David Jr. and Indigo were ushered out of the house and led to a car that Day was already in. She looked better, just a little shaken up. When she saw David Jr. enter the truck, his face it confirmed it all.
“So we’re orphans then?”
David Jr. didn’t respond; instead, he just put his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. Day nodded her head and swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. Indigo, who sat between them, reached for and squeezed her hand in empathy, and surprisingly Day squeezed it back. The three of them were driven to Mac’s gated four-bedroom Victorian home, which had been deemed the next safest place on earth for them. Once there, Mac piled them all in the basement of his large house. He made his men stand guard upstairs while he talked to the twins. The girls sat on the couch, with Indigo trying to calm Day’s nerves, and he poured himself and David Jr. shots of whiskey at the bar he’d had built.
“Take this. It will help numb the pain,” Mac said and handed him the shot glass.
David Jr. didn’t need to be told twice. He downed the shot and then grabbed the whole bottle from Mac and poured another. He wanted to erase the image of seeing his mother’s burnt body. He could still see and hear the sound of her body sizzling inside of the vehicle. Mac took the bottle from him after he’d poured himself two more shots, and he instructed him to go take a seat by Day on the leather couch. Mac rubbed his chin hair and it seemed that wrinkles had formed in his once smooth golden brown skin. He contemplated where he should start and how he should say it. He figured that there was no other way to say it than to be blunt.
“Your mother wasn’t a victim of a faulty vehicle. She was the victim of a car bomb.”
“But I thought that me and David Jr. were the only targets,” Day said.
“Exactly.” Mac and Day locked eyes. “It was in your car, Day. That bomb was meant for you.”
Realization set in, and Day understood that it was supposed to be her in the car and not her mother. The thought that she had come that close to death made her stomach turn.
“Did they see anything from the tapes?”
Mac shook his head. “Your mother must have turned off all of the security cameras, because the last time they were used was months ago.”
“And you have no idea who’s doing this? Or why?” David Jr.’s deep voice was relatively low.
“We are doing everything in our power to keep you two safe, but right now we don’t have any leads on who is after you. We just know they want you dead for whatever reason.”
“So we’re just sitting ducks then?” Day looked at Mac as if he had just told her the most outlandish thing in the world. “How do we know it’s not somebody in your camp? How could somebody put a car bomb in my car when it hasn’t even moved for days? How do we know it isn’t you?”
Her words came as an insult to Mac and he let her know it. “Don’t you ever in your life let any stupid-ass shit like that come from your mouth when referring to me, understand? I would have laid my life down on the line for your father! I don’t have to do any of this shit for either of you.”
“Then why are you doing it?” David Jr. chimed in.
“Because I see the bigger picture, the picture that your father was painting, and it is my job to protect his children until the masterpiece is complete. I know that what you two are feeling is pain beyond the imagination but, Day, you should know firsthand what comes with living this lifestyle. Death follows death. It’s just part of the game. I just need to make sure you both make it to see Saturday alive and then maybe we won’t have to worry about any of this shit.”
Mac wanted to add in there that he wasn’t too sorry about the death of their mother but he knew that it was too soon. Yet, that still didn’t take away from the fact that he had never really liked Angela. He’d always told King David that something wasn’t right about her. He always got the vibe that if King David wasn’t who he was then she wouldn’t have even given him the time of day. Mac also had called King David crazy the day that he told him that Angela was having an affair and he never spoke a word of it to her.
“Okay,” Day said, nodding her head. “I understand. But I’m not doing any more of this being cooped up in the house shit. I’m going home tomorrow. So that I can lie in my own bed. And I don’t want any of your goons to come with me. I don’t trust them niggas.”
David Jr. nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, Mac,” David Jr. said. “I know that you’re just tryin’ to protect us but I’m not with the shit. I’m going back to my own crib.”
“I’m going too, so he won’t be alone,” Indigo chimed in.
“And you can have your niggas stand watch there, but I’m not staying here.” When Mac opened his mouth to object Day held up her hand and shook her head. “That’s the deal or there is no deal. We already tried shit your way; now look. Another body was caught, and it could have been me. And I’m cool on your security. I have my own person in mind.”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just know he’s the only nigga out here as thoroughbred as me. If somebody wants me dead they gon’ have to go to war to catch this body. You want me to hide up in this crib with you and a nigga who turned his back on his roots. I’m cool. I’ll take my chances with a real street nigga.”
