Authors: Wahida Clark
Tags: #Urban, #African American, #General, #Fiction
“Aye, Kyron, check this out. I won’t be doing shit you tell me. Please leave me and my sister the fuck alone. You should be
treating her like she got the plague and staying the fuck away! Don’t call my phone no more.”
I couldn’t wait to see how the bitch would react to this. She had me fucked up. I listened to her little voicemail message, and all it did was urge me to move a little faster. I had to let her know that it was not a game. I wanted what I wanted. As soon as Kendrick gave me the address to her brother, Kevin’s house, we headed on over there. After I thought about it, I had a way to get this silly bitch’s attention. I knew it would get Shorty’s attention as well. This nigga stayed out in Coney Island. It was a nice, quiet spot, and his house was the last one on the block, sitting on the cul-de-sac. Kendrick and I camped out down the street for almost six hours before he pulled up. My muscle was already waiting on him; we were just waiting on their signal.
“What’s taking them niggas so long?” Kendrick mumbled as he shifted from side to side in his seat.
“Stop fidgeting, nigga. You making me nervous.”
“You think we should go in?” He reached for his hammer.
“Not yet. Wait for the word. I’m confident in these niggas.”
Just then, Kendrick’s cell vibrated. He looked at it and said, “Let’s do this.”
He started the car, and we parked right in the nigga’s driveway and got out. It was dark and was beginning to rain. I pulled my hood over my head and followed Kendrick, careful to protect the bandages on my neck.
As soon as we came up the back stairs, the door popped open.
“Everything’s ready. You sure you don’t want us to stay?” my muscle, Herb, asked.
“We’ll take it from here!” Kendrick told him.
We followed Herb to the kitchen, where our pawn was sitting at the table. “What do y’all want? Dope? Money?” He was sitting there looking confused, as Knowledge, muscle I had on my team from day one, had his foot propped on a chair standing over him with his pistol aimed at his head. I looked at Kevin closely and saw the resemblance. He looked more like Trina than he resembled Tasha. But there was no mistaking that he was family. Kendrick took off his jacket and pulled out his hammer.
“Y’all good?” Knowledge asked.
“We good. Y’all niggas wait outside,” Kendrick told him.
“Who the fuck are y’all?” Kevin asked.
I pulled out this handmade crafted Sebenza knife that I had been wanting to use. Kendrick let out a whistle when he saw it. “Nice, ain’t it?” I was talking more to myself. I pulled out my cell and dialed Trina’s number, hit the speaker button, and set the phone on the table directly in front of her brother.
“Hello.” She sounded groggy, obviously in a deep sleep.
“What the fuck do y’all want, man? I said take the dope. Damn! You got that,” her brother yelled out. Kendrick quickly put him in a chokehold, and I stuck the knife into his shoulder, twisting it back and forth. “Ahhhhhhhh!” he screamed.
“Hello. Hello? Kyron, I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Trina snapped. She was starting to sound wide awake.
She didn’t have time for the bullshit? Well, me, either. I got closer, grabbed the nigga’s face, sliced the nigga’s ear off, and threw it on the table.
“Owwwwwwwwww! Shit! Fuck! Ahhhhhhhhh!” His eyes
widened as he shook and twisted. You would have thought I’d sliced the nigga’s dick off the way he was yelling in anguish, holding the side of his face as Kendrick unlocked his grip. Blood poured through his fingers. “Take the dope! Shit!! Ahhh! Take the dope!”
I picked up the phone and took it off speaker.
“Kevin?” Trina asked in apparent panic. “Kyron, is that my brother?”
“My fuckin’ ear! What the fuck? I don’t even know you.” He was still screaming.
“Kevin! Kevin? Oh, my God. Kyron! His ear? What are you doing to my brother?”
“You took care of that yet?” I asked her.
“Kyron, is that my brother? Don’t do this. Why are you—”
“Did you take care of that?” I asked again as I walked to the living room and peeked through the blinds.
“No, not yet. But I’ma do it. Please, Kyron. That’s my brother. I’ma do it.”
“Now, do you see how easy that was?” I asked her.
I thought about the look in Kevin’s eyes, and it was void of fear. I had to give it to him.
“Please, Kyron, stop hurting my brother.” Trina pleaded with me.
