“A stack.”
“How many you got?”
“How many you need?” Snap asked.
Botta Bing looked at Mox and saw him flash two fingers. “Two.” He said. “And lemme get like ten boxes of bullets.”
“That’s it?”
Bing looked to Mox again for an answer. “Nah… I need somethin’ big too… street sweeper type shit.” Snap thought on it for a moment, and then told Bing and Mox he’d be right back. When he returned, he was holding a large green duffle bag and wearing his signature sinister grin.
“Sumptin like this?” he asked, pulling a black machine gun from the bag and aiming it at the far wall. “What you think?”
“Yeah…” Bing smiled at the sight of the weapon; violence excited him. “I think that’ll do for now.” He glanced to his right, and Mox was giving him the head nod. “Yeah, we good wit’ that.”
After they got the money situated, Snap found his cleaning kit and touched the artillery up before they left. Due to his time spent in the military, he became a divine weapons specialist and could basically tell someone any and everything they needed to know about a gun. He was highly skilled in that area. His ability to dismantle and reassemble a weapon in less than 60 seconds was phenomenal and always a surprise.
Mox watched as Snap’s hands moved quickly and quietly. He hadn’t smiled or said a word—it was total concentration. He had all three guns cleaned and ready for use in less than 15 minutes. Once he finished, he pulled another cigarette from his pack and lit it.
“All ready to go.” he said, blowing smoke through his nostrils. “Make sure that money right, and slam the door on the way out. I gotta take a shit; I’ma see you later.”
Snap disappeared into the back while Mox and Botta Bing gathered the weapons and quietly left the apartment. They opted for the steps instead of the elevator. Dodging the urine puddles and piles of trash that littered the staircase, they finally made to the lobby and out the building. Botta Bing waved a cab down in not time. “Yo, come see me in the AM. I’ma take you to my other peoples and get you some wheels for the time bein’.” He said, seeing the cab pull up.
Mox gave him a pound, reached in his pocket and handed Bing a stack of twenty-dollar bills. “Good lookin’ Bing…” Mox said, as he got into the backseat of the cab. “A nigga ain’t got too many people he can rely on. I appreciate that shit.”
“No doubt, my nigga, be safe.” Bing closed the door and the cab pulled off. As soon as it was out of sight, he pulled his cell phone out, dialed a number and walked down the block.
CHAPTER FOUR
When she heard the key jiggling in the door, Priscilla sat up, pressed power on the remote, and fixed her hair as if she wasn’t just in dreamland. She glanced down to her left, to make sure Brandi was still sleeping, and indeed, she was—curled up, with her feet hanging off the bed.
Mox slowly and quietly entered the room, thinking Priscilla and Brandi would be sleeping at this hour. He didn’t want to disturb their rest, knowing their situation, but as the door opened wider, he could hear the television. “You still up?” he asked, seeing Priscilla sitting up in the bed.
“Why are you comin’ in here at four o clock in the morning, Mox?”
“I had to take care of somethin’, Priscilla.”
“You had to—” she stopped herself in mid-sentence and got up from the bed. “You know what… gimme my keys. We been in here all night, Mox. Your daughter and I are hungry. That didn’t cross your mind?” she reached for her pants that were folded on the chair.
“I had to get rid of the car.”
Priscilla let her pants fall to the floor and she plopped down on the bed. “What are you talkin’ about, Mox?”
“I had to sell the car so we could get some money.” He said, pulling the wad of cash from his pocket.
“I know you didn’t sell my fuckin’ car, Mox.” Priscilla was in disbelief.
Their voices caused Brandi to squirm in the bed and roll over onto her stomach, so Mox pointed to the bathroom and Priscilla followed him.
As soon as the door closed, she went off. “You sold my fuckin’ car! What the fuck is wrong wit’ you, Mox? Did that fuckin’ bullet fuck you up that bad?”
Mox grabbed her shoulders, pinned her against the wall and got right in her face. “Keep ya’ fuckin’ voice down before you wake my daughter up.” He stared in her eyes. They were getting watery “What we got Priscilla, huh?” Before she could say anything, he answered. “Nothin’! Not a fuckin’ thing! And you worried about that car… you can’t be serious. I don’t think you get it… we on the run. this shit ain’t no game. We needed money, so yeah, I sold the fuckin’ car.”
