No Home Training (5 page)

On cue, with his arms folded still wanting to battle with Marco, Boz answered earning his $5,000 payday. “She was here Sunday night waiting for a tow truck when we locked up.”

“Oh.” Royce was sad there was no other updated news.

“Yeah, I guess she got into it with some of the other girls and one of them sliced her tires.” Boz shrugged his shoulders as he walked away to frisk two men dressed in dark blue suits and freshly polished shoes.

“Well, can we at least come in and see if she shows up tonight?”

“Come on, Royce. You know Kenya in there and she be tripping.”

“I feel you, but I don't want no trouble.” Royce pulled Storm to the side. “I don't know if you know, but Nicole is carrying my baby and I'm worried.”

Storm instantly thought about London who was back at the hotel room pregnant with his child, and felt for Royce. “Let me go holler at Kenya and smooth things out and I'll be right back.”

Finally convincing her that it would be better to monitor Royce's thought process letting him back inside Alley Cats and lifting the ban, Kenya agreed. As Royce, Marco, and their boy approached the bar to order a couple of bottles of Moët they stopped, strangely enough, standing on the very spot Chocolate Bunny took her last breath. Kenya needed another drink and quick!

Time ticked by and most of the crowd had trickled out when O.T. arrived. He was buzzed and feeling good bobbing his head to the music as he moved smoothly up behind one of the dancers whispering in her ear. Doing Kenya's regular job, Storm was going from table to table making sure that the remaining customers were enjoying themselves and getting all their needs catered to. As soon as he spotted O.T. practically dragging the young newly hired dancer up to his usual table he tried to run interference. Royce and his crew were already seated in VIP and Storm wanted to make sure his sometimes off-the-hook brother stuck to the planned script. But as fate would have it that night another fight broke out in the club distracting his attention.

“Well, I'll be damned! Look what the cat done dragged in this motherfucker!” O.T. yelled wrapping his arms around the girl.

“O.T.,” Royce acknowledged him as a toothpick hung out the corner of his mouth. “Where you been?”

“What you mean where I been?” a drunken O.T. slurred. “I don't work for you!”

“Who said you did?” Royce questioned not trying to make a scene.

“Then what's with the third degree interrogation and shit?” O.T. let the female go back down the stairs as he leered at Royce and his boys. “A nigga just got in this bitch! Let a brother get a drink or something!”

“My mistake.” Royce backed down much to an infuriated Marco's dislike who got up and went to the bathroom. “I was trying to get up with you all day yesterday.”

“Yeah, I know.” O.T. had the waitress bring him a shot of Remy off the tray she was carrying and downed it. “I slid through there, but you was out,” he announced with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, I heard.” Royce doubted O.T. knew his ambitious protégé, Marco, had repeated his insults so he waited to see how the rest of the night played out.

“Damn! I gotta take a leak.” O.T. grabbed on his manhood. “When I get back we can kick it about a little bit of business.”

Royce watched O.T. like a hawk across the club. Seeing him briefly talk to his brother then Marco who was just coming out the bathroom as he was going in, the old man felt deep down in his old bones a conspiracy was going on. As he finished off his last drink for the evening he anxiously waited for Marco's return to the table so he could grill him on what exactly he and O.T. had just spoken about. Arriving at the booth, Marco wasted no time filling his bosses head with another gang of lies.

“Yeah, boss, he asked me was I ready to get on his team yet.”

Royce leaned back in the booth remaining calm, cool, and collected as he studied O.T. the rest of the night. Even though he said he was coming right back to holler at him about some business, O.T. spent the rest of the evening talking with his brother and Kenya, who hadn't moved off the barstool all evening. When it was thirty minutes before closing time, Royce sadly came to the conclusion Chocolate Bunny wasn't gonna show up and decided to leave. Marco led the way as Royce and their homeboy followed.

“Y'all gone?” Storm nodded. “How was everything?”

“The service was good all except for that rotten dead snake smell in here.”

“What in the fuck you talking about, guy?” Storm was at the end of his rope being friendly.

“O.T.!” Royce threw the ball back in Storm's court. “I thought he was a man of honor, but I see he takes after his older brother!”

Catching a “no more Mr. Nice Guy” attitude, Storm took his game off safety letting loose on Royce so the entire club could hear. “Listen, motherfucker. I let you come up in my place of business because I felt sorry for you and you have the balls to insult me?”

“Well I—” Royce wanted to reconsider his statement but it was too late for all that.

“Nigga, here's five dollars so you can buy a clue! Better yet, take ten!” Storm reached in his pocket peeling the money off his knot throwing it in Royce's face. “Nicole's slut-ass ain't want you! She wanted what she always wanted some dick and some dough! Some nigga probably banging that now! And you running all behind her acting a straight bitch! Be a man!”

“She'll be back!” Royce proclaimed beating his fist on his frail chest. “That girl loves me!”

