Priscilla hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him what happened, but she had to. She couldn’t even look him in the face when she said it. “Uncle Earl got shot, Mox.”
“What you mean he got shot?” Mox sat up in the bed. “When did this happen?”
“It must’ve happened right before we got there. You told me to go back downstairs and wait for you, but you took too long, so I had to come and see what was goin’ on. When I got back to the apartment I saw you and uncle Earl lying on the floor.”
Mox rubbed his head. He was trying his hardest to remember something—anything. After a few minutes, pieces of what took place were slowly popping into his memory. Eventually he had enough pieces to put together at least what he thought had happened.
“I know who shot my uncle.” He said.
“Who?”
“The same person who killed my mother…” he replied.
Priscilla dropped her head. She couldn’t begin to understand the distress Mox had to deal with, knowing that the man who killed his mother and shot his uncle was still walking the streets. She knew his ego wouldn’t allow him to let it go, and no matter what she said, there was no deterring him from finding this man and taking his life.
Mox got up from the bed and tried to get himself together.
“Where you goin’?” Priscilla questioned.
“We need more money. I need you to make that call.”
“But Mox—”
“Let’s not argue about this, Priscilla. Jus’ make the call.”
Ten minutes later, a meeting was set up for Mox to meet with the connect; Juan Carlos. But before that happened, he needed to make a visit to the Men’s Warehouse to purchase a suit. In order for Juan to take him seriously, he needed to look the part. Mox learned early that money attracted money, and first impression was everything. Although he and Juan had known each other already, they hadn’t personally done business, so this was something new. Mox bought a navy colored Joseph Abboud slim fitting suit for $700, and a pair of black imperial wing tipped shoes for $200. He was ready to go.
Two hours later, Mox was pulling up to the front entrance of the Malaga Restaurant located on 73rd street in Manhattan’s Upper East Side area. The valet parked his car and he was greeted by a short Spanish guy with a bald head, thin mustache, and a clean suit.
“Mox?” he asked.
Mox nodded yes.
“Mr. Carlos is waiting for you.
The two men entered the restaurant. It was small, but well lit. Mox looked around at the pictures on the wall. The atmosphere reminded him of someone’s home. It was comfortable. They walked past the granite-top seating areas and neared the rear of the restaurant where Juan Carlos sat at a table in the corner by himself. He stood and smiled when they approached.
“Mox.” He said, extending his hand.
Mox shook his hand and replied. “Juan Carlos, pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Yes, yes, it is. Wow…” He looked Mox up and down. “I remember the last time I saw you. You were sitting in the car when Priscilla came by to see me. You were a kid then, Mox. You’re all grown up now.” Juan Carlos embraced Mox. He hugged him tightly, patted him on his back and offered him a seat. “C’mon… sit down, let’s talk.”
Two red handkerchiefs, two plates and two champagne glasses adorned the table top, and a slim, average height Spanish woman with an apron on and her hair in a bun came from the back to take their order.
“How are you today, sir, would you like to start off with a drink?” she asked.
“Veronica, this is my good friend Mox. Mox, this is my niece, Veronica.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mox said, shaking the young woman’s hand. “Yeah, I’ll have some water please.”
“Veronica, bring us two orders of patatas bravas please.” Juan Carlos said. “So, what’s up, Mox? Talk to me.”
Mox relaxed in his chair. “It’s like this Juan…” he explained. “I’m fucked up in the game right now. I got a lil’ bit of paper to play with, but I need more.”
“And you come here because?”
“Because I need your help.”
“Haven’t we been down this road before, Mox, what happened? What’s gonna make this time different from the last?”
Mox took his time answering the question. He knew Juan Carlos wouldn’t give him anything without proving himself first. “I grew up,” he said. “I’m not the same young nigga without any direction. I know exactly what I want now.”
“And what’s that?”
He looked directly into Juan Carlos’ eyes. “More money than I can think about counting.” he replied. Mox knew how the game was played, because he played it; and he played it well.
