When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) (14 page)

              Byron made a mental note that once it got to a certain time, he would go back to the house. If Tramar and Jackson did not show up, they’d simply be hunted down. Chicago would never be large enough, especially after the mockery they’d made out of him by running up in his house when he was naked.

              Byron squinted in his rearview mirror when he saw a nice shape walking down the street. “Well, what do we have here?” he asked himself, licking his lips as the female got closer.

              From where he sat, he could see that she had an hourglass shape, and he wanted to see how that ass was looking. Big hips and a big ass meant that he’d have to holler at her and see where her head was at. He chilled for a few minutes, allowing the female to get closer. Once Bryon saw her big, glistening lips, shining under the barely lit streetlights, he knew he’d have to say something. He didn’t really count on getting lucky, especially if she had a nasty attitude about her that would turn him off.

              The female came walking by the car, on the other side of the street. She looked into Byron’s Bugatti – a look which totally gave him the okay to say something, anything.

              “You all right?” Byron asked. “You shouldn’t be walkin’ out here by yourself.”

              “Oh, I’m fine,” the female said. “I’m just headed home. My boyfriend made me mad.”

              “Made you mad, huh?” Bryson said, to himself softly. Such information was very useful when trying to get into a woman’s head. He then spoke up louder, so the chick could hear him. “How much longer you got to walk?” he asked her. “It ain’t safe for you to be walkin’ out here this time of night no way, you know that, right?”

              “Yeah,” Ayana said, stopping and looking down the street as if she were trying to guess the rest of her distance. “I don’t know, maybe six more blocks. I ain’t never walked this way before. I was gettin’ kinda scared and wanting to call my boyfriend, but fuck that nigga.”

              Byron shook his head. This chick was literally singing music to his ears. Any time a chick was very upset with her boyfriend, Byron could use it to slide her panties right off of her legs and get what they were covering.

              “Look, I won’t be able to sleep unless I know that you made it home okay,” Byron said. “I’m about to head out myself. I was just stoppin’, waitin’ on a call and shit. If you want, I can take you home right quick.”             

              Ayana pretended to hesitate, as she was never the kind of chick to get into a vehicle with a man she didn’t know. After pausing for a few moments, she hurried across the street. “Okay,” she said.

              Byron slammed the palms of his hands together before unlocking his car and moving some stuff around in his front seat. Once Ayana had climbed into the seat, he had to practically bite his lip from saying,
God damn that ass is fat as fuck
.

              Ayana could feel Byron’s eyes on her body. She felt like a piece of meat; she knew her entire purpose right now was to throw a dog a bone and hope that he would chase it. Very casually, she looked into the rearview mirror. She hated how dark Jackson’s car was, especially since it was parked up the street and the street was just as dark. When she turned and put her focus on Byron, she smiled and licked her lips.

              “Thank you for helpin’ me,” she said. “I really was getting’ scared. I can’t believe this nigga got me doin’ this shit.”

              “What he do that get you so angry?” Byron asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind me askin’ and shit.”

              “Naw, it’s coo,” Ayana said, shaking her head. “Naw, that nigga gon’ be up in the bed with some other bitch when I get over there. Apparently, because I couldn’t get there until I got done with my mama and her issues, he just went ahead and invited his own company and shit and was like forget about me and shit.”

              “That’s fowl,” Byron said, wanting to reach over and grab Ayana’s thighs.

              “Yeah, it is,” Ayana said, proud of herself that she was keeping the act up. “Now, I gotta walk all the way back down to my mama’s house. Fuck, I don’t wanna go home and be bothered with her. I swear to God I don’t. She get on my last fuckin’ nerve.”

              Bryon shook his head as he started his car. “Well, I got a little free time if you wanna chill,” he said, very suggestively. “I know how you feel and shit, and I don’t live in a neighborhood that is anything like this one.”

              “You don’t?” Ayana asked. “Well, that’s nice. I hate this neighborhood. I always wished I coulda had nicer stuff, but oh well. That probably ain’t gon’ happen. Fuck, my fuckin’ boyfriend.”

              “You smoke?” Bryon asked. “Drink a little wine.”

              Ayana nodded. “Hmm, hmm,” she hummed. “I do both.”

              “That’s wassup,” Bryon said. “By the way, I’m Byron. What’s your name, sexy?”