“You got that. Just handle my business. Me and you good, right?”
“Yes, we good.” She started crying.
That was all I needed to hear. I ended the call, went back into the kitchen, pointed the knife in his face, and said, “This shit is between us.” I rubbed the blood from the blade on his lips. “If not, everyone you love will die a slow and painful death. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
I was now more anxious to see Shorty.
“I’m outside,” I heard Kyron say, and then the phone went dead. I went into the bedroom and stood in front of my long mirror, giving myself the once-over. I was thinking about dyeing my long, thick black mane to a medium brown. I needed a change and was no longer feeling the black. And if one more person asked me if I was Eva Mendes, the chick who played Denzel’s mistress in
, I was going to snap.
My Chanel dress was hugging me in all the right places. I wanted Kyron to see what he had been neglecting and what he was about to lose. He, of course, didn’t say where he was taking me; he simply said to be ready. Little did he know, tonight I was giving him his walking papers.
I grabbed my Chanel bag, turned out my bedroom light, and headed for the door, only to hear the locks turning. I stepped back, and in walked Kyron.
“I thought you wanted me to meet you out front.”
“I changed my mind.” I barely heard him. He closed the door behind him and locked it.
He had on all black, even down to the gators. He looked and smelled like money and appeared to be wearing the gauze around his neck proudly. I hated to admit it, but I was a damned fool in love. His love. I put so much into him. Into us. But it was so one-sided. Just the thought pissed me off and made me realize that I didn’t need to end things tonight.
. Not before getting back at least half of what I put into this relationship.
“Why is your face all frowned up?” he had the nerve to ask me.
“Because seeing you only makes me angry.”
He smiled. “This was always about business. You know that.”
“Business? Is chasing that bitch business?” I paused and looked
at him. “Why would you let some new pussy fuck up everything we’ve worked so hard for?”
He smiled again. “Who’s been puttin’ shit in your ear?”
“Puttin’ shit in my ear? Kyron, I am not stupid, so don’t insult my intelligence. I have eyes. Were you not just laid up in critical condition? Don’t you have a patch covering your throat? Can you barley speak? Are you not chasing a married woman, acting like some common hoodlum from the block?”
He nonchalantly turned around and opened the door.
“Oh, so now you don’t have anything to say.”
“Are you coming with me or not?”
“Oh, I’m coming. This conversation is long overdue.” I brushed past him. “Remember the big picture, Kyron.”
“Why the fuck are you still here? If you don’t want to ride this thing out with me, you can go.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I stopped and turned to look into his eyes.
“When have you known me to kid?” He was dead serious.
“Kyron, we have a game plan. We were supposed to stick to it, not come home and fall for some hood bitch and lose focus.”
“Game plan. Did you hear what you just said?
. Mari, this ain’t no game out here.”
“You are the one playing the games, Kyron. Chasing some married bitch. You are more concerned with this whore than you are with business.”
“The game plan.” He chuckled.
“If you want me to scrap everything, let me know. My brother is waiting on you. And when he asks me about you, I have to choose to lie or be totally truthful. My reputation is on the line here, Kyron, and I’m not going to let you fuck that up!”
We stood in an intense stare-down. Then he smiled. Something he always does when he thinks I’m bullshitting. “Stop stressing over irrelevant shit. You look too sexy to be stressing.”
He opened the front door. I stormed to the car, stood there with my arms folded, and could only shake my head. I got into the car, entertaining the thought of going right back into the house.
When he jumped into the car, he said, “Your brother ain’t going nowhere. When I’m ready to get with your brother, I will do just that. I don’t work for nobody, and I don’t owe nobody shit.”
“So this is what’s stopping you? The fact that you’re a boss, you don’t work for anybody?”
“Exactly. I don’t need muthafuckas. Muthafuckas need me.” He looked over at me and then put the car into gear and pulled off.
I couldn’t believe the shit that was coming out of his mouth. I wanted to reach over and slap that smug look off his face. I turned away from him and looked out the window. I was the dumb one. I was the one guilty of sticking around and taking all of his bullshit.
