Keyshia and Clyde (9 page)

He pulled Keyshia closer to his lips and they kissed slowly, then nature took its course as they entered each other for the first time and would not stop. Their bodies became one as they cried out and solidified their eternal love for each other, until death do them part!

Chapter 14
_______________

Keyshia and Clyde woke up early the next morning to a loud knocking on the front door.

“Who is it?” yelled Clyde, fully expecting his brother Sonny.

“It's me Clyde, Ceasar.”

Clyde wasn't sure if he was hearing right and asked again, only this time he got off the bed and headed toward the door. “Who?”

“Clyde, it's me, Ceasar. Open the door.”

Clyde turned toward Keyshia and said, “It's my other brother.” He said, “Yeah, hold on for a minute,” as he waited until Keyshia grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom before he opened the door.

When he did, Ceasar walked in without so much as an invitation and said with a serious overtone, “Clyde, what is this stuff I'm hearing about you owing some gangsters some money? What did you get yourself involved in?”

Clyde stood at the door and closed his eyes. Ceasar was the last person he wanted to know what was going down in his life.

“What is going on, Clyde?”

Clyde walked over to the couch and plopped down, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

“Clyde, I'm not gonna ask you again: What did you get yourself into?”

“Nothing I can't handle,” Clyde said, avoiding eye contact.

“You gonna handle yourself getting yourself killed, that's what you gonna do!” yelled Ceasar.

“Who told you that shit?” Clyde asked defiantly.

“Martha called me last week and said that she ain't heard from you and you ain't been home in two weeks. I called back last night, and she told me that Sonny told her you got yourself in some kind of big trouble. I then called Sonny's sorry ass, and I made him tell me what happened and where you were at.”

Clyde sank further into in the couch.

“Now I heard that you owe some people some money, something about you killed a man?” Ceasar began to plead, “Clyde, look at me and tell me this stuff ain't true.” Clyde tried to look up, but he couldn't face his brother. Ceasar immediately put his hand over his eyes and cried, “No, Clyde, no, you didn't!” Ceasar had to sit down because he was beginning to grow lightheaded. Clyde wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the words.

They remained silent until Ceasar finally spoke up. “I never wanted you to turn out like Sonny, Clyde. I always wanted better for you. But I guess I failed.” Clyde was so ashamed and knew by the way Ceasar's voice cracked that he was crying. Clyde felt even worse.

“Ceasar, it's not what you think.” Clyde finally looked at his brother. “All I can tell you right now is that I got it under control and it's gonna be all right.” He watched Ceasar wipe the tears from his eyes and continued, “I promise you that I'm not gonna turn out like Sonny. I got my own mind and my own plans. I don't like the things that Sonny do; you taught me better than that.” Clyde knew that he'd hurt his brother deeply and stood up to give him a hug.

Ceasar whispered, “I want you to promise me that you'll be careful, and if you need anything,” he stressed, “anything, I want you to call me and I'll be there no matter what.”

Clyde nodded.

“I love you, Clyde.”

“I love you, too, bro.”

They pulled away, and to break the tension in the room, Ceasar changed the subject. “Where you been?”

Clyde smiled and said, “I been on a li'l vacation out of town with my friend.” He blushed as he told his brother, “We went to Atlantic City for a couple of days.”

Ceasar smiled and said, “Atlantic City, huh?”

Clyde continued to look like a child as he added, “Yeah, we went to see Lyfe Jennings and everything.”

Ceasar was impressed. “Who is this somebody that got my li'l brother acting like he was five years old again?”

Clyde chuckled and began to blush even more. “You want to meet her?” he asked, hoping he would say yes.

“I surely would.”

Clyde walked quickly over to the bathroom and tapped on the door. “Keyshia, come out here, I want you to meet my other brother.” Keyshia timidly walked out of the bathroom. “Come on out,” Clyde urged, “he's cool.”

Standing tall and smiling proudly, Clyde said, “Keyshia, I want you to meet my big brother, Ceasar.” Keyshia smiled nervously.

