Thinking about the dope that was stashed at Detroit Live, Amir came up with an idea. He knew that Black Tone wouldn’t like it, but just like the other man’s loyalties were with his grandmother, Amir’s had to be with his family. After getting back inside his car so that he could hear, he texted Ethan. Just like every other self-respecting drug dealer, Amir assumed he’d be up checking his traps, especially on a night like tonight. In a mere matter of minutes, just as Amir had prayed, his text was answered. Seconds later, his cell rang.
“Hey, Ethan. Thanks for getting back to me so soon.”
Ethan was shocked to hear from Amir. Naturally, after what Li’l Ronnie had done to his right-hand man, Black Tone, he figured all contact with them as a whole was over. “No problem, Amir. But I ain’t gonna front. I mean, I’m surprised to hear from you. And I want you to know that damn nephew of mine is gonna pay the ultimate price. Not only has he overstepped the rules of the game with the old woman, but he has crossed me out also. For both those offenses, his blood will run on these streets.”
Amir was, of course, glad to hear that the disrespectful youngin’ would pay, but he had more things on his plate to swallow than that. Not wanting any more slow stroking of each other’s egos, Amir cut straight to the chase. “Look, Ethan, here’s the deal. I need you to do me a favor. And I need it done with the quickness. No delay.”
“If I can, I will,” Ethan replied, hoping he could redeem himself and make amends.
“Ethan, man, some fucking assholes set my father’s store on fire. I don’t wanna go into details, but I need some manpower to come over here and kinda stand guard until daybreak. I got all my people tied up on other bullshit. So what you say? Can you make that happen for me or what?”
If nothing else, Ethan had a small army of East Side soldiers standing in line, begging to be put to work on anything for him. Quick to respond, he asked Amir for the address to the store and asked how many guys he needed to show up. Amir replied that he needed at least three, to be on the safe side, but Ethan informed him he would be sending five, and they would be there shortly.
Before ending the conversation, Amir told Ethan that all that bullshit his nephew had done at the club and to Black Tone’s grandmother would be squashed in return for what he was doing.
“I swear to God, I appreciate you, man. Up until that fool showed out, we been doing good business, and I wanna keep it that way,” Ethan said. He was relived he was back on the ticket and hung up from speaking to Amir with a smile on his face. Now, if he only heard from J-Blaze or if only his girl Sable came walking through his front door, his life would be back on track.
Amir got back out of the car and holstered his gun, just in case. He was glad that Ethan had agreed to what he needed and that reinforcements were on their way. Of course, he had deliberately failed to tell Ethan that he feared four of his family members were dead, buried under the collapsed and still scorching hot beams of the building, the very place he wanted the men to guard over. But that really wasn’t Ethan’s business or concern, at least not now. Amir already knew Black Tone wasn’t going to be happy about the choice Amir had to make in joining forces with Ethan to help protect the store, but in the real world, blood was always going to be thicker than water, and Mikey, Hassan, and even the twins were blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sable briefly opened her eyes. As she drifted in and out of her first heroin trance, she didn’t know where she was at. None of the walls that surrounded her or the bed she was lying in seemed recognizable. It felt like there was a lump in her throat, and she had cotton mouth. Trying not to be dizzy and to get her bearings, Sable closed her eyes once more. Fighting off an anxiety attack, she struggled to breathe as her mind somewhat started to return to normal.
“I see you awake now, huh, my queen?” Li’l Ronnie smiled as he leaned over to kiss Ethan’s woman on the cheek. “You hungry? You want one of these BLT sandwiches I got? They still hot!”
It was then that Sable came back to her senses. It was then that it dawned on her what had taken place and where she was at. This fucking idiot who had the nerve to kiss her, like he was some innocent guy she was in love with and not the son of a bitch, sinister piece of shit that he truly was, had filled her veins full of dope. Now Li’l Ronnie was acting like it was all good. Like it was gonna be all smiles and handshakes.
