by Tranay Adams
“I said, I’m sorry.”
He chuckled and said, “That’s a good bitch. Now, if you wanna see yo’ son again, you’ll dig up my homeboy’s body wherever you buried it and bring it to me.”
“You know how long that’s gon’ take?”
“I don’t give a fuck how long it takes.” He snarled in the receiver. “You dig up his body and bring it to me. He deserves a proper burial.”
“Where do you want me to bring ‘em?”
“Call me when you recover ‘em.”
He disconnected the call.
“What he say?” Lil’ Stan eagerly awaited the news.
“He’s sitting on junior until we bring ‘em Threat’s body.”
“What’re we gon’ do?”
“Exactly what he says.”
***
Tiaz disconnected the call and sat the cell down on the table as he plopped down in the chair, sitting at the kitchen table. He took a pull from the burning blunt and passed it across the table to Bianca. Her eyes were glassy pink and her cheeks were streaked wet. She stared ahead at nothing as she brought that swisher to her plump lips, taking draws. At first she couldn’t believe Threat was dead, but now it was confirmed. That was clear the moment she’d heard the conversation between Tiaz and Don Juan. He had the body, so a miracle of him somehow being alive wasn’t likely. In the back of her mind she knew that The Grim Reaper had come for her man, but her heart just didn’t want to believe it.
“You all right?” Tiaz asked her.
“Ummhuh.” She nodded, passing him back the Loud.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Look,” he started, mashing out what was left of the swisher. “I know this is outta yo’ element, so if you wanna...”
“No!” she spat sharply, slamming her fist down on the table, rattling the glass ashtray. “I’m in. We’re doing this for Threat. I wanna see that mothafucka Don Juan lying belly up!”
“And I’m gon’ make that happen, all I need is yo’ help. You the only one I can trust right now. You all I got. This nigga’z paper’d up. He feeds our hood, so them boyz ain’t fucking with me, ‘cause they not tryna have they plug sever ties.”
“I got cho back.”
“And I got cho front.” They dapped up. “Hey, you got any liquor here? I could use a drink!”
“I should have some Remy VSOP in the cabinet over the refrigerator.”
“Cool.” He entered the kitchen, taking down a glass from the cupboard. After he got the bottle of Remy down and grabbed an ice tray, he dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass. They did a little dance and the dark liquor came in right behind it. He picked up his drink and swirled the cubes around in it before taking a sip. When he turned around, Bianca’s fist was balled tight and her face was hard.
“What chu thinking about?” Tiaz asked curiously, seeing the look on her face.
“Threat was my man, I’ma ride for him, right or wrong.”
“We both are, I’ma be right beside you, momma. We gon’ get this dick sucka together.”
“You fucking right we are.”
Three hours later
Don Juan banged Tiaz’ line as soon as he’d recovered Threat’s body. He gave him the location and time to meet up. About half an hour later, he and Bianca were pulling up at an abandoned furniture warehouse. He gave her the position she was to play and posted up outside of the car waiting for Don Juan to arrive. No sooner than the Latina had taken up her post, Tiaz narrowed his eyes as the headlights of a Porsche truck pulled up. He moved his hand where his banger was stashed in case the shit was a setup. That idea was quickly put to death when the lights of the SUV were murdered. The doors of the vehicle came open, Don Juan and Lil’ Stan jumped down onto the pavement. The Trap God motioned him over and he approached with caution. He pointed to the back door of his truck, but Tiaz wasn’t fucking with it. He looked at him like he was stupid.
“Y’all niggaz got me fucked up if you think I’m looking in there.” Tiaz scowled.
“Open the door for this nigga, man.” Don Juan told Lil’ Stan, throwing his head toward the door.
“Square biz, homeboy.” Lil’ Stan opened the door and signaled for the thug to take a gander.