              “Christian,” Ayana lied, using her deceased cousin’s name.

              “Coo,” Byron said. “Well, if you down to chill and shit, I can ride you out to my house. It’s kinda big, but I can keep you company, and you ain’t got to go home to your mama and shit like you said. It look like she really gets on your nerves bad.”

              “Yeah, she do,” Ayana said. “And coo.” She pulled out her phone to look at the time, so she could look as genuine as possible. She then looked back over at Byron. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ else no way. I’ll go.”

              Byron smiled and looked up and down the block. “I know how some of these niggas be out here actin’ and shit, especially nowadays,” he said. “I been waitin’ on these niggas for like forty minutes or an hour or some shit. I knew they bitch asses wasn’t comin’.”

              “Well, you sure I ain’t gettin’ in your way, am I?” Ayana asked. “I mean, we can link up some otha time if you got business that you need to be handling. Damn, that’s some nice jewelry that you got on. And this truck is nice as fuck, too. I like this shit. I wish my nigga had some shit like this.”

              “Be coo, little Christian,” Byron said, smoothly. “Just be cool. I can see that you need to relax.”

              Looking at his surroundings, and sure that Tramar and Jackson had simply decided to not come, Bryon pulled off. He turned at the corner and made his way over to the nearby main, busy street. Every chance he got, he would look over at Ayana’s body. There was nothing he could think about more than getting her pants and shirt off and seeing what she looked like naked as the day she was born.

Chapter 8

              Jackson and Tramar trailed close enough behind Byron to keep up with him. Even with catching a couple of red lights on the way to the highway, luck must have been on their side because neither of the red lights were long enough to lose Byron’s tail lights. When they got into his neighborhood and the surrounding area, Tramar tapped Jackson on his shoulder. “Turn right here,” he instructed, pointing at an upcoming intersection.

              Not understanding why, Jackson turned onto the dark road and drove a mile or so up to a gas station.

              “Okay, I just wanted to back off of him for a minute,” Tramar said. “I mean, we ain’t want the nigga to notice that a car was following him all the way up from Chicago to out here in the fuckin’ woods and shit.”

              “I feel you,” Jackson said. “You think Ayana all right and shit with him or what?”

              Tramar shrugged. “Trying not to think about that shit,” he said. “You know I ain’t really want my girl doin’ this shit, but it seem to be workin’. And, at the end of it all, they still won’t really be able to charge her because they won’t be able to prove that she had anything to do with the robberies themselves. But, I mean, she said that she would text you if anything went wrong. When you ready, we can get back out on the road. That nigga Byron should be damn near in his driveway and shit by now.”

              Jackson nodded, pulling out of the gas station. He went back to the intersection and turned left. As the road wound around with thick trees on both sides hugging cars that passed by, Tramar could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Even with having his father and stepmother back, he felt that the very idea of letting Byron live would be saying that all of this was okay. Tramar looked over at Jackson. As much as he hated to think such a thought, he couldn’t help but think that Jackson was the one who should have been taking the major blows in this situation. When Tramar looked back out of his window, he realized that Jackson had indeed done everything that he’d said he was going to do. He had been a real friend and had stuck by his best friend when a lot of dudes probably would have taken the first chance to disappear and make a run for it.

              When they turned into Byron’s subdivision, the houses at night were even more magnificent. Driveways were full of cars as white people, and some middle class blacks, had gatherings in the front rooms of their homes. Open curtains allowed anyone passing by to see.

              Jackson pulled behind a cluster of cars that was a few houses up from Byron’s house. The block having so much company tonight certainly helped them stay in disguise. Tramar also couldn’t help but feel nervous about it, though. He disliked the idea of doing so much with so many people around. Tonight had to be the night, though.

              “So, what you thinkin’, nigga?” Jackson asked. “How was you thinkin’ we run up in there and shit this time? I doubt the shit we did last time is gon’ work. And plus, it’s dark and shit. We need a smooth way in there. Maybe you could text Ayana and tell her to do something that we could use to get up in there.”

              Jackson handed his phone to Tramar who then sent a text message to Ayana, with nothing but a question mark. For the next several minutes, they sat up the street and looked towards Byron’s house as they contemplated how they would get inside. So far, if Ayana didn’t respond in a timely manner, the only way would be by kicking down the front door. And something like that could definitely cause a stir.

