Pursuing The Plug

by Mercy B

  The closest handgun to him was his father’s favorite Glock 40. Not having much time to consider his actions, he snatched it from the display case and ran toward the door.

  Just as he stepped out silently, he heard above, “Reign, where’s your father’s safe?”

  Knowing the time was then or never, Rafeeq made his presence known. “Down here, but you pussies gone have to come get it!”

  Index on the trigger, he fired his first shot, hitting the first gunman in the stomach. He immediately dropped his weapon and held his stomach. Falling to the floor beside the staircase, he gave Rafeeq the fuel he needed to keep at it. Again, he let off another shot, missing the second gunman by a few inches. The gunman that was still standing attempted to stir up some commotion of his own, but his gun jammed.

  “Fuck!” his voice sounded through the house.

  Rafeeq smirked wickedly, knowing that vengeance was his. The power that the Glock held caused Rafeeq’s body to jerk backwards, but it didn’t stop him from continuing. Stepping forward, he kept a level head as he fired more shots. Well calculated, he counted the bullets as they emitted from his gun. With his last shot, he was able to nip the finger of the second gunman, making the gun fall from his hand as well.

  “Fuck nigga.” Rafeeq was on one! When he neared the two gunmen, he used his feet to kick both of their guns out of the way.

  “Rafeeq!” he heard from above.

  Next were a set of footsteps then another. Taking a peek above his head, he saw his sister had taken off behind the boy that had come from her room with her. Rafeeq quickly left the two men and jogged up the stairs behind them.

  Refusing to chase behind a nigga when he had two more conscious downstairs, Rafeeq pulled the chrome plated gun from his waist and yelled out to Reign. “Watch out!”

  Stopping in her tracks, Reign removed herself from her brother’s path. Sweaty palms and timid hearted, Rafeeq aimed his gun and caught Calles in the left shoulder. As expected, Calles fell to the ground, and the bitch started to come out of him.

  “Man, don’t kill me. You shot me in my shoulder. How I’m going to play now?”

  “Motherfucker, you played your last game tonight. Nobody ever told you who we were?” Rafeeq was in no hurry as he closed the space between him and Calles.

  “I’m sorry. Please, don’t kill me.”

  “I’m not, but I can’t say the same for my father.” Rafeeq shrugged. “Reign, here. Walk this nigga downstairs. If he even sneezes, please shoot him!” Rafeeq instructed, handing Reign the gun that he’d just shot Calles with.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” Reign asked.

  “It’s two more people downstairs. Did you forget?”

  “No. You’re right. You’re right.” Reign was shaken up and didn’t want Rafeeq to leave her sight.

  “Reign, we’re good, alright?”

  “Rafeeq, I fucked up!”

  “Yeah, you did. Let me fix this, though.”

  “How?”

  “Just get him downstairs so that I can tell you!”

  “Dad’s going to kill me.” Rafeeq heard Reign stress as he turned to run downstairs.

  The entire time, he was trying to formulate a plan to keep their parents off of Reign’s ass. He knew that they’d never forgive her if the truth got out, so it was detrimental that he devised a plan.

  Rafeeq made it downstairs to find one of the gunmen had disappeared. The one who had been hit in the stomach remained on the ground. Apparently, he’d lost consciousness. Rafeeq bent over and pulled his heavy body toward the basement that he’d been festering in before they intruded his home. Rafeeq was sure to remain cautious, not knowing where the other man had gone to. A gush of wind caused him to look toward the front door, which was wide open.

  “Dang. I think he got away.” Rafeeq hissed, finally making an entrance in the basement.

  Reign wasn’t far behind him with Calles holding his shoulder. Her face was stained with tears as thoughts of the damage she’d done consumed her. Reign wanted to be any place but home when her parents made it. They would never understand how stupid she must’ve been to allow strangers into their home. They had only a few rules, and no invites was one of them. It had been that way since the beginning of time, and nothing was going to change any time soon.

  “Go grab that box over in the corner… the brown one,” Rafeeq instructed.

