by King, Deja
Paris stood on the third floor balcony and hid behind one of the cathedral’s many confession booths as she looked out of the window and noticed Semaj and her family had arrived. Five black Rolls-Royces pulled up curbside, and each car came to a slow stop in front of the church doors. Paris had to admit that Semaj and her people had security “virgin-tight”, and there was no way a person would be able to bring drama to the church without getting murked. The road was barricaded within a mile radius, and nobody was able to attend the private funeral unless one was a part of the family. A slight smirk crossed her face at their effort of protection.
A silk scarf and a large hat concealed her identity, and the member nametag confirmed her position. Paris had snuck in before anyone had arrived earlier that morning and posed as one of the sister’s of the ministry. She knew being there was very risky, but she just had to witness Semaj fucked up, and was crazy enough to attend. She was glad that Semaj hadn’t died in the explosion, because seeing how she affected her life firsthand was hilarious to Paris.
As she watched henchmen of Dominican descent walk up and surround the vehicles, Paris’s nose turned up. She was sickened with disgust as Vega stepped out the back of the car and held his hand out for Semaj. Sucka ass nigga. What kinda nigga marries a bitch that set your people up? Fuck type shit is that? Paris shook her head, and as she zeroed in on the pair, vomit tickled the back of her throat. She despised them, and the sight made her want to throw up on the track.
Draped in a maxi-length mink coat and a pillbox hat, Semaj’s devastation was hidden well behind large Gucci sunglasses. She looked like old money. This bitch’s really trying to be on some real Mafia Princess shit. Ha! Fuck she think her grandfather is? John Gotti or some shit? Fuck outta here! Paris thought.
Vega placed his hand on the small of her back as Semaj attentively looked around. As if Paris’s intense energy had whispered in her ear, Semaj looked up at the building. Unfortunately, the window was opaque and she saw nothing. She turned her head to each end of the block. The vicinity was sewn up with bodyguards. Seeing her surroundings, she knew that she was good. Her husband led her through the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and her family followed closely behind.
Once Semaj entered the sanctuary, her insides felt like they were about to explode. She began to hyperventilate and felt claustrophobic in the tiny space. Seeing the huge picture of her newborn baby displayed at the front of the church caused her limbs to shake uncontrollably and her breathing became shallow.
A tiny, silver-plated casket sat next to her uncle’s coffin at the head of the aisle, and both sat among hundreds of gardenias. Each casket was closed, and the sight caused Semaj to stop walking. Why me? Why my baby? This is too much! I’m not ready to say goodbye to my son. He was supposed to bury me, not the other way around. It was as if her heart went up into flames and died right along with her baby, and she felt as if she no longer had a purpose to live.
Just as she was about to turn around, Semaj felt a hand on her shoulder. “Maj, you gotta do this for your little man,” Marcela whispered in her ear. “I’m not going to say that everything is going to be a’ight, because I know it will take time for you to be even half way right. But you have to get through this for your son. Niran knows his mom loves him, and that you’ll meet back up with him one day. He was just too perfect and good for this world. God removed him from your life so that he wouldn’t be caught up in the middle of what’s about to go down,” Marcela said.
Semaj stared down at the carpet as her feet shuffled nervously from side to side, and she allowed her tears to flow freely. It was almost as if her cousin’s words fell on deaf ears and the twinge in her heart was unwavering. She had never experienced a loss so great, and she felt lost without her son’s pleasant smile to cheer her up. She forced herself to get a whiff of his scent and tried her hardest to think about each day that she had with him. Thoughts of happy times with him gave her the strength, and she lifted her head up. She nodded weakly and allowed Vega to continue to escort her to her seat.
Before Semaj sat down she scanned the crowd to see all of the Milano family members. When she glanced up at the balcony, her eyes bugged wide in astonishment and she almost lost her balance, but quickly grabbed the wooden bench for support. A lump formed in her throat, and her neck whipped toward the third floor for a double take. No one stood there. What the fuck, she thought, and could have sworn that she saw Paris. Semaj, you is really buggin the fuck out, she told herself as she took her place on the front pew.
