Crave All Lose All (26 page)

Law was a big money playa from Hollis Queens who moved dope and coke and been a rich man since the late nineties. Tyriq and him never liked each other but respected each other’s position in the game until PR’s death. PR was kin to Law and Law was the type of nigga who believed that revenge was best served cold.

One situation after another was bubbling and getting ready to explode. I didn’t want to get caught up in it, but already was.

I was in the empty bar drinking Vodka, trying to drink my troubles away, watching the Knicks lose to the Rockets. Jake kept my company from behind the bar. Tyriq walked into the bar with Tip behind.

I sighed and paid no attention to them. I sipped my drink and continued
to watch the TV mounted above the bar. Jake was acting nervous when Tyriq came close to me.

“Jake, go take a walk for a minute,” Tyriq ordered.

Jake stopped what he was doing and moved out the bar like he was being timed. Tyriq sat on the stool next to me and asked, “You good, playa?”

“Yeah,” I dryly responded.

I got edgy thinking that Iris told about us fucking. Now Tyriq was here to get revenge against me. I was a changed man and was ready for anything that came. I remained calm and collected, my eyes focused on the Knicks game and holding my drink.

“Yo, what da fuck is up with, Melissa?” Tyriq asked bluntly.

“She’s just talking crazy,” I said.

“Ayyite but she’s making too much noise out there, putting up fifty grand. I ain’t feeling that shit, Vince.”

“What you gonna do wit’ her? Shut her up?” I asked in mockery.

He just looked at me and his expression told me the nigga was serious.

“I know you’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Yo, we need to handle that bitch; I don’t like my name coming out her fucking mouth. And where the fuck she gets fifty large to put up? Spoon had to pass that bitch some serious cash.”

“Tyriq, this is Spoon’s baby mother, she ain’t no threat.”

“She is. I want you and your crew to handle that bitch, ASAP,” he ordered.

“Nigga what…?”

“Handle it, Vince.”

“Nah, you wilding, I ain’t touching her,” I let him know sternly.

Tyriq and Tip glared at me when I shook my head.

“Nigga what…?” Tyriq spat.

“I ain’t touching her,” I repeated eyeing Tyriq and Tip.

Tyriq sized me up and said, “Oh, so you big dawg now, huh, Vince. Nigga, don’t forget who put you on to the game. Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you.”

“Spoon’s gone, why you gotta fuck wit’ his family for?”

“How ‘bout, the bitch gotta big mouth, and I’m gonna shut it for her,” he snapped at me.

“Let her be, Tyriq. What’s done is done.”

“Nigga, you gonna do this or what?” he dared asking again.

I stood up from the barstool and boldly said to him, “Nah, if you want her dead, that’s on you nigga…not me.”

“Ayyite, it’s like that, huh…? After all we’ve been through, after everything I done for you, you gonna just turn your back on me?”

I ignored him and continued out the bar, exchanging hard glances with Tip, he wanted to strike at me. I realized the twenty years of friendship I had with Tyriq meant nothing when it came to the game. Tyriq would be willing to have me killed any day to keep what belonged to him and his black ass out of prison.

I had to either strike first or watch my back on these streets. After turning my back on him and disagreeing on a murder, it would be much sooner than later.

 

Tyriq wasted no time trying to kill Melissa. She was a threat to him and his business. He had set up a meeting with Omega the same night after he saw Vincent. The two met in the cold in St. Albans, not too far from Omega girl’s crib.

Omega stepped out of his pearl BMW and approached Tyriq sitting in his polished black Infiniti M, with the buffed up chrome rims. Omega approached the car with a cool swagger. A thick leather coat protected him from the cold. He wore an orange Coogi sweater underneath, beige timberlands on his feet and his 9mm tucked snuggly in his waistband. He was ambitious and ready to prove loyalty to Tyriq.

“Tyriq, what’s good, playa?” Omega greeted, giving Tyriq dap.

Tyriq was sitting alone in his whip. Omega looked around for Tip, but he was absent.

“I need a job done ASAP,” Tyriq said, getting straight to the point. “I know you’re the man for this.”

“Who is it?”

“Spoon’s baby mother…”

Omega seemed unfazed. He knew of her but cared nothing for her. He was more ruthless than his partner in crime, Soul. Omega saw this as opportunity to let Tyriq and others know how far he was willing to go. He wanted to climb up in the game and spread his fierce rep.

Omega was on the run for shooting at the cops when they raided a stash house a few weeks back in forty projects. He was there but escaped
before the raid and didn’t shoot at any cops. The streets spread lies. That was what they expected from him. Omega’s reputation for violence was growing.

“You got an address for the bitch?”

“Do what you do best, my niggah…make it go away.” Tyriq smiled and gave him the location.

Omega nodded.

“Oh, and the bitch probably got some serious loot hidden up in there…maybe a few hundred thousands. You find it, it’s yours. It’s a late Christmas gift,” Tyriq said.

“I got it.”

“Ayyite, my nigga,” Tyriq said giving Omega dap, rolling up his window and driving off.

Omega looked at the address, memorized it and ripped the paper up. He made a phone call. It was payday, he was definitely going to make it happen and fuck shit up.

Melissa pulled the Lexus into the dark paved driveway. She had a long day, dealing with her three kids, taking them shopping at Green Acres mall, then to a movie. Finally dropping them off at her mother’s house for the weekend, she needed a breather. Spoon’s disappearance was tearing her apart, not knowing if her children’s father was alive or dead. Among her friends, she displayed strength and confidence alone, she often broke down crying. She was very aware that the way he lived was possibly the way he died.

