“Be out! Be out!” Tyrell nudged Six, who was on the front of the motorcycle and they peeled off down Mulberry Street.
________
“Turn the channel, baby, I ain’t tryna watch this bullshit all night.” Uncle Earl took a puff of the La Cubana cigar he had between his fingers and blew the smoke to the ceiling.
“But I was watchin’ this, Earl.” Baby G replied.
“Bitch, turn the muthafuckin’ channel fo’ I slap the shit outta yo’ stupid ass. That’s your problem now… you don’t fuckin’ listen. When I tell you to do something… goddamn it, do it!”
“Alright, alright,” She picked up the remote. “What channel you wanna watch, baby?”
“I don’t know… put something informative on, the news or something.” Earl puffed his cigar again, this time letting the sweet smoke filter through his nostrils as he relaxed in his Jacuzzi sized tub watching the 40-inch television on the wall. “Right there, right there…” he said, telling Baby G to stop at the channel 12 News. “Turn it up. I can’t hear shit.”
“…The incident happened this afternoon, right here in broad daylight on busy Mulberry Street.” The reporter explained. “The gunmen were said to be riding on a motorcycle prior to pulling up in front of this restaurant and opening blind fire. In the midst of this horrifying incident, three people were killed, and two more were injured. Mikey Telesco, son of alleged reputed mob boss, along with 13 year old Michael Penella, and an unidentified middle aged woman were all gunned down not too far from where I stand.”
“Shit!” Earl hopped out the tub and snatched his towel off the rack. “I know this muthafucka didn’t jus’ do this shit.” He had a strong feeling on who the gunmen in the shooting were, and he knew retaliation would come sooner than later.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothin’, go get me some pants… and hurry up.” Earl dried himself off and rushed into the master bedroom behind Baby G. He threw his pants on and tossed a shirt over his head. “Bitch, what the fuck is you sittin’ there lookin’ stupid for? Get the fuck up and go start the car!”
“You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ Earl… what’s goin’ on?”
Uncle Earl ignored Baby G and went to the closet. He snatched a small black box from the top, opened it and pulled out an envelope. The contents of the envelope contained the combination to his safe on the other side of town. He checked to make sure it was there, and then he stuffed the envelope in his pocket.
Before Baby G opened the door to go downstairs, someone knocked. She turned in shock and ran back towards the bedroom. “Baby,” she whispered. “Baby… somebody’s at the door,” she pointed.
Earl dropped the book bag he was holding, unzipped it, and pulled out his chrome.38 Special. “Move,” he pushed Baby G to the side. “Go wait in the room.”
“But Earl…”
“Bitch…” through clenched teeth, he scolded her. “Go sit yo’ ass in the goddamn room.” He tucked the pistol in his waistline and covered it with his shirt as he approached the front door. “Who is it?” he asked.
“Priest.” A voice on the other end answered.
“Who?” Earl wasn’t sure he heard right.
“Priest!” the man shouted.
Earl shook his head. “Fuck…” he mumbled, and then checked his waist to make sure the pistol was secure. He undid the lock and opened the door. “Priest, what a surprise.” he said, inviting him into his home.
“It shouldn’t be a surprise,” Priest replied, walking into the apartment. “You should be expecting this visit. It’s long overdue.”
“Overdue?” Earl shut the door and locked it.
“Yeah, overdue;” Priest looked around at the well decorated apartment. “I been locked up for a long time, Earl, I know you been eatin’… I see it.”
“Wait, wait, wait… hol’ up, let’s keep our voices down, I got company.” Earl led Priest into the living room and offered him a seat.
“Nah, I’ll stand.” He insisted.
“Well, at least have a drink wit’ me.” Earl offered. He walked to the mini bar and held up two glasses. “Yak, or champagne?”
“Neither,” Priest was serious. “Listen Earl, I ain’t come here to have a toast and sit on your couch and relax. You know why I’m here. Now stop bullshittin’ before I get upset.”
