Hood Misfits, Volume 4

by Brick

  “He asked for Andrew again,” I finally murmured.

  Shy sighed low. “I expected him to.”

  “I have to bring him Andrew.”

  “I know.”

  I felt Anika as she walked over to where Shy and I stood. “She’s a true queen now,” she said as she joined Shy in hugging me.

  “I never doubted she was.”

  Neither of them cared that I had just left the devil’s lair. I had to tell them what I’d done. I told them how it all went down. Told Shy about her father and what had transpired between him and Caltrone. Spilled my guts like I was confessing my sins. I wanted to cleanse, purge myself of all the sins I’d witnessed. By the time I was done, Mirror had left to get Shawn. Shy, Mirror, and Phenom had agreed to let Caltrone speak with Andrew, and I realized that Shy knew exactly the devil her father was.

  “Caltrone will never see him coming,” was all she said as she looked off into the distance.

  I could tell she was hurting behind it all. Could see those wheels in her head turning knowing her father, too, didn’t see Enzo as a young man with a promising future. To him, he was just another Orlando.

  Two hours later, after I’d showered and washed away my transgressions, Shawn walked in the room. I turned and looked into the eyes of another Orlando. He’d gone and gotten his hair and face together. No longer did he look like he was trying to grow a beard. The Enzo I knew was back. He was in black designer dress pants, wingtip dress shoes, and a red designer dress shirt. I rushed to hug him, but he backed away. I stopped.

  It finally hit me that I would have to tell Enzo of my sins as well. I’d become a gatekeeper, but I wouldn’t hide anything from him, would I? Did being a gatekeeper mean keeping secrets from the man I’d married? I finally figured out why Shy hadn’t been in a relationship. She’d told me not many gatekeepers were. Some secrets you couldn’t even tell to those you loved. Did he need to know that his other grandfather wanted his head on a platter too? Did he need to know I signed a deal with the devil to get him out of jail?

  Without him even having to ask, I once again confessed my sins. Spilled everything that had happened from beginning to end. Told him of the conversation between both his grandfathers. I apologized to him for going behind his back and doing what he’d asked me not to. I didn’t know what to expect. I could tell by the way he backed away from me that someone had already told him what I’d done. While he stood there staring at me, all I could do was wait.

  “I don’t know what happens from here, Angel. It’s only going to get worse before it gets better,” he said.

  “I know that, Enzo,” I said quietly, still not sure of what his reaction was going to be.

  “Asked you not to go back to see that old man.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. He sent two men to the stadium for me.”

  All he did was nod. “You down with me?”

  I nodded.

  “You sure? Because you can get out now.”

  “You divorcing me already?”

  “No. Just giving you a way out. Shit could be get grimier than it is now. You’ll still be my wife, but I can send you away. You can go to London.”

  My heart was slamming against my rib cage. “You trying to scare me?”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s not working,” I lied.

  He knew I was lying. Didn’t have to divert my eyes for him to know I was lying. Fear lived in me like it belonged there. It was something I had to work on. I still didn’t know if he was mad at me. He made me wait before he addressed that issue.

  Chapter 23

  Enzo

  I once said a nigga’s environment is what shapes him and I was a living byproduct of that reality. In the life of an average man who was facing going to prison, he would say it was a miracle that the charges were dropped; but for me that wasn’t the case. Blessings had come through and my arraignment had been thrown out due to tampering and falsification of documents being found. How it all fell out, it was assumed that Micah ran from the law and had disappeared. After evidence showed the corruption was all a plant by Micah, they let me go.

  The only thing I had to deal with was a fine for going at Micah. After that, Mirror and my PR rep sat me down with the NFL commissioner, the Nightwings owner, as well as my coaches, and bartered for me to get back on the Nightwings team and play the big game. It took only several hours for them to let me back, acknowledging that the suspicion had really been all Micah’s doing. So after that, and after having to pay my fine, I was officially being allowed back in the game I was getting ready for. Shit was working out kinda.

  I turned to Angel and then smoothed a calm hand down my dress shirt. “Nobody controls my destiny but me and whoever sits in the skies, feel me?”

