Coldhearted & Crazy (12 page)

“Hey, baby!” Old Skool greeted Zack as he made his way inside the club doors. She was sitting at the bar, watching Young Foy eat the dinner that Raven had cooked for him. She couldn't help but wish that she and Zack could go back to the time that he was in love with her, but he'd made it perfectly clear on more than several occasions his feelings had changed. However, Old Skool was still in love with him and that feeling would never die. “I said hey, baby! What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear me?”

Zack stopped, giving her a slight hug. “Oh, I'm sorry, my bad. I got a lot on my mind.” He wanted to tell somebody about just how fucked up he was really living, but his pride wouldn't let him. He wanted to announce he'd been looking over his shoulder, terrified to breathe all day long, but couldn't. “Look, I'm gonna go up to my office. I'll be back down later. I need to make some calls and handle a few things.” Zack held his head down as he walked up the stairs.

Brother Rasul, doing what he did, came over to get the roster of girls who would be working that night, so he could post his best security around the big moneymakers. The club had two bachelor parties booked and he wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly on the shift. One was a bunch of young cats from the factory and the others were a group of fake, uppity, wannabe white Uncle Tom educators who thought they were doing the club and the dancers a huge favor by coming and spending their money in the hood instead of in a white club.

 

 

“All right, fellas! Let's give this next lady some love. She has enough shake in the ass to make a blind man see! Enough junk in the trunk to a make a crippled man walk, and even bring Tupac out of hiding!” The crowd erupted in laughter at the DJ. “I'm looking for the one they call Raven!”

The club was full, energy level on bump, and the crowd was hyped. Both bachelor parties were in full swing and everyone there were getting their drink on. Having double-checked to make sure Kenya, aka Tastey, wasn't working at the club that evening for sure, all systems were go in the plan Stone laid out. B-Rite and Charlie Moe had both easily gotten into the club without being checked. They even stood at the front door, kicking it with Brother Rasul for a good ten minutes or so about where they prayed at and mutual friends they shared. Him being able to recognize them meant nothing at this point in time, because nine outta ten, Charlie Moe and B-Rite knew Brother Rasul; if he chose to step up and go for bad, they wouldn't live to see daybreak anyhow. They didn't give a shit what Muslim renegade group he was affiliated with. They also had their boys posted throughout the club and made sure that they'd handed off pistols to each one of them, having all angles covered when the festivities of revenge started.

Zack walked over to his office wall and snatched down the picture of Stone, throwing the snapshot in the trash.
Fuck being scared! Stone don't want none with me! Let me get this call over with!
Zack was trying to be brave and think positive, but he wasn't even fooling his own self. Zack sat behind his desk and dialed Deacon's cell phone number and waited for him to answer.

“Hey, dude, what up, man? I've been waiting for you to hit me up.” Deacon was anxious to get started in their impending venture and new-formed partnership. “Me and ol' boy are about to meet up in a few minutes. We're definitely ready!”

Zack had to get the tradeoff over and get his money home as soon as possible. He was a nervous wreck and hadn't slept well in days. This shit was taking a serious toll on his health. His hands shook as he held the phone. “My people are already in town. Dial this number and ask for Tastey. You two can decide on the drop-off location. I don't need any short shit, Deacon! I got a lot riding on this!” Zack added extra bass in his tone as if he could really reach out and touch someone.

Deacon reassured Zack that their revenue was right and he had his best people on top of it. The two then went over a few minor details before they ended the conversation. Zack then went inside his private bathroom to splash cold water on his face before he went downstairs to play host for the evening.
It's all good. I ain't fazed,
he repeated relentlessly in his mind, still trying to convince himself of the lie.

It was 7:25 p.m. and Stone was getting out of his girl's car. He was more than ready to confront Zack on the grimy shit he'd done once again to his family. This was the day he'd been waiting for ever since Ty put him up on the disrespectful situation concerning Kenya. He'd been trying to call Kenya every day for over a month or so and couldn't get an answer to hear her side of the story. Stone didn't want to send his woman to handle his family business. That just wasn't his style. He also had no idea that Ty, too, had been trying to get in touch with his niece to warn her about him finding out. Ty, just like Stone, had been leaving message after message with no response.

Nevertheless, it was time for Zack to finally shake hands with the devil. Stone reached the front door and cracked his knuckles before he opened it up. He could hear the loud music and the sounds of the crowd, laughing, cheering and having a good time.
All this hee-hawing 'bout to cease when I get up in this joint. That's my motherfucking word!
Stone entered the club trying not to look suspicious. His first sight was Young Foy, who, luckily, was working the front door. It was right then and there he knew that getting his gun inside would be no problem at all.

“What's good, God? I told that nigga Zack that he should've blocked you off a VIP section.” Young Foy leaned in and hugged his friend. Automatically, he felt Stone's gun on his hip, but thought nothing of it. After all, he knew Stone was Zack's homeboy from way back when, and always received special treatment whenever he was on deck wherever he went.

