by Brick
Uncle Phil sucked his teeth then spit into a cup near him. He glanced at his partner then slammed a fist on the table. “We have evidence that you had a hand in the murder, Shawn!”
He held his hand out and Deebo slapped a folder down in front of him then pulled out a photo. In front of me was a chick I remembered running into some weeks back when Angel and me were hiding out at the Dixie Motel. She and her whore friends had tried to kill Angel and I’d had to turn into that nigga I didn’t want to be again. The woman in the photo lay on her side bashed, battered, cut up with pieces of her in different containers. Her skin seemed to be graying from some liquid she was soaking in. I had to remember to thank ol’ boy who worked at the hotel for getting rid of the bodies for me, if I ever laid eyes on him again. Shit was like something out of Hostel and it piqued my curiosity. I calmly looked around the room and gave a slight shrug.
“Is that your missing cat? She or he got worked up damn good. Wonder what shit she was into,” I responded, leaning back into my chair.
A fist went flying into my face with a slam. It would have broken my nose but I turned my head to the side in time to just feel it against my jaw. Pain sliced through me, making my teeth chatter, and I coughed. Heated anger had me side-eying Uncle Phil’s way in a flash of malice.
“Yesterday, this woman was found in a dump yard near your old stomping grounds, the Trap. This all has your MO on it, Shawn. You were known to be sponsored by one the biggest drug kingpins in ATL and several of the Feds report that they also found drugs and weapons in your locker. Just keeping your hands in everything huh?” he spat out, slamming his fist down in front of me, as if I’d be scared of his intimidation.
Uncle Phil leaned in and covered me with his sour coffee-scented breath while glaring at me harder as Deebo spoke up.
“Queeniesha Jackson was just a young girl forced to sell herself and you ordered her hit? Assaulted her at the Dixie Motel and because you thought your manhood was in question, you ordered a hit out on her for being transgendered? Sounds like some shit Dame Orlando used to order his street runners to do, ain’t that right, Enzo?” Deebo spit out.
My nerves were being pulled thin. They had me locked up without knowing why they had me, for several days. Plus now I was sitting looking at a picture of a broad I wasn’t very familiar with outside of that one meeting that ended in a fight. Micah was full of shit and it showed just how deep he was out to get me.
I wondered what the fuck was about to drop on me next because it was just too convenient how that shit was found. As they said, this shit was becoming sloppy and foul. Now I had racketeering and corrupt organization charges along with gun possession and drugs? Yo, in my twenty-one years of life, I had never seen so much bullshit. Nah, that was a lie. Dame had lived nothing but that.
Yawning, I widened my legs then rolled my shoulders, still stunned by that punch. “You run prints? You see anything on it connected with me, my nigga? No. I like how Micah got his fucking hands even in this. Tell him to move his chess piece better because this shit right here is pitiful and boring as fuck. Can we move on to something more fun? Because saying I beat that broad up for being transgendered is wack as fuck and ain’t me. Next, my nigga.”
Another punch came my way. It landed into my solar plexus, causing me to hunch forward in pain and gasp for breath.
“Hold that little nigga down and, remember, he said not to work him up too much. He still has money on this monkey,” Deebo hissed out in front of me.
Several punches flew into me, causing me to rock back and forth in my chair. I tried to push with my elbows but the beating continued until they got tired. Wheezing, I glanced around the room and licked my cracked lips. I knew I had some aces up my sleeve, so I let them do them and waited for the right moment to move forward.
Uncle Phil had his back turned to me while wiping his bloody knuckles and laughing. “It’s going to be fun fucking with you, kid. We have so much more to bless you with. But since you staying stupid and smart mouth, we just want you to know that the pain is going to continue coming your way. We get cases daily that no one can explain that seem to fit exactly who you used to be in the streets, kid. How you feel about that?”
Blood mixed with spittle pooled in my mouth and I spit on the concrete floor then shrugged. “Do what the fuck you want. I don’t care. You ain’t got the answers, niggas! All you niggas do is run your mouth like y’all got shit to say, but I got something none of you all are comprehending. You ain’t got the answers!”