Priscilla took a deep breath and shook her head. “I can’t live like this, Mox. I can’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice, Priscilla. What you gon’ do, turn yourself in? ʼCause I know you don’t think I am, and Brandi is stayin’ wit’ me.”
“Wit’ you? And what are you gonna do, Mox, live on the street… goin’ from hotel to hotel? That ain’t the life for a little girl, and you know it.”
“That ain’t the life for nobody, Priscilla, but right now it’s our life.” Mox leaned against the wall. He couldn’t even look in her eyes; it hurt too much. “I don’t wanna lose y’all, I swear I don’t, but I ain’t never goin’ back to that hell.”
Priscilla’s cries grew heavier and the tears dripped faster. “I don’t know what to do, Mox. I don’t…”
“Let me take care of us Priscilla, on everything I love… ain’t nothin’ gon’ happen to either one of you.” He snatched the bankroll from his pocket again. “Look, I got twenty thousand here. In a few hours, I’ma get us another car and we’ll be good. We should have enough for a half a brick after that. We can take that and start over. Fuck everything else.”
Priscilla fell into his arms and let her tears flow. She let all of her worries out on his chest. Hoping and praying that every word he spoke would be true. Although she knew that going back to the lifestyle would jeopardize everything—what else was there to do, where else was there to turn?
Mox held her soft warm body in his arms. She felt good in his clutches. It was the best feeling in the world—a feeling of fulfillment, pleasure and solace. He squeezed tighter; inhaling her sweet, lustful scent—it made him smile inside. He held on for dear life, never wanting to depart. He stepped back and looked at her puffy, red eyes. Mox wanted to cry. It pained his heart to witness the love of his life go through so much sorrow. The discomfort she felt—he also felt it, and whatever he could do to change it, he would do. He lifted her chin, moved in closer, and their lips met.
“Mox, I—”
“Shhh…” Mox put his finger to her lips. “I got you.,” he whispered, stepping over to the shower. He turned the water on and made sure it wasn’t too hot and then he started to undress her.
Priscilla wiped her tears and got into the hot shower. The warm beads of water immediately alleviated some of her built up strain as she stood under the showerhead. She looked at Mox and a half a smirk appeared on her face as she reached her hand out to him.
“Come on…” she whispered.
Mox stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower behind her. He grabbed a washcloth from the rack, and some soap, and began washing Priscilla’s back. He washed her entire body from head to toe, and then she did the same to him.
He whispered in her ear. “Do you trust me, Priscilla?”
She didn’t verbally respond. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Fuck me.” She said, shoving her hot tongue in his mouth.
He reached down, palmed the cuff of her ass cheeks and squeezed until his dick hardened, and then he slid his middle finger into her steaming vagina from the back. Halfway in, he felt the wetness build up, and Priscilla let out a short sigh of pleasure. Mox spun her around, put her back against the wall—while the soothing hot water rained on their bodies—and Priscilla slightly raised her leg to let him slide in the mi
ddle.
She reached down, squeezed his ass cheeks and forced Mox to thrust himself into her. The temporary pain was her pleasure. It was something she desired—something she longed for. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she tightened the walls of her vagina around Mox’s stiff erection. “Fuck me, Mox. This is your pussy baby…” She brushed the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip, and Mox dug deeper. He pushed himself so far into her kitty, it felt like he was touching her back.
“I love you, Priscilla,” he whispered.
Their fuck session lasted twenty minutes before they both reached a climax and drifted into heaven. The entire time they thought Brandi had been sleeping, but in fact, she was up. She had her ear pressed against the bathroom door, trying to figure out what her parents were doing. All she could hear was running water and faint moans. She had an idea of what was going on, and cracked a smile before jumping back into the bed.
After a few hours rest, Mox was back up and ready to tackle the day’s agenda. He knew for sure that they couldn’t stay in one place too long, so while he slept; he plotted their next move.