  “So, what does that mean? Are you mad at me?” Angel asked with nervousness in her voice.

  My hands reached out for her and I pulled her by her hips to me. “No, you did what I asked, B. I want to not trust shit you do at this point but, for real, you did what I asked and you handled business as best as you could on your own. I can’t be mad at it. I gotta respect that shit. Don’t matter anyway. All we are are fucking pawns, but now with Micah KOS’d, it’s time shit turned in our favor. Niggas gonna assume shit about me; it’s time to show them something else altogether.”

  I let my lips press against Angel’s parting mouth then moved around her in thought. Every move I made at this point needed to be specific to the overall end game. Caltrone was a smart nigga and every bit as crazy as the two niggas who were my brothers, and my father. Nigga liked to intimidate. So did I. I learned through this whole game that I enjoyed a lot of the things that he thought marked an Orlando and I intended to do whatever I had to to protect my own kingdom. So he wanted Drew now.

  Scratching my jaw, I shrugged and smiled. My trust was in my baby brother, so if Caltrone wanted him, then he could have him. My grandfather, Aaron Banks, now wanted to come for me, and I welcomed it. However, people really needed to be specific about how they expressed such words. Everyone needed to get this game right. I wasn’t a Kulu and I wasn’t a Orlando; what I was was the son of a devil and his Lilith.

  Rolling in my blackout, I slipped my hands in my pockets then gazed at Angel. She wrapped her arms around herself then stepped closer to me. “Your eyes are black. What are you going to do? What happened to Lilith?”

  Touching Bianca’s chin, I admired how she looked. She had a power to her that she was coming to understand. People were shaping us into monsters, and sooner or later she was going to have to accept it for being forced into a role she also didn’t want.

  “Shit, going to do exactly what I want: step to this Super Bowl pre-party, and be the Prince of Atlanta and like I said she’s probably fucking my pops in hell. I handled her too and gifted her to my grandfather as a proper introduction to who I am and a tribute to him,” I cooed as my hand slipped down her back.

  “You did? But . . . but what about Caltrone?” she asked, her voice dropping in concern.

  “Caltrone is going to give me everything he’s been promising and, in the end, he’s going to get everything he wants. Same with my grandpops Aaron. This war isn’t about us, it’s about them, so give them what they want and watch the shit burn,” I explained.

  “Besides, with what you spit at him when you met up with him, shit. You and my mom played that nigga Caltrone right where we needed him with y’all’s plan,” I said with a complimenting smirk.

  Angel gave me a blushing smile then exhaled as if relieved about something. “Good. I wasn’t sure. Like, I didn’t know if you’d—”

  Holding her hips, I allowed my hands to run over the curve of her ass then I squeezed to make her rise on her toes as I interrupted her. “If I’d put my hands on you? Nah. I meant what I said. I only put hands on bitches. I’m not going to beat you, B.”

  Angel gave me a light little shrug then looked down at her hands as I let her go. “I wasn’t prepared to sit and break bread with him like tha
t. I thought he was going to do me like Dame and it scared me.”

  Moving around the room, I plopped down on the bed in thought. “You may have to meet with him more often. He might make you do shit you don’t wanna, like kill. First kills for someone like you is hard. I’ll tell you this, when he asks you to do a real kill, not some squeezing your Glock and hoping a nigga dies like you do, only kill if you have to, a’ight, and be very, very, very smart about who you don’t kill, a’ight?”

  I could tell by how Angel turned my way that she was shocked by what I said.

  “I wasn’t always a killa, mama. I recognize when killing ain’t for everyone. You need to just be about protecting this family, since you’re a part of that. If that becomes your main objective and you not turncoating me, then I’m chill. Since I’m back in the game I usually take the anger on the field anyway,” I explained to her to reassure her and make her smile.

  It was confusing to watch Angel grab my bag and ready me to go to the stadium. I only had my mom do that for me back in the day; then it was just me handling business. It had me watching her, studying her body language. Shorty had proved that she was really down for me and I couldn’t help but appreciate her more for that.

  “You need to get your shit for the game and mine. I’ll be in the car. We need to bounce,” was all I said as I left Angel in my room.

