Payback Ain't Enough (5 page)

We had arrived early, and the church was packed. You would have thought that the president of the United States was up in that casket. Sharia ran off to the bathroom, so I quickly found myself a corner to stand in so that I could observe. I had to admit, they had laid him out real nice. There was a thick, red carpet that led to his solid gold coffin which sat at the end of the middle aisle. On both sides of the coffin were over a hundred bouquets of flowers that consisted of mostly black and red roses. In the background I was surprised to hear a CD playing a variety of sad songs. I had to ask myself, “When the fuck did a funeral come with a mixtape?”

The ushers were dressed in all-black and strategically placed around the church to assist the family. And there was security out the ass. His family had spared no expense. As I looked around I didn’t know whether I was at a club or a funeral prosession. Niggas were gathered in different groups talking, and bitches had on short dresses, ass and tits everywhere, weaves lookin’ tight, wearing hooker heels and were competing for seats up front. This was definitely an experience to remember.

People were pouring in like it was open bar up until 12:00
A.M
. I looked around for Sharia and thought to myself, she better hurry up before we be standing in this bitch. I started to go see what was taking her so long when I honed in on a conversation between what appeared to be two hoes that Forever used to fuck with. I thought one looked familiar.

“Look, Tracey, I don’t give a fuck if Forever was fucking you on the side and you got a kid with him. He ain’t never told me shit. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know why you are bringing it up. The nigga is dead, so I really don’t give a damn,” the pretty one said.

“I’m just saying, you wasn’t the only bitch that Forever was fucking and got pregnant. But why do the children have to suffer? I want Mercedes to know… her other family members.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes as her voice squeaked, barely able to form the words.

“Bitch, please. Call it what you want to. But you ain’t flaunting your illegitimate child in my face,” the pretty one snarled. And just as shit was getting ready to get hot, two older women came over and calmed things down.

“Look, both of you need to be ashamed of yourselves talking this way inside the house of the Lord. Forever would not
want this. Now let’s take our seats and act civil,” the older woman said looking back and forth between the two women who didn’t want to back down.

“Damn, you nosy,” Sharia said as she approached me.

“Sheeiit… It was getting ready to turn into
Jerry Springer
up in this piece,” I chuckled.

“Well, come on. I see two empty seats. Let’s get them before somebody else does.”

I WAS STRUGGLING NOT
to laugh at Sharia because she was trying to be inconspicuous. But in doing so, she became anything but that. She had on big, black round sunglasses that damn near covered her entire face, with an oversized droopy black hat. Under that she wore a scarf over her head that covered her cheeks and tied under her chin. Then she had the nerve to tell me to call her “Rhonda.” I said, “This is your town. These people know you.” I had to laugh to myself. Since no one had acknowledged her, maybe they didn’t recognize her.

She leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her, and she whispered, “See him sitting down? They call him Mo’ Betta. He tryna come up, but he don’t have enough muscle. Remember, I told you it’s all about the muscle in the ‘D’. Now, the wheelchair punk over there, that’s Melky. His brother Skye used to be real big until they murdered him. Melky has been real quiet, which don’t mean nothing. He’s somebody to watch. Wheelchair and all. Because I know he’s keeping shit under the radar. Don’t let the scooter fool you.”

“Who put him in the wheelchair?” I was curious. He made me think about Forever. Plus Forever had already told me about Melky. I just wanted to see what or how much Sharia knew.

“Him and his brother Skye used to jack all the big hustlers. They from New York. They jacked this one nigga and Melky got shot in the back. You know the story,” she said.

I couldn’t get a clear view of Melky’s face. But it didn’t matter. The nigga was in a wheelchair. How could I forget that?

“Okay, pay attention,” Sharia instructed. “This is a crew that you gotta watch. Terany, Slim, JoJo and Kay-Gee. Them niggas there are wild and unpredictable, but they get money. Lots of it. They once kidnapped a man and his family who owned several banks in the city. They had him empty each of the vaults. Word was they got away with at least three million. Oh yes, they do get their money.”