“You nothing-ass nigga! How could you do that grimy shit you did?” She looked over at her arm, which was bruised from the needle entry and her fighting for the needle not to go in. “I promise you when I get free from here, you is as good as dead.”
Li’l Ronnie found her threats cute and nothing more. Besides the breakfast sandwiches he’d eaten, he had also popped a few pills and swallowed them down with a double shot of Seagram’s Gin. It would be daybreak in a few short hours, and he wanted to make sure he was ready and in rare form to keep fucking up his uncle’s mind with pictures of Sable. While she was knocked out cold behind the amount of dope he had pushed into her veins, Li’l Ronnie had untied her arms and feet, had staged all sorts of poses, and had taken pictures. It would make any dude crazy to see his woman do such things with the next man. After tying her back up, he’d left to go get some food and laugh at all the fake calls of concern J-Blaze was hitting him off with.
Li’l Ronnie might have been wild and out of his mind from drinking and whatnot most of the time, but he wasn’t a dummy. He knew J-Blaze was a “do anything” type of hustler who was always on the come up. And since his other boy had said J-Blaze had had a one on one with Ethan, the rest was apparent. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the play J-Blaze was trying to make. That boy had sent him five different messages throughout the night, claiming he would meet him at this location or another. If J-Blaze wanted to play the game, then so be it. Run all night!
“Let me tell you something about my uncle. He never loved you like I did and still do. He was cheating on you all the time with different women, especially when we’d go out of town. He said you was just a piece of ass to him, something to do when he was bored.” Li’l Ronnie was trying his best not only to turn Sable out on drugs but also to turn her against Ethan. He was still very much in love with her but was bitter over how they’d both fucked over his feelings.
Sable refused to look at him. The things he was saying about her man might have been true, but as long as she was eating good, driving good, and had that good dope to sell to all her white friends at the strip club, she didn’t care what Ethan did with his dick. She’d learned a long time ago from an old ho in the game that a bitch would grow old before her time from trying to patrol a man’s dick. Men were put on this earth to fuck anything that would run, hop, or skip.
After taking a few more pictures of Sable, this time with Black Tone’s money scattered all around, Li’l Ronnie sent all the pictures to Ethan. You ain’t the only one getting money! he wrote in the text that followed.
Minutes later he got a reply from his uncle, and it was simple: 187.
Li’l Ronnie laughed out loud as he filled a syringe full of Sable’s next uncut fix.
* * *
Dre and his boys were camped out on the living-room floor, something they always did. It was almost dawn, and although their free-for-all crime spree had been interrupted because of the situation with Alexis, they still had plenty of stolen items to keep and sell. Having no power or city services for twenty-four hours was the best thing that could’ve happened to their otherwise flat pockets. Dre was the first to get up. He grabbed the remote, then checked to see if the television would come on. It didn’t. He then checked his pockets and the dining-room table before discovering he was out of Newports.
His first mind told him to shoot up to the gas station, but he knew they were probably still shut down, with no power. After throwing on his Jordans, he went outside on the porch. Checking out both ends of the block, he could easily still smell the fire he’d set at the liquor store. The scent was surely mixed with that of a few other random f
ires that had been burning strong since last night. Hearing the sound of a helicopter flying lower than usual, Dre could only imagine what the city looked like from the pilot’s seat.
Dre took Alexis’s keys out of his pocket, jumped in her car, and slowly backed it out of the driveway. Never up at this time of morning, he heard the birds beginning to chirp and saw the creatures of the night go into hiding, where they would remain until nightfall came once more. Not caring one bit about being directly responsible for blazing the skin off four men, Dre brazenly drove up the block. Pausing at the corner, he took note of some young guys who were not familiar faces in the hood. As they kept their eyes on Dre, he returned the favor by watching them as well. With what used to be his favorite liquor store now burned to the ground, it was easy to see both what used to be the front entrance and the rear exit at the same time. It was also easy to see more mysterious faces posted in the alleyway.
