Bury Me a G 3

by Tranay Adams

  ***

  After leaving Helen’s house Chevy shot straight up to the police station and filed a missing person’s report, telling The Boys that her son had been missing for forty-eight hours so that they could get right on it. Afterwards, she dipped through different neighborhoods looking for Te’Qui. About two hours later, she shot back up to the hospital. Defeat resonated inside of her head having not found her son, so it seemed like the walk to Faison’s room was a million miles away. She thought that she’d never get there, but after a time she arrived at his door. The room was dark, save for the blue illumination of the television dancing on his face. He was wide awake watching Problem Child.

  Feeling another person’s aura near, he looked to the doorway and found a silhouette. The light from the TV was dim against her clothes, making her look like she was dressed in all blue apparel. His forehead deepened with lines when he saw that she didn’t have their son beside her. He already knew what she was feeling without her saying a word. He lifted his hand and motioned her over. She darted over to his bed and climbed in beside him, balling up in a fetal position. Faison draped his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her on top of the head. His chubby hand swept up and down her arm affectionately. He listened to her sobbing and even felt the wetness that was her tears soaking in through the fabric of his hospital gown.

  Although he had his one true love in his arms again, Faison was missing his only son, his prince, his junior, his mini me. That hurt him more than the bullets he’d taken. Not knowing whether his son was dead or alive, or even worse, being abused. A wealth of emotions hit him like a punch to the gut, but he had to be Chevy’s rock. Feeling himself tearing up and not wanting her to see him vulnerable again, he killed the television with the remote and nestled his head against hers.

  “I don’t...I don’t think I’m ever going to find him.” She wept, voice cracking as she clung to him.

  “Shhhh, stop that now, we’ll find ‘em. Everything is going to be okay.” He spoke with a cool and soothing voice.

  “You think so?” She sniffled.

  “I know so. We’re gonna find Te’Qui, I’m gonna fully recover, and we’re gonna have ourselves a beautiful wedding down in Jamaica.”

  “You promise?”

  “I give you my word.”

  Right after, they both fell silent in the pitch black room. She drifted off to sleep and he listened to her breathing, until he met with her in Dream Land.

  The next morning Chevy told Faison about her getting jacked for the money that she planned to use to pay for her brother an attorney. He told her that he would front her the loot and have her start looking for a lawyer immediately. She found what she deemed the perfect man for the job, Archie Gold. He got right on it putting together a defense for Savon. In addition to the money for Savon’s defense, Faison had also given her the money to pay for his families funerals.

  That night

  The situation with Tiaz had gotten too out of hand, and Don Juan needed it addressed ASAP. Tiaz was nowhere to be found. He’d gone underground like Osama bin Laden, and the very moment he reared his head the Trap God wanted someone there to blow it clean off. So he sent out an invitation to all of the hungry wolves of his set. He figured they would be the most eager to get their hands on what he had to offer.

  The meeting took place on a Friday night inside of Mount Carmel’s gymnasium. A metal detector was set up at all the entrances of the gym. There were also armed guards at the doors and amid the audience to ward off any shit that may occur. They kept these devices on them that looked like magic wands. They swept this over the entering person to see if they were wearing any wires. Don Juan took the floor, backed by Lil’ Stan. He kept his finger on the trigger of his gun as his eyes swept back and forth over the audience. Some of them he knew, while others he was vaguely familiar with.

  “Ahem, may I have your attention please?” Don Juan asked in a firm, but respectable tone, careful not to offend his audience. It was as if he hadn’t said a word how the men of the audience continued chatting among themselves. He looked over the faces of the men in attendance and not a soul was paying attention to him. This pissed him off, but he had to remain humble if he was going to get any help with his situation. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before addressing his audience again. “May I have your undivided attention please?” he asked once again, but the audience ignored him.

  Seeing how frustrated Don Juan had become Lil’ Stan fired his ratchet into the ceiling, debris dribbled causing him to narrow his eyes. The gunshot startled the audience, but also grasped their attention.

