A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles (17 page)

“The guns too? Please tell me y’all niggas weren’t dumb enough to dump all that shit in the same spot,” C-Lok demanded.

“My mans and me gots more experience at dis. Naw, we ain’t do no dumb shit. We dropped shit everywhere between New York, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Ohio. In various spots and in different ways,” Cuddy explained.

C-Lok looked at the kid like he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Listen at this nigga here. I know my English ain’t the best but damn
, he thought.

“I have more years of experience at this shit than you’ve been on this earth,” C-Lok said. “Something tells me I’m not getting the complete truth from you niggas. Just so I give you fair warning, this shit is about to get real nasty for the three of you if somebody don’t tell me something,” he threatened.

“Okay, why don’t we try this?” he continued. “I’m going to ask questions, and each one of you will give me an answer. A detailed answer. How about that?”

The men all nodded. They had sweaty palms and racing hearts. C-Lok studied each man closely. Decades in the game had taught him how to read people, and what he was seeing now made him nervous.
I don’t know how, but these niggas here done fucked up royally
,
he thought. C-Lok was getting a bad vibe from his soldiers. He made decisions and formed opinions off instinct. Sensors were blaring in his head but C-Lok couldn’t put his finger on whatever was demanding his attention. He knew that whatever it was, it was going to be bad.

“Who disposed of Rocky’s body?” C-Lok asked.

“That was me, boss,” Red replied.

“What did you do with him?”

“I laid that bitch nigga out in the old furnace that was in the warehouse. It was big enough for the cage and everything.” Red spoke with confidence. “I poured the kerosene in and lit that muthafucka up. Believe me, that dude is dust.” Red was being cocky. He was certain he had nothing to be worried about. He’d followed directions to the letter and Rocky was reduced to ashes for sure.

C-Lok watched Red as he spoke. He sat up straight and looked C-Lok directly in the eyes when he spoke. There was nothing alarming about Red in C-Lok’s opinion. Rodney “Red” Samples had impressed his boss and saved his own life.

“Aight, my man, you can go,” C-Lok said, nodding at the door.

Red stood and left without looking back. Friends don’t exist in the game, so his boys were on their own. He was just happy to walk away with his own life and control of his limbs.

“What about that nigga Slick? Who took care of putting that mu’fucka in a grave?” C-Lok looked back and forth between Cuddy and Monk. By the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it was obvious that Monk had handled Slick’s remains.

“Talk, Monk. What went down?”

Before Monk could find his voice, the meeting was interrupted by Prince. Prince made eye contact with C-Lok, telling him that he needed a minute with him in privacy. C-Lok beckoned Prince over. He whispered something in his uncle’s ear. C-Lok frowned and pressed his lips together. He shook his head and Prince left the room the same way he had come in: with a mission.

“Do you have an answer for me, Curtis Jackson, Jr.?” C-Lok called Monk by his government name.

“Slick is in a swamp somewhere up in Michigan. Abandoned land with nothing on it but muddy-ass water. I was happy to get out of there with my own life. You can’t tell where quicksand or sinkholes are, feel me?” Monk said.

“Get out of here, nigga,” C-Lok instructed.

“One,” said Monk over his shoulder as he ran for the door before C-Lok could change his mind.

As Monk walked out, Big Black walked in to join the meeting. Prince had notified Big Black that C-Lok needed his help. Big Black left Prince to sit with Aisha while he was gone. He knew Prince was capable of holding his own. Big Black reasoned that Prince had been taught by the best. C-Lok stood and glanced toward the door. “Why don’t we move this meeting somewhere more comfortable,” C-Lok snarled at Cuddy.

“What’s up, boss? You don’t have any questions for me about Rail?” Cuddy asked nervously.

“Fuck you think? Getya bitch ass up, nigga, and follow C. Playtime is over, mu’fucka,” Big Black barked.

Cuddy had no choice but to do as he was told. He was sandwiched between two killers and knew he was taking his last breaths. All Mark “Cuddy” Williams could do was pray he didn’t have to suffer a painful death. If he was going out, he wanted a quick bullet to the heart so his mother could have an open casket.

