Qwess was zoned out as he stood in a corner awaiting word. His heart felt as if it had been ripped from his chest. Deep regret buried him standing, as a million questions rampaged through his head. Why did I have to send her in Reece’s car? Why didn’t I go with her? Why didn’t I send Hulk with her? Why didn’t I tell her I loved her? He knew that he loved her now for sure. There was no other way to explain the feeling. It felt as if his heart had melted onto his soul. Thankfully, no one said anything to him. They allowed him to stew in silence as everyone awaited word with him.
Reece was on the phone. He had been on the phone since the incident occurred, barking out orders, preparing for the get-back.
Doe was in utter disbelief. After the carnage he’d witnessed at the scene, he knew it was just a matter of time before Shauntay gave up the fight. He was actually surprised she had made it this far. For his part, Doe had been out of the streets a long time. This level of savagery had been nonexistent during his block tenure. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could do this to a woman. He had already taken the liberty of calling Shauntay’s parents before he left the scene, and they were on their way from Charlotte. He couldn’t imagine what they were going through or how they were going to take it. The situation was gruesome.
A surgeon walked into the room, grabbing everyone’s attention. It was evident that she had tried to clean herself up, but there was still blood on the cuffs of her shirt.
“Who is Qwess?” she asked. Qwess quickly stood. “Well, Ms. Simmons is requesting to see you.” She paused dramatically before continuing. “Sir, I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like she’s going to make it. We gave her medication to keep her conscious as long as we can. She’s in a lot of pain, but she wants to see you. In fact, she insisted.”
Qwess held his head high and followed the surgeon into the room. He was not prepared for what he saw.
“A-stag-fir-allah!” he growled, as he broke down to his knees. Tears flowed freely from his face as he turned away from the grotesque sight before him.
Shauntay was lying in the bed with tubes coming out of every possible orifice. A huge bandage cloaked her head, and an enormous patch covered her eye. Her whole body had swollen to double its normal size. The doctors had operated on her for hours. She had drifted to the other side twice, but each time she fought to come back. It was as if she still had one more mission to do here on Earth.
Qwess stood and walked slowly over to the bed. The steady beep from Shauntay’s heart monitor hypnotized him as he forced himself to her side with heavy steps. “Baby . . .” he called out to her, not sure if she could hear him.
She felt Qwess’s presence, and her eyes fluttered open. Covering Shauntay’s mouth was a transparent oxygen mask. She tried to speak, but her words never made it past the plastic. Qwess placed his hand over hers to console her. Shauntay tried to speak again, but it was too much of a feat. Instead, she led Qwess’s hand to her stomach. When he let it rest there, she looked deeply into his eyes, trying to send a message.
“Who did this?” Qwess croaked.
Shauntay bravely tried to speak. On the second try she was successful. Qwess’s ear was way down, touching the mask. Shauntay murmured, “I s-saw Tommy!” she coughed. “My cousin, Tommy.” She finally got it out, and as she said her last words on earth, she began coughing, each time harder and harder. Eventually, she coughed so hard, blood filled the entire oxygen mask. Next, the monitor beeped into a solid flat line. Doctors rushed into the room, but it was too late. Shauntay was gone.
When Qwess walked back into the waiting room, his face was void of emotion. Now waiting with Reece and the others were Fatima and his mom. Fatima, knowing her brother well, slowly walked over to him and embraced him. He didn’t have to say a word; she already knew Shauntay was gone. A somber vibe hogged the air . . . until Shauntay’s parents arrived.
“I know you had something to do with this! You drug-dealing bastard! I told my baby you weren’t shit!” Shauntay’s mother screamed at Qwess before she even made it into the waiting room. “What happened?!”
“Calm down, Irene!” Shauntay’s father grabbed his wife and attempted to calm her down. She broke down in his arms.
They were all interrupted by the head surgeon walking out. He asked who the parents were, as if it wasn’t obvious already. Once he identified them, he broke the news.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but we did everything we could. She was a fighter, but we lost her and the baby.”
Qwess perked up. “Baby? What baby?!”
“Yes, she was pregnant. Ten weeks. You didn’t know?” the doctor asked, but from the strange looks, it was obvious no one knew.