  Reign ran to grab the box and returned with ropes. “Tie him up, and I’ll tie him up,” she suggested.

  For four minutes, the brother and sister duo tied up their aggressors as they waited for their parents. Reign was afraid to say much. She was afraid that her nerves would force her into premature shock. She literally felt sick to the stomach thinking about how careless she’d been. Never had she expected Calles to pull such a stunt. As she tied his wrists, she pulled the rope tighter than necessary.

  “Argh!” he screamed.

  “Rafeeq, our parents are going to put my head on a chopping block. How dumb was I? I mean, this is just unacceptable.” She began to cry. “Dad is never going to trust me again. I’m dead. I’m fucking dead.”

  “Reign, chill.”

  “Chill? Rafeeq, do you understand what I’ve done? You’ve shot someone for Christ’s sake. You’re only eleven years old.”

  “I’m fine, Reign. How about you go upstairs, and I'll handle it for now. Dad’s on the way.”

  “No. I should stay here.”

  “Go upstairs, Reign. Please.”

  “I’m not!”

  “OK. Well, clean up the blood then. Don’t worry about Mom and Dad. Dad warns me about having my location on the game all of the time when I’m playing. I’ll just tell him that I turned it on to find a friend but got this clown instead. After telling him who my folks were through chat on the game, the next thing I know, niggas were knocking down the door.”

  “Reign! Rafeeq!” Rafeeq heard his father behind him but continued on his way. Dropping the guns, he picked up speed to finish wrapping his victim.

  “Reign!” RahMeek’s voice boomed through the house.

  “In here!” she yelled out, figuring that she’d better alert her father of their location.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “It’s alright, Dad.” Rafeeq tried calming his father.

  “Is everyone good?” RaKeem flew through the basement, causing RahMeek to stumble forward.

  “Yo! It’s mad blood out here, son. What’s going on? Where the fuck is my niece and nephew?” Roc yelled through the house. “Reign? Rafeeq?”

  “In here!” RaKeem yelled to catch Roc’s attention.

  “Everything is good, Unc,” Rafeeq assured Roc.

  “Reign, upstairs now!” RahMeek demanded, staring his son in the face, trying his hardest to hold himself together.

  In front of him were two men tied to chairs with his son and daughter seemingly unharmed. The blood that covered his marble floors told a story of their own, and the trauma to the victim’s bodies confirmed every suspicion that was to be made.

  “But, Dad, I…”

  “Upstairs! As a matter of fact, go out to the car where your mother and aunts are.” RahMeek snapped with finality.

  “Yes, sir.” Reign’s eyes met Rafeeq’s, and he silently assured her that everything was to be good. Bowing her head, she turned to leave the basement.

  As Reign ventured into the foyer area, her stomach began to turn. She suddenly had the urge to hurl. Holding her mouth, she shut her eyes tightly to avoid the blood that trailed to their basement. Looking back, she thought of her baby brother. At only eleven, he was willing to put his life on the line to protect her. Not only did he nearly catch three bodies, but he risked his livelihood.

  All of a sudden, Reign felt ashamed for the way that she bashed Rafeeq for always attempting to put his foot down when it came to her. Reign made a mental note to shower him with the most love and respect that one could give her younger sibling. Rafeeq was a different breed, and Reign was more than tha
nkful to have him. Snot ran down her blemish-free skin, causing her to reach up and wipe it with her sleeve.

  The smell of Calles’s cologne still lingered heavily. Thoughts of him invaded her space involuntarily. She hated that she’d been so gullible and started to wonder if the little fling that she’d called a relationship was even real. The way that everything went down seemed to have been well thought out. It wasn’t as if the thought had arisen after Reign informed him of her parents’ absence. Shaking her head, she pulled the front door open and ran to her father’s truck. Inside were Bella, Kelly, and Reed.

  “Are you okay? What’s going on in there?” Bella could not hold her tongue.

  “Spit it out.” RahMeek urged his son to tell him the deal.

  “I messed up!” He bowed his head.

  “What you mean you fucked up?”