Ceasar looked her over and smiled and said, “Oh, Clyde, she's so shy . . . and beautiful.” Keyshia immediately felt his warmth. “Clyde, she looks like one of those girls on
America's Next Top Model
with them long, sexy legs.” Both Keyshia and Clyde blushed as if they were children. “Come here and give your brother-in-law a hug.”

Keyshia walked over to him, and he gave her a genuine, loving hug. Keyshia closed her eyes and felt honored to be accepted by his brother.

After they chatted for a little while longer, Ceasar told them he had to go. He gave both Keyshia and Clyde a warm hug, and as they walked him to the door, he added, “Oh yeah, Clyde, don't forget Sunday is the end of the month and we gonna visit Mama, so make sure you ready, 'cause Sonny will be picking us up, and you know how impatient he is.”

Clyde nodded and told him he wouldn't forget.

About an hour after Ceasar left, Sonny stopped by and told Clyde to come outside and talk. When Clyde came out, he wore a black hoodie, a pair of jeans, and an untied pair of Timberlands as they took a walk around the block.

“All right, listen,” Sonny said in a low tone. “I spoke to that nigga's people last night, Black Sam and 'em.” Clyde's heart skipped because he knew of Black Sam. Sonny, always paranoid, looked over his shoulder and continued, “They pretty much knew who it was that put in the work, but the reason them niggas ain't hit you up yet was because they knew I was your brother. They figure out of respect, they would come see me to let us know that they know all about that fucked-up shit that you did.” He paused until a Mexican family had passed and then continued. “See, the last thing them niggas give a fuck about is that li'l bit of money that they lost—that shit is chump change to them. But they don't want niggas thinking they soft or look pussy if they don't react to the shit.” He looked at Clyde. “Sugar Bear was part of they crew, and he represented Black Sam. So to them niggas you might as well have violated him.”

Black Sam and his crew had been around Harlem pumping one form of drug or another since the seventies. Sam trusted nobody, but he treated all his workers well. He never got into street politics with the fiends and never hung on the block no longer than an hour. Black Sam wasn't a killer by any means, but he'd contract that shit out in a minute if he felt a reason to do so. He was a just person by nature, willing to work a problem out with a sit-down, and only as a last resort would he conspire to have you murdered. He had the old-school mentality of take over the entire block and hire from within, that way the money would be recycled in the neighborhood and everyone would be happy. Black Sam knew that Sonny and his right-hand man, Wolf, respected him enough not to ever step on his toes. Above all, Black Sam did not want beef with the two natural-born killers and had his boys reach out to Sonny, so shit didn't get out of hand.

“So this is the deal,” Sonny said, “a hundred and fifty thousand, plus Sugar's jewelry.”

Clyde's face was blank. One thing Sonny envied about his brother was his smoothness under pressure. No matter what the circumstances were, Clyde would never let you know how he actually felt. He had the perfect poker face, emotionless. “They wanted to kill yo' bitch—” Sonny caught himself. “My bad, but they wanted the deal to include yo' girl come up missing.” Sonny looked around again and said, “They had her building staked out for the three days. She was lucky she never came home. They wanted me to find her and kill her as part of the deal. But I told them no dice, she is not to be touched.” Clyde was relieved. “So it's your call, B, what you wanna do?”

Clyde just looked him in the eye and said, “Okay, how much time do I get?”

“Two weeks,” Sonny said. “Yo, if you think you can't handle it, I got a bank job lined up and we need a third man to pull it off.”

Clyde shrugged. “Why don't you just find somebody else?”

“ 'Cause I don't trust nobody else!” Sonny snapped. “This is a bank job, and you can't bring along just any knucklehead; a nigga got to be on point! That's why I need you, bro. So what do you say?” Clyde shook his head again, wanting no part of it. “Come on, man, we be in and out in eight minutes, eight fuckin' minutes, yo! You in or what?”

“No, Sonny, damn! If I wanted to get down with you, I'd say so. Stop pressuring me all the time with that shit.”

Sonny backed off and said, “All right, kid, I feel you.” Both stood by and watched a father and his three little sons on their way to the park to play basketball.

Clyde asked, “What if I don't make the deadline?”

Sonny turned toward him and gave him a glare that was undeniable. “Hell, we up in Harlem, baby boy. We got to get them niggas before they get us!”