“Yeah, you right, after the other trick's cash flow runs low. But I feel you, old timer! Chocolate Bunny do got some good pussy don't she?” Storm yanked on his dick laughing as his brother and Boz shook their heads in agreement. “I wouldn't mind some more of that fat cat my damn self!”

“All that's over! She having my baby!”

“Yeah, I heard!” Storm was amused. “I just hope you get a blood test, but then again, you don't have to take me and my boy's advice about your whore's fuck game, you can ask ya crew standing over there.” He motioned to the side. “They both done tapped that monkey too! Ain't that right, fellas?”

Marco and his boy chose to say nothing to deny Storm's words. How could they? Every guy in town who had a dick that got hard had banged that ho and neither of them were any different. Now worried about being out of a job they lowered their heads following a pathetic and embarrassed Royce who turned around quickly rushing out the club's door. Marco made up his mind that Royce wasn't fit to run their crew or even his damn mouth.

“Y'all come back now ya hear!” O.T. stepped in the parking lot further humiliating the trio.

“You and your brother can consider all our business dealings over!” Royce vowed shaking his old finger in the air. “This is war!”

“Nigga, please!” Storm laughed out loud as he joined his brother standing by his side. “You just figuring that bullshit out?” The battle lines were now definitely drawn and Storm and O.T. came back inside the front door. Before going to the bar to have a toast to the old man's soon-to-be retirement from the game they passed by the same two customers dressed in dark blue suits who had come in earlier right behind Royce and his people. “I hope you guys had a good time.” Storm still was playing the part of host. “And sorry about all the wild commotion.”

“Don't worry about it,” one of the guys answered with a weird smirk. “Shit happens!”

“Well, fellas, I tell you what. The next time y'all fall through, the drinks are on me!” Storm placed his hand on their shoulders. “I'll make sure y'all both get the VIP treatment with some of our hottest dancers.”

“Don't worry, we'll definitely be back.” The other spoke heading out to the parking lot getting into their car. “You can count on it!”

After starting up the engine the two guys shook their heads. “Can you believe all that madness that just went down in there?” Malloy rubbed his hands together. “That joint ain't nothing but a crime scene waiting to happen. Hell, we could've made a few arrests for solicitation the first hour we were there!”

“You ain't never lied!” Kendrick smiled at his partner as they left the lot. “But from the looks of things, we got bigger fish to fry. It's about to be an all-out war!”

“Yeah, and when it's over and the dust settles, we'll be right there to lock the damn winners up for a very, very long time!”

One and a half months past and the dreaded drug dispute war was in total full swing. Different crews who weren't necessarily in cahoots with Royce or Storm were now feeling the heat. A special tactics police unit was formed to deal with the drastic extreme spike in the homicide rate as well as home invasions, multiple car jackings, and any narcotic-related crimes. With added pressure of security checks at airports, bus terminals, and the train stations, transporting and smuggling narcotics was difficult if not impossible.

But where there's a will there's always a way. Shit, you can never hold the black man down! They always make do. It's in their nature to be warriors! Now when a small-time dealer was lucky enough to mess around and score himself a semi-strong package, he'd cut it with every chemical, poisonous or not, that he could scrape up. He'd stretch the package as far as he could and still make the sale to the street zombies who were beating down his door.

Unfortunately left and right, dopefiends searching for that ultimate high were getting more than they bargained for. As the throwaway population took what they could get for a small fee, they paid a bigger price in the long run. Some would wake up from the near fatal blast, but most didn't. The county morgue was being overrun daily with John Does. They were the first casualties of Royce and Storm's ongoing beef.

Javier, the connect, sent several stern messages that he was not at all pleased he could no longer count on the constant revenue that Royce was sending him monthly. Because of the persistent war, his overseas shipments had been cut in half. It had gotten far too risky and no one wanted to be financially responsible for the drugs being seized and confiscated. The last half of a bird Royce was holding on to in case of a drought, he broke all the way down and was rationing out.

Most of his once well-paid soldiers had given up starving to prove a point and were now flipping burgers at McDonald's to make ends meet.

Storm on the other hand was almost 100 percent out of product. Every heavy hitter source the brothers knew was either locked up or out the game all together. After scheming with O.T. for weeks trying to find another good, strong, constant, and reliable connect they came up with only one solution. Storm didn't want it to come to that, but it had reached the point that they were all living off the profits made from Alley Cats. When he finally swallowed his pride and went to a still furious Kenya with the idea she went bananas.

“Why should I help you?”

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Well shit! Let's keep it boogie!” Kenya looked up from the book she was reading. “I can think of about two good reasons why the hell not!”

“What you want me to do, Kenya? I done apologized a million damn times! I can't go back and undo the bullshit!” He finished buttoning up his shirt.

“Yeah, I know.” She bent the book all the way open waving it in the air close to Storm's face so he could see the orange cover. “It's like the title of this book say, knowledge costs! And I guess a bitch like me done had to cash all the way out to learn that crap!”

