The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set

by Jerry Jackson

  The streets had gotten bloody tonight, and this was only the beginning of the war. The only issue he had was the men Bam had. He needed a team to go at this nigga, because it showed today that Bam wasn’t playing fair, so Gangsta had to tighten up. He knew the opportunity would present itself for an easy kill, he just wished it was sooner rather than later. Gangsta knew the Feds were on Bam and he had to be extra careful, because they were at Bam’s house and almost every place he went. They somehow were following him, except for the times when he straight-up lost them. But when the Feds were not around, his bodyguards were, and a small army of stupid niggas. It was going to be hard to get at Bam unless he made Bam come out, but that, too, would be hard because of today’s actions.

  When they finally made it to Gwinnett County, Gangsta was told to shower and get dressed for the dinner meeting with Loco’s father and grandfather. Loco had fresh cloths and shoes laid out for him. Gangsta found the bathroom and stripped down.

  The water felt good to his body. He relaxed under the warm stream of water as his thoughts reverted back to Junior and his wellbeing. Gangsta said a quick prayer, then began to bathe his sore body. He was mentally exhausted, physically drained, and heartbroken, more helpless than he’d ever been. He regretted everything he’d ever done to get to this point. If he had known his son would be the sacrifice, he would never have tried the game or anything pertaining to it. All he wanted was for his team to be on top, like a lot of niggas he knew. He wanted his family straight and their pockets full. He didn’t expect his own brother to snitch him out. He never saw Kash catching a life sentence coming into the picture. It took one nigga to bring them down, and it seemed a miracle to bring them out of the hole Dank dug for them. So much bullshit had happened since he got out of prison. Niggas had changed, and the game was sour.

  After he got dressed, Loco met him at the bottom of the steps. They walked out of the house to the waiting Benz truck. The night air felt good on Gangsta’s skin.

  “You feel better, I hope, my friend?” Loco asked when they both sat comfortably in the leather seats.

  “Hell yeah, I feel pretty good, way. That shower did it.”

  “Good to know, my friend,” replied Loco, and the remainder of the ride was in silence. Loco looked ahead as Gangsta texted Ne-Ne back and forth. She told him a little girl got shot by a stray bullet on Hollywood Road. She was in critical condition, and the police had one guy in custody already. Gangsta wondered who it was that got caught, but he didn’t ask her. Instead, he asked for his family back. He asked for her love, her forgiveness, and her support — but he never received an answer back.

  Minutes later the Benz pulled up to a very large home with so many cars lining the circle driveway. The house was so big that it looked like a shopping center from the streets. Loco and Gangsta were escorted inside the large place and greeted by the doorman. Soft music was playing on the overhead speakers throughout the house. They were led into a den area where Jeter, Longo, and Melody all sat at a bar. Mya was seated next to a very old man, short and skinny with white hair. The house was crowded, but mostly with help, such as security, maids, cooks, and then family. Loco introduced Gangsta to a man standing over by the picture frame window.

  “Father, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Gangsta, the young man I’ve been speaking about lately. Gangsta, this is my father, Chavez, and my Papa, Mr. Play.”

  Gangsta nodded his respect. Chavez turned and sized him up. He locked eyes with Gangsta before speaking.

  “How you, son?” Chavez’s English was clear. Unlike the rest of them in the house, he was a broad man with just as much height as Gangsta. His hair wasn’t gray — it was black, long, and curly. He wore rings on nearly all of his fingers and a long chain around his neck. Chavez looked like money, looked just like he was a drug dealer. He stuck his hand out and Gangsta embraced it.

  “I’m doing ok, Mr. Chavez.”

  “Well, I’ve heard all good things about you, so before leaving I wanted to meet the man himself that got nearly all my security at his beck and call. Loco pulled an ace card for you, my friend, which mean there’s something he sees in you,” Chavez spoke, then led Gangsta over to the old man and Mya.

  “Father.” Chavez introduced Gangsta to the old man. He only waved his hand. He couldn’t speak English, but his smile was welcoming, his eyes were bright, and Gangsta could tell he was the man.