Clyde knew exactly what he was now up against. Come up with the hundred and fifty thousand or participate in a massacre of an infamous Harlem gangster and his entire crew. He also sensed that Sonny would rather wipe out Black Sam. Clyde didn't like the odds and for the first time asked his brother for help. “Yo, Sonny, man”—Clyde fought with his pride—“you think if I come up a little short, you can front something to put towards this thing?”

Sonny responded coolly, “Bro, please, you think I got that kind of money?” Clyde suddenly wondered why he'd asked. “But, like I told you,” Sonny continued with enthusiasm, “we need a third gun on this bank job to pull it off. If you get down on this one with us, you'll have enough money to pay them niggas back and move out of Harlem with yo' sweet li'l girl and live sweet the rest of your life, kid.”

“Naa, I'll take my chances doing my thing,” Clyde said.

“All right, suit yourself. You got enough heat to handle your business?”

Clyde thought about the question. He'd tossed the shotgun in the murder and hadn't given much thought about needing weapons until now. “Naa, not really.”

Sonny looked at his younger brother and shook his head. He got into his SUV and said, “Yo, you better step up your game, son. You fuckin' around with your life, so you better take this shit serious.” He went to the back of the SUV and pulled out a green duffel bag from under the wheel well and handed it to Clyde.

Clyde knew exactly what it was. “How many hot ones are on them?” he asked.

Sonny seemed offended that Clyde had asked how many people he'd killed with the guns he was giving him. “None, nigga. Them shit are clean as a whistle. You think I would do that to you?”

“Yo, I'm just asking, all right? You was the one who taught me to always ask that shit.” Sonny felt a little proud. “Thanks,” Clyde said to him.

“Hold up, I got something else for you.” Sonny walked to the back-door seat and lifted the seat cushion. He told Clyde, “You gonna like this one.” He pulled out a brand-new shotgun and showed it to him for a second. He saw Clyde staring hungrily at it and smiled, then commented, “Yeah, I know your style, nigga, I was the one who taught you.” Then he dug deeper in the rear and pulled out two bulletproof vests and held them up,

“These those new shits, they can stop hollow points.” He slid them all into the bag, pushed the bag into Clyde's chest, and said, “You got enough heat to bring down Fort Knox, so you shouldn't have no problem coming with that short money if you do yo' shit right.”

Clyde sucked his teeth and said, “Short money, I gonna hafta put in work twenty-four seven to make them numbers. Fuck is you talkin' 'bout, Sonny?” Clyde hung his head down, and for the first time in his life he felt defeated.

Sonny leaned against his SUV and said, “You got options, my nigga. So whenever you want to stop fucking around with this chump change and make this real money, get at me, 'cause this job is going down soon.”

Damn,
Clyde thought, he ain't never seen Sonny this persistent about a job before. “You know my answer,” he said.

“All right, All right,” Sonny said, throwing his arms in the air. “Do you.”

Clyde turned and was walking back toward the house when he heard Sonny call him.

“And yo—”

Clyde turned and gave him the evil eye.

“Don't forget to bring out the jewelry so I can drop it off. I'll drop 'em off tomorrow, and that'll give you an extra day.”

Clyde continued toward the house.

Clyde felt a chill run through his body as he walked across the street to give Sonny Sugar Bear's jewelry. Though he'd never admitted to Sonny that he participated in the slaying, handing him the jewelry would be confirmation enough. Clyde knew Sonny would give him an “I always knew you were just like me” look, so he just threw the bag of jewelry in Sonny's lap as he sat in his SUV and walked away without saying a word.

As Clyde crossed the street, he heard his brother's mocking voice scream, “Oh yeah, one more thing, killer!” Clyde turned around to Sonny's sarcastic smile. “Don't forget, next Sunday we going to see Mama, so be ready!”

Chapter 15
_______________

Keyshia met him at the door and said, “What's up, Clyde, what did he say?”

Clyde slung the duffel bag off his shoulder and laid it on their bed. “Said I have two weeks to come up with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

Keyshia gasped as terror lines filled her face. “A hundred and fifty thousand in two weeks!” she yelled.

Clyde nodded and said as he rubbed his face, “Yep, two weeks.”