  “Alright!” Lil’ Stan began. “The big homie invited y’all here, ‘cause he had something very important to get off his chest. So, y’all shut the fuck up and pay attention.” Once the young nigga had captured the undivided attention of the audience, the gymnasium was so quiet that a person could hear a mouse pass gas. “Thank you!” He turned to his boss. “Alright, Don, they’re all yours.”

  “First off, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for coming here tonight. I know there are a lotta y’all that don’t get along in here, and I appreciate y’all leaving your beefs at the door. Now, on to what I called y’all here for.” He cleared his throat and withdrew the sheet from a poster-sized photograph of Tiaz. “By a show of hands, are any of you here familiar with this man?” Everyone in the gymnasium raised their hand. There wasn’t an individual amongst them that didn’t know Tiaz. He and Threat were something like legends, seeing as how long they’d been giving it up in the streets. If a person hadn’t seen them get down then they’d heard about, or knew somebody that had.

  “This nigga has become a real hemorrhoid, a pain in my ass! This mothafucka has murdered my wife and kidnapped my son. He’s a threat to my organization, my family, the homies and me. And as long as he’s breathing my loved ones aren’t safe.”

  He snapped his fingers and Lil’ Stan walked up beside him with a briefcase. He popped the locks on the briefcase and raised its lid. There was about $100,000 dollars in cash inside. The audience was in awe.

  “$100,000 dollars.” Don Juan began looking over the faces of the men in the audience. “$100,000 dollars for the man that brings me this cock sucka’s head. Now are y’all gon’ get this money or what?”

  The audience erupted in talks of the bounty on Tiaz’ head. Lil’ Stan’s eyes scanned over all of the faces in attendance and a crooked grin spread across his lips. He knew the homies were riled up now. Who didn’t want a piece of that action? There was a lot a hood nigga could do with that. Satisfied with their reaction, he closed the briefcase back and locked it. Don Juan handcuffed himself to the handle of the briefcase and picked it up. Lil’ Stan then escorted him out of the gymnasium as if he was his personal bodyguard.

  Lil’ Stan kept his banger low at his side as he opened the door for Don Juan. He held it ajar and peered about keeping a close eye on things. The Trap God was holding one hundred grand and they were in the heart of the ghetto. That was more than enough loot for a nigga to try his chance with fate.

  After closing the door behind Don Juan, Lil’ Stan rounded the back of the Porsche truck, giving the guards in the unmarked car a nod letting them know that everything was good. The driver returned the gesture and the young nigga hopped behind the wheel of the SUV, pulling off and glancing into the rearview mirror occasionally. He knew that the hired guns had his back, but he wanted to be extra careful. Tiaz was a dangerous man and he’d hate to be at his mercy.

  “Rosa, is everything there okay?” Don Juan asked cradling the cell to his ear, as he twisted the cuff around his wrist. “Good, good. How’s junior? Asleep, huh? Alright, give ‘em a kiss for me. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “So, what’s up now?” Lil’ Stan looked from windshield to Don Juan, seeing him disconnect the call.

  “Nothing.” He fired up the roach end of a blunt he fished out of the ashtray. “We kick our feet up and wait for one of the wolves to give thi
s thug ass nigga his tombstone.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “My greatest one yet.”

  ***

  “Mommy?”

  “Duke?”

  “No, mommy, dis is Uche.”

  “How are you two?”

  “We’re fine.” He looked over his shoulder at Uduka who was sitting in the passenger seat, head lying back, mouth wide open, fast asleep. “Yeah, baybee brudda is asleep. I was just callin’ to check in and let chu know dat we were okay.”

  Silence.

  “Mommy, are you there?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked and she sniffled. She took the time to blow her nose with tissue before responding. “Yes, I am okay. You just. You just make sure you bwois get home safe.”

  The lines on Uche’s forehead deepened and his nose wrinkled. He clutched the telephone so tightly that the plastic of it cracked.

  “Grrrr!” Hearing his mother’s heartache drove him over the edge. He saw a haze of red and he could feel his ears and the back of his neck growing hot.

