Young and Hungry

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “What in the fuck! Dre, are you serious?”

  “Hell, fuck yeah. I’m dead ass. And some young, crazy-ass fool done already stole a damn car and ran a little girl over like it ain’t shit!”

  “Say word?”

  “Yeah, and here the hell his wild ass comes, doing more doughnuts in the intersection, clowning like he ain’t did no wrong.” Dre shook his head, wanting his piece of the illegal pie before law and order was restored. “Like they said on the news, it ain’t no fucking police rolling, so it’s time for us to get our shit together so we can get out here and do what we do. Ain’t gonna be no flashing-light patrols. And ain’t no curfews gonna be enforced. So let’s get it!”

  After watching several families load their cars with overnight bags, Dre grinned. He figured they would probably be spending the night in a city with electricity and with officers of the law on duty. Sadly for them, Dre put their homes first on the list to get hit. He knew that although they more than likely would take all their laptops, tablets, and expensive jewelry with them, there would still be televisions, DVD players, and video game systems waiting to find a new home.

  Dre then gathered together his crew of soon-to-be neighborhood bandits. He told them to take their time as they did their work, because the burglar alarm systems that usually glared at intruders would not working. As he talked, he grinned, knowing he was about to be eating good. After getting a crowbar and more than a few Home Depot heavy-duty garbage bags, the boys went to work. Arrogant, they did not care that it was broad daylight. They didn’t give two shits about who saw them and snitched later on down the line that they were hungry and had to be fed by any means necessary.

  * * *

  “We closed! We closed!” Hassan shouted angrily through the bolted doors.

  “Come on, dude! We need a bottle of that Hennessy and a few of them Red Bulls! I know they still cold!”

  “Dawg, we not open! Not until tomorrow morning, maybe!” Mikey barked, reinforcing his brother’s words. He was also tired of the locals banging on an obviously locked door. “Try somewhere else. Damn!”

  “It ain’t nowhere else to go around here, you ho-ass motherfucker, so why don’t y’all just sell that bullshit y’all got in there!”

  As time seemed to drag by, three of the four young men found different things to occupy them. However, with nothing much to do in the dimly lit store, Hassan decided to text Alexis. Hopefully, she’d be up by now. The fact that she’d returned to being a stripper only months after giving birth to a baby—who, according to neighborhood rumors, was his—meant nothing to naive Middle Eastern–born Hassan. Whether or not he was the biological father of the fair-skinned, curly-haired, hazel-eyed infant, he still treated Alexis with the utmost respect. Exposing her nude body to a man other than her husband was considered shameful in his culture, as well as his religion. However, Hassan knew everyone went against the grain some time or another. If he judged Alexis for having a child out of wedlock, then he’d have to condemn himself for having premarital sex with her in the store’s walk-in cooler and stockroom.

  Alexis had claimed on numerous occasions that she was swinging on that brass pole only to get enough money to finish paying for her CNA training and hopefully purchase a house from the new land bank Auction. So the next man seeing her stark naked was only a temporary thing. Alexis was desperate to get away from her nothing-ass brother, Dre. He and his band of no-good cohorts, who were constantly posted at the house their deceased mother had left to them, had turned the home into some sort of Honeycomb Hideout or some bullshit clubhouse like that. Alexis was determined to get her certificate, if nothing else. Sure, Hassan would give her small sums of money on the regular and take her to dinner at some far-out, low-key restaurant, but his overall contribution to the young mother was no great life-changing feat. They lived in two different worlds, two they had yet truly to combine. Yet Hassan was tired of living like that. He wanted to make things with himself and his Nubian queen official. Fuck the world.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, almost in a whisper. “You up yet or what?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. What time is it, anyway?” She peeked from underneath the sheet and saw the sun shining from behind the blanket nailed up to her window.

  “It’s two thirty, almost three.”

  “Damn!”

  “Yeah, damn is right! What time you get in last night? I texted you at about two and you ain’t get back.”