“Clyde, how do they expect you to come up with that kind of money in two weeks?” she said, both angry and fearful.

Clyde shook his head. “I don't know, they just do.”

Keyshia paused and looked at him with her arms folded. “Clyde, are you sure about this? You sure you can trust what your brother say about this?”

Clyde assured her, “One thing about Sonny, when some shit like this go down with anybody in the family, he don't play—especially when it comes to me or Ceasar.” Keyshia shifted her weight to her other leg and listened as Clyde explained, “When we was coming up, me and Ceasar never once had a fight with other boys on our block because either Sonny jumped in and fought for us or the other boys refused to fight us because they knew who our brother was and got scared. Sonny didn't play that shit. It's like he's unable to see any of us hurt in any kind of way, it's crazy. Sonny loved fighting. I mean, he loved it. It was like when he was fighting somebody he came to life or something, you could see it in his eyes. One time, Ceasar's gym teacher made a joke about his shorts being too tight or something and all the students in the gym started laughing at him. Ceasar came home crying his heart out. Sonny was so angry that he ran all the way to Ceasar's school to defend his older brother's honor and went to fight the teacher. He stopped the teacher just as he was leaving school and asked him why he made a comment to his brother Ceasar Barker. The teacher laughed, dismissing Sonny, and walked away. Sonny pulled out a kitchen knife and started stabbing the gym teacher everywhere. Sonny was only eleven years old at the time.”

Keyshia was stunned. “Damn, eleven!”

“Yeah, don't fuck with his family. I'm surprised Sonny ain't do nothing to Black Sam and them already, because he killed niggas for much less, I seen him.”

Keyshia pleaded, “Then let's just take the money that we have left and move out of Harlem for good, at least we be safe.”

Clyde looked at Keyshia, who had a hopeful look on her face, and debated whether he should tell her everything. “Your aunt lives on a Hundred Twenty-second and Second Avenue, in the Wagner projects?”

Keyshia was surprised. “Yeah, how'd you know?”

Clyde looked her in the eye and said, “Black Sam's people was waiting there for you for three days.”

Shocked, Keyshia sat down. Clyde quickly assured her, “Don't worry, Sonny made sure they won't come after you no more.”

“What about my aunt, and my li'l cousins?” she asked, panicked.

“They didn't bother them, they just wanted you.” Keyshia was relieved. Clyde continued, “They also said if we don't come up with the money, they . . .” He grew silent, then said, “They said they was gonna execute your entire family.” Seeing how distressed Keyshia was, Clyde said, “Don't worry 'bout nothing. We gonna come up with the money and pay them off, and that will be that, trust me.”

Keyshia remained in a daze, and after a few moments she looked at Clyde with fire in her eyes. “Okay, okay, we just have to do this, baby. We just got to figure a way out of this shit.”

Clyde picked up the duffel bag and emptied it out on the bed, and about eight large-caliber handguns, a shotgun, and box after box of ammo fell out. Keyshia was in awe at all the guns and picked one up slowly and handled it as if it were a venomous snake. The weapon seemed longer than her entire arm as she aimed it and smiled at Clyde, then asked, “When do we get a chance to test these babies out?”

Clyde looked at her in amazement.

Keyshia and Clyde hopped out of a cab on 118th Street between Eighth and Manhattan that afternoon. Pops smiled as his young protégé exited the cab with a duffel bag dangling from his shoulder and a girl at his side.

“Hey, Pops!” yelled Clyde, genuinely happy to see him.

“What's up, Rocco?” Pops said with a wide, toothless smile.

Clyde bent down to hug Pops. They pulled apart, and Pops turned his attention to the girl at Clyde's side. “Pops, I want you to meet my girl, Keyshia,” Clyde said with a huge smile.

Pops turned on the charm and gripped her hand softly and kissed it. “Why, my, my, my, Rocco. What is this beautiful, charming young lady doing with an ugly big-headed boy like you?” He looked at Keyshia with a dirty old man stare and said, “Hey, beautiful, what do you say you toss this one aside and get with a handsome teenage boy like me?” Keyshia blushed, and Pops laughed so loud that he began to choke on his cigar. He patted Clyde on the back and said, “Come on in, come on in.”