David Jr. looked side-eyed at his sister and let the liquor do the talking for him. “Nigga, our moms just got killed and you sitting here talking shit? You just always sound so fuckin’ stupid. Who you gon’ shoot at? A ghost?”
“Fuck that shit that you’re talking, David Jr. This shit ain’t gon’ stop until either we boss up and go after the mothafucka ourselves or we run. And I ain’t no bitch. It could have been me in that car. Whoever is doin’ this shit almost touched me.”
“All the more reason to stay put,” Mac interjected.
“Would my daddy stay put?” Day asked, and when Mac had no answer Day stood up and marched toward the stairs of the basement. “Exactly. I’m gone. Tell me when the funeral is.”
On her way out, she snatched the bottle of whiskey that Mac and David Jr. had just taken shots from and took it up the stairs with her.
“I’ll go after her,” Indigo offered and kissed David Jr. on the cheek. “She’s just upset, that’s all. We all are.”
Indigo bounded up the stairs after Day and found her in the living room of Mac’s house alone, drinking straight from the bottle. She was shocked to see tears streaming down the side of Day’s face. From the few times that she had met Day, Indigo definitely didn’t think that she was capable of crying.
“Hey, hey,” Indigo said, sitting down next to her and trying to grab the bottle from her hand. “Easy with that, girl. You’re going to be drunk as hell if you drink all that on an empty stomach.”
Day glared at her and snatched her arm away. “And who the fuck are you? You ain’t my mama. Shit, both my parents are dead!” She threw back another swig and relished the burning sensation as it made its way down her throat.
Indigo sat there watching Day for a few more moments, and then she reached for the bottle again. “Well, since I’m here I might as well take a shot too,” she said, and when Day looked mistrustfully at her she offered up a kind smile. “I come in peace. Shit, I never expected to date the son of a kingpin who got murdered. And I damn sure didn’t expect to witness his mother get blown up in a car bomb.” When she realized the way her words sounded, she cringed and said, “That sounded awful. I’m sorry.”
“You’re good,” Day said and handed her the bottle. “Drink up. None of this is your fault. I’m just sorry you’re in the crossfire.”
The two sat in silence drinking the liquor until it was all the way gone. Day’s tears had dried up and she was looking into the large fireplace in Mac’s living room. The way the flames broke off from each other explained the way she felt inside: hot and broken.
“I caught my first body when I was seventeen,” she whispered, catching Indigo by surprise. She was drunk and she didn’t care who heard her confession. It was a story that she never told anybody. “It was after my senior prom. My date was getting a little too friendly with this girl I considered my best friend at the time, so I just left. David Jr. was there with his friends and he didn’t even know I had left. He wouldn’t have cared anyways. We may be twins but we have never been friends. Anyways, I was walking alone on this dark street. I don’t know where I thought I was going. But this group of boys started messing with me. Trying to lift up my skirt and see what kind of panties I had on. One of them pushed me to the ground and started touching me between my legs. They were going to rape me. If I wouldn’t have remembered the razor that I kept in my clutch then they would have. I slit his throat right before he was able to penetrate me. His homeboys freaked out, I guess, because they all ran when they saw all the blood.”
Indigo stared at the side of Day’s pretty face. She could tell that she was clenching her teeth, because her jaw line was tense. The pain that Day had been trying so hard to hide the last few days read all over her face at that moment. The dried-up tearstains had created white streaks down the sides of her face. “What happened after that?” she asked when Day didn’t continue.
“I went home and I told my daddy. I told him that I thought I killed somebody and he sent a car to where I told him the body was. After that he taught me how to defend myself and how to shoot a gun. Things that he wanted to teach David Jr., but he had to show me instead because his son wanted nothing to do with that part of his life. They both loved David Jr. more. They would never admit it. But they did, especially my mother. I was only as close to my father as I was because David Jr. wouldn’t give him the time of day.”
“I don’t believe that. I think they loved you both equally.”
“Well, I do.” Day laughed spitefully. “And you never really knew my mother. She was a ho. Whenever I got a bad grade in school she would tell me to seduce my teachers and turn their frown upside down.” Day shook her head. “That’s some ho shit. I did it, though. She was my mom. I didn’t think she would tell me to do anything that would end up hurting me. I had to work ten times as hard to earn my daddy’s love, and all David Jr. had to do was ignore him. This meeting that they were supposed to go to, it should have been me he chose to go with him. Not David Jr. That nigga is scared to shoot a gun. It took him twenty-two years to catch his first body, but me? Me? I’ve been putting in work for the family business since I graduated high school. Before he died I actually saved him from catching a fed case.”