Pushing up in my chair, I slammed the chair over causing Uncle Phil’s fat ass to fly into Deebo. Deebo fell backward, banging his head into the wall. Hooking the chair with my foot, I stared down Uncle Phil’s bubbly ass and dropped the chair right on his beach ball–sized stomach, then on his neck. Sitting on it, I glared at him as he choked.
“My name is Shawn fucking Orlando! That’s right, Lu Orlando, that nigga is my pops, and all the heat you think you gonna get from Micah ain’t got shit to do with the heat you about to get from me. Say good-bye to your family and your life, because they are done. What was once my enemy’s becomes mine. That death you tryin’a put on me is now spoken into existence, bitch! Pain is my pleasure, nigga!” I roared and squeezed hard enough to the point that I almost was able to hear the snap of his neck.
Luckily, life was on his side because cops burst into the room full force, pulling me off of fat bastard and his lover Deebo.
A jarring maniacal chuckle erupted from me as I struggled. “Check the cameras, niggas, they put their hands on me. I’m defending myself. Tell those niggas to wipe their blood up and I’ll take care of the hospital bills. I’m an innocent bystander. Shawn Banks-Orlando is an innocent bystander regardless of what you bitches are sayin’!”
An instant hush of chilling silence erupted through the police station. Multiple cops looked my way and I saw in their eyes a tie and a loyalty that almost made my stomach churn. Even after death, my sperm donor had a hand in the law. A team of cops dragged me back to my private cell, throwing me on the ground. I could hear them talking, wondering if I was lying; but, as a few kept saying, I was a mirror image of the Orlandos, no doubt.
That was the truth. My name was Shawn “Enzo” Banks, the seed of Lucifer, and now what was his and his sons’ world was now going to be mine. Micah had made a major mistake in opening up Pandora’s box and a war was about to follow. Like I kept telling him, he should have left me the hell alone.
Chapter 4
Shy
Dreams are a guide to give you lessons on what is needed in your life, or what is harming you in your life. My dreams were what I wished would have happened had my life gone the way I had wanted. Before me were my sons as children, running around me as they played. Little Andrew was giving his all in keeping up with Shawn. Mindful of his baby brother, Shawn was slowing his movements just so Drew could keep in step with him while they ran.
That in and of itself was a message directed toward me in that moment. It was something that had my heart swelling in sadness, but also with love. Behind me was my big sister vibrant in life and happiness. Her belly was swollen with life and the man who should have been her love was by her side holding her close. I missed her deeply and it hurt to know that in this lucid dream my sister Sade had lost so much just to protect my children and me.
A warm breeze flowed over the surface of my skin, kissing me in its soothing touch as the sound of my grandfather’s booming laughter ebbed around me. It was so close that it had me turning full circle. The ends of my white maxi dress swirled around me, with those of my long brown locs. All around me were my family: my mother and father, my grandmother, Anika, Fatima, Ahmir, and Jamir with his grandfather. We all stood in front of a great house. Those were lessons. I knew that before I left this earthly plane I had business to take care of, business that laid down a secure foundation for my children.
No, I didn’t want my sons to step into the world of criminal activity. I wanted nothing but the best for
them, but I understood that as a mother, a queen, their protector, I had to lay down something that would take care of their needs. I did that. Money was set aside for them both from my time working as a nurse and money I gained from poetry gigs. My sons each had property in the DC-Maryland area with land that went on for days.
My sons were protected on the legit front. Now with their true lineage coming to light by a corrupt motherfucker I had strong issues with, I had to step into a world I never thought I’d have to go into. Yes, I was a creator, a founder of a crime syndicate that was making moves not only in ATL but also internationally; but I had stepped away from that, once my attacker died in prison and once I knew I could be invisible again. However, as my sons were learning, life has a way of putting you in situations you do not want and now I was back in that situation.