Focusing in on the priest, Semaj tried to focus in on the eulogy service as the catholic minister that baptized her baby a week prior delivered a sermon on a new day, and sent her son Home.
When the service was over, Semaj stood to leave. She was amongst a community of Dominicans, and everyone came up to her expressing their condolences. Besides Gio’s close-knit kin, she didn’t recognize any of the somber faces and she quickly became overwhelmed by it all.
Marcela noticed it and looped her arm through Semaj’s as they made their exit from the church. “There are so many people. Who are all of these people?” Semaj asked as the cold caused her breath vapor to hit the air.
“This is your family. The other people standing out here are just our associates coming out to pay their respects to our family. Paulie was a powerful influence, and he is the reason many people could live a good life,” Gio answered as they stood at the top of the church’s steps and watched as the pallbearers brought out both caskets and loaded them onto the black, horse-drawn hearse as white doves flew around in the sky. Gio made sure he spared no expense when sending his loved ones off. He helped Semaj into the car, and they prepared to follow the bodies to the gravesite with a diplomatic procession of vehicles following closely behind them.
Quasim sat behind the dark tint in the black Mercedes-Benz as he watched the burial proceedings from afar. People thought that he was dead after the nightclub shooting, and he went all out having his childhood friend, Al-B stage a cremation memorial for him. Quasim knew that there was no doubt that Gio would send his goons after him. Even with his aunt Sabrina dead, Gio was from the old school and played by the rules of family: harm mine, and I harm someone in your lineage. Quasim was certain that if Gio hadn’t thought he was dead, he would have stopped at nothing to see him buried.
Quasim peered out at the many familiar Dominican faces, and it brought back great memories. Having moved a lot of bricks for the Family, he had once been a part of the dynasty. This shit is fucked up, he thought. He had never been a scary nigga, but a foolish man he wasn’t either. So, he had to put a great distance between him and Gio. Besides, he knew more than likely people would be after him after Block’s death, and he just wasn’t willing to chance his life—at least not until he formed a new goon squad.
A slight grin crossed his face as he noticed the Milano Hitters step from the back of the car and waited for Semaj to exit the vehicle behind theirs. He knew exactly who the beautiful women were. Gio had sent them to wipe out niggas for him plenty of times. A lot didn’t surprise Quasim, but he had to admit that the murderous ability of Gio’s nieces amazed him.
A crowd mobbed around the burial plots, and the priest began to deliver the Lord’s Prayer.
Quasim noticed one of the henchmen who appeared to be speaking through an earpiece communicator rush over to a sedan and accept an envelope from the driver.
Under any other circumstances, Quasim wouldn’t be caught dead in the States, but when he saw coverage on CNN news, he caught the first flight out. He had to pay his respects to Paulie, but what he didn’t admit to himself was that he actually wanted to see Semaj. He truly missed her, and there was no denying it.
A small smile flashed across his face as he noticed her looking around, as if his energy was sent through his faraway stare and tapped her on the shoulder. He knew that she unknowingly felt his presence, and the thought made his heart flutter. Damn, ma! He shook his head. Why? Although Semaj was no longer his, the sight of
her with another man caused a streak of jealousy to pulse through him. She really married another nigga.
Semaj had moved on and made a family, and even though the little boy that bonded them together was gone, Quasim knew that what they had, ended a long time ago. Why that shit had to happen to us? he thought glumly as he watched the gravediggers dump dirt on top of the caskets.
Quasim noticed that the henchman had walked back up and pulled Gio and Emilia to the side.
With Gio around, we’d never be able to be together again, he thought as he engaged the ignition and looked at Semaj one last time. He reluctantly pulled away in the S600 and headed to the airport to catch his international flight back to the United Kingdom.
“Ms. Emilia,” Arturo said as they walked away from the crowd. “One of your sources gave me this envelope to give to you.” He handed it over and she immediately unsealed it.
Semaj watched as Emilia attentively opened up the envelope and pulled out what appeared to be a sheet of paper. What’s going on? she thought as she continued to read her facial expression.