  “You missed dinner already, but we can get you a plate,” Mya added.

  “I’m good.”

  “Well, come join me for a drink,” Chavez cut in, seeing his daughter’s eyes full of Gangsta, who wasn’t paying any of her gestures attention. And that was something Chavez liked.

  They walked into a kitchen that was the size of a store, and Chavez made everyone leave so they could talk privately. He fixed up two stiff shots and took a seat on the countertop. Gangsta did the same. They both downed their drinks, making their faces ball up from the strong taste.

  “So, tell me why is it you and Bam are at war, my friend?” Chavez asked.

  Gangsta looked down into his empty cup, shaking his head before he said, “That nigga wanted me to work for him and I wouldn’t.” Gangsta explained the entire thing from the first day they met up until the kidnapping. He also made sure to thank Chavez for lending his help.

  “I pray for you and your family. You seem like a good kid, very smart like Loco said and humble like never before. You don’t meet them like you anymore, so I embrace the decision Loco has made to make you a part of our team. See, my friend, in war it’s not always about who can kill the most people or who has the biggest gun. It’s about the support you have behind your actions. It takes money and loyalty most of all to win a war. Now I can send you 1000 men and you can go kill your entire hood, or I can give you 1000 kilos and you can build your team strong to take down whoever, wherever, whenever. I hate that this has happened to your son, and I know your heart is in it. But see, I know Bam, and he’s going into hiding because the stove is too hot for him. But he is smart and clever, so you need to get like him and sit back, build your team, and then declare war.”

  Chavez had poured them up another shot. Gangsta was feeling what Chavez was saying, but at the same time he didn’t have time to waste. He could not let this nigga get away. He would find and murder Bam. It was a known saying: You can run, but you can’t hide. Gangsta vowed to hunt him down like the dog he was and do him the nasty way.

  Chavez passed Gangsta the drink and turned his own up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I feel that, but I got to get this dude before he get away. I’m grateful you would even trust me with that much product, but I gotta take a rain check.”

  Gangsta downed his drink. Chavez fixed another one.

  “I knew you would say that. See, you got heart and balls, but right now you are speaking through emotions, not common sense. Maybe soon you will understand, but you have made your choice. And as a father, I will ride with you. Understand I can no longer involve my people to assist you anymore, but security for your family will stay the same. My business must continue, and when all this is over with, my offer is still on the table.”

  “I understand that, and thank you again, Mr. Chavez. I sure wish the circumstances were different.” Gangsta was feeling the effects of the liquor. He didn’t want to turn the connection down like he did, but he didn’t want to commit to a deal yet on consignment, because right now anything could happen.

  “No, I understand you, amigo. Trust me. But thinking before acting is the best key. I will tell my son, when you are ready, to give you the product.” Chavez downed one more drink before they went back into the den.

  Chapter 13

  Kash

  “Charles McCants.” The officer called his name from the other side of the door. Kash was lying back on his bunk, reading a novel. He turned his head toward the cell door and voice. He saw more than one officer’s shadow from the bottom of the door. Kash sat up.

  �
�Yeah.” Kash stood, sliding his feet into a pair of shower shoes. He walked to the cell door as the window flap was being opened. He saw Sergeant Keller and two COs. The Sergeant held a pair of handcuffs. “What’s up, Sergeant?”

  “Attorney visit,” one of the COs said, and one of the officers opened the tray flap. Kash stuck both hands out from behind to be cuffed.

  High max was nothing like he expected it to be. It was much better than the many different stories he’d heard over the years. It was laid back, and Kash knew half the niggas in his unit who were already plugged in with various ways to make movement happen. Kash wondered what this lawyer visit was about and hoped it wasn’t anything bad. He didn’t need bad news right now. It was bad enough he had a life sentence — a fresh life that was starting to aggravate him. The Sergeant led him to the warden’s office, where his high-priced lawyer sat behind the desk in his expensive suit. He opened a folder, then cleared his throat.