A mother could be the fiercest lion in the jungle. As the old saying went, you messed with her cubs then you walked into death. Micah Tems had messed with my sons. He really must have believed that they were weak stock, that they had no protection; however, Micah was far from the truth in that. I knew men like him and survived men like him, and the fact that he was FBI didn’t scare me at all. In my opinion, he was just another carbon copy wannabe Orlando.
That nigga was nothing to me. I’d survived worse. My vacation home was hell and if I had to walk back into the valley of death again, I would. See, what that piece of scum didn’t know, or maybe he did not realize, was that the moment Lucifer touched me, I became his Lilith. I did things that would make the strongest of men shit themselves and soon Micah would learn that. See, survival was of the fittest and that bitch would learn today.
I was a queen, a lion. I was an anaconda in the thicket. He had no idea who he’d just awakened. The devil wanted me so bad that a contract was created. That contract stated that not only did the father of the devil want his grandsons, but he also wanted the one who created prime stock: me.
Micah may have thought he had the upper hand, but he did not even begin to understand that Pandora’s box had been opened and would bring down hell in the A. He had no idea that a mother had to resurrect her own family blood power, and officially take the steps to meet in hell by accepting something she never wanted as well: to be the true queen mother of DOA.
As my dreams spoke to me, the dripping of holistic medicines in my IV played a song of vengeance. Old poison was in my system and dying was the least of my concerns. Niggas wanted to play and wake up a dragon, then that would be what they were going to get: a motherfucking dragon. Tapping my stiletto-shaped nail against my brow, my eyes narrowed while I watched my son being taken down by the law. All the major news outlets kept replaying it over and over again. Yes, Micah was playing with the wrong one and on the chessboard called war he’d just made a grave mistake. He fucked with the wrong mother.
The specially designed red and tan thin smoking pipe that held the contents of sweet ganja between my lips kept me calm as I thought on what to do for my son. Micah had to go, and the quicker that happened the quicker my sons could get some semblance of normalcy, even with the Orlandos coming for them. Reaching for my cell phone, I got ready to text my son’s PR rep, Dymetra, but I was stopped by the image of a tall, slightly thick and muscled cocoa smooth male dropping a stool in front of me. On his shoulder was a long white towel; in his hand was a bucket of hot, sudsy water that wafted a calming scent that reminded me of the healing candles Anika would light at night for me when she visited.
“What are you doing, Mirror?” I lightly asked him as I removed my pipe and set it next to me.
The man before me was dressed in casual dark jeans that hung just right on his warrior-built form. He sported a simple open white button-down and a black tank underneath. He was damn calm, very quiet, very lethal, and very sexy. It was bringing up old memories of the man he resembled. When he smiled in that same way but slightly different, I sat up in my chair, keeping my view on his handsome, chiseled face. Mirror pulled off the simple hat he wore, revealing his deep-set black waves that fell into clean-cut sideburns that lined his jaw. Like Phenom, he had the occasional gray but it wasn’t enough to make him look any older than the area of age we were: late thirties and early forties.
Revealing a bag, Mirror gave me a wink and dropped his hands on what I could only imagine were concrete-hard thighs. “Today is taking care of di woman of di house and yuh that woman.”
A slight smile played across my face. He reached down, picked up my bare foot, and held it between his two large hands, rubbing it. “Remember what you were told, if yuh want yuh sickness ta go, den yuh have to work on that stress.”
Mirror had a deep and rich melodic, sensual British-and Jamaican-accented voice, one of the many differences between him and Phenom. It made my body warm with the way he watched me. From the way my smaller foot sat comfortably between his larger hands, I could only imagine that on his downtime this man was a sculptor or painter. It made my heart heavy but also made me smile in the way my mind was working.
“Yes, I remember that, Mirror, but I have a responsibility to this family and one major one was just flashed across the screen; did you not see it?” I asked, trying to ignore just how good it felt as he rubbed, then dipped his hand in the bowl of water before me to wash my feet.
The man before me gave a slight nod while sliding his now oiled and wet hand up my calf then down to my foot again, focusing on the arch.