Inside Pops offered them some sodas and hot peanuts. After they short talked for a while, Clyde and Pops went into the back to talk privately. Clyde said, “Listen, Pops, I got myself in some trouble and I need a favor.”

Pops frowned but listened in silence to every word that Clyde said as Clyde told him the whole story. After he'd finished, Pops asked, “So tell me, Rocco, what can I do to help you?”

Clyde smiled and said, “Well, I remember you telling me you used to go down into the basement and practice shooting your pistol in case a nigga ever got out of hand.”

Pops nodded proudly. “Still can shoot a peanut off a rat's ass if I wanted to. This building was built in the 1800s; you can shoot an atom bomb down there and nobody would hear nothing on the outside.” He looked at Clyde suspiciously. “Why, you got a bomb in that bag or something?”

Clyde smiled. “Naa, nothing that big, but I got some shit for a nigga's ass if they want it. I got to show old girl how to handle these big babies.”

Pops's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as he asked if he could see inside. Clyde opened up the bag, and Pops looked in and nodded. “Okay, okay, not bad, not bad.” He hobbled over to the wall and retrieved a key. “Take that stairway in the back to the basement. Be careful of them stairs, they old, okay?”

Clyde nodded, and before he walked off, Pops added in a whisper, “I don't know where you meet that li'l girl at, but I can tell she love you and would fight tooth and nail for you, even kill for you.”

Clyde stared at Pops and wondered how he knew that. Seeing the questioning look in Clyde's eyes, Pops said with a wink and a nod, “Body language, boy, I can see it in her eyes.”

The basement was old, dark, and dank. If it weren't for Clyde guiding Keyshia down and through it, she would never have made it. Clyde had to turn on each lightbulb individually as they hung precariously throughout the basement. When they finally made it to the rear of the long basement, Clyde turned on a final lightbulb and Keyshia saw hundreds of green sandbags stacked to the ceiling against the far wall. Clyde brought a sawdust-ridden table over to Keyshia. He found an old piece of cloth and began wiping dust off the table. After he'd finished, he picked up the duffel bag and pulled out each and every weapon and laid them all out on the table. He pulled out three boxes of ammunition and took the cover off each one.

“Okay, you ready to get down?”

Keyshia chuckled, a little overwhelmed as she stared at all the black and deadly weapons laid out before her. “Yeah, I, I, guess so.”

Clyde lifted up one of them and pulled out the clip. “This here is a Glock nine-millimeter. It holds seventeen bullets in the clip and one in the chamber.” He held up the clip in front of her and slid back the chamber. Then he put the clip back in the weapon and showed her the safety.

“This here is called the safety. Now this is very important to remember.” Putting it close to her face, he continued, “If you switch it to the red dot, that means it's ready to fire. If it's on the blue dot, it's on safety. You got it?”

Keyshia nodded and repeated, “Red, fire, blue, safe.”

Clyde nodded and smiled at her. “All right,” he said, “just put it in your hand to feel the weight for now and pull the trigger.”

He handed it to Keyshia, who was amazed at the lightness of the huge gun and said, “Oh, shoot,” holding it with both hands and waving it around.

Clyde immediately said with a smile, “Rule number one: Never point the weapon at your partner!”

Keyshia let out a goofy laugh and said innocently, “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, baby, you learning,” Clyde said reassuringly. Keyshia pointed the weapon unsteadily at the sandbags and aimed. Clyde wrapped his arms around her, steadied the weapon in her hands, and said, “Always aim low or at the center of the body.” She followed his instructions. “That's right, baby, never aim at the head, always low and centered to their body. That way you have a better chance of hitting something.” Keyshia aimed at her target, and “click.” They both smiled.

“All right,” Clyde said. “It's time for the real thing.” He pulled out bullet after bullet and placed them inside the long clip. He showed her how to load her clip until she could fill her own.

“Always respect your weapon and it will respect you,” Clyde preached. “Never take for granted that your gun is empty.” Keyshia hung on every word he was saying. “That's how most shooting accidents happen, someone assumes that the gun is empty. Always clear your weapon by cocking it several times like this.” He then gripped the upper rear part of the weapon and pulled back several times and said, “See, it's all clear.” She nodded. She looked at Clyde the way a kindergartner looks toward her teacher for guidance.