In the basement of C-Lok’s house, Cuddy sat in a small room, much like an interrogation room at a police station. Sweat poured down his face like an open faucet. His stomach was doing flip-flops, and he fought the urge to vomit and piss his pants.

“I hear you have something to tell me,” C-Lok said calmly.

“We obviously already know what it is, so don’t insult us by lying to our faces,” Big Black warned.

“I didn’t know who or what our assignment was until we hit the
spot, I swear,” Cuddy whined. “When I saw my man on the floor, it made me sick. He scared the shit out of me when I grabbed him by his wrist and a grunt came out of his mouth. But I still ain’t trip. I was going to put him in the furnace too and just finish him off.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Big Black yelled. He was so angry it made his dick hard. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Cuddy’s neck and choke him to death, but they needed more information before killing him.

“I recognized him. There was no way I could do that shit to my family. We got the same blood running through our veins. Me and Rail are first cousins. I’m sure that’s what Prince rolled in and told you, boss. I love that nigga. We came up together, lived together, struggled together. What else was I supposed to do? Tell me, man, what else could I do?” Cuddy cried. He and Rail had been as close as brothers. When Rail went missing, it damn near drove him crazy. Seeing his favorite aunt cry over her missing child broke Cuddy’s heart.

“Did you know that nigga was in on killing Mama Bev?” C-Lok demanded.

“No, no, no, I swear,” Cuddy promised.

“I went back out to the spot, and there’s no sign of a body. What did you do with Rail’s body?” Big Black asked.

“There was no body,” Cuddy replied.

“Fuck you mean, wasn’t no body? Dat nigga was as close to dead as anyone could be,” said a confused C-Lok.

“He wasn’t dead, so there was no body to get rid of. We all drove different cars so we could complete our assignment. Instead of burying my fam, I got him some help by leaving him at a little hospital in New York. He was fucked up, man. His own mother didn’t recognize him.”

“His mother?
Fuck!
You saying that nigga alive?” yelled an enraged C-Lok.

“As far as I know, they had a ’copter fly him to a hospital in D.C.
or Maryland somewhere. Some burn specialist worked on him at one of the top hospitals in the country. My Aunt Tracey says he’ll never be the same, and it might have been better to just let him die,” Cuddy said in shame.

“You listening to this mu’fucka, man?” C-Lok said in amazement. “He took that murdering bastard to a hospital and collected money from us to compensate him for the work he put in. Let me guess what you did with those fifty Gs. You gave them to old Aunt Tracey for the care of her baby boy Terrell. Am I right?”

“Ain’t that some shit! This dumb-ass nigga couldn’t have fucked us better if we gave up our asses willingly. I ain’t even with this bullshit. Off dis mu’fucka, Black,” C-Lok instructed before storming out the door. He had to find out what hospital Rail was in and if he was still receiving treatment. If he’d been released from the hospital and was back on the streets of Youngstown, everyone involved was at risk. Cuddy’s loyalty to his family had probably cost Devin his life and Aisha and Kayla their lifelong friendship.

C-Lok heard three consecutive shots as he walked up the stairs. Big Black put three holes through Cuddy’s face. Anger got the best of Big Black, and he couldn’t help but make a closed-casket funeral a necessity.

A
isha was on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. Her mother had never allowed her to use a mop. Mama Bev had been adamant that elbow grease was far stronger than anything made by man. Aisha still cleaned the way her mother had, with a bucket, rag, bleach, Pine-Sol, and gloves. Two hours went by and Aisha was still cleaning things that were already clean. The sounds
of Calvin Richardson, Lyfe Jennings, and Donell Jones helped her sort things out. Her fight with Kayla was weighing heavily on her mind and heart. No matter what had happened between them, it didn’t outweigh all the good years the sisters had shared.

Aisha missed her mother and really needed to talk to her. Kayla had jumped on her like she was a born enemy. Aisha could forgive the physical assault but not the verbal. But she reminded herself that Kayla was hurting the same way she was.
Her brother was her protector, even when he was in prison. They made huge sacrifices for each other. I know Kayla was proud of the changes Devin made in his life. How could I ever compare her grieving to my own? Pain is pain, and it takes over your soul
. “What do I do, Mommy?” Aisha cried out.