“Oh naw, I'm tight on that. I'm just gonna grab a seat at the bar, get a quick drink, then bounce.”

Stone stepped all the way inside door. He stood at the front of the club quickly scanning the crowd. He first saw B-Rite in a corner booth, followed by one of his crew posted by the stairway. After making eye contact with them, he walked past Charlie Moe and two other cats nodding at them. They all were in place and the shit was going as planned. The only holdup was Zack's punk-ass. He would be the star of the show tonight, not the half-naked strippers. Stone ordered a rum and Coke and waited for the shit to go down.

Old Skool was sitting at the far end of the bar with Brother Rasul counting the number of girls and who hadn't paid the house fee yet. It was a busy night, which always led to plenty of confusion.

“Let me get back on post. Do me a favor and send some juice over to my Muslim friends who came in. They're sitting over there in that booth waiting to meet up with some people.” He pointed over toward B-Rite and Charlie Moe.

Brother Rasul had no idea that they were not friends and hadn't come in peace. Although their presence in the club bothered him, he wasn't representing Islam to the fullest by being there either. The entire night so far was leaving him uneasy for some strange reason. The usual strong-minded individual was a little thrown off his square. Between worrying about both Tastey, who was out of town, and Zack hiding a secret, his mind wasn't focused. This job was taking a toll on him and his spirituality.

Old Skool never looked up as she replied, “All right, Ra, as soon as I finish the count I'll have the juice sent right over.” She had her mind focused on collecting from every dancer that night; no more weak excuses. Some of the slick, ghetto-raised females were starting to fall off of paying and it was her job to be on top of it. Old Skool never liked to let Zack down. She knew that her longtime lover worshipped money and she always wanted to bless him with as much as she could get.

As the evening got into full swing, there was a growing crowd of fellas at the entrance waiting to get inside. Per club policy, each one had to get patted down and searched for any weapons or bottles they'd try to sneak inside. Heads Up was almost at capacity level. Brother Rasul went back up to the front door to switch spots with Young Foy, who was more than happy to get back to the floor so that he could watch his woman Raven handle her business. Some of the guys who were with the wannabe white bachelor party were getting a little rough with the dancers. The out-of-control few were ordering bottles of champagne and acting wild, breaking all the strict house rules they felt they could get away with. Several of the bouncers had already argued with them, warning of the consequences. The group of drunk and disorderly men was well on their way to getting thrown out of Heads Up for the night, which was fine with Young Foy.

“Hey! Whoa! Please don't grab me like that. You're hurting me!” Raven was trying to reason with the man from the group she was giving a lap dance to. He was yanking at her long weave and trying to feel in between her legs.

“Look, I'm giving you twenty dollars for a few minutes' worth of work. Now stop your annoying bitchin', you uneducated little slut!”

The man possessed a sinister look in his eye. Young Foy was getting pissed off as he angrily stared at them. It was at that moment in time he realized just how much he really did love Raven and her small son. Feeling some sort of way, he decided he would tell her later that night. Young Foy was ready to settle down, and he was sure Raven was the one. However, his blood pressure was shooting straight up as he watched the older man disrespect his woman.
This nigga got one more minute before I say fuck this job, and beat his ho-ass!
Young Foy thought as he rubbed his hands together and his heart raced.

Zack cracked opened his office door and heard the sounds of people spending money.
Damn, I gotta get downstairs and play host. Time for me to shine!
In spite of being sick from worry about Stone making good on his promises, he still had a club to run. After all, he was the boss and had to keep his fronts up no matter what the price was.

Getting it together, Zack fixed his tie and headed down the stairs, trying his best to overcome his fear. With the eye of a hawk, he looked across the entire club for any signs of anything abnormal. As far as he could tell, it was packed. Everything seemed normal and everyone appeared to be having a good time. That meant he was making money, so he was happy. But like they say, all good things must come to an end. Well, this was about to be one of those times in Zack's otherwise perfect life.

Stone sat inconspicuously perched on a barstool on the other side of the room. Feeling unstoppable, he saw Zack, dressed in a suit and tie, make his way slowly down the staircase. His blood started to boil. Stone could feel his heart pumping overtime as he also watched some of, if not all of, the dancers degrade themselves like he knew Kenya was doing as well. As the clock ticked, his adrenalin rose. This would be his ultimate revenge for having his niece whore herself out for a few dollars, and his long-coming payback for both her parents' murders. Stone swallowed the last bit of his drink he was nursing and stood up, brushing his pants off. That was the signal for Stone's crew that it was getting ready to go down. Zack was his, and any wannabe heroes, on staff or not, his cohorts who were riding with him would deal with. It was on! It was show time!

“Hey, Old Skool, sweetheart. How's the count on the girls and the door going? How we looking?” Zack was so engrossed in finding out about the dollar amount that he didn't observe Stone creeping up behind him. Old Skool noticed Stone first and smiled. She knew all of Zack's boys.

