Authors: De'nesha Diamond
Gangsta Divas (29 page)
Vengeance
45
Lucifer
Juvon “Bishop” Washington
April 12, 1990âOctober 30, 2011
April 12, 1990âOctober 30, 2011
A
nother day. Another funeral.
nother day. Another funeral.
I stand dry-eyed above Bishop's casket with my 9mm burning a hole in my pocket. Gray clouds hover above the large crowd while a thin sheet of rain sprays against our defiant faces. The preacher rattles off the same sermon that I've memorized over the years. Hell, there's even the same cadence in his voice. This shit is just a gig to his ass. He didn't know my brother. We haven't rolled up in his church since we were kids. Why Momma insisted on using him is beyond me. Does she really think that after the lives we've lived and the hell we've raised that God, if there really is a God, will welcome my brother through the pearly gates? Is Mason up there, too?
Despite my mental state, hope still blooms where my heart is supposed to be. At long last, the preacher stops talking and I can feel every eye shift to me. They're all expecting me to say a few words. I can't back out of the shit like I usually do. I cast a look around and see someone side-eyeing me like they think my ass has something to do with this shit.
Fuck them.
I draw a deep breath and force my feet to move one at a time. Once I'm front and center, I can't help but be grateful for the closed casket. Even then, the words I've spent the last three days practicing in my head vanish in a puff of smoke inside my head. My iron spine and steel stomach morph into Jell-O oozing into my knees.
I draw a deep breath and force my feet to move one at a time. Once I'm front and center, I can't help but be grateful for the closed casket. Even then, the words I've spent the last three days practicing in my head vanish in a puff of smoke inside my head. My iron spine and steel stomach morph into Jell-O oozing into my knees.
You can do this. You can do this.
I lift my head and zero in on one of the friendly faces in the crowd: Tombstone. “As most of you know I'm not one for making big speeches. I'm a woman of action and very few words.” I lick my dry lips while I suck in another deep breath. “For as far back as I can remember I've always looked up to my brother. I wanted to do what he did, be where he wasâmainly because that was usually where all the action was. I can promise you that Bishop didn't always want me to tag along, but what can I say, I can be persistent.”
A few chuckles disperse throughout the crowd.
“This doesn't mean that I've always gotten my way with Bishopâjust
most
of the time.”
most
of the time.”
More laughter.
A smile eases across my face, but it's time to address the hard shit. “I'm not going to lie, the last couple of months have been the hardest between Bishop and me.” I lick my lips again, unable to keep them hydrated. “I've heard every rumor that's been floating around . . . from muthafuckas that should know better. Whatever disagreement was between us, at the end of the day, family meant the world to
both
of us. We always looked out for one another whether the other wanted it or not.”
both
of us. We always looked out for one another whether the other wanted it or not.”
My smile inches wider while my eyes burn.
“Bishop and I may have been differentâin a lot of waysâbut our love for each other is and will always be strong and the niggas who pulled this hit will soon feel the steel kiss of my blade. That shit is a fuckin' promise.”
The guns come out and full clips are emptied into the gray clouds above. I don't know if I've won over any doubters and frankly I don't give a shit. I've lost my brother and with every breath the shit becomes more real than the second before. I step away from the casket for the next soldier to say a few words. By the time all the speeches are through, the light drizzle turns into fat pelts, drenching everyone from head to toe.
As we head to the line of limousines, I lean over and make my excuses to my mother. She clutches my hands and hisses back, “Are you about to go after those assholes that did this to my son?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Good.” She clutches her jaw so tight that the muscles start twitching along its line.
I help her to the backseat and then switch directions.
“You've been avoiding me,” Cousin Skeet says, rushing to flank my side.
“That's because I have nothing to say to you.” I keep moving without sparing him a look.
“What the fuck? You need me,” he hisses, reaching for my hand.
I yank my shit back and round on him. “Let's get something straight. I don't like you. I've never liked you. That stunt you pulled in not telling me that bitch, LeShelle, was awake only proves that I can't trust you.”
“What? I was going to tell you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Wait. Wait. We're in this shit together.”
“Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter.You need me more than I need you.”
“What?”