  “Uche, you hear me? Uche!”

  He calmed down a little, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them. “Yes, mommy, I heard you.”

  “Okay. I love you. Tell ya brudda da same and give ‘em a kiss fa me, alright?”

  “Sure. I love you, too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” When the call was disconnected, Uche slammed the receiver into the lever that hangs the phone up rapidly. Ding! Bing! Ling! King! Ping! He gritted as he assaulted the lever violently, before slamming it one last time and officially hanging it up. He gripped both sides of the telephone booth and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the edge of it. His chest twitched with succession as he breathed hard, hot breath rushing out in spurts.

  “I’ma get ‘em,” Dung! He punched the side of the booth. “I’ma keel ‘em, I’ma keel ‘em dead!” Pung! Clung! Tung! He punched it several times. “I sweah, I sweah to Gawd!” Dung! He punched the booth one last time before spinning around and marching back toward the car, blinking away the wetness in his eyes before the tears could seep. He opened the driver side door, stirring his younger brother awake. He wiped the remnants of wetness left with his fingers and thumb before ducking off inside of the car.

  “Everythin’okay?” Uduka’s forehead crinkled.

  “Yeah.” He nodded and fired up the engine. He then backed out of the parking space and pulled off. “Mommy told me ta tell you she loves you.”

  “Right.” Uduka slumped in the passenger seat and closed his eyes. “I love her, too.”

  Uche glanced over at his brother then brought his attention back on the windshield.

  I swear on ma father’s grave I’m gon’ find you Don Juan and I’m gon’ keel you, my word, the oldest of The Eme Brothers thought to himself.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day

  The sky was sunny, yet partially cloudy while rain fell in a light mist. The wind howled and whipped wildly, disturbing the collar of his button-down and the tails of his blazer. His eyes were bloodshot and rimming with tears that threatened to spill over and down his bronze cheeks. He thought he’d be able to hold himself together, but here he was falling apart. He’d been asked a hundred times by as many people if he was okay, and he held up a convincing front. But now his tears were threatening to betray him. At that moment he was glad he’d worn his black sunglasses, they were the only thing concealing his heartache from the others.

  Tiaz and Bianca stood side by side, his fingers interlocked with hers. She sobbed and tears cascaded down her face. When they rolled over her mouth, she sucked her lips inward and tasted their saltiness. It was hard for her to believe she was seeing the love of her life for the last time. She just knew that they were going to live happily ever after like some hood fairy tale, but this was real life. This wasn’t some urban fiction novel. This was reality and real shit happened in it.

  While Threat was alive he had made her his power of attorney which gave her the power to handle his funeral arrangements. Neither her or Tiaz had to come out of their pockets, because he’d stashed the money for his passing in a safe place. And the only one who knew its location was Bianca.

  “Damn, boo,” Bianca whispered, swiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumb. “You said you’d never leave me, but you did. Far too soon.”

  Bianca and Tiaz watched as her lover and his best friend was lowered into the earth, into the hole in the ground that was to be Threat’s final resting place. The further the coffin entered the ground, the bigger the hurt in their hearts expanded.

  “I’ma get that nigga for you, Crim, I promise.” He balled his hand into a fist and squared his jaws, etching out the bone structure in his face. He was hot, heated, on one and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he claimed Don Juan’s life.

  Bianca took her hand from Tiaz’ and took the time to open an umbrella. She was in a charcoal gray turtle-neck, which she wore under a Pea coat and an apple-jack the same color. Her long thick hair flowed from underneath the hat over her shoulders and down her back.

  The Latina glanced at the thug, getting a profile of him, seeing a wet streak down his cheek. He was crying and that streak was the evidence. She frowned as she looked to him. Gripping his shoulder, she asked, “How are you holding up?”

