Payback Ain't Enough (3 page)

“Nick! Oh my God! What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

“And who is this?” He got down on one knee and looked at my son. “He looks just like Peanut.”

“That’s exactly who he is,” I said. “This is Li’l Peanut.”

“Shan, are you alright? Sorry it took me so long to get to you. I promised your brother that no matter what happened I would watch over you. And I failed to keep that promise. How did you hook up with Brig? You were always against fucking with hustlers.”

“Briggen ain’t no hustler, Nick.”

“Shan, you can’t be that naïve. Why do you think I’m here? I only fucks with hustlers.”

“Nick, I live with the man. I should know. He gave up that lifestyle a long time ago. He did that for me,” I spoke in a hushed, angry tone. More angry that this is what he wanted to talk about instead of what the fuck, or should I say, where the fuck he had been. “Where have you been? What are you doing here? How did you end up in Detroit of all places?”

I didn’t get any answers because Briggen was coming back into the yard.

“Brig, you all married up and shit. Got a son and one on the way. A playa like you got me baffled, dawg.”

I watched as a wide-ass grin spread across my baby’s face as he handed me the ginger ale he had poured over ice. Nick really shocked the hell out of me. What the fuck did he mean he only fucked with hustlers? What business did he and Briggen have together? My gut instinct told me to chill and act as if me and Nick just met.

Somehow I knew the sound of my house phone ringing meant one of two things. A bill collector or bad news. I looked at the caller ID and was surprised to see that it read Bureau of Prisons. Forever had just called yesterday. He usually called only in the beginning of the week and at the end.

“Hello.” I was expecting to hear the familiar recording, “You have a prepaid call.”

But instead, there was a gentle voice that asked, “Good morning. Is this Nyla Thompson?”

I had to think about what he had just asked me. “Yes, it
is. Who may I ask is calling?” My defenses were climbing by the second.

“This is Chaplain Purnell from United States Penitentiary Jonesboro.” He got quiet as if he was waiting for his words to sink in.

I finally asked, “How can I help you, Chaplain?” I was now breathing in spurts.

“Your husband, Forever Thompson. He passed away—”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson but your husband passed—” My fingers went numb and I dropped the phone. What did he mean, Forever passed away? Did he know what he was implying?

“Noooo! God, no.” I released a bloodcurdling scream. “Not now. Don’t do this to me and my baby. Not now.” I started praying. My knees buckled, and I went to grip the kitchen sink and missed it. I fell to the floor, flat on my face. “Not now, Lord. I need a little more time.” I lay right there on the floor and began to cry. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore.

Mourning was strange because my level of sadness was damn near buried by my anger. I was angry because he left me, but more important, he left our daughter. I was angry because I didn’t get the chance to show him that I was going to remain by his side regardless… through sickness and in health. Just because he was sentenced to life and had been in that wheelchair for the last two years, I wasn’t going to divorce him or leave him there in that prison to rot. I still loved him and would always love him. I was angry because I tried to do my best by him and angry because I hadn’t seen him in two hundred and twelve days—even though that was his fault.
He’s the one who stopped me from coming to see him. Two hundred and twelve days. Yes, I was keeping count. And now I was angry that I’d never see him again. I was angry that our marriage ended up a total disaster. “What were the last seven years for?” I screamed as I pounded the floor.

Shit started going downhill as soon as he started fucking that prison teacher bitch, Shan, and getting the home wrecker pregnant. Then when he was released he couldn’t leave the bitch alone. Whatever the bitch was doing must have been good. The nigga went after her and ended up shooting her brother, the same brother who I was creeping with. She was the one who ended up shooting Forever. Why wasn’t she in prison instead of my Forever? Why does she get to live happily ever after with her man, Briggen? And me, why do I have to be all alone? I never could figure that out.