We drove in silence all the way until we stopped at a light on Manhattan’s Eighth Avenue. A white guy on a bike next to us hawked and spit, and the wind blew it onto the hood of Kyron’s car. The next thing I knew, he was out of the car, running and grabbing the back of the guy’s bike. He pushed him over and went to stomping him. I couldn’t believe it. “Kyron! The bigger picture! The bigger picture!” I heard myself screaming. I jumped out of the car and grabbed his arm in an attempt to end the situation before it got worse.
“Get the fuck off me!” he barked, no longer whispering and he snatched away from me. He was in a fitful rage.
I was furious as I stepped back and looked at him. I had to ask myself, was it worth it? Why the fuck was I so obsessed with him? And if he didn’t give a fuck about his future, why should I? Just like I guided him to this point, I could just as easily guide the next man, and it probably wouldn’t take half the time.
“You know what? I’m out of here.” I left him there stomping the daylights out of a total stranger on a bike. “Taxi! Taxi!” I jumped into the first one that stopped. I was convinced that Kyron had lost his mind.
I was glad that I had Kyra all to myself first. We cried, hugged, and caught up to what had been going on during our time apart. Now it was Angel’s and Jaz’s turn. They had finally made it to sunny California. I stood in the doorway and watched the three of them cry, laugh, cry, and laugh some more, just like I did. The reunion was bittersweet.
Not only did Kyra look different, but she seemed different. For one, it was surprising to see her reading the Bible and down on her knees praying. One minute she would appear all holier-than-thou, and the next minute she would be the old, talking-smack, neck-twisting, from-the-hood Kyra. The Kyra I was used to.
“Ooh! Why are you sneaking up on me like that?” Trae had eased up behind me and was brushing his lips against my neck.
“Because I want to steal you away from your girls for a few minutes.”
“A few minutes? Yeah, right. That’s what you said the last time.” He began easing me away from the door. “Trae, stop. We are getting ready to go get something to eat.”
He stopped and peeked in at the girls. “They ain’t trying to go nowhere no time soon. I just need a few minutes. They won’t even know you’re gone.” He pulled me away from my girls and eased me into the hall bathroom and shut the door.
“You ain’t right,” I said, smiling at him.
“You ain’t right! Stilettos on, ass cheeks hanging out the dress. What kind of restaurant are y’all going to?” He backed up against the door, and with both hands on my ass, he pulled me close to him.
“Stop exaggerating! My ass cheeks are not hanging out.”
“Bullshit. You ain’t going to no restaurant wearing a club dress.”
I sucked my teeth. “Since when did you start having problems with me wearing short dresses?”
“Since I’m not going with you. That’s when. You know my rules.”
He was trippin’, and I wasn’t liking it. I damn sure wasn’t about to take the dress off. Hell, we were only going out to eat. We stood there staring into each other’s eyes as he continued to caress my ass. Just as it started to feel good, he abruptly turned me around and guided me toward the sink. I felt his hand ease up my back, and he pushed me forward. I grabbed onto the edges of the sink.
I looked back at him. “What do you mean, I know your rules?”
“Assume the position, and shut up.”
“Shut who? Assume what?” I went to stand up, but he was holding me down with one hand and holding that steel with the other.
“You heard me.” He used his knee to force my legs apart.
I watched him in the mirror as he admired my ass and stroked himself.
I felt the head of his dick enter me. “Don’t be telling me to shut up.” I moaned as I felt him push all the way inside me. I wanted to fuss, but it was feeling good, and I couldn’t help but throw the pussy back at him and talk shit. “Niggas willing to die over this pussy.”
“And I’m willing to kill ’em.” He shoved the dress over my ass, ripping it. I knew he did it on purpose.
“Trae!” I looked back at him. His eyes were closed as he held tight onto my waist, putting in work. I had an attitude about my dress, so I had to say something. “You tore my dress.” I even wanted to argue, but the dick now had my undivided attention. He stroked long and deep as subtle moans escaped his lips. I grabbed tighter onto the edges of the sink, and then he started coming. He pulled out and skeeted all over my ass and my dress. I stood straight up, turned around, and pushed him. “You dog!”
“Now, go change into something more conservative!” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “But you gotta admit, that was the shit.”
“You’ll see how conservative I am when you realize how long it’ll be before you get up in this pussy again,” I snapped as I brushed past him to get out of the bathroom. He blocked the door, staring at me as he fixed his clothes.