“Ooh, lawd, lawd, lawd!” Shauntay’s mother cried. She turned her venom on Qwess. “You! You! You! You did this to my baby!!!”
Mr. Simmons saw that things were getting out of hand. He pulled Qwess aside.
“Son, no one believes it was your fault,” he explained. “Give Irene some time, she’ll come around. Thank you for being here, but it may be best if you leave now. We got it from here. Go on and leave. We’ll call you later.”
Qwess wanted to refuse. There was no place he wanted or needed to be besides right by Shauntay’s side. However, there were more pressing matters to tend to. He gathered up the remainder of his crew and walked out of the emergency room.
Once outside the hospital, Qwess was met by a phalanx of reporters all clamoring for a story. Qwess was big news now. He was the local rap star who had gone major. He was becoming the toast of the industry. A street rapper with gang ties, a shooting at his birthday party? Of course they were hungry for this story. The mob grew so large that Hulk was forced to act as a wall between the reporters and Qwess as he ushered him to his truck. Hulk stuffed Qwess in the passenger seat of the Escalade and took the wheel. They led the convoy out of the hospital, followed by Doe and Reece in Doe’s new BMW 745.
They headed straight to Reece’s funeral home on the other side of town.
Chapter 11
Inside of Eternally Yours, the Crescent Crew was kicking back, puffing dro, waiting on Reece. Everyone’s mood had changed from festive to demonic. They all had come up to celebrate the arrival of one of their own. Instead, they were all witnesses to the first strike in what was definitely going to be a war. They all knew Black Vic was behind this hit. Reece had explained the situation to them weeks ago. Now everything had come to a head.
Lights flashed in the glass picture window, and they all stood, hands on weapons. Moments later Reece walked in followed by Doe, Hulk, and a grief-stricken Qwess. They could tell from Qwess’s expression that Shauntay didn’t make it.
They were seated in Reece’s office, which, though spacious, wasn’t enough to accommodate the huge entourage. Therefore, the brothers made space by standing around the wall and sitting on the floor. Like loyal soldiers, everyone awaited their orders.
When Reece didn’t say anything, one of the Alis took it upon himself to open the floor.
“Yo, that nigga done fucked up! We are eliminating his whole crew,” he vowed. “His whole bloodline. Black Vic is dead!”
Ali’s sentiment was followed by more affirmations of murderous mayhem before Reece interrupted.
“Hold up, hold up.” Reece raised his hand. “Something ain’t right. I’ve been talking to my man on that side of town all night since this happened, and he said Black Vic been out of town all week.”
The crew looked at him, puzzled. “Your man on that side of town?” a couple of them asked in unison.
“Yeah. I got a few niggas on that side of town. Money well invested,” Reece quipped. Even in times of grief, his dynamic personality shined bright. “Like I was saying, Vic’s been out of town, so it couldn’t have been him.”
Muhammad spoke up. “That don’t mean nothing. He could’ve had it done. You know the nigga pussy.”
Reece contemplated a brief second before responding. “Nah, he ain’t soft, and paying people ain’t his style.”
“But listen, though. Who else had a beef with us?” Universal asked.
“Could be anybody at the rate we letting thangs go for,” Samson reasoned. “We hurting ’em out here.”
“Yeah, but ain’t too many niggas stupid enough to fuck wit’ the crew. Everybody know we go hard,” Born stated, obviously feeling himself.
Reece twisted one of his locks that had fallen out of place from his ponytail. This was his habit when he was in deep thought. Suddenly his eyes lit up as he came upon an epiphany.
“Wait a minute, Vic is backed by some old heads,” he recalled. “And if we cutting Vic throat where he can’t make money, they damn sure can’t make any money,” Reece deduced, trying to put the pieces together. “Now sending hits ain’t Vic style, but them old heads definitely ’bout that type of life. So, it’s possible they ain’t want to get their hands dirty.”
“Shit, then they would’ve used Vic,” Ali reasoned
“Nah, god, if Vic catches a case, they still don’t make money,” Reece explained. “Which might be why Vic bounced? Nigga think he slick. His man Hardtime didn’t go, though. I know this for a fact. Hardtime could be the shooter.”