  Alexis stretched her arms out, then pulled the satin hair cap down farther on her head. “I told you I don’t get good reception when I work at that club. So why is you tripping?”

  “I’m not.” Hassan tried not to raise his voice as he walked to the rear of the dark store. “It’s just I be worried about you.”

  “Bae, I told you not to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Well, I can’t help it, Alexis. I stay worried about you and the baby. So I’m gonna trip from time to time.” Hassan glanced at the rear of the store to see if Mikey and cousins were still preoccupied and not listening to him. He stuffed his hand deep into his front pocket and eased out a gold ring with a small-size diamond center stone. Although he loved Alexis with all his heart, he knew now wasn’t the time for them to get married, but later in the evening he would slip the ring on her finger so she’d at least know his intentions were honorable.

  “Yeah, okay, Hassan, but stop with all that. I’m good, and the baby good. He’s still with my auntie and cousins out in Southfield.”

  “Well, I know you know the power is out citywide, right? That crap they was talking about all week really happened.”

  “You bullshitting? I heard people talking about it last night at the club, but shit!” She finally sat up in the bed. “You up at the store? Do y’all have power up there?”

  “Naw, girl. We up here in the store, and it’s dark as hell. Citywide means citywide, period! Ain’t no exceptions because we wasn’t born here!”

  “Boy, forget all that mess you about to start talking about. You know I don’t care about your race or religion, just you! But damn!” Alexis reached for the remote to see if her television would turn on. Of course, it didn’t, and this time it wasn’t because DTE had cut the wires after catching them stealing electricity again. “You right. Our shit is dead!”

  “Okay, so what you gonna do the rest of the day, woman? You cold chilling in the crib or what?”

  “Boy, I dunno. I’m just getting my head wrapped around no power. How long this mess gonna last, anyhow? Did they say?”

  “At least twenty-four hours. And you know it’s no police or fire trucks running. The damn hospitals shut down too!”

  “Wow! Man, this is crazy!”

  “Who the hell you telling?” Hassan thought about all the money he and his family were missing out on by not being open and shook his head in denial. “Well, boo, on another note, when you get yourself together, why don’t you head up here? I got something for you, something special.”

  “Well, it better be some keys to a plush hotel room out in the burbs somewhere!” Alexis knew staying the night in Detroit was out of the question as she looked around for what to take with her. It was dangerous enough closing your eyes in the city nightly even with the few streetlights that did work.

  “Alexis, girl, cut all that out. You know I got you covered. Just come on to the store when you get ready!”

  “Yeah, all right, Hassan. Love you, and I’ll be up there shortly.”

  “Well, just knock on the back door by the Dumpster. But call me first, because we ain’t opening the doors for just anybody.” Hassan stared over at the front entrance as yet another person banged on the door, thinking the CLOSED sign somehow didn’t apply to them.

  Alexis hung up from Hassan, then called her best friend, Anthony, back. He’d texted her the night before, like he always did when he got in from work. However, like she’d just told Hassan, the reception was poor where she was working, and she was exhausted. She and Anthony had been
rocking out for years. And just like he swore to her that day in the abandoned house, he had her back and would always make sure she was good. When the police detectives came and picked up Dre and threw him in juvenile lock up for close to two years for various crimes, Anthony was there, being her substitute big brother. When her mother finally did succumb to her illness, he was there to hold her hand. When her verbally abusive aunt and her many kids stayed in the house her mother had left to her and Dre until she was of legal age, Anthony and his granny were there to help with the transition.

  Now both grown, she and Black Tone, as the streets referred to him, were still very close. And he was still looking out for her when need be. He didn’t necessarily agree with her relationship with Hassan or her stripping, but it was what it was. As far as Black Tone was concerned, Alexis was always going to be the hood Bonnie to his gangster Clyde.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Li’l Ronnie finally made it home to his suburban apartment. After taking a long shower, he dried off and threw on a pair of shorts. The shirtless, mentally anguished soldier fell back on his bed. After spending the night before drinking, getting into a one-sided battle, and dealing with the various people at the hospital, he was spent. The hot water did absolutely nothing to soothe his aching bones and nothing to ease his attitude. Ethan had put the final nail in Li’l Ronnie’s coffin with the black-hearted betrayal and Li’l Ronnie’s exile from the illegal family business he felt was his birthright.

