Family Over Everything (22 page)

“You got fifty dollars on you, bro?” Day'onne asked Menace.

He, Menace, and Troy sat on Menace's couch, drinking alcohol and smoking marijuana. Menace, who once lived in a luxurious mansion, now resorted to moving back up Northview. His place was a live disaster, filled with trash scattered everywhere on the floor and a deadly stench. His apartment wasn't a far cry from when he was younger, living in his mother's house. They both had the same, spoiled food smell, dirty floors that needed a good mop job, and barely any furniture to make it feel like a home.

“No, bro. You know I'm broke as hell. I want another bottle of that Dom P, though.”

Day'onne shook his head and dug into his pockets, finding a ten-dollar bill in one and a one in the other.

“Damn, I only got eleven stinky-ass dollars on me? This shit is a shame! We need to get back out there, bro!” Day'onne yelled in a drunken slur.

“With what fucking money? We don't even have fifty dollars on us!” Troy said.

Day'onne shook his head again and sunk down into the couch, holding an empty bottle of Ciroc.

The place he was in his life now felt like a nightmare. Not even able to afford a bottle of alcohol, he didn't think he could sink any lower. Only two months ago, he'd been on top of the world, blowing money and living the fast life.

“Man, I don't give a fuck what y'all talking, Pittsburgh still my motherfucking city! I'm known in these fucking streets to wreak havoc!” he spat viciously.

“Man, whatever.” Troy laughed. “Fuck it, we might as well deal with it, we broke as hell! Not everybody gets to stay on top for long!”

Jumping to his feet, his eyes bucking, Day'onne threw the empty bottle to the floor and screamed, “Broke? Nigga, speak for yourself. I'm never broke, man. I'll kill a bitch or nigga for calling me broke.”

Menace and Troy laughed hysterically, watching him kick empty bottles around like a madman.

“Bro, it's cool; we'll get back on our shit,” Menace finally said, trying to calm his best friend.

“Fuck yeah, we will! And I'll do whatever it takes!” Day'onne vowed.

C
orrine sat in the corner of her bedroom with her legs glued to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, rocking back and forth, shaking. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand and scratched her dry, ashy neck. Her body was going through withdrawal. It'd been more than three days since she'd had her last dose of cocaine and she was craving for it.

She needed to get her “medicine” soon and she'd vowed she'd do anything to get it. But ever since she got addicted to drugs and lost all of her drop-dead gorgeous physique, Corrine also had lost most of her clients. But deciding to beat the odds, she finally got to her feet before she walked out of the room. Her knees wobbled as she used the wall as her support and walked downstairs. When she reached the bottom of the steps, she bumped right into Sugar.

“I hope you're on your way to make my money, little girl. Because I'm telling you, if your ass don't have my money, you're out of here,” Sugar snapped, grabbing Corrine by her collar and poking her in the forehead.

She nodded and made her way out of the house. On Hazlet Street, onlookers laughed when she licked her cracked, chapped lips and took a rubber band from around her wrist, folded her dirty T-shirt under her small breasts, and tied it. After standing on the corner for twenty minutes, a black Escalade pulled up in front
of her and she got excited. She sashayed to the passenger side of the car, putting an extra switch in her walk and forcing a smile.

“Hey, papi, you ready for a good time?” Corrine asked, her voice cracking.

Jewels, who was in the driver's seat, nodded and flashed a fake smile to mask his disgust. Corrine hopped into the passenger's seat and before she had a good chance to close the door, she was already fumbling with his crotch.

“Damn, ma, hold up. Trust me, you'll have plenty of time for that.” Jewels laughed.

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms under her breasts when he finally drove out of Northview.

Brooke, who was in the backseat of the SUV, discreetly drenched a folded washcloth with chloroform. Corrine was too focused on turning her next client to notice Brooke slide out of the backseat, kneel, and wrap his muscular hands around her mouth. Her eyes bucked when he placed the cloth against her nose and tightly held it there. She tried clawing at his hands but she became weak, losing consciousness moments later.

“Hello, son,” Ms. Younger said, opening the front door to allow Deion to walk in.

As usual, he was clean-shaven and dressed in a Adidas jogging suit with matching tennis shoes.

He and Ms. Younger hadn't seen or talked to each other since their argument when she'd kicked him out of her house. With all he was dealing with, it was finally time to go see and talk to the only person who'd loved him unconditionally for the past several years.

“Hey, Ms. Younger,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

“So, how have you been? Have you taken my advice?”

“I've been good, low-key lately. And yes, I have. I don't know what I was thinking,” Deion admitted, holding his head low.

