s picture off the mantel. She came back clutching it to her heart. She held it up for Ava to see. It was a photo of my pop holding Tamia when she was a baby. Damn, I was his spitting image.
“You see that man in that picture, Ava? I loved him more than life itself. He was everything I wanted in a man. But he’s dead now, and I just can’t imagine giving my body to another man. I would feel so . . . icky,” explained Inez. A tear slid down her cheek.
“I miss your father so much.” She wept. I hugged her and wept inside with her. Ava was crying, too.
The doorbell rang, stopping the tear that threatened to fall from my eye. Inez dried her eyes, and then went to answer the door. She returned with company.
“What’s up, Kamora? You already know Ava, so introductions ain’t necessary,” I said.
Kamora looked at Ava like she wanted to choke her, but Ava didn’t blink.
Pregnancy agreed with Kamora. She looked radiant and her skin was beautiful. Her hair was in long braids and she wore loose pants and a maternity top. I could see her stomach poking out a bit.
> “Inez, we enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner. We’re gonna bounce now. Chanté and Eryka are spending the night. Are you gonna take them home tomorrow or do I need to come scoop ‘em?” I stood up to leave. Ava followed suit.
“Y’all don’t have to leave because of me,” Kamora said.
“We were about to leave anyway. Take care of yourself and let me know when you go in the hospital to have the baby,” I said.
“Why?”
“Just let me know,” I repeated.
As I was leaving out with Ava’s hand in mine, I looked back at Kamora and thought I saw tears in her eyes. I felt some kind of way because we had a lot of history, and if my anger were put aside, I knew I still loved her. However, I could not allow emotions to override principle. That was one of the many ways I was just like my pop. We both loved hard, but the slightest betrayal got you cut the fuck off. Disloyalty was unforgivable.
After Thanksgiving weekend was over, I dusted off my bangers and refocused on my many missions. I hit the streets and put my press game down hard. Nobody backed out on paying their taxes. I guess they could see zero tolerance in my eyes.
Now it was time to make Zeke feel the pain that he had caused me. I had found out that he had two nephews that played football for Washington High. I found out exactly who they were and I followed them from practice. A few blocks away from the school I pulled up to them and called them over to the car. Since I called their names, they felt less worry about approaching a strange car.
“Who is that?” one of them asked as they stepped closer.
“I’m a friend of your Uncle Zeke. I just wanted to congratulate y’all on the win last week.
“Man, we didn’t win. We lost 12-0.”
“Oh, Zeke told me y’all won. It don’t matter though, stay at it and don’t fuck with the streets. Here’s some sneaker money.” I held a fist full of bills out the window.
When they reached for the money, I let it slip from my hand and blow to the ground. “Damn, my bad.” I feigned an apology.
They bent to pick the money up and I reached in my waist. The banger came up spitting fire.
Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!
I squeezed off nine shots in just a few seconds. Both teenagers were sprawled out in the street. I had no mercy. Laquanda had been even younger. I hopped out and stood over them. One of them was lying still with the whites of his eyes showing. Still, I aimed the Glock .50 down and put a hole in his forehead.
His brother was trying to crawl up on the curb. I kicked him in the side and he collapsed on his face.
Boc! Boc!
You touch mine, I’ll touch yours.
I didn’t even allow my gun to cool off. Two nights later after receiving an unexpected call from Kamora, I was at it again. But this time it was to avenge my father.
The hands on my watch moved at a snail’s pace. After twenty-eight minutes and eleven seconds I could wait no longer. I moved like a cat burglar as I crept up to the front door of the one-level house. The knob turned easily and I slid inside, quietly pulling the door up behind me. I already had a Sig Sauer in my right hand, ready to pop. With my left hand I removed the Glock .50 from my waist as I adjusted my eyes to the soft lighting inside. Damn, I had forgotten to ask where they would be!
I followed the sound of Donnell Jones playing on a stereo, which led me to a bedroom down the hall on the left. I cracked the bedroom door open and tipped inside; the smell of sex was in the air. Sharena had her mouth glued to Kamora’s pussy. With his back to the door, Byron was hitting Sharena doggie style. I crept up close behind him and placed the felony ends of both bangers to the back of his head. “Please make me murk you,” I whispered.
“I won’t. I’ll do whatever you say.” His voice quaked with so much fear he sounded like a woman.
“Good, just don’t ask me not to kill you. Every nigga that has ever said that to me has gotten a negative answer. Pull out and lay face down on the floor, dick in the muthafuckin’ carpet.”
Byron backed out of his bitch. Sharena was so into licking Kamora’s sweet kitty that she didn’t even realize an intruder had invaded their fantasy until her pussy was left unattended.
“Why you take it out, daddy?” she complained without looking back.
Byron couldn’t respond. He was butt naked on the floor with my Air Force 1 on the back of his neck.