“I remember Forever talking about that.”

As my cousin told me who was who, and some more of their history, my mouth was salivating. After all, I was hungry, and these niggas had my food.

“Yo, there go Six-Nine. Niggas behind the wall got mad respect for him. I saw his flicks several times. That nigga gettin’ lots of clean money; see, he was smart. Once he got his first big score, he invested it. Dude got stocks, bonds and shit. He’s just too nice and trusting. He’s like Robin Hood on his side of town. He makes sure everybody eats. At least that’s what they say.”

“They’re right,” Sharia confirmed. “He runs a food bank, he does clothes drives, he pays the electric bills of seniors, and he buys their medicine. So if you fuck with him, it better be on the DL because you fuck with his whole hood. Them niggas will come after you.”

“Who does that shit?” I mumbled.

“Okay, now we talking. This bald-headed nigga right there, that’s Cisco,” she said pointing with her eyes.

I glanced to my left and checked out the flashy nigga with the bling who was flanked by two bodyguards. His grill had to cost every bit of six stacks.

“Now, that nigga there, he’s gettin’ money and wants everybody to know it. He even got some cops on his payroll. I’m assuming that’s why he’s so flashy,” Sharia sang, all into it and shit.

She had me all hyped up as I scanned the room.

“Stay with me now. The brother with the light eyes, that’s Born Mathematics. He’s the opposite of Cisco. He’s low-key, ruthless and will be much harder to get to. He screens everybody in his camp, and he digs more into your background than a mortgage underwriter. He got mad bodies under his belt. Cisco may be the nigga we go after first. I think he’s gonna be real easy. All you gotta do is feed his already bigass ego.”

Then my cousin’s head popped up, and she snatched off her shades. “Oh shit! Oh shit!” she kept saying.

“What?” I asked, noticing that several people were squirming in their seats just like Sharia was.

“I don’t believe this,” she said as she hurried and put her shades back on. “Where the fuck did Boomer come from? If he’s here, then where is Big Choppa? Word on the street was Born killed him,” she added in a little over a whisper.

Suddenly, a titter rippled and roared through the church. There was now lots of mumbling going on among Detroit’s underworld.

“Why is everyone trippin’? And who is this big, black, fat
nigga that got all of y’all in here all squeamish and shit?” I begged her to tell me. I needed to know the nigga causing all of this commotion.

“Boy, that’s Big Boomer. Big Choppa’s muscle. Oh… my… God. I thought he was dead. So, where is Choppa? This is gonna be good,” she squealed, sounding like all she needed was some popcorn and a soda so that she could watch her favorite movie.

I watched him go up to the casket, toss a black rose on top of it and just like that, his big, fat ass was gone.
Real smooth
, I thought to myself.

“There’s Briggen. That’s Forever’s brother,” she said and damn near broke my rib with her elbow.

Yeah, that was him. Forever talked about him a lot. I used to tell him that I couldn’t get with two brothers falling out over the same pussy. That shit made no damn sense to me. The code is supposed to be MOB: Money Over Bitches. I had to crane my neck because people were all around him. I felt like I knew him already. He was the dude I saw in the pictures which were obviously outdated. This guy looked like a much-older, sterner and darker Forever. He turned and looked directly at me as if he knew who I was and what I did to his brother.
Damn.
That shit creeped me out and caused the hairs on my neck to stand up. I felt that I saw all that I needed to see for the day. I was ready to bounce.

When I entered the church I was instantly turned off. All these niggas we hadn’t seen in years were packed in here like sardines. It’s funny how when a nigga is out on these
streets you can hardly find a loyal nigga. But drop dead and everybody is your best friend.

I wiped my feet on the rug and proceeded forward. All I could hear were voices coming at me saying, “Sorry for your loss,” “Hang in there, soldier.” And the most famous of them all, “He’s in a better place.” How the fuck is dead a better place?