“Priscilla, wake up.” He said, tugging at the covers. “I’ma make this run, and I’ll be right back. I left some money for you and Brandi to eat.” He pecked her forehead and headed for the door.
“Mox,” Priscilla called. He turned around before stepping out. She smiled and whispered. “I love you…”
“I love you too, babe, see you in a minute.”
________
Mox jumped out the taxi at the same spot he met Botta Bing the previous night, but the block was empty. He walked a couple hundred yards down the strip and took a peek in the corner store, but no one was there either, so he waited. He waited almost two whole hours before he saw Bing come bopping up the block.
“Damn nigga, I been out here all mornin’ waitin’ for you. It’s cold as fuck, too.”
“I know my nigga, my bad.” Bing apologized, passing him a brown bag.
“What’s this?”
“I got the call you was out here… so I know you ain’t eat. I stopped by the breakfast spot before I came, had to fill up the tank.” Bing rubbed his belly and giggled. “You ready?”
“Yup.”
“Aight, let’s do it.”
He flagged a cab down and told the driver to take them to Brooklyn.
Mox purchased a Black 2004 Buick Regal with smoke grey leather interior for five grand. He slapped a dealer’s plate in the rear windshield and he and Bing did 90 mph all the way back uptown, to the Bronx.
“Yo, Bing good lookin’.” Mox said, sitting in the driver’s seat.
“No problem, Mox,” Bing gave him a pound, pushed the passenger side door open and got out. “Be safe out here… don’t let them suckas get one up on you. If you need me, you know where to find me.”
Mox nodded and then pulled off, merging with the already flowing traffic on the busy Bronx Borough Street. Before he returned to the room, he did a little shopping. Besides the underclothes and toiletries he bought, he also snatched up two Boost Mobile phones and a few extra sim cards. He was conscious of the consequences and aware that life on the run wasn’t sweet, and one slip up could cost them their freedom, so Mox followed his plan to the tee; never leaving anything out.
He needed to replenish old relationships and make them new again. It was imperative that he get back on his feet, and he knew just the person to contact. As soon as he found another spot for Priscilla and Brandi to stay in, he would go through the necessary channels to get the phone number he needed.
________
Brandi rushed to the door when she heard a key enter the lock. “Daddy!” she shouted, attaching herself to Mox’s leg as he stepped through the door. “Mommy brought McDonalds.”
“Oh yeah, where is it?”
Brandi threw on her sad puppy face. “We ate it all.” she said.
“You ate it all? And you didn’t save Daddy any? That ain’t right.”
Brandi laughed when Mox put his sad face on and acted like he was crying. “Don’t cry Daddy, McDonalds is right across the street.” She giggled. “You can go get some more.”
Mox dropped the bags he was carrying, reached down and scooped Brandi in his arms. He kissed her forehead and her cheek. “You know Daddy loves you, right?”
“Yes.”
“You love Daddy?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Does Mommy love Daddy?”
Brandi looked at Priscilla and then back to Mox. “Yeeesssss!” she sang, in the most innocent, child-like voice.
Mox put on a smirk and looked at Priscilla. “Let’s get outta here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Oak Grove, South Carolina
“Yo, that don’t look like a zone, mane.”
“It’s all there. I wouldn’t short you, homey.” Cleo assured. “I don’t do business like that.”
The kid standing in front of Cleo was tall and skinny. He had cornrow braids, a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of dusty Jordans on. He held up the plastic baggie with the large white rock of cocaine in it. He examined it a few more seconds and then tossed it back on the table in front of Cleo.
“Nah… I don’t want that shit, mane. Lemme get my bread back.”
“Get your bread back?” Cleo stood up from behind the table. “Nah, I don’t work like that. Get the fuck out my gate.”
“C’mon mane… it’s like that?
“Yeah, it’s like that.” The kid reached down to grab the plastic baggie off the table and Cleo pulled his gun out. “I said get the fuck outta here… now.”
The only thing he could do was put his head down and walk out the trailer. He knew Cleo would kill him if he made another move, and that little bit of work wasn’t worth getting killed over. He realized he should have taken it when it was given to him. Now he was leaving out with nothing, and on top of that, he felt humiliated.