  “I had the location on like you’re always advising me against. I was waiting for my friend to find me, and then I was going to turn it right off.”

  “Rafeeq Jones!”

  “Let him finish.” Roc held his hand out, keeping RahMeek from advancing toward his son.

  “In the midst of waiting for my friend, a new player popped up. I was tired of waiting, so I accepted the challenge with this nigga.” He pointed to Calles, who was in and out of consciousness. “During the game, we chatting, and I let it slip that you were my father. The game ended, and twenty minutes later, they were coming through the front door.”

  “And what happened? How did they get here?” RaKeem inquired.

  “I shot ’em.”

  Meek clinched his lids together, wanting to yell out, but he kept his composure.

  “They had guns. I just shot ’em,” Rafeeq repeated, coming down from his high. The thought of the bullets from his gun contacting with another man’s flesh did something to his little mind and heart.

  “And you don’t know this young nigga?” Meek pointed to Calles, who was gaining conscious. “You’ve never saw this young nigga in your life?”

  “Nah, I know R—”

  Blocka! Blocka!

  Rafeeq’s arm flew backward as each bullet exited the barrel of the gun that he’d snatched from the table. Calles had awakened and was about to out his sister, and he couldn’t have that shit. Taking the heat was nothing to him. However, if his parents found out the truth, then Reign was sure to be in deep shit.

  Two to the head, and Calles neck could no longer hold the weight. Slumped in his seat, the only thing that held him up were the ropes that he was tied with. Gasps could be heard throughout the basement as each man jumped to Rafeeq’s side. RahMeek was the first to reach him as he lowered his weapon. Smoke lingered in the air, and the next sound heard was heart-wrenching, causing every man in the room to turn their heads.

  “Dad!” Rafeeq’s hands shook violently as RahMeek closed the space between the two. “Dad!” He called out again. A low grumbled pursued, confirming his emotional outpour.

  The young bull was heartbroken. At eleven, he had taken a man’s life. He stared at the holes he’d placed into Calles’s head before tucking it into his father’s chest.

  “It’s OK.” RahMeek lifted the same gun that Rafeeq had just used and let off one shot into the other gunman’s head as well. Ending his shit was a no-brainer. “It’s OK.” RahMeek tried comforting his son.

  “Listen.” RahMeek used his hand to swipe everything from the table and sat down. Pulling Rafeeq between his legs, he removed his hands from his face. “Look at me.”

  “I just…”

  “Nothing. You just nothing. I did that. See?” He showed Rafeeq the gun. “That’s on me. That’s all you know, and that’s all you need to know! Do you understand?”

  Nodding, Rafeeq let his father know that he understood.

  “This me. All of this shit. You were never here. Didn’t see shit… hear shit… Don’t know shit… Aight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You did what a man is supposed to do, aight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You protected your sister the same way I would have done for your moms. I thank you.” RahMeek pulled Rafeeq’s head toward him, and held on to either side of his face. “I love you, Rafeeq. I’ve got it from here, aight?” With that, he kissed his head and sent him out to his mother as well.

  The second that Rafeeq’s frame was out of the basement, Meek broke. Out of all of his years, there hadn’t been a single incident that had caused the amount of emotions that his son’s actions had. He was staring himself in the eyes as he preached to his son. The resemblance and familiarity with his young bull was bizarre. Rafeeq was everything that his father was, at a high dimension. It was borderline scary the way his eleven-year-old toted the Glock and put two to a nigga’s dome without a word. You only saw shit like that in movies, but his son had brought the big screen to their basement.

  Crumbling to the floor, RahMeek dropped his head into his hand. His heart was heavy, and his mind was racing. He’d never kept a secret from his wife, but that was one that he was willing to take to his grave. Rafeeq was his world just as much as Reign and he wouldn’t have felt any differently had she been behind the handle. Sharp pains shot through his chest as he recollected the last few minutes. His son’s face was void of emotions as he drew and shot.

  “My boy…” Tears ran down RahMeek’s cheeks. “My boy just caught his first body.”

