The Face That Launched A Thousand Bullets (The Cartel Publications Presents) (18 page)

“Then I don’t understand why you’re doing this?!” she begged. “Please…don’t leave me….don’t leave us. I can wait for you. I promise! We got the lawyer looking at the court documents again, baby.” She smiled trying to maintain her composure. “He’s gonna find somethin’ I just know it! Please Kavon! Stay with me baby. Stay with me.”

“It’s over.” Kavon’s voice remained firm. “And you are not to come here anymore.”

“But I will.” Tara sounded adamant. “I will anyway.”

“I put in a request to have you removed from my visitor’s list.” He said looking into her eyes.

He wanted her to hate him. He wanted her to get angry and prove to him that she could do it on her own.

“Why would you take the one thing from me I need?”

“I see. It looks like your mind is made up.” Tara said, removing a piece of tissue from her pocket. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes causing her mascara to smear. “Remember you wanted this not me.” She said standing up. “I’m only as tough as I am with you. Alone I’m not the same woman. Remember that, Kavon. Good bye.” And just like that, she walked out his life.

Carolyn Jamison

Motel – Washington, DC

Once You Go Black, You Neva Go Back

C
arolyn lay on the hotel bed looking at the ceiling light. The more she stared the harder it was to focus. Her naked body drenched from the sweat shared between their bodies during lovemaking.

She was addicted to everything about him. The way he held her, the way he smiled and the way he was as different from her as night is to day.

“What you thinkin’ bout?” Ozim “J-Swizz” Daye asked as he returned from the bathroom, nude, his limp penis dangling before he cupped it. “You ready for another round?”

Carolyn’s desires to live her own life, manifested itself into bittersweet rebellion and poetic justice. She had a tendency to be pulled to what was forbidden. Even in her earlier years, her father told her never to eat strawberries because she was allergic. For years she did as she was told, until one day his forbids got the best of her and she ate six of them and almost died. In a lot of ways, J-Swizz was her strawberry.

So after weeks of riding to the neighborhood with Tina and Modell, even after J-Swizz told her to stay away, she finally got the courage to come back alone one night. There was something about the way that he looked at her that had her intrigued. But when she pulled up on the block, she couldn’t find him. She was stupid for thinking he’d be interested in a white girl who grew up privileged all her life, while he had to neighbor with the cold hard streets. Besides, outside of a few glances, there was nothing she could say to him that he could relate to.

It wasn’t until Tina joked that someone called “Take Back The Streets”, requesting the only white girl there that her wishes came true. She answered the phone and J-Swizz was on the line and offered to take her out. She accepted. And from that moment on, they’d been kicking it ever since.

When he eased into the bed next to her, she rolled over and looked at his dark handsome face. She was a woman. He was a man. She longed to get away from her father and his unreasonable beliefs, and the streets were taking a toll on him and she was his escape. What they didn’t speak out loud was that through it all, he was a drug dealing black man, and she was Carolyn Jamison, the daughter of an extreme racist.

Things were even more complicated than when they first began. Because now she was in love with a man that knew nothing about who she really was. It panged her heart that all her father cared about was the racist chief of police he got elected on his payroll when all she cared about, was J-Swizz. She wanted to introduce him to who she loved, but she feared for both of their lives.

“How can I get tired of this?” He pulled her to him and placed his hands on her ass, before gyrating against her until he was hard again. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“When are we going to talk about your family?” His questions caught her off guard. “It’s like you don’t want me knowing nothin’ about them.”

“I can’t talk about them J.” Carolyn lifted up and lie beside him. “And I really don’t want to go through this again.”

“Look…we been together for months now and I have a right to know everything about you. So if you don’t want to tell me, it makes me think you’re hidin’ somethin’. Are you adopted? Is that it?”

“You don’t understand. My family’s different. There are a lot of things going on in my life that I can’t even understand. And I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll feel differently about me.”

Outside the Motel

Todd Jamison sat in his green Ford Wagon looking at the motel his sister was in. He’d been following her for months now. The hate he felt for her was starting to consume him. How could she deal with a nigger, knowing full well what their family stood for? Todd also battled with the fact that no matter what he did, his father always took to Carolyn more. He was jealous of the relationship she had with their father.

His eyes were wide as he took a knife repeatedly to his thigh over and over again. Blood soaked his dingy jeans and fell into the burgundy seats. Whenever anger consumed him, he took it out on his body. It was as if punishing himself, made things easier to deal with. The stinging sensation running through his thighs acted as a release and in a way gave him complete power over the situation.