“Hey, baby. I was wondering when you were coming down to join us. When did . . . ?” Before Old Skool could finish greeting him, her smile quickly turned into her jaw damn near dropping to the strip club floor.

Zack, already nervous and jumpy as a cat, saw the expression on her face. Praying first, he eased his body around just in time to see Stone push his newly shined 9 mm pistol dead in his face. Zack, terrified, wasted no time with being humble, trying his best to cop a plea. “Let me explain, Stone. Hold up! I can pay you! Wait! Please don't do this!” Zack was begging for his life knowing the pedigree of his longtime associate and what he was capable of if pushed to it.

Stone, not caring about the multitudes of witnesses, had to laugh at his former friend, Zack, who always tried to go for bad every chance he got. “Don't do what, motherfucker? You ain't shit but a store-bought pimp. Look at you! You fuckin' little pussy! You thought it was okay what you got my niece doing up in this motherfucker?”

“Niece?” Old Skool puzzled with tears in her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Old Skool. This murder about to take place right here is between two grown-ass men!”

Zack was paralyzed with fear as he faced his future. It was certain death as Stone nudged the barrel of the gun to his temple. “Naw, man, please hold up! I told you I didn't know Kenya was Johnnie and Melinda's daughter! I told you that!”

“Please don't, Stone!” Old Skool begged for mercy, shocked at who Stone was claiming Kenya truly was. “Please don't! For old time's sake don't!” All the nights the three of them spent in the club drinking meant nothing to Stone at this time. He was in a zone of his own.

“Shut the fuck up, you ancient, sagging-titty bitch! I done told you this is between me and this ho-ass nigga here!” He spat directly in her face, leaving her stunned. Stone was hyped and drunk with power as he humiliated his prey. Zack had tears in his eyes and warm piss was running down his right pants leg. “Now straighten your tie and boss up!” Stone laughed out loud and, without a second thought about the crowd of shocked onlookers, ruthlessly pulled the trigger. “Damn, my nigga! Ain't no fun when the rabbit got the gun. Is it, bitch!” Stone emptied his entire clip into Zack's body. Feeling smug with no remorse, he then watched his former friend collapse onto the floor. “You already suited and booted for a funeral, casket ready, so it's whatever!”

Old Skool had blood splattered across her dress and face. She screamed over and over again as she held Zack's limp and lifeless body close. “No! No! No!” she sobbed uncontrollably in the middle of what had become chaos.

At that point, all hell broke loose and shots were fired from every direction possible. In the midst of the pandemonium, Brother Rasul pulled both guns out, which he always carried, ready for war. Fearlessly, he ran into the crowd of hysterical people toward Zack's assailant, Stone. B-Rite, being the loyal goon he was paid to be, saw the direction his Muslim brother was headed in and let off several rounds. Good with his aim, three bullets hit their mark, knocking Brother Rasul off his feet and into the side of several chairs. On the other side of the club Raven, terrified like the rest of the innocent dancers, was trying to get off of the disrespectful man's lap she was giving a dance to. Using all her strength, she fought, struggling to get away and to safety, but couldn't. The man was cowardly holding Raven close to him like a shield from the gunfire.

Young Foy, having the heart of a lion, was jumping over chairs to rescue Raven from harm's way. He made it less than two feet from her when a parade of more shots recklessly rang out inside the strip club walls. Shockingly he saw one of the bullets tear through Raven's back. All of her movement and attempts to break free from the man's hold abruptly stopped. The customer who was holding Raven coldly let her limp body fall to the broken glass floor without so much as a second thought. When the spineless man looked up to make his escape from any more stray bullets that were flying, he was face to face with Young Foy, who raised his pistol and made the coward meet his Maker. The street-born and raised youth made sure the older dude, who had just proven himself to be less than a man, was sure to have a closed-casket funeral. Young Foy felt his heart break in two as he looked at Raven, knowing she was gone. He then laid his body on top of hers, shielding it, to make sure that she didn't get hit again.

All of Stone's crew had made it safely to the door and he was almost there also. People, not know which way to go or turn, were screaming, taking cover in every corner of the bar they could hide. Charlie Moe yelled out to Stone to hurry the fuck up. He knew that the police would soon be on their way and no one on the team wanted to go back to prison, at least not tonight. Stone dumbly had used all his ammunition laying Zack down and was now at a total disadvantage to defend himself. Bullets were flying in every direction and sheer panic and pandemonium were taking over the club. When Stone finally reached the door, he was suddenly stopped by a hot, burning sensation rushing throughout his entire body. Everything started to move in slow motion to him. He was getting weak and felt dizzy. Stone fell to the ground and looked up to see Old Skool standing over him with a smoking gun at her side.

“Why? Why did you do it, Stone? I know he was a snake, but I loved him!” Tears were streaming down her face, causing her eye makeup to run down her cheek like a sad raccoon. Old Skool screamed out loud in anguish and shot Stone once more, ripping a gaping hole in his chest.
What else is left?
she thought before turning the gun on herself, choosing not to live life without her man.