“Ay, Uncle Gio. Ain’t this the boy, Gabe that you used to deal with? You sent us to get at his people, right?” she asked as she thumbed through the pictures of Gabe boarding a U.S. plane with a gang of Jamaicans, and then looked at another one where they had arrived at JFK airport. Indeed, Emilia’s resources had come through once again.
Gio’s brow furrowed deep, but he held his composure as he put two and two together. “Gabe must’ve linked up with Ox,” he said as he stared at the ten-by-thirteen photograph. Each dude had on an enormous piece that spelled “Warfare”, and that alone was the only confirmation Gio needed. It was a term Ox called his organization. “There aren’t many people bold enough to bring problems to our family.”
“What’s going on, Poppa? Emilia?” Semaj asked as she walked up with the rest of the girls on her heels. She looked in between the two of them. “Did something happen?”
“I believe the Jamaicans are responsible for this, because Ox has been very angry from the Milano Hitters’ killing of his soldiers. It isn’t coincidental that Ox’s people were killed at the nightclub, and all of the sudden Gabe has connected with some dreads.”
“Gabe?” Semaj yelled out in shock. “This is the guy that beat me the night Quasim was shot! Vega didn’t check to make sure he was dead!” Her hand shot over her mouth as tears slid down her cheeks. “Oh my God! He killed my baby! He is the reason my son is dead!”
What Semaj didn’t know was that Gabe not only had a score to settle with her, but her grandfather also. She had no idea that when she was setting Gabe up to be robbed by her father, that she was actually responsible for Ortiz’s only son’s murder, and now, Gabe had one up on them. He had gotten information from Ox, and it all made sense. He was aware that Gio had discovered that Semaj was his granddaughter, and his sister had killed two birds with one stone.
“I promise you we will handle this guy, Maj,” Gio said as he pulled her into his chest. Nothing else had to be said. He knew what had to be done. He whispered something in Emilia’s ear. She quickly told her sisters that they had to go, but before they hopped inside the car, Sosa turned toward Semaj. “There will be a lot of white chalk drawing, white sheet laying and toe tag labeling. You ain’t gotta worry about shit. We finna find these cowards and get it popping. Believe that,” she winked. “And I’ma make sure he sees your face before we end his life.”
Semaj nodded her head weakly and folded her arms across her chest as she watched the foursome enter the car and pull away from the cemetery.
Chapter 3
Semaj lay beneath the crumpled satin sheets with her son’s soft blanket snuggled against her heart. Her head spun in guilt, and her mind raced in regret, sending a heartache that was so extreme that she felt as if she was suffocating.
Knowing that she had done so many grimy things to so many people, and the fact that someone had actually come back to retaliate let her know that karma was real. The weight of bricks had burdened her spirits, and there wasn’t anything that could ease her pain. Wrecked with grief time and time again, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to let her baby go. Night after night, she prayed for his soul, but she wasn’t sure if her prayers would be accepted with all of the bad she had done.
Eyes rimmed pure red and dark bags beneath made it obvious that she hadn’t slept in days. Sleep was evasive, and rest was something that she couldn’t attain. Never leaving that spot, she hadn’t moved. She couldn’t move. Heartbreak had paralyzed her, and hollowness had taken over her normal state. She was empty. The fighter in her had disappeared, and only a small fraction of her former self existed, and it was as if she was close to hitting rock bottom.
Semaj no longer felt worthy to live. Her life was now empty. Her son’s joyous sunrise had quickly become a devastating sunset. Without baby Niran in the world, she was no longer complete. Not a single fiber in her body wanted to move on with her life. How could she?
The one person that she changed her life for had forever changed her life again—this time for the bad. The one and only human being she had ever lived for had died, and yet she remained on Earth. How could that be so? Her baby was innocent, but yet she was very far from it. Semaj felt that God had performed a cruel act and should have left her accountable for her own wrongdoings. If this is what He has for my son, I can just imagine what’s in store for me.