“Wh . . . what do you mean?” Indigo sounded like she was afraid to know what she was talking about. The more she listened to her talk, the more she wondered if Day had a heart. The way she spoke of death and about killing people was almost unheard of.
Day laughed again and lay back on the couch. The cool feel of the leather on her neck soothed her and she closed her eyes. Indigo balled up on the couch and laid her head down as well. “This detective named . . .” Day slurred and giggled some more. “His name was Detective Avery Dickhead.”
Indigo felt the alcohol take its effect and she began to giggle too.
“He arrested me and told me that I killed somebody named Antonio.”
“Why would he accuse you of doing that?”
“Because Antonio was a fucking snitchhhh,” Day slurred and dragged out the last word. “He was going to tell on my daddy and fuck up shit for all of us.”
“So what did you do?”
“What I had to. No body, no case,” Day stated and smiled widely.
“Day?”
“Hmm?”
“I think you’re crazy.”
“I am,” Day said and let herself nod off to sleep.
Chapter 14
Business hadn’t been the same since the death of King David. Everybody in the streets was hungry because the well had dried up. A couple of niggas tried to set up shop around town, but they always got either robbed or killed before they could really get up and running. There was no loyalty; everybody was turning on each other. There was no leader to balance out the chaos and there was nobody to put them in check.
Cane sat in his white BMW coupe that was parked on the side of the street with the door wide open. His left leg was casually out of the car with his foot touching the ground as he counted a wad of cash that was in his lap. He had just collected a debt from a man named Eric, who had just walked into the convenience store called Daily’s. The two had agreed to meet in the little run-down neighborhood so that Cane could get the rest of the money from fronting him some work awhile back. Instead of pulling off, Cane sat there counting the money to make sure that it was all there and accounted for.
Ever since he had personally found out about the murder of King David he shut down his trap house and began to make his own solo moves. Cane always work best alone but when he met King David he knew that it was time for a change. He had never been hands-on in the business, but seeing the way King David moved made him want to be more proactive in the game. He was perfect for it, too. He was bred by the most thoroughbred of men and if a nigga bled the way he did then he figured there was no point in fearing him. He had just counted $2,000 when he heard a scuffle of feet running up to his car.
“Thanks for counting my money, dog. Now run that shit my way!”
Cane looked up and saw that he was looking into the barrel of a small handgun. He couldn’t say that he was surprised; that was the third time somebody had tried to rob him in the last week. Instead of handing over the money, Cane leaned back and eyed the kid up and down. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. He wore dirty, baggy jeans and a shirt that had a hole at the collar. The Jordans that he wore on his feet were ragged and looked like they would fall apart any second. The look he had in his eyes was one that Cane had seen too often; the kid was hungry for a lick. He needed the money. Still, he didn’t have the look of a coldblooded killer. Cane’s eyes went to the hand that held the gun, and he could see that it was shaking slightly. Cane could tell by just looking at the kid that, even if pushed, he wouldn’t pull the trigger.
“What’s good, little nigga?” Cane asked. “You shouldn’t point those things at people if you ain’t gon’ bust.”
“Who said I ain’t gon’ bust? I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off, nigga. Now shut the fuck up and give me the money. Hurry up. I ain’t got all day!”
Cane eyed the gun again and smirked. “Let me school you on some shit, young’un. Rule number one of the streets,” Cane said, and reached for his waist. “Always remember to take your hammer off safety.”
Cane had his own gun pointed at the kid in seconds. He put the money in his pocket so that he could cock it back and stand up from the vehicle. The boy was shaken up. He put his hands in the air when he felt the cold steel press to his forehead, and he wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction. His plan had completely backfired. Not only was the gun on safety, but he only had one bullet in the chamber. Truth was he had never shot anybody a day in his life. He’d found the gun in his father’s drawer one night that he was passed out drunk. He was tired of living like a poor man so he decided that he would go out and hit a couple licks, thinking that he would finally get enough money to get out on his own. He was just hoping to scare the man in the car enough to get the money he’d seen him counting. That’s all he wanted. Not to be standing on the sidewalk being punked out for the world to see.
“I could blow ya fuckin’ brains out right here and now. Do you know that?” Cane asked, keeping the gun aimed up and at the boy’s face. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Tyler.”