  It was years before his father could admit to his true feelings about the fact that his son was a murderer. They’d promised not to ever speak of the incident, but Rafeeq had witnessed a shift in his father and the way that he interacted with him. Everything was different. After years of building the courage, Rafeeq finally questioned his father at the age of fifteen.

  “Here’s what I’ve collected this morning. There were a few people to call in, but you know I don’t fuck with those. They’re the first step toward self-destruction.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s their business, not mine. If someone needs me, let them know I’m in the back. No more than two at a time.”

  “I know the drill.” Crimson nodded, heading toward his post up front. It was where he could watch the action from all angles.

  “See you in a few.”

  Rafeeq prepared himself for rush hour, keeping a low profile even in his own spot. The average bar hopper couldn’t afford to put their money on the same table he played at, which was why his disguise panned out so smoothly. It was simple. He didn’t take bets from customers. Rafeeq kept his dealings completely separate besides housing them in the same establishment.

  His long frame swam through the sea of consumers and into the secluded hallway. After triple checking his surroundings, Rafeeq tapped the side paneling of the wall rhythmically before a print processor appeared before him. He placed his large hands on the glass and waited to be given access to his office. As the doors slid open and room lit, Rafeeq’s adrenaline surged.

  “Shop’s open,” he mumbled to himself while stepping inside.

  The pureness of the room was exhilarating—white everything. Though seemingly strange, it happened to be his preference in color. Inside of his office, Rafeeq powered on the computer and tapped a single button on the keyboard to start his playlist. With the music set to a creep so that he could think logically, he sat before tossing the slips that he’d been given by Crimson onto the table to begin his count.

  Tupac, who happened to be another preference of his, boomed through the speakers as he nodded his head to the beat. Though his eyes were trained on the markings of the small thread of papers in front of him, Rafeeq’s attention had been piqued. Quiet like a mouse, a human’s presence lingered in his space. Unwelcomed and unwanted, it was detrimental that it ceased.

  Solely based upon his instincts, Rafeeq removed the pistol from beneath his desk, removed the safety, and brought his head upward along with his strap. Without words, he stared at the intruder, who was as beautiful as the morning sun he’d watched countless times with his older sister. Even her gl
ory wasn’t enough to erase the smug look from his face or lower the pistol that he had pointed at her temple. Crim hadn’t buzzed anyone back. It wasn’t a customer.

  “Is that the way you treat all of your customers?” Like honey, her vocals dripped.

  Rafeeq’s dick stood at attention due to the sound of her voice and absence of fear in her bones as she continued toward his desk. One foot precisely in front of the other, her slender frame strutted as if she was tackling a run way.

  “State ya business.” Rafeeq didn’t waver, keeping his ground.

  “Hasn’t your mother taught you to be a bit more lenient to women?” A sly smirk was accompanied with saddened eyes and halted movement. She was well aware that her womanhood wouldn’t allow her swindling that evening. The cocking of Rafeeq’s pistol proved it.

  “My mother isn’t the best reference in this case. Any woman I know is just as dangerous as the man she sleeps next to every night. And I’m only associated with thorough hitters. So, again… State your business...” The sound of wheels turning was due to Rafeeq’s maneuvering. He stood from his seat and began toward his victim.

  “Hampsher.” She informed him of her government. “I come in peace.” Her eyes faltered, confirming Rafeeq’s dominance. His room. His rules. Hampsher reminded herself.

  “Bitches don’t be…”

  “Now, now. Why do we have to go there?” Hampsher’s eyes squinted as her head returned to the air. Folding her arms across her chest, she shifted her weight toward her right side.

  Shrugging, Rafeeq didn’t recant or feel the least bit of sympathy for his choice of wording. It was true. Women didn’t bet with him. It was law—his law. He’d hate to put his paws on a woman for not paying her debt if it came down to it, but he would. In addition, women thought with their pussies, something that he received too much of to be accepting it in exchange for debt write offs. To eliminate the risk, he refused plays by them.

  “I don’t do business with women.”