Images of her son flashed before her eyes, and she felt like it had all been a bad dream, but the multihued laminated obituary that sat on the nightstand was almost magnetic, allowing reality to hit her. Her baby was gone. There would be no celebration for his first birthday, no terrible twos, or no know-it-all three year old. Only short memories of the little time that they had spent together.
Baby Niran’s short stay on Earth had showed her that she could love someone more than she loved herself, and the thought of missing the biggest piece in her life was enough to let her know that she would never be whole again. Life’s puzzle for her would never be solved, and knowing he was no longer in existence was slowly turning her heart completely cold.
Semaj heard footsteps move across the hardwood floor as the bedroom door squeaked, but she remained unflinching. Although she knew it was probably one of her cousins coming to check up on her, she hated that the two men in her life were not with her. Their presence seemed to slightly ease some of the pain, and without them she felt as if she was facing the anguish alone.
For the past couple of days, Vega had been in Baltimore to make sure business was right, and Gio had taken a flight to South America to have a meeting. Paulie’s seat had to be filled immediately, and it was Gio’s obligation to discuss it with the 16 Tent who he had decided to fill his shoes.
The 16 Tent was a governing body of Mafia families that were responsible for forty-six percent of the drug distribution across the world. Only top ranking members of the cartels knew about this connected group of people, and that’s the way they preferred it.
There were no loose links to each other just in case one of the families got jammed up, and everyone would take their own heat.
Sixteen members sat underneath a tent, and the commission would all have to vote on the next one in line to effectively run the business stateside. Everybody knew that Bonjo was supposed to be the successor, but some of the members weren’t sure if they wanted the ruthless man to become second in command of the commission. That, along with running the U.S business would be a sure way to head down a road of self-destruction, and the members didn’t think Bonjo was best fit.
“Semaj?” Sosa called out as she walked around the bed, a chain dangling from her hand. The necklace quickly got Semaj’s attention, and for the first time in what seemed like forever she sat up. Her heartbeat quickened and sweat formed on her nose as Sosa approached her with a gracious smile etched to her face. Her smile hid what she was really thinking about her cousin. I can’t believe this happened, Sosa thought.
Semaj’s fac
e was swollen and ash-white, almost sallow. Sosa had been used to them being in friendly competition when it came to putting themselves together with meticulousness, so seeing Semaj’s thick, luxurious mane matted to her scalp and her French- tips chipping was shocking. Semaj was a fading shell of her former self. The tragedy of life had defeated her. Her world had shattered into pieces, and she displayed a weakness that only a mother would endure after losing a child.
“Semaj, we found these cowards.” Sosa dropped the chain on her lap. “I got this Gabe nigga up my ass like a thong, ma. Jah-Jah got word on dude and found out that he frequents this strip joint every Tuesday uptown.”
Jah-Jah was from Harlem, and before she met Bonjo she used to rob niggas. So even though she was in a different position, Jah- Jah still knew every nigga who was getting money, and somehow Gabe had come up big time. They put Sosa on him, and their plans have been flawless thus far.
Semaj slowly grabbed the chain and held it up. It was a lettered charm filled with Jamaican-hued diamonds. She knew exactly where it had come from. It was one of the Jamaicans, and Semaj knew that her cousins had finally located the enemy. A boost of energy entered her body and she hopped out of the bed in slight relief. Although it was freezing outside, she needed a breather. She walked over to the balcony door, slid it open and welcomed the cold front. The crisp air hit her instantly, cooling her off almost right away.
Sosa grabbed the plush cotton robe and wrapped it around Semaj’s shoulders. With tear-filled eyes, Sosa gently took her cousin by the hand and stepped out onto the balcony.
This is so relaxing, Semaj thought, admiring the snow-clad grounds.
“You know, Maj. I feel your pain,” Sosa said out of the blue. “Deeper than you know. I understand it from a mother’s standpoint.” Sosa stared out into the distance as her eyes misted. Tears slid down her face, and for the first time she felt that she could express her to-the-grave secret with someone that could relate. Semaj would understand the feeling that only a mother would embrace, no matter the circumstances.