Still mean mugging the unknown visitor in the car, one of the guys threw up an East Side hand sign at Dre. Holding down his neighborhood since back in the day, Dre’s first instinct was to go home, get his chopper, and spray all they asses. He had no problem laying their bodies down on top of Mikey, Hassan, and them two other dead motherfuckers who was still resting in the rubble. But he’d made a pact with Black Tone just to fall back and peep what would pop off when the power came back on.
East Side faces throwing ’em up in a West Side hood. It’s fucking shameless!
For his little sister’s good and his own, he drove off in search of some cigarettes, letting the youngsters live, for now.
Listening to radio reports as he drove, Dre imagined all the money that had been out in the streets the night before. He had to weave in and out of the yellow lines on the street: he had no choice if he didn’t want to hit either abandoned vehicles that had crashed into one another in the darkness of the night or the last of the scavengers darting out in the streets, carrying armloads of property that belonged to those who had got caught slipping during the power outage. Some items Dre saw them struggling to get home or to a place to sell were useless to him. However, in true Dre fashion, anything that he felt was of real value, or that he felt he or his team could benefit from having, he went after. And so the always roguish hustler pulled over; jumped out of his vehicle, gun in hand; and robbed the thieves who had just robbed the next man.
“Shit be like that sometimes, nigga! Now take the L and move on before I start feeling some sort of way and nut up.” The few people who wanted to take issue with having their stolen goods strong-armed from them changed their minds when the barrel of Dre’s gun was shoved in their faces. Even though it was early morning in Detroit, there was still no law. So the “anything goes” rule was still in full effect.
With the sun fighting to rise, Dre crossed over into Highland Park. Even though that city was just as broke as Detroit, at least they had electricity still pumping. Being so close to Detroit, Highland Park’s restaurants, gas stations, and other businesses were jumping, even at this early time. With a trunk and a backseat now filled with ill-gotten gains, Dre pulled up in the parking lot of a Coney Island and parked in a spot where he would be sure Alexis’s car was in clear eye shot from the restaurant’s window. After ordering his food, he took a seat in a booth near the door. Dre did not have an inch of remorse about Hassan’s and the others’ untimely deaths at his hands, and his appetite was intact. Staring up at the television, which played the local news, he couldn’t fathom what the reporter was saying. It was like she was talking about a war that had taken place in Iraqi or Syria, not Motown.
“Good morning, all. It’s the morning of July thirty-first. I’m here reporting from the heart of the city of Detroit. I don’t know what I can say. For once in my long career of covering stories from here and there, I’m almost speechless. The things that we’ve encountered just from setting up within the last thirty minutes or so are shocking, to say the least. We’ve had people coming up to us and asking for simple things, like water, and a few needing diapers for their baby because they lack transportation and the stores within their walking distance are closed until further notice. And speaking of transportation, there are absolutely no buses running in the city. The company halted services at noon yesterday, like every other business normally operating in Detroit, citing it was much too dangerous for their drivers.”
She took a deep breath and had her cameraman pan the immediate area. “As you can see, there are several fires still burning around us, and we have no idea when they started and, to be honest, no idea when the fire department will be able to respond. There have been hundreds of nine-one-one distress calls reported to have come in, about everything from looting, arson, and strong arm robbery to hit-and-runs, shootings and, sadly, murders. There are rumors that victims have been relying on neighbors, family members, or privately owned companies to be transported to hospitals if they don’t have vehicles themselves.
“The president is rumored to be sending in the National Guard shortly. The only thing I can say at this point is for the citizens of Detroit, the state of Michigan, and the United States to pray the power is restored soon to what once was a great and proud gem in automotive history. Officials are saying it may take place mid-afternoon. Like I said, let’s pray!”