Tiaz snuck a peek and found something under a sheet. He then looked to Don Juan who gave him a nod. Afterwards, he took a deep breath and expelled hot air from his nostrils. He stood there staring at the lump under the cover hoping that it wasn’t his best friend beneath it, but knowing no doubt that it was. He threw the sheet from over the body and found Threat, his eyes were closed and his lips were a straight line. The short killer looked at peace, even with the dirt smudges on his face. Tiaz drew the covers back from the rest of his form and found what looked like a thousand holes in him. This made him close his eyes and lower his head, massaging the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck, Threat.” He exhaled, blowing air from his nostrils and mouth. Satisfied, he draped the sheet back over his childhood friend and pulled him out. He carried him over to the pickup truck and slid him into the back, closing the door of the flat bed. Looking up, he blinked an eye and gave a couple of hand signals like he was doing sign language. When he did this Don Juan frowned and looked in the direction he’d given the signal. He peered through the darkness, but couldn’t make out a soul. Afterwards, he walked over to the driver side of the truck and pulled the door open. He was momentarily stopped when Don Juan called him back, brows furrowed.
“Hold up, fam, fuck is my seed?” He was about to grab that head bussa on his waist and set it the fuck off. Tiaz ignored him as he ducked off inside of the truck. When he came back around he had little DJ in his arms. He approached his father and passed him off. The Trap God pressed his forehead against his offspring’s and closed his eyes. He mouthed ‘Thank you, God’ and kissed him on his cheeks, then his forehead. When he looked up, he saw Tiaz staring at him with a pair of vindictive eyes. He moved to leave, but stopped once he was called back.
“I know you wanna piece of me, homie.” He began passing his son off to Lil’ Stan. “And believe me, I can’t wait for the day you’re lying at my feet puking up blood. Oh, we gon’ get active, that’s on my wife’s life.” He spoke with glassy, red-webbed eyes, looking as serious as HIV. “But I wanna truce, at least until we’ve buried our loved ones. Can we agree to that?” He extended his hand. Tiaz’ eyebrows arched as he studied his foe’s hand like it was slick with snot. He spat off to the side and shook the man’s hand. The men departed, heading towards their respective vehicles. Tiaz gave another hand signal and Bianca emerged from the darkness, slinging the strap of a sniper rifle over her shoulder. She pulled the ski-mask off of her head as she was pulling open the door, hopping inside.
“You got ‘em?” Bianca questioned.
Tiaz simply nodded. He grabbed her by the wrist when she went to reach into the backseat. “You don’t wanna see ‘em like that, B. It’s likely to give you some nasty dreams.”
“I don’t care.” She shook her head, eyes glassy and rimming with wetness. “I gotta know that it’s him for sure.”
“Alright.” He placed his hand back on the steering wheel.
Bianca gasped when she saw that it was Threat beneath the sheet. Tears spilled down her cheeks and smacked a hand over her mouth. Tiaz closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. He tried to warn her, but she just wouldn’t listen.
“It’s him.” She couldn’t believe it. “He’s dead. He’s really dead.” She wept briefly and swiped the wetness from her eyes. Sniffling and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jean jacket. “Fuck that, Tiaz, spin this mothafucka around.” She gripped the rifle with both hands. “We gon’ smoke that nigga, he’s not getting away with this shit!” Her head snapped over her shoulder and she saw Don Juan’s Porsche truck driving off. “He’s still here. Pull up on the driver side and I’ll put one through his temple. That will leave his truck immobile and the passenger at our mercy. Come on.”
“No!
”
“The fuck you mean no!” She screamed on him, spittle flying. “They killed my man and yo’ best friend! That nigga gotta go and he’s gotta go now!”
Tiaz pulled over and grabbed her by the collar of her jean jacket. “Listen to me, goddamn it! If we gon’ do this then we’re gon’ do this right! By my rules! You want revenge then you follow my lead, and I’ll have you bathing in blood.” With that said, she settled down and wiped her face until it was damp. “Alright? Are you with me?” She nodded yes. “Good.” He threw the car in drive and pulled off.
A peace treaty until the funerals are over? Shiieettt, nigga, I’m not finna let off of yo’ ass, me and Bianca are right back at that ass tonight.
***
Don Juan sat in the front passenger seat cradling his young prince in his arms. Lil’ Stan sat behind the wheel, maneuvering the Porsche truck through the streets.
