by Tranay Adams
Chapter Ten
Nightmare sat on the living room couch before his 50 inch flat-screen, watching The Boondocks animated series on cartoon network. He had the remote control in one hand while his other was shoved down the front of his sweats, like he was Al Bundy or some shit. He was laughing his ass off at Riley Freeman’s crazy antics when he heard his pit bull, Karma, barking. He pressed the mute button and silenced the flat-screen. He then snatched his chrome and his gold Desert Eagle .44 from the coffee table and ascended on the front door with caution. He wasn’t sure who was at the door so he approached it from the side. There had been many incidents where an enemy would knock on a rival’s door, wait for him to answer, and then open fire. The gangsta crip had lost three homies to that little war strategy and he wasn’t about to become a statistic.
“Who is it?” he asked over Karma’s barking, expecting slugs to shred the front door, but they never came. Instead a voice responded.
“It’s Supacrip and Nike, Cuz, open up!” a voice boomed from the opposite side of the door. Recognizing it, Nightmare tucked both of his head bussas in his waistband. He then undid the locks on the door and pulled it open. He stood to the side to allow Nike and Supacrip inside. The blue rags greeted their big homie as they crossed the threshold.
“Where my son at?” Nightmare asked as he chained and locked the door. “Who? Taco? Cuzstill in the trap,” Supacrip told him as he rummaged through the refrigerator. He produced two chocolate pudding cups; he kept one for himself and tossed the other to Nike. Right after, he retrieved two spoons from the kitchen drawer. “You know my nigga stay tryna run a check up.” He tossed Nike one of the spoons and hopped up on the counter.
“Like father like son. Lil’ Cuz is all about a dollar. I should have named him Lil’ Nightmare.” Nightmare said, thinking of how hard his little homeboy hustled.“Y’all get them snaps to Reboc?” he asked, his flicking the dirt from under his fingernails.
“Yeah, I had my lil’ broad drop off that paper and some clothes to him.” Nike told him. “You know I’m not stepping foot in The Junglez, too many Oh lahs for me.”
“True that, but where them snaps at?”With that question posed, Nike sat two Duffle bags on the table and slid them before his big cousin.
“I know my goon tired of being up in there.” Supacrip shook his head. He and that nigga Reboc were like brothers and shit. They’d been running the streets together since middle school. “What’s it been? Two or three months now? He’s living in a homemade prison.”
“If that nigga suffering, it’s his own mothafucking fault,” Nightmare replied. He frowned when he only saw two bags on the table.He hadn’t notice that was all his cousin had brought into the house when he first let him in. His eyes looked from the duffles to his relative. Nike shrugged like he didn’t know what was up, but that was a lie. He just didn’t want to be the barer of bad news, but he was going to be in that position anyway. This shit looking way light, I normally see more duffle bags than this. Thinking nothing of it, the gangsta crip opened up the duffle bags, continuing the badgering of Reboc. “He shot all them people on that live ass block. It ain’t no telling who all seen his dumb ass. Supa, hand me that money-counter from under the sink.” He told the young rider and torturer. Supacrip reached under the sink and withdrew the machine. He sat it out in front of Nightmare and leaned his husky frame against the kitchen counter, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“He told me and Nike that he’s positive that nobody I.D’d him.” Supacrip put him in the know. “Still can’t be too sure, so I’ma have Cuz lay low for like, another month before I see about getting him.” Nightmare claimed, removing stacks of money from the duffle bags. Seeing this, Supacrip and Nike exchanged glances knowing that the inevitable was coming. They took deep breaths and shook their heads.
“That’s smart.” Nightmare dumped the few stacks that were inside of the bag out on the table and disappointment crossed his face. Scrunching up his nose, he massaged his chin and shifted his eyes up at Nike who just shrugged. Next, he took a deep breath and opened up the second duffle bag, peering inside. There was even less loot in the last bag. He dumped out the contents of this bag and sat back in his chair, looking from between his niggaz. Right after, he started running the bands through the money-counter. Once he figured out the math, he scribbled the digits on a small notepad and outlined it. He then tossed the ink pen and the note pad on the table.