  “I’ma soldier, ma,” he replied in a flat-tone. Standing there plain-faced with his fists clenched tight, made him look like a statue chiseled out of stone he was so rigid. He may have seemed to be remaining strong to the people in attendance at the funeral, but Bianca could feel his pain. They shared it. She could see that he was in turmoil and she wanted to do nothing more than comfort him, like a mother would her child, and tell him that she loved him and that everything would be okay. But she knew that Tiaz was the type that liked to be left alone during trying times. He didn’t need anyone to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. With his personality, it was best for him to be left to himself to deal with the tragedy.

  Tiaz surveyed his surroundings and was impressed by how many people came out to pay their respects to Threat. All of the homies and even some of the enemies came out to show some love to the fallen street veteran. Raemar, Threat’s father, stood across the way from him in a Brooks Brothers suit. His wrists, waist, and ankles were all shackled. Red-faced white men sporting caps and windbreakers with Police scrolled across them, stood on each side of him. Their eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses and they were clutching shotguns in their palms. The tallest of the pair chewed gum. Their heads were on swivel during the entire ceremony, watching their surroundings.

  Raemar was the head of The Empire, a drug cartel that had the game on smash back in the mid 80s to early 90s. His operati on was said to have grossed him an astounding thirty million dollars. The small envelopes labeled Frenzy had hoods in pandemonium, hence the drug’s name. Its potency had fiends falling the fuck out and brought new customers damn near every day. Raemar made enough paper to live like that nigga Sosa in the Scarface movie. With money came power and with power came influence. He had boss status and long dough. That brought women, lots of women. The kingpin had thirteen children by almost as many women. Threat was one of them. The little nigga hardly ever saw his dad. His grandmother took care of him. So, it was needless to say once a snitch brought Rae’s kingdom down and he was hit with that life sentence, Threat didn’t lose a wink of sleep. He didn’t give a fuck. He turned his back on his old man, like his old man turned his back on him. Karma was a bitch! The old head couldn’t blame him. His abandonment didn’t stop him from sending him a letter every week trying to make amends though.

  Although Tiaz’ eyes were behind black sunglasses, the old head was staring directly into them. Raemar was expressionless, but his eyes were telling his son’s best friend everything he was thinking. He hated himself for not being there for his baby boy like he should have been when he was growing up, because if he had it was a good chance that he wouldn�
�t be attending his funeral right now. Oh, if he could only turn back the hands of time, but he couldn’t. It was out of his hands. He had no choice but to sit back and watch things play out how the Lord had designed it. Fate.

  Raemar cracked a barely visible smirk at Tiaz and gave him a slight nod. He returned the gesture. He and Threat’s old man were always alright. He remembered when he and his friends use to send them to the corner store for cigarettes and beer. When they’d returned, he would always tip them twenty dollars each. He recalled how he and Threat use to take everyone’s order on a little notepad when they shot dice or had card games. This brought a smile to his face, but it was quickly erased when he peeped a couple of cats he knew about to bust a move. His eyes widened and he looked alive.

  What the fuck? These dishonorable ass niggaz, got the audacity to come at me at my homie’s shit.

  “Noooooooo!” Tiaz shrilled, outstretching his hand.

  Yuckkk!

  Yuckkk!

  The first officer’s sunglasses went at a funny angle on his face when a cat wearing a bandana over the lower half of his face, swiped a knife across his jugular.

  “Gaaah!” The guard’s face twisted in agony as he slumped down to the ground. His partner was right behind him grimacing, as his neck was sliced open spilling a river of blood.

  “Aaarrrhhh!” The other officer was shoved aside by a second man wearing a bandana over the lower half of his face. He stared down at the guard as his life’s blood drained from him, wiping his blade on the sleeve of his suit.

  Tiaz drew his Beretta from the small of his back just as one of the men wrapped his arm around Threat’s father’s neck and pulled him backwards. He plunged his knife in and out of his kidneys, grunting with each stick that punctured his victim’s lower back. Raemar’s eyes went big and his mouth stayed stuck wide open, blood smearing his lips as he struggled to escape the hold. His eyes shot to his left and the other man stuck him rapidly, bloodying his button down shirt. His eyes squeezed shut and his lips trembled.