The longer I lay on the cold floor, the more questions swirled around in my head. What happened to my husband? Chaplain Purnell didn’t say he was killed but I know that’s what happened. Who did this to him? Why did they do this to him? He was in a wheelchair for God’s sake! How can you be in a wheelchair and paralyzed and make enemies? That shit made no sense to me, which definitely supported my theory that this vendetta had to be over some old shit, and it had Briggen and Shan’s names all over it.

Oh my God!
I jumped up and began pacing the floor. I snatched up the phone off the floor from me not hanging up and dialed my sister.

“Lisha?”

“What’s up, Nyla? Why are you sounding sooooooo funny?”

“Forever,” I whispered his name.

“What? Forever what?”

“I got a call from the prison. He’s dead, Lisha. He’s gone.”

“Oh God, no, Nyla.” I could hear her scrambling around. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll be right there.”

“No!” I stopped her.

“What do you mean no?”

“I’m on my way out.”

“Out where? Where’s Tameerah? How are you going to tell her?”

“She’s in school. But I’m on my way over to give the news to Briggen.”

“To Briggen?” she snapped.

“Lisha, I’ll swing by your house when I’m done.” I hung up and couldn’t find my keys fast enough. The walls were crashing down around me. I rushed out the front door, jumped in my car and sped off.

“Who the fuck is that banging on the door like that?” I rushed to my bedroom window, looking down on my freshly manicured front lawn, but didn’t see anyone.

“I’ll get it,” Shan yelled from the living room.

It was almost noon, and I was getting my little two-year-old Peanut dressed. He and I was about to hit the streets. We had our new True Religion outfits laid out. It was warm and sunny outside, and I needed to go see a few people. That was when I heard all of the rumbling. I put Li’l Peanut in his playpen and dashed downstairs into the living room. Nyla and Shan were going at it. Nyla was on
top of Shan, trying to punch her in the face. Shan was trying to block the punches. She was four months pregnant so I had to move quickly before she jeopardized my seed. I snatched a kicking and screaming Nyla up off Shan. I had her in a chokehold.

“Get off of me, Briggen!” Nyla foamed at the mouth, fighting me as if I was her number-one enemy. “I know this bitch was in on it, wasn’t she? You probably was in on it too. What role did you play, Briggen? Huh? The both of you muthafuckas was in on it! I know it!” she screamed as I tossed her down onto the sofa.

“Nyla, what the fuck is you talking about?” I asked.

“You know darn well what I’m talking about,” she snapped, popping back up and rushing at me.

Shan was up off the floor coming for Nyla. She had her brother’s old football trophy in her hand and was looking like a raging bull. I could tell she was getting ready to go all in on her.

“Shan, back the fuck up! You pregnant, remember?” I shouted.

“Fuck that! This bitch jumped on me first!” Shan yelled, though she did stop gripping the trophy so firmly.

“Forever’s gone, Briggen! Your brother is gone! But then again, you already knew that, didn’t you? You probably arranged the hit!” she screamed.

I froze in place, and Nyla slid out of my arms and fell to the floor. Frantic, she turned and looked up at me. She was trying to read me.

“He’s gone, Briggen,” she sobbed. “He’s no longer a part of our lives.”

“What do you mean
gone
?” I knew she wasn’t saying what I thought she was saying. My little brother couldn’t be dead.

“I got the call earlier this morning. They killed him. Briggen, I’m telling you this bitch had something to do with it. You can’t trust her,” Nyla said, still trying to catch her breath. She sounded crazy. One minute she was blaming Shan, the next minute she was blaming me. Then she blamed both of us.

“I’m not gon’ be too many more of your bitches!” Shan said, coming toward us.

“You gon’ be whatever I call you, bitch!” Nyla yelled jumping up off the floor.

They started spitting profanity and name-calling back and forth while trying to get at each other.

“Both of y’all shut the fuck up!” I yelled as I stood between them. I turned my gaze on Shan first. “Take yo’ ass upstairs. Now!” I said between gritted teeth. Then I turned my attention back to Nyla.