Aisha threw the cleaning rag across the room and sat on the floor crying. She pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on top of her knees. Then she asked God for just one more conversation with her mother. That was the one thing she needed more than she needed air to breathe.

She sat on the cold tile kitchen floor for over an hour waiting for God to answer her prayer. Her legs cramped and her behind was sore from sitting in the same position so long. She decided to go upstairs and take a long, hot shower. Her swollen eyes were red, and her nose was running. She needed someone to talk to. Terry was in North Carolina with Anissa, Shy was at work, and Kayla wasn’t speaking to her. She stepped into the shower and let the hot water beat on her back, closing her eyes as she felt the tension leave her body. She stepped under the water to wash her hair.
It’s not me you need to talk to, baby girl. You must go talk to Kayla. She’s the one who needs you now
, Aisha heard a voice say.

Her eyes shot open and she looked around the bathroom. “Kayla! Is that you?” she yelled. The voice was too clear to be her imagination. Someone else had to be in the house with her. No
one but Kayla and Terry had keys to her home.
I’m tripping. I must have left the TV on or something
, Aisha thought, trying to convince herself that she didn’t hear anyone talking to her. She applied conditioner to her hair and picked up a cloth to wash her body and let the conditioner sit on her hair for a few minutes.
Kayla needs you, Aisha. Go to her, go help her now. Mommy is gone, but your sister is still there with you. Go to her now
. Aisha jumped and dropped the cloth. She quickly rinsed her hair and body. Something deep inside her said she needed to listen to the voice. It might just be in her head, but Aisha couldn’t stay away if her sister needed her help. If something happened to Kayla and she did nothing to help her, Aisha wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

She quickly dressed, grabbed her keys and purse, and ran out of the house. She used the keyless entry to unlock her BMW but then rushed back inside. With everything that had been happening, she felt that she needed protection. After retrieving her new .9 mm from its safe, she headed to her destination.

$ $ $

Kayla locked up the day spa. She couldn’t wait to get home. It was Sunday and the shop was closed, but she’d wanted to do inventory and finish payroll before Terry called with questions. She was exhausted from all the stress, fighting, and uneasiness surrounding her. Her brother was shot down on the streets like a dog, and Aisha didn’t seem to understand how his death was connected to her need for revenge. It all seemed so senseless to Kayla. As she got into her Lexus, she got a weird feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What the hell is this about?” she said aloud.

“Revenge of my own,” said a voice so piercing and raspy it made Kayla’s skin crawl. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she looked in the rearview mirror and found that she wasn’t alone.

“Who the hell are you and what do you want?” she demanded.

“You don’t remember me or is it that you just can’t recognize me?” the stranger asked.

Kayla stared. The disfigured face was sickening. Three-fourths of his face was horribly burned. He had only one eye and a fraction of a nose; both lips and ears were missing. The strange man wore a ball cap pulled low but it did very little to hide the ugliness that was his fate.

“What do you want?” Kayla asked.

“Stop looking at me and drive to your house,” he said.

“You asked me if I recognized you. How can I recall if I can’t look at you?” Kayla asked. She wanted to make the monster as uncomfortable with his presence as she was. He had unknowingly just given her a way into his head.

“Don’t try anything, Miss Boss Lady. This gun in the back of your seat is cocked and ready to blast,” the strange man warned.

“What did you come for?” Kayla asked.

“My own brand of justice. Unlike you and your crew, I’ve been much more considerate of how I send my enemies to their deaths.”

“No amount of justice or revenge is going to take away your pain or make you look human again. So what’s the point?” Kayla asked.

“What was the point of torturing me? What type of satisfaction did ya girl get out of it?” Rail asked through clenched teeth. “Look what she did to me!”

“You’d have to ask her what it feels like. I don’t know, but I’m sure it felt better than the pain her mother suffered at your hands. Aisha had the right to demand that you experience the same fear and terror you inflicted on her mother,” Kayla said snidely.

“That was a mistake. This shit done to me was on purpose. Fuck all of y’all!” Rail said as loudly as he could. His vocal cords were severely damaged, and his voice was little more than a whisper. The doctors considered him the luckiest man alive, but he
laughed at the thought of his current situation being luck. He loved his cousin Cuddy for doing what he did, but Rail wished he’d died on that cold oily cement floor.