“Yo, soooooo, uh,” he scratched his temple wearing a dumbfounded expression, thinking on it for a moment before continuing, “This is all we pulled in? The homies got they issue?”
He and the other two leaders of the crips were part of a narcotics trafficking ring called The Three Headed Monster. If you hustled in their neighborhood you were either working for them, or they were the ones supplying you. Because if they weren’t you’d find yourself with a bullet in your skull, lying in a six foot plot. The three headed monster was the governing body of the Eastside Crips, nothing went down without their say so. There was no one man above the collective,and one member’s word couldn’t override the others.
Nike slid his hands down his face and blew hard, cheeks puffing out. “Yeah, they got theirs. They weren’t too thrilled about theirs either.”
“Ok,” Nightmare took a deep breath, eyebrows arching. “Help me understand what the fuck is going on here. ‘Cause we use to pulling in ten times this much, one of y’all niggaz pull my coattail, hip me to some shit. ‘Cause this shit right here,” he held his hand out at the stacks of money scattered on the table top, “this is unacceptable.”
Nike polished off the chocolate pudding cup and shot it over into the trashcan in the far corner. “For one, this work this new plug is hitting y’all with is trash, and for two, we got competition, competition that’s sitting on some shit that’s way better than what we’ve got.”
“Who?” Nightmare’s forehead wrinkled, not quite hearing the name Nike had gave him.
“Booby Loco, the slob nigga from twinks; Gangsta’s nephew.” “Yeah, I know who the nigga is, I use to go to 28th street school with him,” Nightmare told him. He was sitting up at the table now and homeboy had his undivided attention. “Fuck he gotta do with this?”
“ Cuz is the man over there now since Gangsta got locked up. Smoker fool told me they’re pushing a product that’s better than ours.”
“So that’s why our sugar has turned into shit, huh?” Nightmare tugged on his chin hairs as he stared aimlessly across the room. “I bet that’s where all of our custies migrated to.”
“No doubt,” Nike nodded. “That work them niggaz got pulling in fiends like the Black Hole.” “You’ve been knowing this shit, and you just now pulling my coat?” Nightmare clenched his jaws and balled his fists tightly. He looked like he wanted to punch Nike dead in his mothafucking mouth.
“Fuck I care? Their business wasn’t effecting our operation…until now.”
“Did you know about this shit, Cuz?” Nightmare looked to Supacrip. “I’ve heard talks, but like Nike said, Loc, I wasn’t worried about it ‘cause it wasn’t effecting our thang, feel me?” Nightmare thought on it for a minute and nodded his head.Rising from the table, he drew a butchers’ knife from the block on the counter and rounded the table, twisting the tip of the blade into his nail. Nike’s eyes shot to their corners and he kept a close watch on him. Although they shared the same bloodline, the little buff nigga knew that his cousin wouldn’t think twice about jamming the knife into his eye socket and popping his eyeball out of his fucking skull. The nigga was known for being an unpredictable psychopath. Friend or foe could fall victim to his wrath.
“This nigga fucking up our paper, taking food outta our families’ mouths and shit,” Nightmare began picking the scum out of his nails with the knife, “You thinking what I’m thinking, Supa?”
“Yeah, we dead our competition,” Supacrip spoke with a dead serious expression. He had his eyes locked on the knife in his big homie’s hand, seeing a glea
m sweep up the length of it. See, he had an idea what he planned to do with it and he was glad he wasn’t in Nike’s shoes. All he could do was shake his head. Poor bastard, he thought to himself, feeling sorry for his homeboy.
“Right, and find ourselves a new connect. I’ve been chopping it up with this nigga Nate and he said he may be able to plug me in with his peoples. Now,I don’t know how good his peoples shitis, but it’s gotta be better than what we’ve got.” Nightmare circled the table for the second time with Nike’s eyes glued to him. The boy was nervous and it was showing. Beads of sweat had started to form upon his forehead, running down his face. He swallowed the golf ball size lump in his throat and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
“What about this nigga Omid?” Supacrip asked. “He’s not going to take too kindly to being cut off. You know how these Arab mothafuckaz are, especially these eastern Muslims. Those boys are itching to die for a cause. I heard they’re promised something like seventy-two virgins and their own paradise in the next life. So they ain’t gotta problem with blowing themselves up just to take out an enemy. And this towel-head has an army of these mothafuckaz in pocket, us cutting him loose is sure to start up a war.”
