Beautiful Liar (5 page)

“I was worried about you.”

He looked up from his taking. “Oh, hey baby.
You say something?”

“I said, I was worried about you. You had
your phone off.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting up and hugging
her. “I thought about calling, but I knew you would only worry more
when I told you what I was up to.”

“Nothing worse than not knowing. You missed
your curfew, so I didn’t know what to think.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Listen, baby.
My love is so strong for you that a head shot couldn’t separate me
from you.”

“Don’t talk like that, Ty.”

He grabbed her hand and their matching UL
tattoos were inches from each others. “All I’m saying is, nothing’s
going to happen to me.”

“You promise.”

“I promise.”

The sound of gunfire made him look towards
the window. “And by the way, we’re going house hunting
tomorrow.”

The ’57 Bel Air was Rich’s
favorite
car. In his opinion, a man’s car should represent the type of
person he was. And Rich knew that his Bel Air was classy, original,
and rare. All of these traits were how he described himself.

His way of thinking was what separated him
from the rest of the hustlers in Atlanta. Sure, he knew a lot of
them had money, but he felt that he was elite in comparison.

His rise to an ATL kingpin had been swiftly
and meticulously executed. Nobody saw it coming, especially his
former boss, Carlos.

It had all started when Agent Kardash popped
up over his house and showed him pictures of him and Carlos
together. The agent had promised within weeks, they both would be
arrested on a string of charges that would land them in prison for
decades. And the only way he could escape it was if he turned on
Carlos.

Once the threat of going to prison, and the
thought of snitching, actually dawned on Rich, he felt sick to the
stomach. It wasn’t that he was scared of prison or was dedicated to
Carlos; it was the fact of a lengthy sentence and the repercussions
of telling on a well-connected guy. He knew it could lead to his
death if the word ever got out.

He expressed this to the agent and was
assured there were ways he could do it anonymously, where Carlos
wouldn’t know. But this was only if he didn’t take it to trial.

Rich banked he wouldn’t because of the Fed’s
high conviction rate, and tipped the agent a week later that Carlos
would be at a certain spot cooking crack.

After Carlos’ arrest, Rich broke into his
stash house and made off with ten kilo and two-hundred and fifty
thousand in cash. He then covered up his crime by paying Carlos’
sister the twenty thousand that he owed him and visiting him every
visitation day.

Rich cruised the streets with his
fourteen-year-old nephew sitting in the passenger seat; he took in
the scenery for the last time. He hadn’t been able to give the
agent C-Jay, and the agent had made good on his promise. It was too
dangerous and less prosperous to stay in Atlanta when everybody
knew that he was an informant.

“God-lee, Uncle Rich. Why do you have to
leave?”

“One thing you have to understand is the more
money that you have, the more problems you’re going to have. Before
your daddy passed, he used to tell me that all of the time. But I
didn’t understand it then, ‘cause my money was funny. I know now,
though.”

“Who’s going to buy my school clothes? You
know momma ain’t going to keep me up to date.”

“You act like I’m dying. Don’t worry about
none of that, I’m going to send you like a bond a month,” he said,
pulling up in front of his house.

Rashaun knew a thousand dollar a month would
guarantee that he would stay fresh. But he still didn’t want to see
his uncle leave. “Why can’t I just go with you? That would be
easier for the both of us.”

“You have to stay and help your momma out
with your brothers. They would be squares without you around. You
got to teach them what me and your daddy taught you. Stay
sucker-free, stand up for what you believe in, and don’t let nobody
take what’s yours.”

Rashaun thought about that before nodding in
agreement. “Yeah, I got to teach them that. I don’t want no square
biz brothers.”

Rich laughed. “Come on, help me grab my
stuff.”

Rich let them in and grabbed two large
suitcases sitting next to the couch. “Go get the smaller suitcases
out of my bedroom.”

“Okay.”

Rich headed out of the front door and gasped
when he saw the gunman!

Tywan tailed the car for the third time this
week, wondering where he was going. Though prepared, he wasn’t sure
if he would make his move today. Rich proved to be a difficult
target because he lacked a pattern.