Earl sensed the tone in Priest’s voice. He also saw the shift in his demeanor. “Okay, cool…” he said. “But I thought we discussed everything that needed to be talked about; and besides… I don’t think this is the right time or the right place.”
“Oh, it’s the right time… and the right place.” Priest was through playing games. “Where the fuck is my money, Earl?”
“Your money?”
“Yeah, my money,” Priest said, as he reached for the gun in the small of his back. But Earl was quicker. He had his weapon drawn a few seconds before and when the shot went off, Baby G almost jumped out her skin.
The hot bullet hit Priest in the stomach and sent his 200 plus pound body crashing to the carpeted floor. His gun fell from his hands and Earl quickly kicked it from his reach.
Priest tried to sit up, but the pain was too much to bear. “You better kill me… muthafucka…” splatters of blood shot from his mouth.
“Looks like you gon’ need to say that prayer for yourself this time.” Earl held the gun with both hands as he steadied his aim on Priest’s head. “Don’t worry, you ain’t gon’ be needin’ that money where you goin’…” He clenched his jaw and got ready to squeeze the trigger. “Tell my sister I said hi…”
Priest looked up and saw Baby G walking out of the room. “Your whole life is a lie, Earl…” He smiled, and a stream of blood mixed with saliva hung from his lip. “You should’a killed me when you had the chance… now you can tell her yourself, muthafucka.” He rolled over on his side and the blast from Baby G’s gun echoed throughout the moderate sized apartment.
Earl collapsed and fell through the glass coffee table, shattering it to pieces. Baby G somehow helped Priest get to his feet and they stumbled out of the apartment without being seen.
CHAPTER SIX
One Hour Later…
“Uncle Earl!” Mox called out, seeing the front door was cracked open. “Hold on, Priscilla. Wait here.” He slowly pushed the door wide open and tip toed down the short hallway. “Uncle Earl!” he called again, but no one answered. The sounds of a television could be heard, but no voices.
When Mox stepped into the living room, his eyes immediately dropped to the floor where he saw his uncle stretched out, face down in a pile of shattered glass. A stream of blood was coming from the hole in his back where Baby G had shot him, but he was still breathing. “Priscilla, take Brandi downstairs!” Mox yelled, pulling his cellphone out. He dialed 911 and told the dispatcher an old white woman was being robbed, and at what address. Before they could ask Mox a question, he hung up.
Priscilla didn’t need to see what was going on. She knew by the sound of Mox’s voice there was a serious problem, and for him to tell her to go back downstairs meant he obviously didn’t want them to see it. She snatched Brandi’s hand and they took the stairs down to the lobby and out to the parking garage.
“Unc… wake up.” Mox was taking a high risk staying back. He went even further by trying to turn his uncle onto his stomach so he could breathe. He understood if he touched anything, he would be a potential suspect, but he couldn’t just turn his back on family; he hadn’t been bred that way. “C’mon Unc…” he struggled to lift the dead weight. “Gotta get you up.”
Mox managed to get uncle Earl into an upright position, which helped him take in more oxygen, but if the paramedics didn’t arrive soon, he was going to die. The bullet struck his right shoulder blade and was lodged somewhere between his chest and back. He was wheezing and his lips started to change color. “Mox… go…” he could barely get the words out, but Mox heard him.
“You know I don’t wanna leave you here like this Unc, but I ain
’t got no choice.” Mox peeked out the living room window to make sure police hadn’t shown up yet. “Tell me who did this to you,” he said. Earl stared at the wall in a daze. His eyelids were getting heavier by the seconds and his breathing was becoming erratic. He didn’t answer. “Unc…” Mox bent down, put one hand on his uncle’s shoulder and got right in his face. “Tell me who did this to you so I take care of it… c’mon Unc.”
Earl was slipping into an unconscious state. His eyelids were fluttering and his mouth was twitching, but no words were coming from his lips. Mox heard the faint police sirens in the distance and got up to leave, but Earl grabbed his leg. He looked at his uncle—helpless, and on the verge of death, and when Earl looked into his nephew’s eyes, a wave of guilt consumed his entire soul. The tears spilled down his cheeks as he tried to get the words out of his mouth.