  Angel rushed out of the house a few minutes later. I knew we should have been on our way to the stadium, but something she had told me earlier stuck with me. It was eating away at me like cancer. I told Angel to direct me to the home of my maternal grandfather, Aaron Shawn Banks, the man who Shy had felt was worthy enough to give me one of his names. I was trying to remain calm, but truth be told, a nigga was furious. It pissed me off to no end that Aaron was no better than Micah. All he saw me as was an Orlando and the nigga had never even met me.

  Angel and I sat in an unmarked vehicle. My skullcap sat low just like how I was sitting in the car. A voice in my mind had me swimming in black as I listened: “Go make your introductions, son.”

  I rubbed my temples as I spoke to the ghost I hated to the core. You know how I make my introductions, nigga. That bum trick is the Feds. Nothing good will come from it.

  “So? Fuck that trick. Nothing good is coming from it now anyway, my son, because you are of me. Now go make your introductions, nigga,” the man who donated his seed to create me ordered.

  My gaze narrowed and my fist clenched while I frowned. Fuck no!

  “Do that shit like I said! But do it with finesse, then come back and go to your little game. Be an Orlando!” he barked out at me.

  Frustration had me gripping the door until I was in a daze. I stepped out of the ride. I told Angel to stay in the car, but she didn’t listen. I felt her try to stop me, but I was too far gone.

  “Please don’t do this, you don’t have to,” Angel pleaded.

  Again, I heard nothing she had to say. Ignoring her, I walked up to the door, knocked on it, and waited.

  A soft, feminine voice in my mind spoke to me this time, whispering, “Be your own man. It’s not Kulu, it’s not Orlando, it’s just you. Do what you need to survive.” Shy’s voice tried to calm me.

  I thanked the voice that was my mother as that darkness kept me leveled but still felt amped.

  A woman with a scar on her face peeked out at me from the panel of glass in the wooden door. She opened the door, and then stared at me as if I was a ghost.

  “Is my grandfather home? I’m Enzo, his grandson,” I introduced myself.

  “He . . . he’s not home,” she told me.

  Fear lined her eyes and I felt myself smile. “I wanted to introduce myself to my grandfather but I think you’ll do just right. You live with him, so you conspired against me and my mother, so I have to say hello. Oh, and your husband Lu says, ‘Fuck you, bitch.’”

  Blood sprayed on the door as if I had thrown a can of paint on it. The woman’s fear then pain seared on my brain as she fell before me and looked up at me in a vacant stare. I smelled savory food in the air, and saw the many pictures of a family Angel had told me my grandfather had worked to take down. It was time for a game changer and it felt like this woman’s death would help the cause.

  Dropping the knife that said DOA on it, I smirked. “Thank you for your help. Sorry that you had to escape only to die by an Orlando anyway. Blame the nigga you lie with who’s gunning for me.”

  My father’s laughter echoed in my mind. It had me exhaling and looking up at the light over my head in a daze. After coming back to earth, I turned then coolly walked away. Angel stared at me in shock before she got back in the car.

  “We need to go,” I quietly said, staring back at her.

  Angel said nothing and still did not move.

  Frustration had my lips curling in a scowl and I yelled, “Bianca! We need to go!”

  It took several yells from me to get her drive off but eventually we did. She took me to a safe house where I cleaned up then we both headed to the stadium saying nothing about the murder I just committed. Yeah, it was crazy that I had just killed a woman in cold blood, but that was the price that was paid when I was messed with. When people didn’t leave me alone and forced me to be a monster when I didn’t have the desire to be about that life was when problems were created for them. One day, some muthafucka was going to understand that the first go-round and not test me.

  But for now, the vibrancy of the stadium had me geeked; it brought me back to the middle of the game. Each memory of mine, all that prior energy, worked in tandem to fuel me as I ran. Air rushed in and out of my lungs and I glanced down the field. Madness fueled me. I kicked up my movements checking for the ball. I zipped past the sidelines hearing our Bounce Girls pump up the crowd.

  “Welcome, Nightwings fans, as we celebrate another game of the season! The game is heating up and our city is putting it down! Rookie and rising star Shawn ‘Enzo’ Banks is back and bringing the pain as he takes us toward a win!” The words blasted throughout the stadium like a hurricane wrecking a town.