For now he would say nothing to her. Everything would be done when he was ready. But when the time was right, he would make sure she’d know exactly how he felt.

Yo Yo J-A-Y, I flow sick…
Fuck all y'all haters blow dick…
I spits the game for those that throw bricks…
Money cash hoes money cash chicks what…
Sex murder and mayhem romance for the street…
Only wife of mines is a life of crime…
And since, life's a bitch in mini-skirts and big chests…
How can I not flirt with death?...

-Jay Z

Crayland

(Seventeen Years Later)

West Baltimore, Summer of 2006

Menace To Bmore

I
t was a hot summer day and twenty-nine-year old Crayland was watching his boy Markise run niggas on an outside basketball court in East Baltimore. Sitting in the stands, he sipped on a Corona as he sported a pair of green army fatigues, and a white wife beater. His hair was bleached blonde and he kept it low to prevent it from curling up too much. A few feet over, someone blasted, Tupac’s “Hail Mary” from radio speakers.

“Markise is killin’ they asses out here!” Jason said as he sat next to Cray.

He’d lost all his baby fat and hit the weights so hard that you could see his build under a coat. As strong as he was, he was still weak without Cray.

“You tellin’ me.” Cray confirmed. “Dat nigga’s vicious.”

When Cray’s phone vibrated, he frowned when he saw it was Melody. Whenever he wanted somebody to disappear, he hit him with all 9’s. Ever since Melody told Cray he saw him kill Kris, he’d been putting in work for him. And over time Melody respected how tough Cray was. Cray was fine with their business arrangement until he realized the money wasn’t long enough to get the thing he wanted…POWER. The only way to get really paid was to involve himself in the distribution part of the business, and he was ready. In fact, he wanted Melody’s operation.

“What up?” Cray asked.

“He’s at a cookout at Druid Hill Park,” Melody went straight to the point. “How long will it take you to get there?”

“Cray glanced at his watch and said, “Thirty minutes.”

“Cool. Handle your bizness.”

“I always do,” Cray reminded him. “But when I get back I want to holla at you bout somethin’.”

“Before we do all of that, take care of my biz.” Melody hung up.

Punk ass mothafucka!
Cray thought.

When he put his phone back in his pocket, he saw Markise get close lined by a nigga on the basketball court. Without even thinking, he hopped down eight and nine benches at a time to get at him. From his peripheral vision, he saw his boys were running in that direction too. They were twenty deep! Cray led the pack as he ran up to the dude who momentarily put Markise on his back.

“You a’ight, man?” he asked helping Markise up eyeing the perpetrator the entire time.

He nodded yes.

“You must’ve forgot how to play the game, dude.” Cray said, looking for a reason to lay the tall lanky man on his back.

“I ain’t forget shit! He traveled.” His four friends hesitantly moved behind him.

But the look in their eyes showed him that they were praying things were resolved civilly. To say that they were outnumbered was an understatement. Cray had over twenty men behind him.

“Yo, got mouth!” Jason added. “Let’s bank this mothafucka!”

That was all he needed. Cray hit him with a two-piece. His friends tried to run but were caught a few feet out by Cray’s goons. It looked like a riot on the basketball court. The dudes were getting stomped out by three and four niggas at a time! As always, somebody watching from the sidelines called the cops. And when they heard the sirens, everybody bailed. Cray and them didn’t relax until they reached Cray’s car.

“Yo, got his shit cracked!” Markise said, jumping on his 900 red Suzuki motorcycle. “Good lookin’ out.” He continued putting on his helmet.

“You know how we do.” Cray laughed giving him dap.

“I’ll get up wit ya’ll tomorrow though. I got to grade these papers.”

Markise was a teacher at a community college and played basketball overseas. Nobody even knew he had skills until he got to high school. But it wasn’t until Markise picked up a ball that he knew himself.

“A’ight, yo!”

Zoom…ZOOM…ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!

When Markise sped off Jason and Cray jumped into Cray’s white Crown Vic. His ride was beyond clean even though it resembled a police car.

“That shit was wild, yo!” Jason laughed, firing up the bob.

Cray watched him carefully from the corner of his eye. He didn’t mind smoking in his car just as long as he didn’t get shit all over his seat skin covers and shit. He was a neat freak to the ninth degree.