Placing her hand under his chin, Ms. Younger gently lifted his head. “Baby, don't be so hard on yourself, we all make mistakes. Like everyone else, I want the best for you. I love you, boy. I would hate to see something happen to you while you're out there on those streets, Deion. I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

“And lesson learned, Ms. Younger. I was so caught up in the money and fast life, I didn't take heed that my decisions were affecting everyone else. But it's all good, I'm completely out of the game. I want to focus on my writing again and finding my little sister, Corrine.”

Ms. Younger's eyes beamed in excitement when he mentioned Corrine's name. She had been waiting for the day that he would finally look for his long-lost sister.

Even though she didn't know her and had never met her, she was his family and that was the most important thing.

“Really? What made you finally want to find her?”

“I had a long talk with an old friend, Jarell. He convinced me. I want to reunite with her and apologize for never being there for her.”

Taking a deep breath, Deion shook his head, his mind drifting back.

“Why haven't you ever been there for her? What was really stopping you?”

“When I was sixteen, Day'onne raped Corrine. She asked me, begged me, not to tell Melissa, and I agreed. All this time, I've felt so guilty for never telling Melissa, that I never wanted to look at Corrine. Every time I looked at her, my mind would rewind
to the day he raped her and I couldn't do anything to prevent it. I felt too guilty,” Deion finally admitted.

Ms. Younger wiped the tear that ran down Deion's cheek before wrapping her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. She cupped her hands around his face. “So, that explains why you didn't want to see her. In eight years, Deion? You've got to let that go, baby. That was the past. Neglecting your family isn't going to solve anything. You've got to learn how to quit running from your problems and face them. The time is now, Deion. You have to stop running from Corrine and finally face her.”

Deion nodded in agreement as he wiped his tears away. “I know and—”

The loud ringing of his cell phone interrupted him. Taking it out of his pocket, he looked at the screen and saw it was someone calling from a private number.

“Who's this?” Deion answered.

“What's up, Deion?”

“I asked you who this is?”

“Don't worry about that. All I want you to worry about is saving your crackheaded little sister. Now, I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen closely, you understand?”

Sitting down, the color drained from Deion's face and he felt his esophagus closing in. His breathing became heavy and his eye twitched. Seeing the fear in his face, Ms. Younger became concerned but remained quiet.

“On the east side in Homewood, I want you to drop off two hundred thousand dollars, in cash. There will be an abandoned building right by the bus station and that's where I want you to put the money. You have four hours to make this happen, Deion. I got your precious little sister right here, and I know you don't want anything to happen to her, now do you?” Jewels said.

“No, I'll have the money.”

“That's what I like to hear. Like I said, you have four hours. I'll keep in contact,” Jewels said, ending the call.

Deion slammed the phone down onto the table and laid his head into his hands.

“If it isn't one thing, it's another, man!” he cried.

“Baby, what's going on?” Ms. Younger asked with concern.

“They have Corrine! They want two hundred thousand or she's dead!”

“Who has her? Why do they have her?”

“I think it's a man named Jewels. Remember I was telling you about him? Ever since Day'onne robbed him when we were younger, he never seems to go away. But I have to go, I got to go save Corrine,” Deion said, flaring his nose and standing to his feet.

“But wait, baby! Where are you going to get all of that money from? I don't want you to do anything dangerous, Deion!” Ms. Younger cried.

“I still got money saved up from the book. I'll give them all of that. And this is my only chance, Ms. Younger. I've never been there for Corrine before, but I'll damn sure be there for her now! She's family and she needs me.”

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him, leaving Ms. Younger speechless.

Returning to his condominium, Deion stormed into his bedroom and flipped his mattress to retrieve the .9mm that Day'onne had given him a couple months prior.

Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a box labeled
Hustling Hard
and opened it. In it was over three hundred thousand dollars he'd retrieved from his book royalties. He counted off two hundred thousand dollars and placed it in a duffle bag he got from the closet. Grabbing the bag, he jetted out to his car and headed to Northview.

Mercedes stood on her usual corner on Penfort, dressed in a burnt-orange sleeveless dress. It was eleven o'clock and she promised herself the next customer would be her last for the night. She closed her eyes tightly as the cold, bitter winter wind assaulted her bare skin as she rubbed her hands together to keep them warm. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a black BMW approaching. Standing tall, she arched her back and made her legs go inward, making herself appear bowlegged.

When the man behind the wheel flashed his headlights twice, she sashayed to the passenger's seat and smiled. Hopping into the car, she said, “What's up, daddy? What you—”

The man with sleek the temple fade and slanted eyes caused her words to get caught in her throat. She glared at him and tried to open the door, but he had already locked it.

“Please, don't go anywhere, I need your help!” Deion pleaded, grabbing her wrist.