Storm checked his pistol making sure it was on safety before he stuck it in his waistband. “Man, you need to stop reading all them fucking hood books you buy! They ain't doing shit but putting that troublemaking Oprah, Lifetime movie, ‘fuck ya man' mentality in your brain!”

“Naw, you put them thoughts in my brain by getting my sister knocked up! Then you begged her to stay and have your stankin' illegitimate bastard, so do what you do!”

“First all, I don't beg nobody. I ask,” Storm insisted.

“Same thing!” She rolled her eyes.

“Kenya, you and me both grew up without our fathers in our lives and I don't wish that on no child. Damn! Be reasonable!”

“You done made your decision, so leave me alone! Can't you see I'm busy?”

“Look, I'm going to meet up with O.T.” Storm was tired of the arguing they went through daily. “Just think about making that call. It's the only thing we can do!”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won't! But don't hold your breath!”

Kenya then curled up in the corner of the couch engaging herself back in her book as Storm left out the door. As she read page after page of the fast-paced hood book as Storm spitefully labeled it, she wished she had as much conniving hatred rooted in her sprit as the main character in the novel, Zaria, held. If Kenya did, Storm's days would've been numbered and London's too, sister or no sister, twin or not!

The next day when she went to visit Paris in the mental hospital they had placed her in, she would have to tell her the nerve that Storm had coming to her with his problems. The fact that he was paying all the bills and providing the food didn't matter. The fact that he covered up a murder for her didn't matter. And the fact that he tried everything in his power to make up for his mistake still didn't matter. Nothing did. Kenya was on the verge of giving up. At any given moment in time she could pick up, pack her shit, and get the fuck on. She ain't have shit else to lose.

Whether or not she really decided to make such a drastic move, she knew she'd have to make that decision ultimately on her own with no help from Paris, who was fully conscious, but hadn't muttered a word since the night she tried committing suicide. The one-sided visits would consist of Kenya telling Paris all her troubles and Paris never reacting. Night after night Kenya prayed that the next time Tangy called her collect from prison she would have some encouraging news about her little cousin's condition and mental state of mind.

Across town, O.T. was getting out the shower. Brushing his teeth and throwing on a pair of track pants, he went out into the living area of the hotel he and London were still sharing and lay back on the couch. “London!”

“Yeah, I'm ready. I was just ordering the pizza.”

“All right bet. Did you get extra cheese?” O.T. grabbed the television remote switching it on to the Movie Channel.

“Yeah, how can I forget especially after the way you clowned last week?” Robe clad, she sat down in the chair putting her feet up on the stool for him to rub. “They said it'll be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

“Okay cool.” He massaged her right foot.

Since the night Royce and Storm threw down the gauntlet declaring war, O.T. had been sticking close to London making sure no harm came to her or the baby. His big brother had asked him to do him that huge favor and he finally after coaxing agreed. Now he and London were just about as thick as thieves realizing how much stuff the really had in common. From watching old black-and-white movies to playing chess all night, they slowly created a bond and a regular routine that made Storm jealous.

Late in the evening after one of Kenya and Storm's famous knock-down drag-out arguments, Storm showed up telling London he wanted her to stay in Dallas so he could be a permanent part of his child's life. When Kenya found out what he'd done she was livid and wanted blood. But London was overjoyed that her baby would have a father in his or her life, even if that father was her sister's man. Now whenever he'd drop by, which was mostly unannounced, he would find her and his now possessive brother behaving as if they were the ones having a child.

Knock, knock, knock.

“That must be the food.”

“Yeah, London, you right so go get the door.”

“Boy, you crazy!”

“All right.” O.T. jokingly pushed her feet. “You need to get ya lazy-ass up and get some exercise.”

Taking his gun out the drawer just in case, he peered through the hole in the door. “Damn, nigga!”

“Damn, nigga, what?” Storm gave his brother a stupid look as he brushed passed him no sooner than the door opened. “Did you forget we were supposed to make that run?”

“Awww shit.” O.T.rubbed his empty stomach.

“What's wrong, O.T.? Did they forget the extra cheese?”

Storm heard London yell out to his brother and tried to play off his envious disposition. “Hey.” Storm walked into the room where his soon-to-be baby momma was still sitting. “What's happening?”

“Oh hey, I thought you were the pizza delivery guy.”

“Naw, sorry to disappoint both of y'all.”

O.T. went in his bedroom and threw on some jeans, a hoodie, and his Tims. When he came back in he handed London some money and got her ice water out the minifridge, setting it by her leg. “Sorry, babe, we gotta go somewhere real quick, but I should be back as soon as possible.” He was overly apologetic about having to leave so abruptly. “And make sure you ask who's at the door and peek out before you open it okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Just hurry up and go so you can get back!”

O.T. reached over rubbing London's stomach which was now poking out. “Be back, little baby.” Storm went out into the hallway and pushed the elevator button like what just went down didn't bother him.