Read No Home Training Online

Authors: Ms. Michel Moore

No Home Training (12 page)

BOOK: No Home Training
4.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Chapter 18
No More Games
At exactly five-forty Storm backed out his driveway and decided to get a full tank of gas. He thought it would be in his best interest to drive around for a little while before meeting with the new connect to ensure that he wasn't being followed by Marco's psychopathic-ass or the damn authorities. Double checking his surroundings as he left the service station, he drove east to west, then west to south, south back to east, and finally east to north. Feeling confident that he wasn't being tailed Storm took off heading for the designated spot not wanting to be a second late.
After Storm left, Kenya started thinking about her situation and was tired of feeling sorry for herself and deliberately secluding herself up in her bedroom like she had done something wrong. Even though she felt that the tranquil environment of her home was being invaded by, O.T. and London's backstabbing presence, Kenya was going to force herself to go on about her daily routine the best she could, which today meant washing several full loads of laundry that had piled up over the past few weeks.
Staying down in the basement until it was time to add fabric softener in the machine Kenya carried the empty basket up the stairs coming back in the kitchen.
“Hi, Kenya.” London startled her sister. “I thought you were still in your room because I saw the door shut.”
“Ump.” Kenya hardly acknowledged her twin's words or her huge stomach as she opened the refrigerator taking out a couple of steaks to cook for her and Storm's dinner.
London was trying her best to bite her tongue and keep the peace, but she couldn't do it. “Kenya, listen to me. I know you're mad at me and can't understand how I feel, but after I was raped I thought I'd never be able to have a child. So when this happened, what else could I do?” London rubbed her belly. “This might be the only chance I get to have a baby. Besides I love my son already.”
“Look, London!” Kenya planted her hands firmly on her hips as she started to degrade her sister. “We both know from day one you always been jealous of me because you were the fucked-up, ‘no nigga paying you no attention,' ugly-ass twin, but that's not my fault!”
“Ugly?” London stood back shocked that her twin could be so cruel and decided to give her a strong dose of her own medicine. “If you haven't looked in a mirror lately we still look as identical as we were the day we were born, of course with the small exception of your man's baby growing inside of me!”
“What in the fuck did you say?” Kenya eyes were on the verge of popping out her head.
“You heard me!” London rubbed her stomach and wasn't going to let Kenya get away with trying to humiliate her any longer. “I said your man's baby!”
Pregnant or not that was the straw that broke the camel's back. She couldn't take the bullshit Storm was asking her to deal with anymore. Kenya raised her hand up in the air smacking London across the jaw with every inch of strength she could gather knocking the expectant mother into the side of the stainless steel refrigerator.
“Bitch! You got me all fucked up!” Kenya showed no outward signs of remorse for what she'd just done as she yelled at London who was clutching her stomach seeming to be in excruciating pain. “You lucky I don't kick that fucking kid out ya guts! I let you stay at my damn house and you lie down and give up the pussy like a ho!”
“Kenya, please! Something's wrong,” London begged as her sister left the kitchen stomping up the front stairs then slamming her bedroom door shut.
O.T.
Having explained how he felt, O.T. looked at Paris who was still in a zombie zone, spaced the hell out of her rabbit. Not one time in the twenty-five minutes he'd been there in her room had she even wiggled her finger or turned her head. The few times she blinked her eyes they seemed to have been made of glass, like she was a cheap dime store doll.
“Listen, Paris, stuff with us wasn't always bad. We had some hella good times and you was always a trooper with your shit,” O.T. continued with his one sided conversation. “I guess I should've just told you what was up with me and Chocolate Bunny instead of letting you just think it was whatever.”
With his head down in his hands O.T.'s cell phone rang showing the condo house number on the caller ID. “Yeah, hello.”
“Hey it's me,” London moaned as the cordless phone beeped signaling it was going dead. “I need you to come home. I think something is wrong with the baby. I'm in so much pain!”
“Sit tight. I'm on my way!” he begged her. “Just relax. I'll be there!”
“Okay, I'll try.” She dropped the phone to the kitchen floor as a strong, flowing gush of water poured out from in between her legs. “Oh my God!”