People were patting my back and rubbing my arm. I didn’t even stop. I kept my cold demeanor and kept it moving. I looked around to pinpoint where the family was sitting. I saw my mom being comforted by my little cousin.

I began walking down the plush red carpet to make my way to the casket when I became overwhelmed with grief. Each step became a struggle. My heart sank into my stomach at the thought of the figure that lay before me being my little brother, the same one I taught to ride a bike and to tie his shoes. I flashed back to the last civil conversation we had in which we promised to never let any of this hustling shit come between us. A promise neither one of us kept. The same game that had given us so much had taken everything back.

When I reached the casket and peered down at him, a lump formed in my throat and all that tough shit went right out the window. My soul began to ache as tears formed in my eyes, threatening to run down, ignoring the dark shades I had on. I grabbed the handkerchief from my pocket and caught them just as they were about to fall. I took a deep breath before I attempted to make my peace.

“You free now, little bruh.” I put my hand on top of his. “On my son, the nigga who did this to you won’t live.” I said a quick silent prayer. When I turned around, all eyes were on
me like I was going to go off. I headed toward my mother and sat down. It was almost time to start the services, or as I like to call them, “the theatrics.” Here you had a so-called man of God about to speak good over a man who never stepped foot in a church, killed niggas as if it was legal and sold more dope than a little bit. A bunch of bullshit if you asked me. But hey, it’s the American way. My mother clutched my hand tight as the organ started to play.

I was not expecting a jaw-dropping moment at Forever’s funeral. But instead of one moment, I got two. When Boomer walked in, that was my first moment. Him and Big Choppa ran Memphis and the surrounding cities, and they were working on taking over the ‘D’. But the Feds finally ran down on them a few years earlier. They even rounded up Choppa’s two daughters. Everybody thought that Boomer and Choppa got taken out by Born, but now that Boomer was around, I’m sure Big Choppa had to be somewhere nearby. Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Boomer showing up at Forever’s funeral? I can only attribute that to one thing. He wanted niggas to know that the HNIC was alive and well, and was getting ready to do business as usual. I had to find that out for sure before we moved in on Cisco, because if Choppa was back, that was our man. Hell, that would be a dream come true. From what I knew, Cisco was peanuts compared to Big Choppa.

Seeing Briggen for that brief moment was my second jaw-dropping moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him. When he looked over in our direction for that brief
moment, I felt totally naked. I couldn’t tell if he recognized me or not. He was that good at wearing a poker face and having a poker game attitude, if there was such a thing. However, seeing him only magnified the love-hate thing I had for him. We had a little history.

Calvin, whose street name was “Briggen,” was a ladies’ man—more like a ladies’ magnet. Once you start fucking with him you get pulled in… for life. I don’t know any other way to explain it, or rather, him. Don’t get me wrong. He was a good-hearted person, and he definitely looked out when you were on his team. But being on his team came at a price. It was all about business, and you had to get in line with the many ladies. He didn’t keep a lady; he had ladies. Briggen couldn’t just have one lady. Like most sorry-ass Negroes, he had to have several at a time, whether you liked it or not. When he was done with you or felt the relationship served its purpose, he turned into a different person. I thought I could be the one to change him, but instead, he ended up fucking me right out of my livelihood and destroyed my life in the process. He took my club, the one thing that I built from the ground up with my very own sweat and blood and dared me to do something about it. But I promise you, when it comes to Briggen,
Payback Ain’t Enough.

“Let’s go, Dark. You movin’ too slow,” I snapped at my cousin.

“Why you buggin’ out all of a sudden?” he asked. “Oh, I know. Seeing your ex stirred up some old feelings, huh? I told you he still had you open.”

“Fuck you, Dark. Ain’t nobody got me open, but the dolla dolla bill.”

“Yeah, right. If that nigga would have come over to you and said let’s go, you would have left me in the dust.”

I didn’t have a snappy comeback for my cousin’s remark. Simply because if that would have happened, I don’t know what I would have done.