  “First, how are you?” he questioned, and continued, “Your parents retained me. Apparently they want you to give your guilty plea back.” The lawyer was reading from the paperwork.

  Now Kash was even more dumbfounded. What were his parents doing, he wondered.

  “Take my plea back?” responded Kash, confused.

  “Yes. I need your signature on both sheets so I can get the ball rolling. I will have you in court in no less than thirty days.” The lawyer pushed the papers across to Kash. He got them and read them carefully, then signed and gave the papers back.

  “So what’s the grounds? What’s the plan once we get back in court?” Kash wanted to know what was going on.

  “I will know in a few days. I’m also meeting with your warden today so we can get you proper phone calls. Here is my number, also. You can call anytime. I’ll accept.”

  He and the lawyer shook hands as they stood. Kash was led back to his cell and locked in. Now his mind was in overdrive, because something was going on and he was lost. He’d been in high max two weeks now and still hadn’t heard from anyone of importance. He was hoping the Feds did not snatch up Gangsta in the sweep they did in Atlanta. Kash had only received one letter, and it came from his babymama, Ebony, telling him to write his kids and leaving her number for him to call collect.

  Kash walked to his cell door. He got on the floor and looked out into the unit. The crack under the door was small enough to see through, but not big like the tray flap was. Only one orderly was out cleaning.

  “Say, orderly! Come to room 206,” Kash yelled through the crack at the bottom of the cell door he saw the orderly throw up one hand, indicating he understood. Meco was also on high max, plugged in already. Kash needed to use his phone, because now he was worried and wanted to know what was up with this lawyer shit all of a sudden. Moments later, the orderly opened Kash’s flap. Kash gave him a small note to take to Meco.

  “Come right back. Let me know what he say,” he reminded the orderly.

  “Got you,” he said and walked away. Kash sat back on his bunk and picked up the letter from Ebony. She was concerned and he knew it. A couple of minutes later the orderly returned with a note and a cell phone.

  Whoa, what’s mobbin’, bruh? I miss you, nigga! Go ahead and use the hook. You got an hour, foo’. The orderly will come pick it up at the time. Come outside when they call yard. Do you got food?

  Kash read and flushed the note. He took a seat on the bunk. The first person he called was his mother. She picked up on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “This Charles, ma.”

  “Charles! Oh my God, how are you, baby?” Her soft, humble voice became excited from hearing her son. It made Kash smile.

  “I’m holding up, ma. This lawyer came today. You wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

  “Yes. Ebony called and said your friend Gary requested that you give back your plea. He said he has a plan. Me and your dad had a talk and decided that it was a good idea. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  She had a point, he couldn’t lie. “Do you got a number on Gary?” He needed to get in touch with his brother.

  “No, I don’t, but call Ebony. Baby, Gary is in a lot of trouble. A lot has happened since you been in, son.”

  “Ok, ma. I love you. Tell dad the same. I will write you. I’m about to call Ebony.”

  He and his mom disconnected, leaving him more confused than ever. Gangsta was in big trouble. He wondered what was this big trouble his brother was in. All these questions Kash needed answered.

  When Ebony picked up the phone, she was at work at her desk. “Detective Wright speaking.”

  “Ebony, what’s up? Can you talk?”

  “Charles! Oh my gosh, how are you? Did you get my— Well, I know you got the letter. How are you—”

  “What’s up with Gangsta?” Kash cut her off with a question. He was worried, and she heard it in his voice, so she didn’t keep him waiting.

  “Ok, so his babymama and son was kidnapped. The son got shot in the head. Apparently cops say Gary killed the kidnappers and now he’s wanted, long story short.”

  “His son got shot?” was his next question.

  “Yes, he’s on life support. The mother was shot, too. It’s been a lot of murders in Atlanta since then, and on Hollywood Road six people were killed and more was hurt. A little girl got shot by a stray bullet. The Feds have picked that case up, and Gangsta was wanted for triple homicide, but now just for questioning,” Ebony explained.

  Kash pondered everything, then asked, “You got a number on him?”