Juan Carlos kept a straight face. He wasn’t easily excited by anything. “I don’t know about this, Mox. Every time I turn on my television, I see you and Priscilla. I’m taking a big risk dealing with you two.” The waitress came back with two plates of food and placed them on the table. “Thank you, Veronica…” he waited until she left and continued. “Last time I spoke to Priscilla, she said it was over. What brought about this sudden change?”
“What else I’m gon’ do? I got a baby girl to take care of and can’t stand to see her not bein’ able to get what she wants. I gotta provide that.”
“Mox, you’re a smart kid, always have been. I think you can do anything you put your mind to. It’s up to you to want more. More for yourself—for your family.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “And that’s why I’m here today… because I want more, but I’m not a greedy person.”
Juan Carlos giggled. “I see,” he said. “You barely touched your food.”
“This shit is spicy. What the hell is it?”
“Patatas bravas, it’s cut up white potatoes in a spicy tomato sauce. Good right?”
Mox nodded yes, as he stuffed his mouth with the fiery potatoes. The two of them sat, ate and finished their plates of food and then Juan Carlos ordered a bottle of wine. Veronica brought it out and poured the men drinks.
“So, tell me Mox… what exactly is it that you want me to do?”
Mox wiped his mouth with the handkerchief and sipped his wine. “I need two,” he said. “I got fourteen.”
“Fourteen, huh,” Juan Carlos rubbed his mustache and smirked. “Fourteen is only enough for a half of one, and you want two?”
“I know I’m a lil’ short, but this is all I got, Juan. You know if I didn’t need it I wouldn’t be askin’.”
Juan Carlos stared into Mox’s eye and carefully studied his body language. He knew every word he spoke was sincere. “This is it, Mox,” he replied, finishing the last bit of food on his plate. “This is the last time I do you or Priscilla a favor. I’m done.”
“Thank you, Juan. I really appreciate this.” Mox smiled.
“One question,” Juan said. “How do plan on moving this work with all this other shit going on?”
“I got some people I used to deal with that moved south. I’m goin’ to see ʼem.”
Juan Carlos snapped his fingers and the short Spanish guy with the bald head appeared out of nowhere. He spoke to him in Spanish and sent him off.
“Everything is good. Your product will be in the car when you’re ready to leave. Now where’s my money?”
Mox reached into his pocket, pulled out the wad of cash and slid it over to Juan Carlos.
“This is fourteen?”
“Everything I got.”
Juan Carlos fingered the stack of money and then slid a few bills back to Mox. “Don’t ever say I didn’t look out for you,” he said. They shook hands and Mox got up to leave.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mox made a right turn into the parking lot and pulled into an empty space between a black Jetta and a grey Astro work van. He put the car in park and he, Priscilla and Brandi got out. The air was still. Not a breeze within miles, and the illuminated sun was shining bright. They walked through the front entrance of the hospital, and immediately, Mox felt a c
hill throughout his body. He despised hospitals and everything they stood for.
“You alright?” Priscilla asked. She could see the discomfort in his actions.
“Yeah, I’m good. How ʼbout you?”
“I’m fine,” she answered.
They continued down the corridor and approached the information desk. Two young black security guards sat in chairs behind a small wooden table. One of them—the younger looking of the two—was reading a magazine while the other guy watched sports on his iPhone. Neither one of them were paying attention, so the three of them slid right past. Mox pressed for elevator and they took it to the second floor.
“What’s the room number, Priscilla?”
“Two ten,” she answered, holding onto Brandi’s hand. “I think this is it right here.”
Mox turned the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open. He could see somebody lying in the bed. He knew it was his uncle, Earl.
“Wait here with Brandi for a second while I see what’s goin’ on.”
Uncle Earl sat upright in his bed. His shoulder was wrapped in bandages, and he also had three Band-Aids on his face. His eyes were glued to the television and he held the remote in his hand, flicking through the channels. He hadn’t acknowledged Mox enter the room.
“Hey, Unc, is that you?” Mox questioned.