Dre knew he and his crew had definitely contributed to the long list of mayhem that had taken place overnight, and shrugged his shoulders, not caring. All he knew was they had to eat one way or another, and if preying on folks that were slipping was the only way to accomplish that, then so be it. After finishing his breakfast, Dre then stopped by the gas station and bought two packs of Newports.
Driving back to the hood, he wondered how Alexis was doing. He wanted to call her, but he knew she was in good hands with Black Tone. That guy might not have been Dre’s favorite person in the world, but they did share one common interest—his little sister and his baby nephew. After turning on the block, he slowed down once more at the corner, peeping Pops and some other older man getting out of the cargo van they used to pick up stock. Amir was nowhere to be seen, but Dre assumed he wasn’t far. When he got back to the house and parked, Dre went inside and woke his homeboys up, telling them to tool up, as shit could be about to get real.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Black Tone was ecstatic that his grandmother was doing better. After all the tests that were run and the X-rays, it was discovered that she had no broken bones or internal injuries, only a badly bruised face and extreme soreness. Her constant prayers, which had enraged Li’l Ronnie, must have worked. God had covered her, just as she’d asked. Going back and forth from Granny’s bedside to Alexis, Black Tone was worn out.
Hearing from the nurses that Granny had been given a mild sedative and would be asleep for some time to come, Black Tone went back to see Alexis. She had been tested and treated for her wounds and given a rape kit. She’d pretended she didn’t know her attackers, and her name had been placed on a long list of Detroit residents who had come in for treatment due to accidents, crimes, and other things related to having no power. Thank goodness Black Tone’s best friend had snapped out of what she was going through the night before.
It was almost daylight, and Alexis was no longer feeling sorry for herself. She had turned her sorrow into anger once more. Although she loved Hassan and he was the father of her son, she had had no choice at the time and knew it. Given the way he had spoken about her when he thought she wasn’t there, the way he had treated her when he found out his cousins had brutally violated her, she had seen no other way if Dre saw fit to kill him. Hassan’s true feelings about dating her and about their child, or so she thought, had been shown at her expense.
“So they gave you your discharge papers, huh?” Black Tone bent down and handed Alexis her shoes.
Still not wanting him to look directly at her lumped-up face and busted lip, Alexis slightly turned her head before replying. “Yes. They said I need to follow up with my own doctor as soon as possible.”
&nbs
p; Black Tone and Alexis had been through just about everything one could imagine throughout the years. He knew that not only was she physically hurt, but she was embarrassed, humiliated, and crushed all rolled into one. He could not forget everything Dre had told him about what had popped off when he first arrived at the rear of the store and then got inside, but Alexis had never given him a detailed, blow-by-blow account. Knowing she was keeping all her emotions bottled up, Black Tone helped her down from the bed. After informing her that Granny would be fine, they headed toward the exit. Alexis was still very weak. Even though she was given pain medication, the trauma that she had received between her legs and on her thighs, courtesy of the twins, had her unable to stand for long.
“Listen, you sit here and rest up. I’m going to get the truck.” Black Tone took her forearm and guided her to the bench.
While he sprinted off, Alexis took her cell out of her bag and held it up. Seconds later she found that she now had reception. Suddenly notifications of missed calls and texts started going off. She ignored them all. The first thing she wanted to do was call and check on her son. Besides her brother, he was the only blood she had. She wanted to tell her people she was on her way over there to pick him up, so they should have her baby ready, but she didn’t. She wanted just to go hug him and tell him how sorry she was that his daddy was no more than a lying, cowardly, prejudiced piece of shit whom his uncle Dre had to kill, but of course, she couldn’t.
Poor Alexis had no real way of knowing Hassan’s true feelings for her and their baby and the events that had really taken place the evening before. No way in hell was Dre going to tell her that he took what was going to be her diamond engagement ring from Hassan’s pocket as he lay bleeding to death. Just as Hassan had gone to his Maker believing Alexis didn’t love him anymore, she would one day go to hers believing the same of him.
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