  Sweat dripped into my eyes. My thighs, ass, and calf muscles clenched tight with a burning purpose as I jetted forward. Fans stomped their feet, clapping and shouting out in amazement as I leaped in the air over a diving offensive linebacker. I pivoted left and right, hitting them with a zigzag then pausing to make niggas crash into them.

  My boy Dragon was flanking me through the whole game. I let my mind travel back to before the game, to reflect about everything that had gone down while I worked the field. Music blasted thumping with those niggas F.L.Y. spitting about swag surfing. I could see the chicks leading the crowd in a matching dance. Yellow, black, and silver lit up the stands and people cheered my name. It had me licking my lips and flashing the thumbs-up to the crowd. I sharply turned, dodging a nigga trying to tackle me so I could run for the money.

  The sound of me being hit, the hard snap of a helmet against my helmet, and the hot liquid feel of my blood running over my mouthpiece had a simmering anger ebbing in me. The sensation was almost blissful and calming. I could hear the melodic thumping of my heartbeat in my ears as I tucked the ball to my stomach. Had I not been quick enough to check it, I would have lost the ball in my hand and let that helmet to helmet hit take me down. So like a map unfolding in front of me, I could see which ways I could do this. I could fall on my ass, or I could keep running.

  These muthafuckas had hit me so hard that my skull rattled in my helmet but I wasn’t about to let that shit keep me down. With everything in me I stayed on my feet and jetted forward. The crowed loved how I stayed in the game, how I brought the heat, and I loved the way they pumped me up.

  The crowd erupted in an orgasmic-like euphoria as everyone collectively shouted, “Ooh!”

  All around me, I heard my name being chanted, “Enzo, Enzo, Enzo!”

  A snicker flashed across my face. While I worked the field, Dragon ran past me to protect my back with a thumbs-up. Stomping sounded in the stands, signaling f
or me to make my moves. Lights flashed, the Bounce Girls made it gutta, and I could see my coaches pointing for where I should go. I saw Dragon moving with me in sync.

  My eyes narrowed and I shouted hard, “Let’s take this shit, nigga!”

  Dragon bowed his head then threw niggas left and right over his shoulders. I faked one way to throw the defense off only to do a quick break in the other direction. It really didn’t serve a purpose but to make this shit look good as players came after me.

  To my surprise, Dragon came from the right of me. Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, he sent his elbow into the throat of the bitch who came stupid at me. I gave Dragon a salute then sprinted forward, front flipped over a diving offense player, and landed with swag. The sound of the crowed exploding in hype had me gripping the ball, and saluting as I dropped to a knee, dipped low in a slow grind, then popped back up hopping up and down on the end zone.

  Screams rent the stadium. “Ahhhhhh! Enzo, Enzo, Enzo. Dragon, Dragon!”

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Nighthawks fans! Enzo and his Dragon have done it again for another win! We’re going into the Super Bowl!” an announcer shouted while confetti spilled and lights flashed and flared.

  Grinning hard while pulling off my helmet and dropping it in front of me, there was no damn way I was letting go of that shit. I glared at the opposing team. My teammates rushed forward then flanked me, lifting both Dragon and me up. I danced in the air, and saw the Bounce Girls come our way. Once we sat back down on the ground both Dragon and I fell into doing the Bernie Lean. We had made it and we were going to make Atlanta ours. It was now time to kick it and reintroduce myself back into the fold of the NFL world.

  After the game, I sat in the locker room thinking about that woman’s blood on my hands and Angel again while in the shower. Angel’s previous words about my grandfather killed whatever trust was trying to form for the people around me. This life wasn’t shit but games and other people’s manipulations. I realized from the fucking womb that all of us kids were nothing but pawns in a bigger game. Micah had fallen to the game of his own building with me being his own trap. Now two niggas who wanted the extension of the Kulu Kings to go down wanted Drew and me. In my view, it wasn’t really around anymore. Yeah, Phenom was being called Kulu King, but I never once heard the man call himself that title, which was interesting.