“All right,” Clyde asked, “are you ready?” Excitement in her eyes, she nodded. He nodded back and said, “Okay, its gonna be loud and have a nice little jolt to it, so be prepared, okay?” She nodded again.

“I'll go first.” Clyde lifted his arm and aimed at the wall of sandbags and fired ten steady bursts from the weapon. When he finished he looked at Keyshia, who was clearly eager.

“What you think?” he asked.

“Loud,” she answered.

“Yeah, you ready?” She nodded, more excited now. “Get down, then,” Clyde said as he moved behind her. Keyshia raised the weapon and closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. Nothing. She opened her eyes and Clyde said simply, “Safety switch?”

Keyshia smiled and switched the safety and said, “Red, fire, blue, safe.”

Once again, Clyde stepped behind her and said, “Remember, keep squeezing the trigger.” He showed her with his finger. “Bap, bap, bap! Okay, get down, baby.” Keyshia flipped off the safety, raised the weapon, and pulled the trigger.
Bap, bap, bap, bap, bap, bap . . .
Clyde watched the sandbags twist and turn as sand leaked rapidly out of the bags. Keyshia continued to squeeze the trigger until the gun was empty and smoking!

“Goddizam!” Clyde exclaimed as he stared at Keyshia with utter surprise. “I thought you said you never shot a gun before?”

Equally amazed, Keyshia finally opened her eyes and watched the smoke rise from the gun, then saw the leakage of the sandbags, then smelled the acrid gunpowder. She suddenly felt invincible.

“Goddamn!” she cried as adrenaline coursed through her body. She looked at Clyde and asked, “Can I do it again?”

Clyde nodded, and they both rushed to the other guns, loaded them, and began blazing and bucking off rounds for the next hour. All the guns were broken in except for the massive shotgun left on the table. Keyshia looked at Clyde mischievously.

“Oh hell, no. Don't even think about it!” Clyde said with a smile. “That shit there ain't for no li'l girl.”

Keyshia continued to approach, staring into his eyes all the while. “I ain't no li'l girl no more. I want to shoot it!” she said as she locked him in a corner.

“Hell no, Keysh, that shit will knock you on your ass!” Clyde's back was now against the wall. “You don't need to fuck with that bitch, you already—” Keyshia started kissing Clyde's neck. “No, don't do that, baby!” he began to plead.

“Let me shoot,” Keyshia said in a low, sexy tone.

“You might get hurt,” said Clyde as his voice became weak.

“I'll hurt you, then. Give me some!”

They started kissing and hugging when Clyde suddenly broke free and relented, “Okay!”

Keyshia smiled.

Clyde wondered if he would ever be able to tell her no. Keyshia watched carefully as Clyde filled up the shotgun casing with rounds. He looked at her and said seriously, “This bitch here ain't nothing like the nines, this shit got kick to it.” He pumped the shotgun and said, “Hold your ears,” and then the shotgun roared,
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Clyde's whole body jerked violently from each pull of the trigger. After he finished he yelled at the weapon in his hand, “Goddizam! Fuck!” He admired the powerful weapon for a few moments longer and then looked at Keyshia. “You sure you ready for this shit?”

A little intimidated, but still willing, she nodded. Clyde gave her the shotgun, and she was shocked by the weight of it. She looked at Clyde, who was still amped up, and he nodded.

“You can do it, baby, plant your legs firm, hold it real tight between your arms, and pull that shit!”

Keyshia nodded quickly and took a deep, deep breath. Adrenaline started flooding her bloodstream, then suddenly she gave a bloodcurdling yell and pulled the trigger, and,
BOOM!
roared the mighty weapon, nearly causing her to fly into the wall.

“Goddizam!” she repeated as she stared at the shotgun in her hand.

She looked at Clyde, who was smiling wickedly. He said, “Squeeze that shit, baby, squeeze that shit!”

Keyshia obliged as she took aim and squeezed off round after round and didn't stop till she was out of ammo. Her mouth was open as if she had just run a hundred-yard dash.