“Why you out here tryin’a rob people, Tyler?”
There were a couple of people who had stopped to watch what was going on before them. As long as they weren’t the police Cane didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time that he committed a murder in broad daylight.
“The same reason you in that car counting money. I’m just tryin’a eat, man,” Tyler said and held his head high.
Cane examined him for a few more moments before reaching with his free hand and snatching the gun from Tyler’s hands. He looked down at the small Ruger and laughed. “This is a bitch’s gun. What you doin’ with this shit, kid?”
“It was my mom’s,” Tyler told him. “She died last year from cancer. I gotta do what I gotta do. It still shoot.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that,” Cane said, looking at the gun one more time. He applied a little pressure to the trigger of his own pistol, about to make the kid’s head snap back, but then he thought better of it. “You just gotta remember it’s niggas like me out in these streets. You a guppy to us. I really should kill your stupid ass, but I don’t think that will satisfy me. Plus, I got a way for you to earn this money.” He lowered his weapon and leaned his back against the car.
He saw the confusion wash over Tyler’s face when he realized that Cane wasn’t going to kill him. “Word? What I gotta do?”
Cane checked the Ruger and saw that it had only one bullet in it, but that was all Tyler would need for what he was about to do. Cane nodded his head toward Daily’s. “It’s a nigga in there who just paid me this money back,” Cane said, patting his pocket. “I fronted the little nigga some shit awhile ago, but now it seems to me that he is tryin’a play me. It was supposed to be four bands, but I have only counted two. I want the rest of my money.”
“You want me to go bring him out here for you?” Tyler said, and figured that would be easy enough.
“Nah,” Cane told him, shaking his head. “I want you to handle the whole situation. You got one bullet, my nigga. Make it count. Either he pay the rest of the money or he gets laid out. The only thing is that if you bust you need to make sure that you do damage. Niggas like him always run in packs. If he go back and snitch you out, you’ll be dead before the day is over.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then you’re not as hungry as I thought,” Cane said, and slightly shook the hand that his own gun was in. “And you’ll still be dead before the day is over.”
Tyler knew that he had truly picked his poison by running up to the flashy car with a gun with only one bullet in it. Cane handed him his firearm back and he looked to his far right at the convenience store. Outside of the building were fruit stands and a couple of bums begging for change. He squinted his small brown eyes and ran a hand over the waves on his head.
“What he look like?”
Cane gave him a full description, including what Eric was wearing that day. Tyler nodded his head and backed away from Cane. “A’ight,” he said. He put his thoughts on the $2,000 that he would get if he handled that little problem. Then he stopped thinking that the man was just going to play him and drive off. When he turned his head he saw the man still leaning on his car and watching Tyler walk toward the store.
“I’ma be right here. When you handle that, come back.”
Cane looked up to the convenience store and saw the sliding doors open. Eric walked out with a small paper sack and a smile on his face. He was laughing and yelling out something over his shoulder before the sliding doors closed behind him. Cane nodded toward Tyler and got back in his car without saying another word. He saw Tyler put the gun on his waist and jog toward where Eric was walking. Eric must have parked behind the building because that’s where he disappeared to, and soon Tyler followed.
Cane honestly didn’t think that Tyler would be able to hold his own against a nigga like Eric. Eric was a real-life street nigga, and when King David died he figured all of his debts to those who worked for him did too. Some let him slide, and some he had caught slipping. Not Cane though; he knew as soon as he pulled up to meet him that Eric was on funny time. The nigga had wrapped twenty one-hundred-dollar bills around twenty one-dollar bills. Cane didn’t know why he didn’t count it while he was right there in his face, but that was the reason he didn’t pull off when he saw Eric go into the store. Because if something was off about the count he would just hop out and handle him right then and there. Tyler was just serving as the decoy and hopefully the little bullet that he had would wound Eric enough so that he couldn’t run.
After about five minutes, Tyler still hadn’t returned and Cane decided to go check things out. He got out of his car, placed his gun on his waist, and hit the lock button on his car key before he casually started walking in the direction of Daily’s. He knew there was a small parking lot by an alley back there where crackheads liked to duck away and get high. He was just about to hit the corner of the store to get behind it when he heard the sound of a couple of gunshots go off. He pulled his gun out instinctively and put his back on the brick wall of the building. He heard one more shot sound and a cry of pain invade the air. He knew that the person shooting like that wasn’t Tyler, because he only had one bullet. Pointing his gun, Cane took a step in the open, preparing to pull the trigger and blast anybody who seemed like a threat. What he saw shocked him.