  Now, cut off and humiliated on social media, he stared up at the ceiling, plotting his next move. Slowly lifting his head, Li’l Ronnie glanced over at the closet. Behind that closed door was everything he needed or wanted to wage his own war. Knowing that he had a small but dangerous high-powered arsenal at his immediate disposal made him feel relieved. He didn’t have to beg, borrow, or steal a gun to handle his business. He was good when the time came to put in work. He picked up his cell and tried his best not to look at the video he’d now saved to his phone. However, he couldn’t help himself. He pushed PLAY, and his anger intensified with every passing second. Every laugh he heard in the background. Every time he saw a female cover her mouth in shock and each time he watched Black Tone sling him around like some rag doll, Li’l Ronnie got further buried in his emotions.

  Standing up on his still very sore leg, he stretched his arms, hoping to shake off his rage and think about how he’d kill Black Tone and not get caught. Definitely not cut out to go to prison, Li’l Ronnie was ready to sit down and do the time given to him if he slipped up. He walked over to the other side of the room and opened the closet door. After stepping inside, he pulled down on the small piece of string that was attached to the overhead light. Moving several of his leather coats over to the side as far as possible, he nodded his head. He reached over a few of the weapons in his cherished pistol collection and picked up one of his favorites. After going back into the bedroom, he took the clip out and emptied all the bullets onto the dresser. Then he opened a drawer and got a T-shirt out. Next, he went into the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet. A bottle of alcohol, then peroxide, and he was ready. Ready to use the knowledge Ethan had blessed him and the entire crew with some time ago. He understood he had to do wrong as right as possible.

  Li’l Ronnie got out a pair of shooting-range gloves. He was taught they were much better to use than straight-up latex gloves by themselves. He took a pair of the blue-colored surgical safe guards out of the box, then slipped them on. Tugging down at the wrists, he ensured they were snug. He followed up with the shooting gloves, and he was now ready.

  First, he took the clip and inspected it. After slightly dampening a small portion of the T-shirt with alcohol, he stuck it down inside the metal confines and twirled it around the best he could. Using the other end of the shirt, he repeated the same exact procedure but substituted peroxide for the alcohol. Li’l Ronnie then sat the clip over to the side to dry the small amount of moisture that was still present. Next on the list was the. 40-cal hollow-point bullets he had put on the dresser. Individually, he picked them up with both sets of protective gloves still on.

  Using both chemical-dampened ends of the shirt, the vengeful young man wiped each bullet from top to bottom, then in a circular motion. Looking up from what he was doing, Li’l Ronnie paused, staring off into the mirror. Growing more enraged, he now noticed even more bruising on his left side courtesy of Black Tone. Biting down on his lower lip, he went back to what he was doing—cleaning bullets intended for Black Tone. Convinced that they were all fingerprint and DNA free, he proceeded to reload the hollow points into the clean clip.

  Li’l Ronnie loved his peacemaker and brought this one out only on special occasions. He swore he’d never part with it, no matter what, so making sure it was clean was of the utmost importance to him. After a few more minutes, the mandatory task was complete. Oh yeah. That nigga Black Tone gonna pay before sunrise. That’s my word, he silently vowed, wrapping the fully loaded firearm in a brand-new T-shirt fresh out of the package. After making a few calls, it didn’t take Li’l Ronnie long to connect the dots. Detroit was the smallest biggest city ever. Everybody knew somebody who knew someone that always knew everyone. And given the flamboyant, jack-money-off lifestyle Li’l Ronnie liked to live, it wasn’t hard for someone to turn him on to some info.