Cleo tossed the gun on the table next to the bag of cocaine and lit his blunt. “Yo, Whoadie, lock that door.” he said.
Whoadie was Cleo’s right hand man since his relocation to the south. They met through a female who was a mutual friend to both of their respective women. Immediately, they took a liking to each other and formed a bond. Whoadie was just the type of person Cleo was looking for; somebody of his caliber—someone just as grimy, self-centered and disloyal as himself. Someone he could expunge easily, with no regrets.
“If you see that nigga come back down that road, you know what to do.” Cleo said.
“Umm hmm…” Whoadie nodded. He was 5 ft. tall, 150 pounds, brown skinned with nappy box braids in his hair. His pants were always sagging past his butt, and it was like his white t-shirts came with stains on them, but his gun worked like new, and he was itching to put it to use.
Cleo hit the blunt and passed it. “I went through a whole thing last night.” He said, counting a stack of money. Since his departure from New York, Cleo had settled in the small country town of Oak Grove, South Carolina. He fit in perfectly. It wasn’t much going on, and that’s just the way he wanted it to be. He was renting a trailer home tucked away in the cut on Wren Road, and after a robbery he and Whoadie pulled off, Cleo was supplying the town with cocaine. He was making $20,000-$30,000 a day, and he didn’t have a worry in the world. The last thing he was thinking about was Mox and all the bullshit he left back home. “Yo, Whoadie… roll up another joint and come help me count this money.”
________
April 2012
New York, New York
Gloomy, grey clouds hovered over the city’s skyline, causing a cool breeze to drift off the Hudson River. It had been raining only 20 minutes ago, and it looked like the sun wanted to break through the clouds; only it couldn’t. Mulberry Street wasn’t crowded, but it also wasn’t empty. A handful of pedestrians milled about the restaurants and retail shops as they did daily.
Inside Pelligrino’s restaurant, Vinny Telesco sat relaxed in his seat, at his usual table in the rear of
the establishment. An empty plate and half a drink was in front of him and a handkerchief was tucked in the front of his shirt.
“Aye, Mikey… what time is it?” he asked his son.
“Two o’clock, Pop, you got somewhere to go?”
“No, Mikey, I jus’ wanna know the damn time. Is it too much?”
“Not at all pop… not at all…” Mikey went back to reading the day’s paper when the sound of the jingling bells on the entrance door made him turn around.
A teenage kid with the same name as Vinny’s oldest son came rushing through the door. “Vinny! Vinny! Mikey!” he shouted, running to the back.
Mikey hopped up from his seat and stopped the kid once he passed the bar. “Hey, hey, hey… hold up kiddo. What’s the rush about?” he questioned.
Young Mikey was out of breath. “There… there… there’s a dead… dog out front.”
“A dead dog?”
“Yeah, c’mon.” young Mikey snatched older Mikey’s hand and led him outside.
“What the fuck! Scooter!” Mikey yelled, rushing to the sidewalk. He kneeled beside the bloody German Shepard that was sprawled across the pavement. “Please… no… Scooter, wake up!” he picked the dog’s head up and put his ear to his mouth to see if he was still breathing. “Please Scooter, wake up…”
Scooter was Mikey’s pet dog that he had for more than 10 years. It was his best friend. When everyone else got on his nerves, Scooter always made him feel at ease. He was the true definition of ‘Man’s Best Friend’ and now he was lying on the cold pavement with a steak knife in his ribs, and a note attached to it.
Mikey pulled the knife out his dog’s chest and read the note:
You about to meet Scooter in heaven muthafucka!
Mikey smirked and shook his head at the piece of paper. As he was lifting his head, he heard the sounds of a motorcycle speeding up the block. By the time he looked up to see who it was, it was too late.
“Say hello to Scooter, muthafucka!” Tyrell was on the back of the motorcycle dressed in all black, aiming an assault rifle at Mikey. He squeezed the trigger, disbursing rounds through the air like miniature missiles, and anything in the way of those bullets met its fate. The few people that were on the street, scattered for their lives as they watched those beside them get gunned down.
The Union III Page 3