Not even bothering to say good-bye, O.T. ended his first and probably last visit to Paris by bolting out the room and running out to his car. As he sped away from the parking lot he failed to notice that he had extra company. Now instead of just the undercover police following him another car was hot on his trail.
Confusion . . .
“Kenya! Kenya!” London doubled over screaming out to her sister from the bottom of the stairs. “Please help me, please, Kenya!”
Why don't that stupid wannabe me bitch shut the hell up with all that fake crying! Ain't shit wrong with her!
“Argggh. Kenya, I need you! My water just broke and I'm having sharp pains all in my sides. Please come down here, I think it's time!”
This ho really think I'm playing with her! She right it is time! Time I threw her no
-
good-ass out my fucking house and take back my life that she trying to steal!
Kenya continued to pace her bedroom floor as she thought of her next move.
As the labor pains intensified London continued to call out to her sister several more times still getting no response. “Kenya! Kenya! How can you do this? We family! This baby is your nephew! Please help me!” She held on to the wall as she tried to make it to the couch and lie down until O.T. got there to take her to the hospital.
Tired of hearing all the noise her twin kept making, trying to be the center of attention in once what was her private domain, Kenya flung the door of her bedroom open and furiously marched to London's room.
That's it! Bottom line! I'm about to throw her shit in the street and let the landscaping crew out in front get this cheap bullshit for they wives or girlfriends.
Snatching her sister's belongings out the closet that were still on the hanger, then taking her arm clearing everything off the dresser in one motion, including a brass framed picture of the two of them on graduation day, onto the floor, Kenya grabbed the blanket off the bed to wrap all London's property inside of it with the intention of dragging the entire load to the curb. Before completing what she came to do, the irate Kenya spotted an envelope that had Storm's government name on it. “Tony Christian,” she read his name loudly. “What the fuck?”
Kenya tapped her foot angrily as she folded back the flap and pulled out a thick set of papers that were obviously from a lawyer. Taking a quick scan of the twisted legal terms that were throughout the document, they were not a deterrent, as Kenya was fast becoming aware of what the papers she was holding in her trembling hands meant. “That motherfucking lying son of a crackhead whore! That nigga ain't shit! No more lies, huh!” she shrieked out as she looked at the date that was next to Storm's signature. “No wonder yesterday he came all up in this bitch acting like shit was all smiles and fucking handshakes! And that backstabbing slut downstairs want me to feel sorry for her! Yeah, right!”
With papers in hand Kenya stomped back into her room to grab her cell phone off the nightstand. In a matter of seconds Storm was on the line.
“Hey, baby,” he answered not realizing the mess had hit the fan.
“Fuck you, nigga!” Kenya roared. “How you gonna just keep playing me like I ain't shit?”
“What is you talking about now?” Storm looked at his watch seeing it was nearing seven as he waited to hear what drama Kenya was bringing to the table this time.
“Don't play dumb!” she started in. “You didn't think I was gonna find out about what you did yesterday?”
“What in the hell is you talking about, Kenya? I don't have time for no nonsense right now!”
“Yeah, I know. It's evident you don't have time for me and how I feel! You about to get your pockets the fuck off craps because I thought you loved me and was down for me, but I guess when the shit really floats to the surface, your only interest is looking out for my whining-ass sister and that no-good, hope it's born retarded with one leg and three eyes in the back of his head bastard of yours!”
Storm was pissed off. “Shut your mouth wishing that bad luck on my son! Is you crazy or what?”
“Oh dang! My bad! I guess I should just fall back and keep my mouth shut while you set up a trust fund for that baby and worst of all two different life insurance policies naming London as the beneficiary!”
Storm sat quietly now knowing exactly what in the hell was fueling Kenya's heated rage. “Listen.” He tried to finally offer some sort of an excuse, but couldn't justify it. He had told one too many lies and covered up one too many things to offer any kind of an explanation in the way of making things right with him and his girl.
“Me and you is done dealing! After I kick that grimy home wrecker out you can come and get your shit too!”
“Oh, it's like that?” Storm noticed a strange car pulling up on the other side of the abandoned factory warehouse that had to be the connect so he couldn't argue.