Earl turned around with a half a smile on his face. “Hey wassup nephew, y’all come to get me huh? Good, cause I wasn’t about to spend another day in this muthafucka.”
“Yeah Unc, we here for you.” he lied. “Don’t worry, I’ma get you up outta here.” Mox had no clue they were letting his uncle go. It just so happened they showed up on the exact day of his release. “How you feelin’?”
Earl got up from the bed and started to gather his belongings. “I feel like shit, nephew. The food sucks, and every nurse that came through that door was horrible lookin’. They need to employ some pretty women up in here.”
Mox laughed. “Yeah, I feel you, Unc.”
Just as the two of them finished giggling, Jasmine walked in, followed by a not so happy looking Priscilla. She looked at Earl and then Mox, and she smiled. “Mr. Daniels, how are you today?”
“I’m fine nurse,” Earl answered. “Damn you—”
“What the fuck is this bitch doin’ here, Mox?” Priscilla cut in. She wasn’t about to hold her tongue this time.
Mox was lost. He had no idea of what was going on, and was just as shocked as Priscilla. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of bumping into Jasmine while visiting his uncle, but he did know that she worked there.
“C’mon Unc… let’s get you outta here.” He ignored Priscilla, but still felt the darts she was shooting at him from across the room. He knew her eyes were glued to him, so he didn’t even turn around.
“Aww shit…” Earl sensed the tension and saw the fire in Priscilla’s eyes. “Is that my baby girl right there?” he asked, diverting everyone’s attention to Brandi.
“Mox, I asked you a question.”
“Excuse me,” Jasmine said. “I didn’t mean to cause any problems. I’m just here to do my job.”
Priscilla kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes as hard as she could. “Bitch, nobody was talkin’ to you. Mind your business.”
“Let’s go, Priscila.” Mox ordered.
“Oh… so now you don’t wanna speak to your lil’ friend, huh?”
“Stop it, alright.”
“No Mox, you stop it. Ain’t this the bitch you was fuckin’ behind my back?”
Jasmine tried to avoid Priscilla’s rant, but she wasn’t about to be disrespected. “I’d appreciate it if you stop calling me out my name. I’m pretty sure you know what it is.”
“Bitch, I’ll—” Priscilla lunged at Jasmine, but Mox was right there to intervene. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the hallway. He had her back pinned against the wall.
“Don’t do this shit in front of my daughter. What the fuck is wrong wit’ you?”
“What’s wrong wit’ me? You’re the one who fucked that bitch!” she yelled.
“Lower your fuckin’ voice.”
“Fuck you, Mox. You better let that bitch know.”
Jasmine had heard enough. “Alright, that’s it.” she dropped the clipboard she was holding and stepped towards the door where Priscilla and Mox stood.
“Ut oh… cat fight!” Earl shouted and grabbed Brandi’s hand. “We better get outta here, Brandi. They trippin’.”
Jasmine swung and almost hit Priscilla in her face, but Mox caught the blow because he was in the middle of them. Priscilla went to swing back.
“Priscilla, chill!” he warned, but she wasn’t listening. She tried to escape Mox’s hold and swing again, but she couldn’t.
“Get off me, Mox!” She screamed. Tears of anger rolled down her cheeks. “Bitch, I’ma fuck you up!”
During the commotion, Uncle Earl had gathered his things, and he was ready to leave the hospital. “Y’all need to cut it out. Got this baby seeing all that nonsense. Control your women, nephew.” He laughed.
“This shit ain’t funny, Unc.” Mox said. He was still holding Priscilla. He didn’t want to let her go, because he knew she wouldn’t stop once she got started. When he turned around, he saw the two security guards coming their way. “See, now this. Priscilla you know we can’t afford to get caught up in this dumb shit. Let’s go.” He pulled her by the arm, but she jerked away and broke his hold. Before Mox knew what happened, Priscilla was on top of Jasmine like a lion pouncing on its prey.