Nightmare nodded his head in agreement, Supacrip was right. “You let me worry about that fat greasy bastard. I’ll take care of him.” Nike’s hands had a slight tremor, but Nightmare hadn’t noticed. He was too focused on picking the scum from out of his fingernails and chopping it up with Supacrip.
“What about the powers that be, do we hip them to this?” Supacrip inquired. “Nah, not yet, Cuz,” Nightmare answered, placing a firm grip on his little cousin’s shoulder. He looked like he was about to wet his 501s. “This shit stays between us three right, Cuzzo?” he said to Nike.
“Unh huh,” Nike nodded his head, shutting his eyelids for a moment and swallowing his spit. “Good. As for that nigga Booby…he’s a dead man!” With a grunt, he slammed the knife into the kitchen table, startling Nike and lodging it in place.
Chapter Eleven
Pavielle and Vayda enjoyed a fun filled night at the Santa Monica pier. They made their rounds visiting the Ferris wheel, the bumper cars, The Wave Jumper, The Air Lift, The Pirate Ship, The Sea Dragon, The West Coaster, The Pacific Plunge, etc. They even played a few ticket games. Pavielle had won Vayda a huge stuffed Teddy Bear with a big red bowtie. He had beat out four other people playing that game where you shoot a clown’s mouth full of H20 with a black water pistol until the balloon above its head inflates and explodes.
The lovebirds made silly faces as they took photos inside of a picture booth. They purchased cartoon drawings of themselves and some of those fake tattoos. Pavielle ate a caramel apple, while Vayda pigged out on cotton candy. They ate corndogs and shared an XL 7up and Hawaiian punch mixed fountain drink. After a few games on the arcades, Pavielle thought they should take a walk out on the beach. He was a helpless romantic underneath his macho exterior, so he knew how women ate that kind of corny stuff up.
Pavielle and Vayda walked the shores barefoot, hand and hand, carrying their own shoes. “Wow!” Vayda said, looking up into the sky at the twinkling stars sprinkled throughout the entire galaxy. The sight was definitely one to be admired.
“Yeah, wow,” Pavielle repeated, marveling the stars above alongside his boo as they traveled along the sandy beach. “Being so caught up in the streets I never took the time to appreciate things in life.”
“Things like what?”
“Sunsets, walks on the beach…love,” he grinned, locking eyes with the love of his life.
“Love?” He nodded, yes. “Love can make you feel special. Love can make you feel lucky. Love can make a broke nigga feel like he’s the richest man in the world. Shit, when you think about it, love is like a drug. And you can spend the rest of your life high.” Dropping his shoes, he stopped and turned to Vayda, taking her hand into his own. He stared into her eyes romantically. “Love is right here, babe. It’s between you and I. You are my drug, Vayda.” Her eyes instantly welled up with tears and before she knew it they were jetting down her face. She bit down on her bottom lip and sniffled. At that moment in time she felt blessed to have met the man of her dreams and she hoped that they stayed together forever.
It was just the two of them, us against the world. “As you are mine,” She replied with the utmost sincerity. He pulled his red bandana from his right back pocket and dabbed away her tears with it, as she continued to cry and sniffle. After stashing his bandana into his back pocket, he took her hands into his and kissed them. The two kindred souls stared deep into one another’s eyes. There was a moment of silence as their hearts shared a magnetic attraction. The electrical charges the two love muscles generated drew them in closer to one another. The separate entities yearned to be together as one.
Holding on to one of his lover’s hands, Pavielle got down on one knee and reached into his P-coat, producing a flawless, 18k platinum engagement ring. A square cut pink diamond sat at the center of the ring, while the rest of the band was littered with smaller white diamonds. Vayda gasped at the sight of the ring, throwing a manicured hand over her mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks, causing her eyeliner to run. She squeezed her eyelids shut for a time and peeled them back open, praying to God Almighty that she wasn’t having a dream. She wasn’t having one so it had to be true that a fairtale had been spun right before her very eyes. Vayda made an ugly face and broke down sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks. Taking her time, she swiped away her tears; she felt her heart rate speed up watching her man down on his knee, about to propose.