  Thirsty to get his plan into motion, Li’l Ronnie cracked his knuckles. He already knew where his soon-to-be victim worked at, but where he laid his head at was what really mattered. He knew for sure that was where the wannabe goon would be the most relaxed. Li’l Ronnie knew that if he wanted to catch Black Tone slipping, at home would be the place to look. Text message after text message in in-box after in-box piled in. Finally, he received the 411 he was in search of. Upon finding out not only the neighborhood Black Tone lived in but also his exact address, Li’l Ronnie took a deep breath. He knew his pride was on the line and shit was about to get real.

  Getting dressed, Li’l Ronnie was only moments before stepping out his apartment door. Keys in hand, gun tucked in waistband, he stuffed the paper he’d written Black Tone’s address down on in his front pocket. Before he could lock up and head toward his truck, his cell rang. Looking down at the screen, he saw it was his uncle.

  “Yeah? Hello,” he answered, hoping his kin had changed his mind about cutting him off and was now ready to ride with him against Black Tone.

  “Boy, what in the entire fuck is wrong with your retarded ass!”

  Li’l Ronnie could almost feel Ethan’s angry voice jump through the phone. He stood speechless and confused. He’d already allowed him to yoke him up by the neck and verbally berate him. Just earlier Ethan had announced he was done with him. Now he was calling to curse him out yet some more.

  “Yo, Unc, what the hell is the problem now? You told me to get the fuck on, so I’m good.”

  “Good? You good? Naw, little motherfucker. You ain’t good. You dumb as hell. You can’t have my blood flowing through your brains.” His words were hot as they flew out of his mouth. “You trying to get us all fucked up or what?”

  “Huh? What is you talking about, fucked up?” Li’l Ronnie went back into his living room. With the phone still up to his ear, he removed the gun from his waistband and placed it on the coffee table. Waiting to hear Ethan’s response and his true reason for calling, he sat on the arm of the couch. “What I do now that got you bugging?”

  Ethan was pissed. He hated for the guys in his crew to go against the grain and his word. As far as he was concerned, his word was law. He made sure the entire crew that ran with him was fed, had nice clothes, and if they ever had legal issues, they were taken care of. For that reason, he demanded respect. In or out of the fold, his nephew would be no exception. “Listen, you little piece of shit. I told your bitch ass before you left to leave that bullshit alone. That it was over. You had that ass kicking coming, so just be a man about it. Boss up and take that L.”

  Li’l Ronnie already knew his uncle’s reach was long in the ci
ty. But from the way he was going in on him, this was too quick. It was like he had read his mind or had cameras hidden in his apartment. “Man, what in the hell is you talking about now?”

  “Look, boy. I told you when you left here to leave that bullshit alone. That guy Black Tone is my guy. Detroit Live is off-limits to you from now on out! And, matter of fact, if I find out you keep getting at motherfuckers on Facebook and texting them, trying to catch up with the dude, I’ma break your back personally. Where the fuck a fool leave a deliberate trail of trying to hunt a nigga down to do some old foul football number shit? You young-style, new-breed motherfuckers kill me. Y’all got the game fucked up!”

  Li’l Ronnie shook his head. He knew trying to get up with Black Tone that way was risky, but it didn’t matter. If the word was out that he was gonna separate his attacker’s head from his body, then so be it. Fuck who knew it, his uncle included. “Look, Unc, you do you, ’cause I’m gonna do me!”

  Shrugging his shoulders at that comment, Ethan signaled for one of his loyal goons to come into the house. “All right, Ronnie. This ain’t what you want, so consider yourself warned!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was nearing five in the evening. The group of four was starting to get more than bored playing cards and talking among themselves by candlelight. Each ones cell had only a few bars left. They had no way to charge them without opening the rear door and going out to their vehicles. Watching the news on his phone, Hassan knew things were about to get way worse before they got better. He also noticed that they’d need more candles and a few more flashlights to make it through the night. After making several calls to relatives who either were too scared to venture into Detroit, which CNN News had reported was out of control, or were much too busy trying to accommodate the overflow of customers at their own business establishments, the group decided Hassan would risk making the trip to get the much-needed provisions, along with some hot food and fruit.