“First of all, you know as well as I do that Forever had enemies,” I said as I gave her the grittiest stare that I could. I actually wanted her to keep it in her mind that, yes, I could have done it.

“You love that bitch more than you love your own brother? Your blood?” she asked with her eyes squinted. At the same time she was breathing hard, as if she were possessed. I’d never seen her like this before.

“Let me share something with you. That nigga, my brother, Forever, who I used to know and love, has been dead to me for years. So this little so-called bad news you call yourself delivering doesn’t affect me one way or the other. So, I suggest
you take the blame game somewhere else because if I would have done it, you wouldn’t be here guessing. You’d know.”

Obviously that shocked her because it took a minute for her to speak. “You’re a coldhearted muthafucka, Briggen. That was your brother.”

“Yeah, and you’re a piece of pussy that my brother and Shan’s brother, Peanut, passed back and forth like a Dutch. So don’t act like you care all of a sudden. Scandalous-ass ho. Get the fuck outta my house before they end up burying you next to him!”

Her mouth hung open. I could tell that those words cut deep. “How could you disrespect me like that, Briggen? You know me better than that.”

Eavesdropping, Shan charged down the stairs. “Oh, we
know
you alright.”

Nyla laughed. “So, you conveniently forgot all about how your woman was being passed around from brother to brother? You and Forever both was diggin’ in this ho’s pussy. We was just one big ole happy fuckin’ family, wasn’t we? Oh, that don’t count? Brig, watch what I tell you. You better get rid of this plastic bitch! She ain’t all about you, the way she claim to be. She don’t mean you no good.”

“That’s it, bitch!” Shan stormed up to her, grabbed her by the throat, and pushed her out the front door and slammed it shut. I didn’t know she was that strong and could move that fast.

A few seconds later I heard glass shatter. Nyla had thrown a brick through the window.

“You and that bitch will pay! Mark my words!” Nyla yelled, and then gave the door one last pound before storming off the porch, jumping in her car and tearing out of the driveway.

As I stood by the window watching Nyla storm off and peel out of our driveway, I couldn’t help but conjure up a smile. I was sure I wasn’t the only one who wanted that nigga Forever dead, and if he suffered any, that would be the icing on the cake. But the news that he died alone actually tickled me. Words could not explain the humiliation I felt when he used me to bring in his dope, fucked me, and when I got pregnant, wanted me to get an abortion, making it clear that I was just a fuck and a sucka.

The thought crossed my mind to go to the funeral, but I quickly brushed that off. For one, if I saw Nyla again, it would be on. And two, I would end up spitting in Forever’s cold face. That would cause too much drama for Briggen. I was gloating that Forever was gone. However, my moment came to a screeching halt when Briggen stormed out of the house without saying a word.

CHAPTER TWO

It was Monday afternoon, and I was amped. I was free! I was relieved that there were three killings and a wounded guard the same day I killed him. They didn’t even get a chance to question me about Forever’s death. It didn’t matter now. I was gone. And I had just taken two flights from Virginia to Detroit. I ate a hot dog and cheese fries from Nathan’s, a burger from Johnny Rockets and had ice cream from Baskin Robbins. It was a step up from the usual prison cuisine. But I had to admit, the airports were intimidating to a killer like me. I was getting lost and feeling like everyone knew I was lost and had just stepped out of prison.

“I’ma freeeee man!” I sang out loud as I leaned over and kissed my cousin and partner-in-crime, Sharia, on the cheek. She picked me up in a black Porsche SUV, with the peanut butter seats. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

“Nigga, I don’t know where your lips been!” she said as she wiped my kiss off her cheek. “And fasten your seat belt.”

“Girl, you betta stop playin’ and recognize. I’m about to make you rich!” I told her.

“Negro, please! We about to make each other rich. You need me—remember? Plus, I’ma be puttin’ in work, too,” Sharia proclaimed proudly, wheeling her smooth ride through the airport traffic.