“Well, I’ll be damned, little nigga,” Cane said when he saw Eric writhing around on the ground in pain from the bullet that Tyler had just put in his stomach.
Tyler had still been standing over him with his gun pointed to his face so that he could go through his pockets. From them he pulled out a big wad of money and he felt his eyes grow big. When he heard Cane’s voice he looked up at him and held the money up. “This what you wanted?”
“Hell, yeah,” Cane said, walking to where Tyler had Eric laid out on the ground next to his red Mercedes.
Eric was coughing up blood when he looked up and saw Cane standing there. His gun had fallen from his hand when Tyler had caught him slipping and he tried to make a weak grab for it. Cane saw what he was doing and kicked the gun underneath the car.
“Fuck is you doing, Cane?” Eric asked with bloodstained teeth. “This how you conduct business now? People pay you what they owe and then you kill and rob them?”
“You still owed,” Cane said, kneeling down by him on the cracked concrete. Eric’s blood had begun to stain it, but Cane knew that many men’s blood had been spilled in the back of Daily’s. “You still owe me two bands.”
“Man,” Eric breathed, clutching his stomach and trying to sit up on his elbow. “You know I’m good for it. I was gon’ get you your money, dog.”
“That’s the second time you lied to my face,” Cane said, looking at the reflection of the sun in his weapon. “How much money is that in your hand, Tyler?”
“Like, five Gs.”
When Tyler answered, Cane turned his attention back to Eric. “You got five racks in your pocket and you couldn’t pay me back my money when you had it?” Cane chuckled. “Say sorry.”
“Fo . . . for what?” Eric asked, turning his nose up.
“For picking such a stupid reason to die.” Cane stood to his feet and aimed for Eric’s head. He fired his gun twice and made Eric’s head bounce on the concrete.
Tyler’s face was expressionless as he watched the blood pour from the back of Eric’s head. He shook his head, knowing that Eric had truly fucked up in the game. He bit the hand that fed him. Tyler tried to hand Cane the money, but Cane shook his head and put his gun back on his waist.
“That’s yours, kid,” Cane said. “Keep that shit. For a job well done. Come on.”
The two men ran back around the opposite side of the convenience store and back to where Cane’s car was parked. It was obvious that everyone in eyesight had heard the gunshots go off, but nobody had gone to see what had happened. Cane was positive as soon as he and Tyler were gone they would all go back and view Eric’s dead body. Somebody would probably steal his car and the fancy designer shoes on his feet; that’s just how the game went.
“Did you physically touch him?” Cane asked.
“No.”
“Is that gun registered?”
“No.”
“Good.” Cane reached in his pocket and grabbed the $2,000 from it. “Here. This is yours, too.”
Tyler shook his head and declined the money. “You came back there and handled the rest. That’s your money. I already got enough.” He motioned to the bulge in his pocket from the money he’d taken from Eric.
“That money was your bonus. This is the real payment.” He held the money out one more time and that time Tyler accepted it. “I got a question, though.”
“Wassup?”
“You only had once bullet. The fuck was you gon’ do standing over that nigga with an empty gun?”
Both men started laughing. Tyler shrugged his shoulders. “Shit, I guess we will never know.” He put his hand up to give Cane a handshake. “Thanks, man.”
It was an interesting plot twist but Cane shook the kid’s hand. He looked at Tyler and saw a lot of himself in him. He remembered being a street rat and doing anything for a quick buck. “You need a ride, my nigga?”
“Nah, I’m straight,” Tyler told him, shrugging. “I might as well just walk back to the crib. I don’t get no ride any other day.”
“Nah, that’s not what I mean,” Cane said and tossed his car keys to Tyler. “Here. I got another one just like it at the crib. The next time I see you this bitch better be shining.”
Tyler didn’t have another chance to say anything else to Cane because he began to walk in the other direction. He was confused about how his day had turned out. He had left the house with nothing but an old gun; now he was $7,000 richer and the new owner of a BMW coupe. He smiled, knowing that running into Cane had to have been his mom looking down on him. He gladly got into the car and saw that half of a blunt was waiting for him in the ashtray. He grinned, putting the key in the ignition; and he looked down at his clothes. He already knew where his first stop would be.