  “No, he called me private,” replied Ebony.

  “Ok, so how are my kids and you?”

  “Getting big. They missing you, though. How are you doing?” Ebony was concerned.

  “Yeah, I’m good. So do you know the plan he got going on?” Kash asked, still lost about what Ebony just told him. What had happened to make Gangsta just snap was the question he needed to know.

  “No, he just said he had a plan and that he will keep me updated. Right now it’s a manhunt for him, so I don’t think he gonna contact me just now.”

  “Ok, cool. Well, I love y’all. And expect a letter from me. I will call tomorrow, too. I need you to get me two $500. No ID. Pick up from Western Union,” Kash told her before getting ready to hang up.

  “Ok. We love you, and call tomorrow. By this time I will have that for you,” his babymama replied, and they ended the call.

  Kash walked to the door. He looked through the bottom to see if the officer was making his rounds, as the shift required. The coast was clear, so he called Erica’s old number to find it cut off, then he tried Ne-Ne’s. It went straight to voicemail. He was getting frustrated, with only twenty more minutes before his time was up on the phone. Kash had to think, and think fast. He didn’t have Gangsta’s mother’s number. And the niggas in the hood, he definitely didn’t have their numbers. He’d been in prison too long. Out of sight, out of mind.

  Kash called Ebony back and told her to get a number on Gangsta, which she agreed to. He gave the phone back to the orderly when he pulled up. All Kash could do was sit back and see what this plan was Gangsta had up his sleeve. He so bad wanted to be out there, to have his brother back. He knew Gangsta could hold it down. He still needed his support.

  Kash wondered who was responsible for shooting Gangsta’s son. He knew Gangsta was going crazy over this, because he was one man who loved his son. Junior was Gangsta’s pride and joy, and everyone who knew Gangsta knew this.

  Kash lay back on the bunk. He picked his book back up to finish reading, but this time with a full mind.

  ***

  Ne-Ne

  She and Erica were in the waiting room, asleep, when they were woken up by a very pretty female in a business suit and heels. Ne-Ne focused her eyes and sat up straight in her seat. The woman was holding a folder. Ne-Ne noticed she had a gun on her hip, then Ne-Ne saw the badge with FBI written on it.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Robertson, is it?” The woman was yo
ung and soft-spoken. She looked to be in her twenties.

  “Yes,” replied Ne-Ne.

  “Ok. I’m Special Agent Williams on behalf of the government. We picked up your kidnapping case,” the woman spoke while taking a seat next to both sisters. “And you must be Erica.”

  “I am,” Erica replied. She held a questioning look on her face.

  “I don’t remember much. I already told this to the detectives,” Ne-Ne added. Right now wasn’t the time to be talking to the cops. She was more worried about her son.

  “I understand, ma’am, but I’m not the detectives, and I’m not looking to lock anybody up on your side. I just want to hear your side of the story. And yours.” The agent looked at both sisters, being as respectful as possible.

  “Like I said, I can’t tell you much,” Ne-Ne replied, sticking to her story. Her sister caught on and went with the flow.

  The woman took down both of their information. She was understanding and nice. Ne-Ne respected that, but at the same time she wasn’t willing to help her, no matter how sweet she was.

  “Well, can I ask the both of you to come into my office at your convenience to answer a few questions? I still have to make a report to the government. I am not trying to get on your bad side. I understand that you must be going through a lot right now.” The agent stood.

  Ne-Ne agreed to come down the very next day. She decided not to be as stubborn as she felt, because the woman did come with respect.

  After the woman left, Ne-Ne walked down to the nurses’ station to see if she could get an update on what was going on. Junior was still in surgery. It’d been sixteen hours. She wanted to know the progress. She saw Mrs. Jackson talking to an FBI agent, and Terry was in the hallway speaking to another agent. The situation had turned serious.

  Ne-Ne noticed the head doctor was just walking out of the surgery room. She was headed to the waiting room area until she saw Ne-Ne and started in her direction. She wore a look Ne-Ne couldn’t read.