“Of course I saw it. I swear down, woman, yuh don’t listen.” He glanced at my monitors as the medicine pumped into me but also noted my stress levels. “It’s being handled. His bail will be met, but there are some things that have to go a specific way before the true game can be revealed. And right now, yuh need to sit back before yuh make yuh king be taken in this chess game, queen,” Mirror calmly explained.
He said so much in so few words. It amazed me. Had me assessing the man more deeply, had me wondering just what his agenda was. “Tell me something, Mirror.”
“Be my guest, love. What you have to say?” Mirror simply stated.
My lower lip trembled at the sensation of his wonderful hands. They had me wanting to arch up and just purr; it felt that great. “How is it that a man who is the exact carbon copy of Phenom, with only subtle differences, can be loyal to Kulu Kings . . . well, Phenom’s house, but be in the house of a woman who’s been stamped DOA? Does that not cause conflict for you?” I gently asked.
We sat in my private home, nestled in the southwest hills of Atlanta. Around me were pictures of my past in NYC, pictures that capture the true history of a group of kids who came to the A just wanting forge their own lives, until the criminal pasts of their parents and grandparents got in the way. My awards from poetry shows sat in a display case that also was home to the awards Shawn received from playing sports, and the awards Andrew received from his intelligent mind and sports. Next to those accolades were my prized possessions: my college diploma for nursing and my ultrasound pictures of Shawn and Andrew.
A comforting warmth surrounded me in my French château-styled home with its cream-painted walls, accented with music legends from the past, next to African masks, paintings, and Harlem Renaissance legends. This was my true home in a sense, my spiritual oasis, and as I glanced at pictures of me holding Shawn and Andrew in the hospital when they both were born, my eyes watered and I put my focus back on the man before me. I almost gasped when I noticed how he watched me. I knew I was blushing but I brushed it off to keep cool. I was too old, sick, and dying to feel this way with him.
“Tell me what you think,” was all he said.
In the moment, I had to laugh. I relaxed in my seat then smiled. “Do you know the tale of two brothers?”
Mirror gave a slick smile, and then settled my foot in the hot, but not scalding, water. He reached behind him to hand me a bowl of dragon fruit, kiwi, melons, and other cancer-fighting fruits. He then shifted, reached in his bag, and pulled out more oil. “Tell me your interpretation.”
This man was a pu
rposeful enigma and the longer we were together, the more I was enjoying it. “Okay. The tale is in various different forms, from Egyptian to Native American, but basically it’s the story of two brothers’ loyalty to each other and how it was tested once the love for one woman was involved. Love, fights, sex, murder, drama was all in it, and ultimately the brothers ended up having to lose each other to get back together again.”
My toes wiggled in his hand, and I enjoyed the comforting way he chuckled deep in his chest before responding, “A very good story. I know it well. Tell me yuh point, or theory, because I can see you have a proper idea in your mind. Yuh pretty eyes sparkle with it.”
“Okay. It’s my mission to keep my sons from living that story. Shawn was privy to that with working for one of the twins of hell,” I explained.
“Yes, an’ what does that do with me, love?” Mirror calmly asked while rubbing my feet.
“It relates because it makes sense for Cozy—I mean, Ahmir—to keep his business secure by keeping it in the family. By also using a relative who resembles him so much that no one can pinpoint exactly who he is. This is brilliant, especially when that person, a cousin, is actually a brother, a twin,” I continued explaining, trying to read any little twitch or change in his body language.
However, nothing changed. All I read was possibly that this man was checking for me, and it had my body humming in quiet need.
The feel of smooth, firm, and plush lips kissing the top of my foot had my eyes almost bucking as my yoni clenched and throbbed.
I gripped the side of my large, plush rocking chair and cleared my throat. “What . . . what was that?”
“That was me giving thanks for being in the presence of an intelligent sista. I swear down, many people have been around me in our close circle and none the wiser except those who truly know us. But, you are off on one thing. I’m over the twin shit.” He chuckled.