“So, you gon’ uphold that peace treaty for real or what?” He looked back and forth between the windshield and his boss.
“What peace treaty?” Don Juan asked, seriously. “I fed that nigga that bullshit for him to put his guard down. I ain’t showing that dick sucka no love, young nigga. I’m about to drop a few grand on that buster ass nigga’z head, what chu thought?”
“I knew it.” Lil’ Stan smiled. “I knew you were playing that fool.”
Chapter Six
Tiaz and Bianca hit three of Don Juan’s traps that night and didn’t show any signs of slowing down any time soon. The thug was trying to make the kingpin feel his pain through the loss of his loved ones and his pockets before he finally decided to shut off the lights of his pitiful existence. He got a kick out of watching the man suffer. It was something about it that gave him a serious hard-on. The night got even darker, making the glow of the moon even brighter. Sitting low in an Escalade truck not far from one of their enemy’s flourishing illegal businesses were Tiaz and Bianca, staking the place out.
“Yeah, this is it, Threat took me by here before, gave me the whole layout of the place and everything.” He relayed to his partner in crime. Threat had shown him one of several locations of traps, illegal gambling spots, and other operations that Don Juan had. They’d planned to strike these locations as a team, but there was a change of plans when the Lord had called his homeboy home early. Amen!
“How many people are in there?”
“Three, four tops,” he claimed. “Which is why I brought along the equalizer.” He patted the shotgun lying across his lap. “You ready?” He locked eyes with her.
“Let’s do the damn thang.” She held his intensity.
Tiaz pulled his ski-mask down over his face followed by Bianca’s thick ass. He racked a Mossberg pump, while she checked the chamber of her Python .44 Magnum revolver. Seeing that it was fully loaded with hollow tip bullets, she snapped it closed with a flick of her wrist.
“Alright,” Tiaz began, “you take the front door. I’ll cover the back. Let’s move.”
The doors of the stolen vehicle flew open and they hopped out, closing the doors shut quietly. They stooped low and moved in on the two-story house. They were draped in all black from head to toe so they blended in with the darkness, melting into the night and going undetected by any eyes that may have been watching. Stealthily, they invaded the yard and took up their posts. Once Tiaz had made it to the second floor window, he spoke to Bianca through his Blue-tooth headset letting her know that he was good to go. On the count of three they were to burst through the entrances and seize the house.
Bianca’s heart raced behind her left breast. Not because she was scared but because her adrenalin was pumping madly. She was excited and oddly aroused. In fact, she was sure if she had a dick it would have been hard right now. She loved the thrill of the impending drama, that shit gave her a high like no other.
The pistol made her feel empowered. She believed that she was a force to be reckoned with. At that moment she wished she had some iron with her that night Calvin kicked the shit out of her, because if she had, she would still have her baby. What she wouldn’t give to travel back in time to that fateful night and open up on his ass.
Bianca held her revolver low, gripping it with both hands at her waist. She listened to her partner in crime do the count as she stood with her legs apart, her booted foot tapping the floor gently. She was anxious. And as soon as the countdown finished she was kicking in that mothafucking door. Once Tiaz got to the number three she coiled her leg and kicked the door at the lock as hard as she could.
Boom!
The door flew open sending a spray of splinters and debris everywhere. She stormed inside, waving her head bussa around and barking threats. Her trigger-finger begged for a fuck-nigga or bitch to move, so she could give their families a reason to mourn. At the center of the living room sat four men at a table littered with notepads and Boost Mobile cell phones. Their faces were plastered with terror and confusion. Tiaz emerged from the kitchen and into the living room, clutching his Mossberg. He gave her a nod, letting her know that he had her back. She returned the gesture.
“Who else is inside of the house?” Bianca asked, eyes taking in all of the faces at the table.
“N-no one. It’s just us.” One of the men spoke up, visibly shaken up.
“You bet not be lying or you gon’ get it first and the worse.” She promised through clenched teeth.
“I swear to God, it’s just us.” His teeth chattered like it was thirty below in the living room.
“Alright, where them bands at?” Bianca asked the man with a no nonsense attitude.