I quickly tucked one of the bangers back in my waist, grabbed a fist full of Sharena’s hair and snatched her face up out of Kamora’s wet-wet. “Owww!” she yelped.
“The party is over, bitch!” I snarled.
“Dang bae, she was just about to make me come,” grumbled Kamora.
I looked at her reproachfully.
“Whateva, boy. You know I was just joking.”
The banter did not distract us; we were pros by now. I held the Glock on Byron as Kamora removed the roll of duct tape from her overnight bag and then taped his hands behind his back and his ankles together. “What about his mouth?” she asked.
I nodded affirmatively.
Kamora placed a strip of tape over his mouth, and then bound and gagged his ho the same way. “Boo Boo, did you think this sweet candy came without a cavity?” she taunted as she stepped into her clothes. I could see the terror in the couple’s eyes as we sat them up on the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed between the two. Kamora propped herself up on the edge of the dresser.
“Byron, I wanna tell you a true story about the realest nigga that ever lived,” I said.
A short while later I concluded with, “Your mother helped get him executed. Now you have to pay for her deeds.”
I wasted no more time. A bullet in the forehead from point blank range did to Delina’s son what her testimony did to my pop. The tape covering Sharena’s mouth muffled her scream. “This ain’t about you, Miss Lady, so get yourself together and do as I tell you. If you cooperate, I promise not to kill you. Byron is gone, as you can see. There’s nothing that can bring him back, so now you have to think about saving yourself. Do you understand?” She nodded vigorously.
I removed the tape from over her mouth and demanded she tell me where Byron kept his stash. “There’s a small safe with about eighty thousand dollars in it in the room across from the laundry. The combination is 38-35-01. It works like the typical lock,” she stammered.
“What about cocaine?”
“Four kilos. They are in the dryer under a load of clothes.”
I put the Glock to her temple. “You want me to believe that’s all Byron had? Bitch, don’t insult my intelligence.”
“No!” she shrieked, thinking I was about to turn her lights out. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. It’s the truth. That’s all that Byron has here. His real stash is at his mother’s house in Virginia.” My ears perked up.
“Where in Virginia does his mother live?”
“In Portsmouth, but I don’t know her exact address,” she claimed.
I looked on the dresser and saw what I was looking for. I pointed to the cell phone on the charger and asked Sharena if it was hers or Byron’s. “That was . . . his . . . ” She sniffled.
I retrieved the phone from the charger and asked Sharena for the code to unlock it. “I don’t know the code,” she said. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because Byron was probably the type of nigga who had a bunch of sideline hoes. He would not have given his woman the code to unlock his phone.
“For your sake, you better know his mother’s phone number,” I warned. She told me that Delina’s number was programmed in her phone under Byron’s Mom.
“My phone is in my purse in the bathroom,” Sharena said.
Kamora dashed off to get it. When she came back with the cell phone and handed it to me, I went to Sharena’s contacts and found what I was looking for. I texted: this is Sharena. text me your address. Byron wants me 2 mail u a gift.
A few minutes later, a return text came through with: 1803 HIGH STREET, PORTSMOUTH va 23704. It was all I needed from her, so I texte
d back: thanx. And soon after Delina replied: welcome. Smooches. I cut the phone off and put it in my pocket, and then I went to Byron’s stash. Two gunshots echoed through the house as I bent down to unlock the safe. I didn’t have to go investigate. No witnesses. Yeah, I had promised not to kill Sharena, but Kamora hadn’t.
I emptied the safe, went into the laundry room and got the kilos out of the dryer. Then together, we wiped all of our prints from every spot we touched. “Strip the bed, we’re taking the sheets and pillow cases with us,” I said, mindful of leaving behind forensic evidence.
I hadn’t had any intentions on using Kamora to help me get Byron. The plan had been for Criminal and me to handle it. But when Kamora hit me up and told me that she had it all set up, I could not let the opportunity pass. Avenging my pop meant everything to me.
Driving back to Kamora’s place, I gave it to her raw. “I appreciate what you did, but it changes nothing between us. You broke your word to me and I cannot forgive that.”
“Bae, I don’t understand. It’s not like I’m having the next nigga’s baby. This is your seed inside of me,” she protested.
“It don’t matter, shawdy,” I said.
“You think Ava is a better bitch than me? How many niggas has she bodied for you? None probably. And you’re parading her around like she’s earned something. That’s the thing that hurts, but I’m going to handle this like a lady. Time will tell who the real bitch is.”
“It always does.”
I dropped Kamora off at home. Before she got out of the car I offered her the eighty bands we had taken from Byron. I would keep the blocks. “No, I’m good. I didn’t do it for that. I did it for your father.”
She had to know that would touch a nigga’s heart.
“I feel you, shawdy. But accept the money for the baby.”
Kamora reconsidered and accepted the money. “Take care, bae,” she said and ran into the house.
CHAPTER 25
“I handled that,” I said to Inez, passing her a copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. The newspaper was folded open to the relevant article.