“Look. I heard about your suspension. LeShelle made a fool out of you.You should have let me put her down when I had the chance. Now she's out there playing Bonnie to Python's Clyde.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cousin Skeet grabs my hand and whirls me around to face him.
“Oh, yeah. You probably don't know that shit, either. Python is alive. Maybe it's past time for you snatch that âS' off your chest, Supercop.
“Your little gang in blue is never going to find Python and his bitch and those FBI fuckers are only going to put in face time and then pack their shit up and go chase after something that's going to get them better headlines other than this gang-on-gang shit. We're your last hope for you to get revenge for your slut daughter and her bastard sonâwho is probably Python's kid any damn way.”
Cousin Skeet's face twists in outrage. “Who in the fuck do you think you're talking to?”
I get up in his face. “Something that crawled out from beneath my fuckin' shoe.”
“Little girl, you
don't
want to make me your enemy.”
don't
want to make me your enemy.”
“Actually, I relish the idea.” I give him a hard glare and then step around him. I'm tired of fucking with him.
Tombstone opens the back door to the SUV and then slams it shut after I climb in. Inside, Hennessy and Cutty are slamming new clips into multiple guns.
“Lucifer!”
I jerk around at the sound of my name and see Profit jogging his way over to me. At least he had the good sense not to bring Ta'Shara to Bishop's funeral. Ruby Cove has been buzzing ever since he brought her home a couple of nights ago. It's not like it was before when he brought her over and most people on the block didn't know who her people were. I don't know why she's here or how long she's staying but the shit is only going to cause more problems. It's just another headache that I have to deal with.
“I want to come with you,” Profit announces when he reaches the door.
“No. This isn't your battle.”
“The hell it isn't,” Profit barks. “Bishop was my friend.”
“Thanks, but I got this.” I power up the window. “Let's do this.”
Tombstone climbs in behind the wheel and then peels us out of the funeral line and floats out to the other side of town. By then the sky has gone from gray to black.
We step out of the vehicle and blend into the night, not even a gold flag waving from our back pockets. I have no trouble shifting into soldier mode.The small tattoo shop has a single neon sign advertising that they're open. I'm the first one through the door, jingling a gold bell.
“I'll be with you in a minute,” a voice shouts out from the back.
Tombstone locks the door behind us and pulls down the shades.
I circle around with my index finger. My soldiers split off to do a body count within the shop.
“I'm looking for a dude name Crunk,” I holler out. “Heard he was the best tat-artist in the city. Is this his joint?”
“Sure is,” the voice yells over the steady hum of a tattoo machine. “Take a seat and I'll be out in a minute.”
I ignore the directive and follow the sound of his voice. I coach my heartbeat to slow down because I want to enjoy the next few minutes. Behind me, I hear a few muffled shots and know that my men are putting down whoever else is in the shop. I don't break my stride until I'm standing in front of a black curtain. Pushing my emotions aside, I swipe the curtain back. Crunk is bent over some big brothah's back, inking on some huge masterpiece.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, Crunk eases off the foot pedal, shutting off the machine. “I told you that I'll be out in a minute,” he snaps, whipping around in his chair. When our gazes crash, the color drains from his face.
“I take it that no introduction is needed?” I ask.
Now that the machine is off, I can clearly hear the soft snore coming from the giant in his chair.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asks, looking two seconds from pissing in his pants.
I'm disappointed to see this pencil-thin nigga tremble and bitch out like this. I want a fight. The messier, the more therapeuticâfor me.
“I-I, uh, don't know anything,” he stammers, hitting the dude next to him to wake him up. “I don't know what you've heard.”
Pathetic.
I take aim and fire a single bullet into the back of the sleeping giant's head to shut up all that snoring. “Do you remember anything now?”
I take aim and fire a single bullet into the back of the sleeping giant's head to shut up all that snoring. “Do you remember anything now?”
Crunk jumps up out of his chair and backs up into the station behind him, knocking over needles and tubes of ink. “Oh, shit. Please, don't kill me. I'll tell you anything you want to know.”
I can't hide my disappointment any longer. “What kind of soldier are you?”
“I'm not,” he whines. “I'm just an artist, man. I ain't into none that street banging. I swear.” His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.