“Do you know who you’re robbing? This operation is headed by...” Bianca stormed over and cracked the man in the nose and mouth with the butt of her revolver. His head snapped back. When he brought it back down, his nose and grill ran like a faucet of blood. Droplets of blood pelted the white pages of his notepad. The man yanked the handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to try to slow his bleeding.
“You think I give a fuck about whose spot this is, my nigga?” Bianca sneered. She was still hot over the loss of Threat and had made the man the recipient of her anger. “Right now, you’re the one standing between me and my come up, and if you don’t move I’ma blow your face off, ya dig?”
“Please, we don’t want any trouble. Just take what you want and leave us be.” Another man at the table slid a tin box forth and removed a chain linked key from around his neck. He was the manager of the booking operation. Tiaz snatched the key from the man’s pinched fingers and hurriedly opened up the box. Inside he found a couple of bankrolls secured by rubber bands, but nothing worth their while. He slammed the tin box shut and tucked it at the back of his jeans.
“Where the rest at?” Tiaz asked, his menacing eyes staring out of the holes of his mask.
“What’re you talking about? That’s it.” The second man told him.
“Bullshit, this is a dummy box. Y’all set this out just in case niggaz try to rob this mothafucka.” He informed him. “I did my homework, where the real money at?”
“I swear to God, that’s all we have here.” The man swore. “That’s what we took in for the night.”
“Fuck that.” Tiaz pressed his shotgun against the man’s forehead and licked his lips. He then settled his finger on the trigger and bore into his eyes. The coldness in his pupils made the man feel uncomfortable and he squirmed around in his chair. “Now, you gon’ either come up off that or I’ma leave your thoughts on the ceiling. Fuck with me if you want to, and see if I won’t call ya bluff.” The man’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. His whole body trembled he was so afraid. His loins grew hot as he felt piss filling his bladder.
While this was going on, the third man at the table, who wore specs and a balding scalp, watched Tiaz closely as his hand crept to the .38 snub-nose that was taped beneath the table. The man in the specs got a firm grip on the handle of the snub and snatched it free, shooting to his feet. He pointed the small pistol at the thug and shouted something in h
is native tongue.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
The man’s face grimaced when he took three to the chest, dropping his pistol. He fell back into his chair, causing it to fall back and send him spilling out onto the floor. Tiaz looked in Bianca’s direction as she lowered her Glock.
“Punk ass mothafucka,” She studied her handiwork as she walked over, kicking the corpse three times. She then peered into the eyes of all of the men sitting at the table. They were all shaken up.
“Now is somebody gonna tell me where that dough at?” Tiaz asked.
“If we tell you Don Juan will have us and our families executed for sure.” The man holding a handkerchief to his leaking nose said.
“That cock sucker’s still alive.” Bianca said of the man she’d aired out. Everyone looked to the man and he was most definitely dead, but the three men at the table didn’t know that for sure, because they were too scared to take a decent look. The Latina vixen straddled the dead body, careful as to not let the other men see his face. “Are you gone tell us where that money is or am I gonna have to splattered yo’ shit over this hardwood floor? Fuck me? Nah, nigga, fuck you!” She shoved her Python into the dead man’s grill. “Suck yo’ dick, huh?”
Tiaz looked at Bianca like she’d lost her mind. He didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but he wasn’t about to interfere. He’d only watch on wondering what would happen next.
“I’ll suck it right after you eat this...” She pulled the trigger. Blood and pieces of skull shot across the hardwood floor. The chunks of flesh and brain on the floor resembled spaghetti sauce. The men at the table shrieked and whimpered in their chairs. Bianca rose to her feet looking down at the mess she’d made as blood dripped from her ski-mask.
“Now, where’s that money?” Tiaz asked again.
“In the oven,” the men said in unison.
“I’m guessing it’s inside of some secret compartment, so who wants to be the one to show me?”
The thug looked around at all of the men at the table.
Five minutes later, Tiaz and Bianca came strolling out of the house 140K richer. They hopped into the black Cadillac Escalade and sped through the ghetto making it rain again, sending rushes of people out in the streets to retrieve the stolen trap.