One hand was full of Jasmine’s hair, while she pounded her face with the other. The momentum caused them to fall to the floor and Priscilla landed on top. Mox tried to pull her up, but every time he pulled her, she pulled Jasmine. Priscilla was continuously banging the side of her face on the cold hospital floor. Blood shot from Jasmine’s nose and mouth.
Uncle Earl also tried to intervene but his disabled shoulder and arm prevented him from doing so.
Brandi stood in the middle of the corridor, crying her young eyes out, begging her mother to stop. Priscilla looked up and saw the guards getting closer. They were on their walkie-talkies calling for back up, and she was pretty sure their back up was the police. She looked the other way and saw the hurt and embarrassment on her daughter’s face.
Mox couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Priscilla in a chokehold, pulled her off Jasmine and yelled for uncle Earl to get Brandi as they made a dash for the emergency exit.
________
“Damn son, that nigga got you good.” Six teased as he stared at Tyrell’s bandaged leg.
“Fuck you, Six. I’ma kill that muthafucka, and that’s on everything I love. He can’t walk these streets no more.”
“That nigga outside right now. Want me to handle that?”
“Nah, this shit is personal. I wanna look that nigga in his eyes before I squeeze one in his dome.”
“Here, hit this shit… take your mind off the pain.” Six insisted.
Tiny pieces of sunlight crept through the small slits in the curtains as the two friends talked. Tyrell took the joint, hit it, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. He was sitting on a sofa with his leg propped up on an ottoman, and the only thoughts running through his mind were revenge. He was disgusted at himself for letting Gahbe catch him off point, but he wasn’t taking it lightly. While he was laid up, he plotted.
“I got sumptin’ nice for him… sumptin’ real sweet for that bitchassnigga.”
“What’s that?” Six asked.
“Yo, Tia!” he yelled. “Hold on… watch this shit.”
Tia came from the back room. She was tall, brown skinned and slim; like a runway model. Her hair was cut short, and she had thick full lips that longed to be kissed. She was one of the girls that Tyrell and Six used to transport their product from state to state. She was book smart, street smart, pretty, and she had her own car and apartment. She moved to New York a year ago so she could work in a strip club. Once Tyrell met her, he too
k her out the club and made sure she didn’t want for anything. He set her up with an apartment in Pelham and kept her secluded from the street life. She was his favorite Mule.
“Yes, baby.”
“Bring me that thang.” Tyrell said.
Tia left the room and returned holding a long red box. She placed it on the floor in front of Tyrell and took the top off.
“Goddamn!” Six caught a glimpse of the heavy machinery that the box held. “Nigga, you plan on killin’ everybody on the block, huh?”
“Hand me that, baby,” Tyrell said to Tia. He held the assault rifle in his hands and looked up at Six. “They fucked up, Six… anybody out there when I come through is a target. Women, kids, innocent bystanders… I don’t give a fuck. He violated, and I’ma deal wit’ ʼem the right way. I’ma show that faggot how to lay the murder game down, cause it’s obvious he don’t know what the fuck he doin’.”
“No more kids, Rell. That shit was fucked up.” Six tried his best not to think about what happened to the young boy the day they hit the Telescos, but the image of his small frame sprawled across the concrete in a pool of his own blood was imbedded in his mind. Since the day it happened, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, and he was sure he wouldn’t get one anytime soon.
Tyrell grilled Six. He hated to be told what to do. “Them ain’t cha muthafuckin’ kids nigga, fuck is you worried about ʼem for?”
“They kids, Tyrell, that’s why. Shit, they could be mines, maybe yours… who knows. All I’m sayin’ is… if there’s kids out there, you need to rethink the situation.”
Tyrell looked at Tia. “You hear this muthafucka? Who the fuck this nigga think he is, Tia?” Tia didn’t answer; she just nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to make the situation any worse than it already was. “Nigga, like I said… anybody out there is subject to get it. I don’t give a fuck who it is.” Tyrell placed the weapon back in the box and sent Tia to the back.
The Union III Page 5