“Vayda Denise Perry,” Pavielle’s eyes became glassy and serious. “Will you marry me?” he popped the question. “Oh, yes, Pavy. I’ll marry you.” She shouted, jumping up and down and fanning her tearing eyes. Pavielle slid the engagement ring onto his future wife’s finger and they embraced, sharing a passionate kiss.
“There’s something I’ve gotta tell you.” Vayda told him after pulling away from their lip lock. “What’s up?” wonderment came across his face. Without saying so much as a word, she took both of his hands and placed them on her stomach, smiling from ear to ear. “You mean?” His eyes lit up with life and his mouth hung open.
“Unh huh,” She nodded rapidly, giving him that breath taking smile of hers. Excited, he grabbed her up under her arms and lifted her up off of her feet. He spun her around in circles really fast. They stared into one anothers eyes laughing and smiling happily.
“Set me down, bae, I’m starting to get dizzy.” She told him and he obliged her. He kissed her and hugged her again, rocking back and forth with her in his embrace. He cupped her face and kissed her hard, deep, and passionately. Staring into her pretty greenish blue eyes again, he kissed her one more time on her lips.
“How far along are you?” he asked her.
“Three months.” She smiled happily, holding up three fingers. A voice began to sing Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers in synce with a violin playing the song’s music notes. Hearing the beautiful vocal cords, Pavielle interlocked his fingers with Vaydal, they both turned around in the direction of the singing. At the ends of their line of vision they found a clean cut Avenue in a sharp ass mustard green suit and a pair of black Mauri gators that were so shiny that you could see your reflection in them. Standing beside him was a young African American violinst playing the hell out of his instrument. The former Mesmerizers’ crooner held a brimmed hat to his torso as he sung his heart out. Luther Vandross, Stevie Wonder, Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye; old Avenue could blow with the best of them and hold his own. That was for damn sure.
“Oh, baby, this is so beautiful,” Vayda said, holding her hands over her mouth as tears streamed down her face. “May I have this dance?” Pavielle asked, bending forward and holding out his hand. Vayda took it and rested her head against his chest as they slow danced, moving about with rhythm. She shut her eyelids and wished this moment would never end. She hoped this wasn’t all a dream
, but if it was she didn’t want to wake up.
Pavielle looked over to Avenue and gave him a thumb up, Avenue smiled and continued to croon.
The young kingpin’s marriage proposal went beautifully.
An hour later
Pavielle and Vayda played the backseat of his Mercedes Benz as Avenue pushed the wheel back home. The redbone couldn’t take her eyes off of her engagement ring; it was as if she was watching her future unfold in the diamonds before her. Every so often Pavielle would glance over at her and flash her smile. It felt good to see his lady so happy. Her happiness meant more to him than his own.
“Where do you wanna get married at?” Vayda asked her husband to be, leaning her head against his shoulder and locking her arm within his.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Where ever you want is good with me. Planning weddings, baby showers and proms, all of that stuff is for females.”
“Is that so? Well, what’s for men then, Mr. Know It All?” “Fixing shit, proposing, and making babies.” Pavielle stated proudly with a smile, rubbing her stomach and envisioning the life growing inside of her.
“Babies, huh? Well, I want lots and lots of babies.” “Is that, right? How many?”
“Four.”
“That’s it?” Pavielle asked as if four babies weren’t many to have. “I was thinking eight.” “Well, it’s settled then, we’ll hav e eight kids. Then I want a big house, with a white picket fence, a Labrador retriever and a family station wagon. I want a great big old family and I want us to do all of the corny things you see families do on television and in the movies, what about you, babe?”
“Whatever you want, boo, it’s your world. I’m just happy to be in it.” He curled his finger under her chin and kissed her on the temple and then the lips.
“Ohhh, I can’t wait to get home and tell momma,” Vayda shrieked like high school girls do when discussing their crush.