“Well then, that’s it. We hem his ass up ’til we find some answers,” Samson suggested.
“He ain’t talking,” one of the Borns disputed.
“Oh, he’ll talk!” Samson assured him.
Someone’s two-way pager went off, and the whole room checked theirs. It was Reece’s. Destiny was paging him. He had left her at the club by herself when he ran out. He filed away the message, which read, Where are you? and turned the pager off. This was time for business.
Qwess stood in the corner looking off into space while his surrogate family put the pieces together. Regardless of whether they solved the mystery or not, his Shauntay would never come back. The mere thought of that sent him into shock.
Doe sat in a chair near the window, amazed at what he was hearing. He was surprised to be privy to this type of meeting. He didn’t realize his cousin wielded this much power, nor did he realize how heartless the streets had become. Here these men were discussing murder as if they were selecting a salad from a menu. The contrast was both intoxicating and scary. Finally, he heard Reece speak.
“All right. We’ll pick Hardtime up and go from there. Samson will handle the details. That’s all for now. I take it you all aren’t going back home tonight?”
There was a loud murmur emanating through the room. From it, Reece gathered they were all staying for at least a couple days to attend the funeral.
“Good. Get with Samson, and he’ll get with me. I’ll get at you. Peace, gods. As-salaam alaykum, brethren.”
Everyone filed out the room besides Qwess. Reece gestured for him to remain behind.
When everyone was gone, Reece doused all the lights in the office except his table lamp. He then rolled a nice, fat joint in complete silence while Qwess stood by the window.
Reece lit the joint, took a few tokes, and then passed it to Qwess. Reece remained seated at his desk but threw his feet on the table.
“Talk to me, Blackman. Where your mind at?” Reece asked Qwess.
Enamored with the potent marijuana, Qwess’s words were slurred when he spoke. “Just thinking, man. Shauntay was a good girl, you know? She didn’t deserve to go out like that. And the baby . . . I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”
“I know, man.” Reece went over to comfort his brother. He put his hand on Qwess’s shoulder. “I kinda feel responsible. The cocksuckers were gunning for me.” Qwess started to stop him, but Reece put his hand up. “No, no, really. I feel it’s my fault.” Reece paused. “Which is why I’m asking you to let me handle it.”
“Man, I know you ain’t thinking I ain’t gonna do—”
Reece interrupted him. “Listen brother, I know your soul is crying out for revenge, but you have to stay focused on the big picture, man. You made it out. You got signed. You a made man now. As such, you got made-man responsibilities.” Reece paused and inhaled the weed while his words sank in.
Reece continued, “You can’t afford to come back to the streets. You don’t need that. You out. Stay out. Let me handle this. Besides,”—he pointed to the television on the wall—“it’s all on the news that your girl got killed, so you know they gon’ be watching you. These people ain’t stupid. They know exactly who you are. The best thing you can do is go ahead on this tour, and let shit cool down. When you come back, I’ll have handled everything. Trust.”
A single tear crawled down Qwess’s cheek. “Man, I can’t sit back and do nothing. How can I live with myself? I’m a muthafucking thoroughbred! I can’t let that shit ride! They did this shit! Not me; them!” Qwess’s tone softened as he released a whimper. “I can’t let them get away with doing my girl like that, my baby . . . Nah, I can’t let that go.”
“Calm down, man. Calm down.” Reece whispered. “You know me better than anybody. Do you actually think I’m going to let this go? Man, I’m going to do them niggas so dirty they gonna be begging for me to kill ’em when I’m done.”
Qwess spoke softly. “Tommy.”
“What?”
“Tommy. That’s what Shauntay told me. Her cousin, Tommy, shot her.”
“Tommy . . . Tommy . . .” Reece searched his mental Rolodex for the name of all the street players named Tommy. Then, it hit him. “Tommy! What the fuck?” Reece said, as he smacked his forehead. “Now it makes sense!”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Definitely.”
Reece was referring to Shauntay’s cousin Tommy aka T. Gunn. Everyone knew of him as a hired gun. Back in the day, Qwess and Reece was going to hire him to hit the lead investigator in Qwess’s case before he took the plea deal. They hadn’t heard much about him since, except that he was now mobbed down with a bunch of heartless hired guns. They all spelled trouble with a capital T.