***

              While Ayana had never, for one second, lost sight of her true goal by riding along with this Byron guy, she had to admit to herself that his house was top quality. In all her life, she couldn’t be sure that she’d ever seen a house that was so well laid out. It was very clear to her that this Byron guy was making some real money and wasn’t afraid to spend it where he needed to. Between the carpet, the furniture, and the different textured paint on the walls, Ayana couldn’t figure out which quality point of the house she found the most attractive.

              Byron had Ayana downstairs in the basement. While it was nice, it certainly wasn’t as open as the upstairs was. She looked around at the various doors, making note of the French doors directly ahead of her. She knew that these were the French doors that Tramar had been referring to when he and Jackson ran up into this house. At any moment, Ayana was hoping that the two of them would come busting in a door and that all of this would be over. From the looks of it, this Byron guy was very straightforward while being smooth at the same time.

              Bryon sat down next to Ayana with a blunt in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He set the bottle of wine up onto the table, popped the cork out, and then filled each glass that he’d laid out when they’d first gotten downstairs. He smiled as she did so, looking at
Christian’s
body and wondering what she did to get so thick. Her lips were calling his name, telling him they wanted to taste his dick.

              Ayana smiled as she picked up the glass. “Thank you,” she said. “You really do got a nice house,” she complimented.

              “Thank you,” Byron said, looking around. “I try, I guess. I always want better, that’s all. What does your boyfriend’s house look like?”

              “Um,” Ayana said. “My boyfriend doesn’t even have a house.”

              “Well,” Byron said, leaning back into the couch. “He should work on gettin’ one of those. So, tell me, is he one of them niggas who say they grown, but they stay with they mama or somethin’?”

              “Naw,” Ayana said. “He stay with his cousin. They got a place and shit. It ain’t nothin’ spectacular or nothin’, but it’s coo I guess.”

              “I see,” Byron said. “Yeah, I can’t take living with some other niggas too much. I need space. Shit, my bed is even big.”

              “What you mean?” Ayana asked.

              “I mean I got a big bed for a big boy,” Byron said, sarcastically. “Naw, I got a California King bed. You know? The ones that are bigger than the King-size beds?”

              Ayana shook her head. “Naw, I don’t think I ever heard of that.”

              “Well,” Byron said, smiling. “When I give you a real tour of the house, you’ll see it.” He held up the blunt. “You ready to smoke? You look like you need to relax.”

              Ayana nodded as Byron lit the blunt. He hit it first then handed it to Ayana. She took it, smiling as she did so, and took a hit that went straight to the back of her head. She smiled a little bit. “Damn, this some good weed,” she said.

              “Yeah, that’s the way I do it,” Byron said. “A nigga gotta keep the good shit on deck and shit, you know. Glad you like it, though, Christian.”

              Ayana still wasn’t used to being called by someone else’s name, especially a name like Christian. Because of this, her response time was definitely slower than it would normally be. She looked at Byron, noticing how hard he must work out to keep his body in shape. All of that body, though, was not enough to hide the evil in his eyes. While Bryon was indeed a handsome man, Ayana could not even pretend to be comfortable around him. Every second seemed twice as long as the previous second. The minutes seemed to crawl by as if they were mocking Ayana and her current situation. She glanced around when she felt like Byron wasn’t looking in her direction. It wasn’t long before she felt his hand rubbing her thigh.

              At first, Ayana’s instinct was to jerk away. She played it cool, though. She managed to keep her leg in place, having faith that Jackson and Tramar hadn’t been pulled over by the police and taken in. That would be the worst thing in the world right now because Ayana really didn’t know where she was in the Chicago Metro area, and there was no way she could overpower this man. As these thoughts moved through her mind minute after minute, they intensified. Ayana realized just how vulnerable she was by being in the basement of this man’s house. Anything could have happened to Tramar and Jackson when they were following her and Byron on the way up here. She had tried to keep track in her rearview mirror, but it was useless.

              “You all right over there?” Byron asked. He noticed that Christian was being a little cold toward him and his advances. “You actin’ like you a little nervous over there.”

              Ayana shook her head. “Hell naw,” she said, smiling. “I’m not nervous. I was just thinkin’ about how good that felt … your hands. Whew.”