“C’mon Unc… hold on baby… you gon’ be aight. Breathe Unc… breathe…”
Earl finally caught enough breath to mumble what he expected to be his last words. “Your… fa…ther…” his voice was just above a whisper, but Mox heard it clearly.
“My father?”
Earl nodded yes. “Priest.” He whispered again.
The room became silent for less than a few seconds. Mox listened closely. A dog was barking, birds chirped and a train was passing through the station. He listened for the sirens and they were getting closer with each second. His vision was getting blurry. He looked down at his hands and it looked like he had one hundred fingers. Mox felt woozy and suddenly a sharp pain shot through the right side of his body and weakened his knees. He reached for the arm of the couch, but his body weight was too much to hold up and he fell to the floor. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was a silhouette of someone coming through the door.
________
The only light in the pitch-black sky was the full moon that looked close enough to touch. As the weed smoke funneled through his nostrils, Tyrell leaned against the trunk of his car. He thought about all he’d been thorough. The road he traveled had been a long, rough one, but he managed to weather the storm and come out on top. The only thing left to do was to buy his mother that big nice house he always promised her. And at the rate he was going, that house would be purchased sooner than later.
Furthest from his mind, was what had taken place only hours ago. A war with the Italians was in full swing. It was a battle he knew he couldn’t win, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down; especially after they murdered his cousin. What did bother him was the fact that he had also murdered a child—an innocent child—a child who had no knowledge of what was going on.
Tyrell puffed the weed again and watched as a black Cadillac cruised down the block past him. It was unusually warm for a mid-April night, and everyone was taking advantage of the beautiful weather. Three nicely dressed young ladies crossed the street on their way to the corner store and walked pass Tyrell, giggling like they were talking about him. He knew all three of them.
“You jus’ gon’ walk by me like that Chrissy, I thought we was cool.” he said.
“You full a’ shit, Rell.” Chrissy replied, turning around. “You were supposed to call me yesterday. What happened?”
“I got caught up. I didn’t forget, though. I had some business I had to take care of.”
“You didn’t forget, but you also didn’t call.”
“I’m here now though… wassup?”
Chrissy’s two friends were telling her to hurry up. “I gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Hol’ up Chrissy…” Tyrell tried to get her to stop. “lemme me holla at you for a sec’.”
“Chrissy, c’mon!” one of her friends shouted.
“They’re waiting for me, Rell. I’ll talk to you later.”
Tyrell watched Chrissy’s ass bounce as she walked away. “Fuck them bitches,” he laughed. “They jus’ mad ain’t nobody tryna holla at them.”
“Them bitches is broke anyway.” Six added. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Tyrell’s car with the door open.
“Yo, Six… hold me down. I’m ʼbout to check mama love out real quick. I ain’t seen her in a few weeks.”
“Aight… I’ll be right here.”
Tyrell crossed the street and walked into the projects. The lights along the path to the building were all shot out, so he could barely make out the few people standing on the strip. A small radio played and the overwhelming stench of potent marijuana was prevalent in the air. He heard a few ‘wassup’s’ and continued into his mother’s building. He knocked on the door once and then realized he still had his house key, so he checked his pockets, found it, and then opened the door.
The apartment was the usual mess. Dirty clothes and miscellaneous garbage was strewn throughout the entire living room. It was nowhere to sit. He had to move a pile of laundry just to see a seat on the couch. Tyrell looked around in disgust. He was ashamed and fed up with his mother’s living conditions.
“Ma!” he called out as he maneuvered through the rummage.
“What Tyrell?” she answered.
“Where you at?”
“I’m in the bathroom goddamn it. What you want?”
“Pack your shit… I’m gettin’ you outta here.”
“Boy please…”she replied. The toilet flushed and she came out the bathroom. “And where am I goin’ Tyrell?”
“Anywhere,” he said. “I can get you an apartment uptown in that new building if you want.”