She put up the reward to call out Tyriq and put him on blast. Melissa never liked him. She always warned Spoon about trusting Tyriq. She knew that he was a snake and a grimy dude. Spoon would shush her saying they’d been friends since forever.

Melissa was unaware that she was being watched from a short distance. She began to gather up her belongings from the car and slowly got out. She was digging in her purse for the house keys, walking to the back entrance of her Queens Village home. Melissa was exhausted and wanted to get some sleep. Her three-inch heels clicked loudly against the pavement and the cold January wind nipped at her open face.

Finally, she located her keys and began to enter her home. But a creepy chill overcame her when she heard movement. Her hands were sweaty as she quickly tried to insert the keys into the lock, hurrying to get inside.

The second door was unlocked but it was a little too late. Three masked men with guns rushed her from behind and forced their way into her home.

Melissa screamed running but one of the men caught up with her, hitting her in the forehead with the butt of the gun and violently dropped her to the kitchen floor.

“Shut da fuck up, bitch,” the masked gunmen cursed, training his Glock 17 at Melissa.

“Lock that door,” the second masked gunmen told the third one.

With the door locked, they dragged Melissa to the living room and asked, “Where the fuck is the dough?”

“What money?” she replied.

The first gunmen swung and bashed Melissa in the face with the Glock, damn near broke her jaw. Teeth, blood and spit spewed out staining the thick carpet.

“Don’t fuck around, bitch!” the first gunmen shouted.

Melissa was in severe pain and was crying out hysterically, as she laid face down on the stained carpet, still coughing up blood and spit and holding her bruised jaw.

“Where the fuck is the money?” the same gunman asked, showing no remorse of his actions against her.

Melissa slowly turned herself over and looked at the gunman with her tear stained eyes, blood trickling from her mouth and her beautiful face bruised from the brutal assault.

“You gonna kill me like you did, Spoon?” she said, staring into the eyes of the first gunmen.

“Bitch, I done told you, stop fucking around!”

“Fuck you!”

All three men didn’t expect her to be this bold.

“You killed Spoon, right…? Now you want his money? Go to fucking hell!” She angrily spat, no longer in fear.

“You know what bitch…you first,” the first gunmen said. He quickly
moved toward her, snatched up a cushion from the couch, pressed it to her face, and then fired into it the thick cushion twice.

“We’ll find it ourselves,” he then said, staring down at the body and blood with a scowl on his face.

“Damn,” the third gunmen said, shaking his head.

All three then began tossing the place and pulling shit out of closets, drawers, even pulling up the carpet searching for the money. They ransacked Melissa’s entire home from floor to floor to no avail.

“Fuck!” the first gunmen shouted.

“Let’s be out then,” the second gunmen said.

They began fleeing back to their ride, knowing they fucked up. The hit was carried out and that was the thing the gunmen cared about. She was going to die anyway.

Once they were all in the car, the first gunmen, Omega sighed, pulling the ski-mask from over his head and said, “Fuck that bitch…shoulda shot her four more times!”

I was fucking furious when I got the news about Melissa. Tyriq had to kill her. I wasn’t naïve I knew something was going to happen. I just didn’t want to believe it. I thought about the three kids not having a mother or a father. Despite the shit I did, I had a heart and concern for my Godchildren.

They were staying with their grandmother while detectives were investigating their mother’s brutal death. Someone shot her twice in the face and my first thought was Tip. He was wicked and would carry out a hit like that.

I knew things were changing around me. My life was turning into one crime scene after another. I needed to make moves with the quickness.

I hooked up with Iris again. She aroused my curiosity. I was relying on Tyriq for the bricks I needed to supply Inf. I couldn’t trust Tyriq anymore. I had to get a new connect and was ready to go behind Tyriq’s back. I had a hundred-thousand dollars saved and was ready to get my shipment from somewhere else.

I met up with Iris in an upstate N.Y motel, off Interstate 87. We had talked and she had some peoples she wanted me to meet. But I had a big trust issue.

“Who are these people?” I asked over the phone.

“They good and can give you what you need,” she said.

“I don’t fucking know them.”

“I know them.”

“I don’t really know you like that,” I said.

“Vince, you’re in trouble. Tyriq’s putting word out on the streets that you had something to do with PR’s death and that you also had something to do with Spoon’s disappearance.”

“How the fuck do you know this?” I barked.

“I’m fucking the nigga. I hear things and I see things, even when he thinks I’m not listening. I know what’s goin’ on. I know I’m not the only bitch he’s fucking…its all good, cuz I’m gonna get mines.”

Hearing this, I was displeased with that fucking coward. Dry snitching on a nigga, violating the one code Spoon taught me to uphold.
You kill a man and never speak on it again
—you shut your fucking mouth. He was trying to set me up. When I murdered PR, I had no idea who the nigga’s kin was.

Law and his boys were looking to spill blood over his nephew’s murder. Tyriq pointing the finger at me made me furious. He was fucking devious. I knew his motive—Spoon was loved in the streets, and PR was well known in Hollis. If I’m blamed for their bodies, I’m the bad guy. I’m the one niggahs will be gunning for cause of this bitch ass nigga.

In Spoon’s case there was no body—no crime. The cops had nothing but in the streets, niggas were blood thirsty like vampires and were ready to suck you dry. The streets didn’t care about a body.

Tyriq was making his move against me subtly. I had to react.

“Iris, do not fuck wit’ me,” I warned her.

“Vince, you’re the only nigga I trust to do me right.”