Tywan knew if he adapted the kidnapping
method that most robbers used, it would simplify his problem. But
kidnapping was an act he avoided, it was too risky. He had seen a
lot of people go to jail doing it, and he wasn’t about to be
another statistic.

The Bel Air ran through a changing yellow
light, and Tywan was forced to stop. He waited impatiently for it
to turn green before accelerating in the direction the car
disappeared in.

“Where this nigga go?”

Tywan combed the area for five minutes before
finding the Bel Air. It sat in front of a large house, and
everything in Tywan’s being told him that it was now or never. He
got out and approached the house calm but swiftly, just as Rich
stepped out holding two suitcases.

Rashaun ran into the bedroom in search of the
smaller suitcases. He loved going to his uncle’s houses for various
reasons. One of them being that his uncle never missed things he
stole. His uncle was the type that bought whatever he desired for
the moment. This was the reason why it was extremely hard for him
to remember all of his possessions.

He glanced back nervously as he unzipped one
of the suitcases. Inside, there were two Ruger handguns molded in a
Styrofoam-like substance. He closed it back and opened the other
one. A big smile spread on his face when he saw the platinum and
gold necklaces.

“Bingo!”

“Get back in the house!” Tywan ordered, drawing
his pistol.

Rich quickly got over his shock and studied
the familiar man’s face. He backpedalled into the house noticing no
fear in the man’s face.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“I’ve been known to do that. Where’s the
money?”

“What money? Hey, wait a minute! Don’t I know
you from somewhere?”

Tywan hit him across the face with the
pistol, causing him to fall to one knee. “I’m going to ask you one
more time. Where’s the money?”

Rich glanced at the suitcases that contained
a half million dollars and sighed, “It’s in the suitcase.”

“Open it up for me.”

Rich opened one of them, hoping the man
wouldn’t ask him to open the other one.

Tywan saw the saran-wrapped money and cut his
eye at the second suitcase. The look on Rich’s face made him
curious, so he demanded him to open it, also.

Rich complied. “Happy? Don’t spend it all in
one place.”

Tywan was happy, indeed. “Shut up and go over
there in the corner.” Rich once again complied.

“Now tuck your head in it and-“ He swung his
gun as a young boy appeared from the back wielding a large
handgun.

“Don’t shoot! Rich yelled. “He’s just a
kid!”

“Drop the gun!” Tywan demanded. “Don’t make
me do it to you.”

Rashaun’s hand trembled slightly as he cocked
the hammer back. “Drop your gun.”

“Please,” Rich begged, holding his hands in a
praying gesture. “Don’t shoot my nephew; he’s only
fourteen-years-old.”

“Tell him to drop the gun then, before I blow
his brains out.”

Rich turned to Rashaun and pleaded. “Put the
gun down, neph. Let him leave with the money; I’ll get some
more.”

“I can’t, Uncle Rich. Remember what you and
my daddy taught me. Stay sucker-free, stand up for what I believe
in, and don’t let nobody take what’s mine.”

“I know, but it’s a right time for that. And
that’s not now. Put the gun down! Now!”

“No!” he insisted, stubbornly. “My daddy died
the same way. He thought the man was just going to take the money
but he took his life, too.”

Tywan silently cursed for forgetting he saw
two heads in the Bel Air. The conviction in the boy’s voice led him
to believe that the boy wasn’t going out without a fight. He didn’t
want to shoot the boy, but he definitely wasn’t about to let him
shoot him. He swore again silently when he recognized that he was
in the midst of a bad robbery.

Agent Kardash loved
his job because of
all of the advantages his badge gave him. And, needless to say, he
utilized every one of them.

At some point in his fifteen year career, his
informants gave him the name ‘Satan.’ They named him that because
once someone sold their soul to him, by giving substantial
assistance to the government; they would forever be in debt with
him. Everyone who resisted him paid the price of being exposed that
they were working with the Feds. It didn’t matter to him they had
fulfilled their obligations; once a snitch, always a snitch.