“So Black Vic hired Tommy to kill me ’cause he was too pussy to do it himself, but they got Shauntay, thinking it was me?” Reece clarified, more to himself than Qwess.
Qwess nodded.
“I’m sorry, bro,” Reece offered. Armed with the new information, it was time to devise a plan. “I tell you what, work with me. Give me a couple days to see how everything pans out. If after I find out more details, you still want in, then we’ll see what’s up. Fair enough?”
Qwess mulled the proposal over in silence.
“They missed, and I’m going to make sure they know. Just give me a couple days to let me check out my theory. Like I said, if you want to come on after that, then you’re welcome.”
Finally, Qwess nodded. “Fair enough.”
“All right, Qwess, I’m serious. No vigilante shit. Crescent Crew is self-contained. Let us handle this. I know you, nigga. Give me your word.”
“Word is bond,” Qwess reluctantly agreed.
Reece grabbed Qwess in a tight embrace and patted the back of his head. “I got you, my nigga. I got you.”
They sat on the leather sofa together, and smoked joint after joint for the rest of the night.
* * *
Shauntay was laid to rest on a Sunday, in an elaborate ceremony. Reece’s funeral home took care of the arrangements, so no expense was spared. Her family came from all over. Qwess was there, along with key members of the Crescent Crew strategically placed throughout the congregation. They didn’t want to draw too much attention, but they were at war, so security was extra tight. Even Flame was present at the funeral, along with his trusty sidekick, 8-Ball. Flame had taken up with Doe ever since the party. Doe was showing Flame how to organize his money, as well as explaining, in detail, the ramifications of his contract. Doe was taking extra care to make sure Flame didn’t get out of hand. There was a lot riding on the young buck, and he didn’t want things to go sour.
Reece was a no-show at the funeral service, though he promised to make an appearance to pay his respects.
Qwess was standing at the burial site conso
ling Shauntay’s mother when Reece approached him on his right side. Reece stood quietly while the priest committed Shauntay’s body to the ground. After the service was over, he pulled Qwess aside and told him he had something for him. Qwess said his goodbyes to the family and left with Reece. They climbed into the back seat of the middle vehicle in a three-truck Range Rover convoy, all black. Samson piloted this particular truck, while his twin crushed the passenger seat. In silence, they began the long trek into the country.
Following the shooting, the Crescent Crew had launched an all-out offensive with Reece at the helm. On the night of the shooting, two spots known to be frequented by Black Vic’s crew were raided SWAT style. Only the raiders weren’t police. At each spot that was raided, no one was left breathing.
The following day, Reece personally tailed Hardtime, Vic’s right-hand man, to his mother’s house. Before Reece could follow Hardtime inside, Hardtime quickly reemerged. So instead, Reece continued to follow him, but broke off the tail when he thought he was made. Later that same night, another one of Vic’s spots was raided by the Crescent Crew. A gunfight ensued, but it was cut short when the squad, led by Samson, seemingly retreated. Moments later, the building exploded from the grenades left so cleverly behind by Samson, the ex-infantryman. The streets were still smoldering with beef, but for now the Crescent Crew held the upper hand.
After an hour of driving, the convoy pulled into the yard of a log cabin, deep in the woods. They all stepped out of the truck. Qwess noticed that the cabin was guarded by four of Reece’s hundred-pound pit bulls, placed at various intervals around the perimeter of the cabin. As if that weren’t enough, Jersey Ali was standing at the entrance with an AR-15 assault rifle on his shoulder. He greeted Qwess with a devious smile as they went inside.
Once inside, Qwess realized what all the extra precautions were for. Sitting in the middle of the unfurnished cabin was Hardtime. He was gagged with a bloody rag, and his hands were tied to the arms of a metal chair. The part of Hardtime’s face that was exposed was swollen beyond comprehension. There were no definitive lines on his face. It looked like one big circle of bruised flesh. Upon closer observation, Qwess realized he was already missing a middle finger on each hand. Courtesy of Samson, no doubt. Standing on either side of Hardtime were Understanding and Muhammad, the other part of the front-line trio of the Crescent Crew’s first responders team.
Street Rap Page 11