“Uptown? Tyrell you gotta have money to live up there. I ain’t got no goddamn money.”
“Don’t worry about the money, Ma. I’ll take care of that… jus’ pack up your stuff.”
“I don’t wanna go, Tyrell.”
“Why not?” He couldn’t understand why his mother wanted to stay in the projects.
“Because I said I don’t want to.” She picked up a half-smoked cigarette from the ashtray and lit it. “I don’t know anybody over there, Tyrell. All those damn white people. I don’t wanna be bothered wit’ that.”
“So, you rather live like this?” he said, looking around at the mess she was living in. “In the projects your whole life. I thought the main goal was to get out.”
“Get out and go where, Tyrell? Ain’t nowhere for us to go. You wanna go up there and live wit’ all them damn white people, you go right ahead. I ain’t goin’ nowhere… now gimme some money.”
Tyrell knew once his mother’s mind was made up, there was no persuading her to change it. Nothing he could do or say would make her feel any different. Her words were stone—the final say so. He stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out why she felt the way she did, but he couldn’t understand it—he didn’t understand how you could struggle all your life, and then turn your cheek to an opportunity. It was something he would never understand.
He pulled a wad of cash out his pocket, peeled off $1,000 and gave it to her. “Let me know if you change your mind.” he said, as he left out. “Make sure you pay some bills with that money too, and don’t smoke it up.”
Ms. Michaels’s took a long drag of her cigarette and plucked the ashes on the floor. “Tyrell please… as far as I know, I’m the mother.” she replied. “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you what to do.”
Tyrell shook his head and closed the door. He went down the back staircase instead of the front because it was faster, but he had no idea someone was there waiting for him. As soon as he pushed the door open to go down the steps, Gahbe was right there waiting with his gun drawn.
“Surprise, nigga,” he whispered, pushing the barrel of the revolver in Tyrell’s face. “Told you I was gon’ get that ass.” Tyrell was caught off guard—slipping, but he kept his calm. If he could reach the gun at the small of his back, Gahbe would have a problem on his hands. “Run yo’ shit nigga…” he demanded. With his free hand, he searched Tyrell’s pockets. But when he went to touch his waistline, Tyrell moved. “Move again, nigga, and I’ma leave you right here.” He promised.
/> Tyrell stayed silent. He knew Gahbe was scared; and he knew a scared nigga would shoot him in a heartbeat. He watched his hand shake while he held the gun. “You scared nigga…” He mumbled and tried to reach for the weapon, but Gahbe had a tight grip.
Tyrell pushed him into the hallway door and tried to take off down the steps, but Gahbe was on him. He leveled the pistol, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The echo from the blast was ear piercing. The slug tore a chunck of flesh from Tyrell’s left leg, but he managed to make it out the building alive. He stumbled down the entrance steps and hobbled down the strip towards the block.
Gahbe realized he fucked up when Tyrell wasn’t lying at the bottom of the steps, dead. He had to prepare himself for the repercussions, because they would come, and they would come sooner than later.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Mox opened his eye, he was greeted by the most beautiful smile he had ever saw. The same smile he had fallen in love with years ago.
“Hey baby. How you feelin’?” Priscilla asked. She rubbed his head and then caressed the side of his face. He tried to sit up, but she made him stay in the bed. “Where you goin’?”
“Where are we?” he looked around and saw Brandi lying on the small leather loveseat at the other end of the room.
“The Harlem Flophouse,” she answered. “Don’t worry, we’re good here.”
Mox scanned the room. There was a large walnut dresser opposite the bed. The floors and door entrances were all made from real wood and the lighting was very dim.
“How we get here?” he asked. “I don’t remember nothin’.”
“You passed out, Mox.”
“Passed out?”
“Yes…” she said. “Uncle Earl’s house… you don’t remember?”
“Uncle Earl’s house?” Mox’s memory was blank. He couldn’t recall anything that happened. He let his head rest on the pillow, closed his eye, and took a deep breath. “Why was I was at my uncles house, and how the hell did I pass out?”
The Union III Page 4