“So what's a shitty artist like you doing driving the getaway car after that hit on Da Club three nights ago?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah, nigga. Oh, shit.” I step farther into the room, pocketing my gun and retrieving my knife. I make sure to pull it out real slow so that I can watch his eyes widen like a cartoon.
“Wait. Wait.” He makes a T with his hands like that is really going to call a time out. “I know that shit looks bad, but I didn't shoot no-damn-body.You can't put no bodies on me.”
“But you can tell me the name of those bitches who pulled the job.”
Crunk's entire body collapses, but there's no doubt in my mind that he's going to snitch long before I make my first cut.
“All right. All right. If I tell you their names will you let me go?”
Chuckling, I cock my head at the dude and ask, “What do you think?”
Tears skip down his face. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“That about sums it up.” I take the blade between my thumb and middle finger and then launch it into his right shoulder.
“Aaaaaargh!” Crunk falls onto the floor like a drama queen.
The performance is so bad that I roll my eyes as I walk over to his crying punk-ass and squat down to yank my shit out of his shoulder.
“Aaaargh!”
“Stop all the hollering before I cut your dick off and make you blow yourself.”
He shuts up, but the foul stench that follows tells me his Fruit of the Looms are no longer white.
“I'm going to make you a deal,” I tell him, already bored with the game before it even starts. “You tell me the names like a good little boy and I'll kill you quick and easy.You won't feel a thing.”
Crunk whimpers.
“But if you drag this shit out, I'll gut you in a way that you'll spend the whole damn night watching your guts spill out of you.”
More whimpering.
“Sooo . . . what's it going to be?”
46
Alice
C
ar lights flash across the window at the same time I hear a car's engine pull up into the driveway. Instead of being nervous, I'm extremely calm in what I have to do. A minute later, I hear a key rattle around in the front door before it opens and closes. Next comes the flipping of a light switch that refuses to work.
ar lights flash across the window at the same time I hear a car's engine pull up into the driveway. Instead of being nervous, I'm extremely calm in what I have to do. A minute later, I hear a key rattle around in the front door before it opens and closes. Next comes the flipping of a light switch that refuses to work.
“What in the fuck?” the voice growls.
A smile touches my lips as I listen as the man's steady, heavy footsteps head toward the downstairs study. I remain still as the door squeaks as it opens, and there's another flipping of a light switch.
“Damn. Does none of the lights in this bitch work?”
On cue, I twirl around in the executive leather chair behind a mahogany desk. “Need a little help?” I lean on over and click on a lamp.
Big, bad police captain Melvin Johnson jumps back and goes for his gun.
“Ah. Ah.” I lift up my gun with an extended muzzle. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
We engage in a staring contest until his hand drifts away from his hip.
“Who in the fuck are you? What are the hell are you doing in here?”
Laughing, I lean back. “C'mon. Surely I haven't changed
that
much over the years.”
that
much over the years.”
Melvin frowns and then squints for a better look. I'm thrilled when recognition kicks in. “You gotta be shitting me,” Melvin swears.
“Ah. So you do remember me. I feel a little better. After all, you did put a baby on me.”
“Oh, fuck. Not this shit again,” Melvin says, rolling his eyes. “I thought I made it clear to you not to bring your ass out to my house again.”
“Yeah. I remember how you didn't like anyone disturbing your precious wife about your criminal life, right,
Cousin Skeet?
I flash him a smile. “Well, I wouldn't worry about anyone bugging your wife ever again.”
Cousin Skeet?
I flash him a smile. “Well, I wouldn't worry about anyone bugging your wife ever again.”
Melvin's expression evaporates. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Ask her yourself.” I nod for him to turn around.
Instead of following my direction, he stares at me.
“Go ahead. Look.”
Finally unable to resist, Melvin does a slow turn toward the leather sofa behind him. There sits his precious wife,Victoria, slumped over with a bullet hole in the center of her forehead.
“Victoria!” His body deflates as he races to his dead wife. The second he touches her, she flops over against his chest. “Oh. My god. Noooo,” he cries out in anguish. He holds her for a long while, before easing her back against the sofa like he's handling a delicate flower.
“Touching. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you actually gave a shit about somebody else.”
Melvin jumps to his feet and charges toward me.
POP!