“It's just like that!” Kenya cried before flipping her cell closed heading down the hallway to the stairs with the notarized papers in her hands to confront London with her part in the malicious deception. Only making it three small steps down, Kenya was stopped dead in her tracks by the loud booming sounds of a barrage of gunshots that seemed to be as close as her front yard.
O.T.
Running through red lights disobeying every law on the books in pursuit of getting to a distressed London as soon as possible, O.T. pressed the accelerator damn near to the floor of his car. Relentlessly pushing redial on his cell phone in attempts to reach London or at least Kenya, he received nothing but a busy signal. From the drastic tone in London's voice, O.T. realized that this wasn't a false alarm or no fucking practice run. This shit was real and it must be truly time for her to deliver.
He didn't know what had changed him or his selfish way of thinking over the past few months, but whatever it was he knew he had to be there for London and the baby. Driving down the final stretch of road before turning into his brother's semi-gated community O.T. got a glimpse of a car that seemed to be following him, but considering what was going on at the condo he couldn't care less about the ho-ass police stopping him for violating a couple of traffic laws. As far as O.T. was concerned they could provide him and London with a special VIP police escort to the hospital if they wanted to.
Police
“Malloy, do you hear me?” the undercover officer panicked. “Do you copy?”
“Yeah, I copy. Go ahead.”
“Hey, Malloy, it seems like you were right. Something is definitely happening out at the Christian residence. The younger brother left from the mental hospital doing a hundred miles an hour and is almost back at his brother's house I think. I don't know what's going on but I might need backup. I think Marco Meriwether is driving a vehicle at least three cars behind me.” The officer pulled over at his regular stakeout position awaiting further instructions.
“What?” Malloy fired back. “I didn't hear you correctly. Did you say Marco Meriwether?”
“Yeah, he's got a hood on his head, but I can see a lot of his braids sticking out!” he noticed as the driver sped pass him and was now directly behind O.T. who was turning onto his block.
“That's impossible!” Malloy puzzled, thinking his officer needed some rest from the long shifts he'd been working.
Face 2 Face . . .
Turning onto the block O.T. had to slow his car down to avoid colliding with the massive convoy of Mexican workers, huge trailers, lawn mowers, blowers, and dumpsters that lined the road. Having no choice but to park several doors down, O.T. jumped out his ride, which was packed with bags containing stuff for the baby, and started jogging over toward the condo.
“Hey, you coward-ass motherfucker!” The hooded driver of the other car swerved up near the curb, getting out with gun in hand.
O.T. froze, shocked that this Negro was so brazen to come to where he laid his head to try to get ignorant and then be ballsy enough to point a gun at him. “Have you lost your fucking mind? I ought to—”
“Ought to what? Shut the fuck up and be a man?”
O.T. laughed. “Come the hell on, what in the fuck do you know about being a man? Matter of fact get the fuck on. I got business to take care of inside and I ain't got time for this mess!”
“You and ya fake-ass brother think y'all can go around ruining people's lives thinking it ain't no consequences to the bullshit, but trust when I tell you it fucking is!”
“Listen, you piece of shit!” O.T. boldly shouted. “If I'm supposed to be scared because you got a gun then you wrong. Now if you gonna do something then pretend you man enough to do it or beat it! But just know I'm gonna hunt ya black-ass down until the day I die for coming out here to my brother's crib!”
“Who in the hell you think you is, Superman?”
“Fuck you with ya bitch-ass!” O.T. spat on the front grass turning around to head for the condo door.
Hearing him making threats acting as if he was untouchable and above getting got, the trigger was pulled and the blazing sound of eight loud gunshots filled the air. Taking cover behind trucks and garbage cans, bystanders witnessed O.T.'s body jerk, absorbing bullet after bullet before hitting the ground.
BOOK: No Home Training
4.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Reverb by Lisa Swallow
The Multiple Man by Ben Bova
One Plus One: A Novel by Jojo Moyes
Chaos Burning by Lauren Dane
Dead By Midnight by Hart, Carolyn
Steadfast Heart by Tracie Peterson
Salute the Toff by John Creasey
Pasta, Risotto, and Rice by Robin Miller