He had lived up to his nickname when Rich
failed to set up C-Jay. Usually, Kardash would just send any
informant to purchase drugs from the guy that he wanted, but C-Jay
was very particular about who he dealt with. And because Rich was a
high-level drug dealer himself, Kardash had assumed that C-Jay
would want to rub shoulders with him. That wasn’t the case, though,
C-Jay became naturally suspicious of Rich and refused him. He had
even gone the extra mile by leaving town. Kardash knew all of this,
but he never considered showing Rich mercy. As far as he was
concerned, all drug dealers were pawns. And the board was his back
yard.

He rejoiced now that he knew that Rich’s
image was in ruins. Nobody wanted to deal with a snitch. And to
make things worse, he was on his way to tell Rich that he was under
investigation for money laundering. He loved his job!

* * *

Rashaun fired the pistol and the bullet
lodged in the door inches from Tywan’s head. He then lined up his
next shot, Tywan didn’t hesitate. The slug lifted the frail boy off
of his feet.

Rich scrambled over to his nephew. “Rashaun!
Rashaun!”

The boy looked at the hole in his shirt and
coughed up blood. “I’m…sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay! I’m not mad at
you.”

“It’s burning,” the boy said, grimacing.
Tears rolled from his eyes. “I’m dying, ain’t I, Uncle Rich?”

“No. Everything’s going to be alright, just
hang on. You’re gonna survive, and I’m gonna have you fresh every
day.”

“I stood…up…for…what…I believe…”

He closed his eyes and Rich began to shake
him. “No, God! Rashaun!”

When it fully dawned on him that his nephew
was dead, he turned to Tywan with a massive frown on his face and
reached for the pistol.

Tywan felt the slug whiz by his head and
instinctively returned fire. His slug lifted the hundred and twenty
pound boy off his feet and slung him to the floor.

Tywan gaped at the aftermath of his actions
and silently convinced himself that he had once again killed in
self defense. But as soon as that thought began to soothe him, he
saw Rich grab the gun and he found himself in another do or die
situation.

Out of all the experiences Rich had sustained in
his fifteen years of being in the game, nothing prepared him for
the horrific sight of seeing his nephew get murdered. It rattled
the core of his soul. None of his problems mattered anymore. Not
the reputation of being a snitch. Not the embarrassment of having
sex with a three-hundred pound Amazon. And surely not the fact that
stress had turned him to snorting cocaine. His nephew’s murder had
solved all of that.

All that he cared about was the fact he had
failed his nephew’s mother. He had promised her, after his brother
had been murdered a decade ago, that he would raise Rashaun like
his own and would make sure the streets didn’t claim his life. He
knew there was no way he could face her, knowing he had brought the
streets to her son with his activities, and now he was dead.

Rich grabbed the gun with no real intention
of firing it. He just wanted to be taken out of his misery.

Agent Kardash pulled up at the house just as the
first gunshot went off. It crossed his mind to call for back up,
but the idea of catching someone in the wrong seemed way more
attractive. He knew nobody willingly wanted to go to jail, and most
did anything to stay out. Even if that meant becoming an
informant.

He was familiar with the layout of the house,
so he went around the back and picked the lock on the slide door.
He heard a familiar voice and crept to the living room with his gun
drawn.

Pop!

The gunshot startled and motivated Kardash to
run into the living room at full speed. “F.B.I.! Freeze!”

The man fired three shots at Kardash, and he
returned it back as he retreated back the way that he came. He then
heard the front door open and decided that it was time to call for
back up.

Once that was done, he cautiously re-entered
the living room to find two bodies sprawled out. He couldn’t
identify the younger male, but even with the large hole in his
face, he instantly recognized Rich.

“Damn, kid. We wasn’t even yet.”

Kardash noticed the open suitcase and went
over to inspect it. He suddenly came to the conclusion he and Rich
were now even and took the suitcase full of money to his car.

Tywan waited until the garage door closed
completely before he got out the car. He didn’t want his new
neighbors in this business if they were happening to be
watching.

Carrying the large suitcase took a lot of
effort that he did not have, so he dragged it, instead. He entered
the side door that gave him access to the kitchen and saw Misty at
the stove cooking.