              Byron smiled, leaning in closer to Ayana. “Oh, is that so?” he asked. He rubbed her thigh some more. “You got some nice thighs on you, Christian. How they get so fuckin’ thick?”

              Ayana smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Shit, I don’t know,” she said. “I was just born with them.”

              Bryon leaned down and kissed Ayana’s thighs. Even to the touch of his lips, they were soft. She wasn’t like the other chicks he’d brought home. Something about her was different, almost too different.

              “So, what made you wanna get into the truck with the nigga when you met me out on that street tonight?” Byron asked. “You don’t do shit like that often, do you?”

              “Naw,” Ayana said. She smiled again. “And I don’t know. I mean, your swag and just everything about you. You came right at the right time for me.”

              “Oh, is that so?” Byron asked, having mixed feelings. “I just so happened to come at the right time for you? What’s makes you say that about a nigga?”             

              “Cause, I mean,” Ayana began, “there I am, walking down the street and shit and just feelin’ all sorts of kinds of ways. And you sittin’ there, on your phone and shit. At first, I ain’t even think you was payin’ me no attention. I be feelin’ invisible to niggas.”

              “Invisible,” Byron said, leaning over the side of the couch. “Wow, your boyfriend really is doing a number on you, ain’t he. How the fuck someone as sexy as you gon’ feel invisible and shit? You gotta be one of the prettiest girls I done seen in a minute. And you got a nice attitude and ain’t all full of yourself and shit.”

              Ayana looked over at Byron, realizing that she needed to keep the roll up if she wanted to be convincing. “Well,” she said. “Thank you, I guess.”

              “So, what is your boyfriend doin’ to you that got you so upset?” Byron asked as he was slowly leaning up from reaching over the side of the couch. His voice was low and deep. “He ain’t out there robbin’ banks and shit, is he?”

              No sooner than Ayana could scream and jump up off of the couch, Byron had pulled a gun up from the side of the couch. It had been in his jacket packet after he snuck it from under his seat. He was too smart for a couple of simple niggas from the hood to really fool him. He looked up the staircase, knowing that at any minute there would be a rumble upstairs. Actually, it wouldn’t be much of a rumble…because of one thing he’d purposely not done when coming into the house.

              “Bitch, I see right through you,” Byron said, angry as ever. He pointed the gun at Ayana, watching her shake. She’d never had a gun pointed at her. Suddenly, she felt abandoned. She felt as helpless as a baby that couldn’t talk or walk.

              Ayana held her hands up, wanting to burst into tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she said.

              Byron snickered and grabbed a handful of Ayana’s hair. He pulled her down to the couch, where her head was now being pressed into the couch cushion. He pressed the barrel into the side of her head. “Little bitch, you think it’s just normal that a bitch like you just hop in the car with a nigga and ride twenty minutes out?” Byron said, letting his flirtatious persona melt away. “I saw right through you when you came walkin’ down the street with that thirsty for some dick look on your face. Bitch, I ain’t stupid.”

              “I’m sorry,” Ayana pleaded.

              “Who the fuck are you to them niggas anyway?” Byron asked. “Is you one of they hoes or something?”

              “I’m not any of that,” Ayana lied, not wanting to say.

              Byron snickered. Just as he let go of his grip of Ayana’s hair and backed away to cock his gun, determined to end the night with her body on the floor, Tramar and Jackson came bursting through the glass French doors. A loud shatter filled the basement as glass shattered everywhere. The wooden frames of the door snapped away, leaving segments of wood spread about on the floor. Out of reflex, Byron ducked back toward the basement staircase. He’d purposely left the front door unlocked, with the idea that Tramar and Jackson would come through there and be an easy target. However, to his surprise, everything had changed.

              Not even sure what was happening, Ayana ducked down and behind the couch. When she finally did look up, she found Tramar and Jackson standing in the middle of the room. They each pointed their guns at Byron. Bryon had lost his gun in the chaos of the doors shattering. By the time he opened his eyes, he realized what had happened. And he realized he was without his weapon. He smiled.

              “Y’all might be some smart little niggas,” Byron said. “I can’t lie. I ain’t even see that shit comin’, again. Damn, guess y’all done got me twice real good. Y’all niggas should call the mayor of Chicago and get a street or some shit named after you ‘cause you pretty fuckin’ good.”