A bullet slams into his right shoulder and he spins around. “Aaaargh!”
“I suggest that you slow your muthafuckin' roll, Captain.”
“You're a dead bitch.”
“Maybe. But not today,” I tell him. “And certainly not by you.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Who said that I wanted anything?”
Melvin's face goes from angry to incredulous. “Then why are you here?”
“I'm settling
all
my old debts.”
all
my old debts.”
He shakes his head. “You're crazy.”
“That's what those doctors kept telling me. I have a lot of people to thank for thatâbut instead of my letting shit slide, I've decided to stop playing the victim. Only I'm not doing that forgiving and forgetting bullshit. I'm going biblical. Eye for and eye type of shit.”
The color drains from his face. “Oh, God, Christopher. What did you do to Christopher?”
“Relax. He's fine. You don't think that I would hurt my own grandson, do you? He is my grandson, isn't he?”
Melvin grunts.
“I guess we should be grateful that he's not some kind of retard or something, seeing how his mommy and daddy are brother and sister.”
“Stop that! Stop that!”
“What? Are you still denying the truth?”
“You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” he seethes. “If you've harmed one hair on his head, I'll . . .”
“What? You'll do what?” I cock my head at him. “Haven't you figured out how this is about to go downâor do you need me to draw a picture?”
“What? You're going to take my grandson just because your old girl, Dribbles, stole your baby? Hell. Did you ever think that the boy was better off?” he rambles off. “Who the fuck puts a baby in a goddamn oven? Your apartment was trashed and you was strung the fuck out.You should be happy that somebody stepped in and raised that boy. Smokestack stepped up and Mason turned out to be a fuckin' good man. A true muthafuckin' soldier. I'm glad your ass never got the chance to know him before they put him in the earth.”
“Dead? My baby is dead?”
Melvin throws back his head and laughs. “Yeah.You didn't know about that, did you? Your precious Mason was killed by his big brother Terrell. That's a Shakespeare tragedy for you.”
Each explosive revelation is like being hit by a Mack truck.
When Melvin finishes his tirade, he's glaring at me while I remain in shock.
“Dribbles stole and raised my baby?” I ask, standing up. “You
knew
where my baby was the whole timeâand you left me in that jail?”
knew
where my baby was the whole timeâand you left me in that jail?”
Now was the time to take all that shit back, but Melvin threw up his head and talked down his nose at meâlike he's always done. “So the fuck what? You weren't doing shit but pissing your life away. Locking you up probably saved your life, but do I even get a fuckin' thank you card?”
“Oh. I'm sorry.Thank you.”
POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP!
I walk around the desk and jam my finger on the trigger.
POP! POP! POP!
POP! POP! POP!
Melvin jerks around on his feet until I empty my clip in his ass.When I stop he collapses to the floor with a river of blood streaming out of his mouth and chest, but I'm not satisfied.
“You sick muthafucka. How could you do that shit to me? How could you!” I drop to my knees next to his body and proceed to pistol-whip his ass until my arm grows tired and I'm covered in his blood.
My baby is dead.
I've lived with that possibility for over twenty years. I accepted it. At least, I thought I did. But now that I know for sure, I slip into mourning all over again.
Terrell killed his own brother? No. Say it isn't so, God.
I've lived with that possibility for over twenty years. I accepted it. At least, I thought I did. But now that I know for sure, I slip into mourning all over again.
Terrell killed his own brother? No. Say it isn't so, God.
The cool reserve that I've worked so hard to maintain is gone and I'm racked by grief. I roll off Melvin's dead body, sobbing.
Thump!
I jerk my head up to see a little boy in Batman pajamas, staring wide-eyed back at me. “Christopher.”
I move to get up and the boy takes off running. “Wait, Christopher. Come back.” I leap to my feet and take off after the kid toward the front door.
“Christopher, I'm not going to hurt you.” I give chase. “I'm your grandma.”
He opens the door and collides into someone on the other side just as they're about to knock.
“What the . . .” The woman's head whips around to see the boy blow past her.
For me, time slows as I attempt to slow down, but I'm also having a minor heart attack when the woman turns back toward me while standing beneath the porch light. I know those blue eyes anywhere.
“Dribbles.”
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