When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) (8 page)

***

              Juan and Knight felt like the luckiest guys in the world that night. When Juan had said he’d call some girls over, he really didn’t think it’d be that easy. He called a girl who he’d been sort of talking to for a while. And, as luck would have it, she had a friend who was eager to come and chill for a while. The two women, Antonia and Lexi, were not necessary the definition of a
bad chick
. However, they were attractive girls who were stacked in all the right places. Antonia, who had the big chest, went to Knight while Lexi, who had an ass like the sun, gravitated toward Juan. The two couples smoked and drank for much of the night; Knight and Juan were happy that they’d taken the time to clean the couches in the front room. They also agreed that their little playtime with these girls would be their little secret. Even though it was all going down in Byron’s grandmother’s house, they would still keep it to themselves.

              Knight, who was ready to take his pants off and give it to Antonia’s sexy self, paused. Juan, who was on the opposite couch, playfully spanking Lexi’s big ass, noticed. He stopped as well.

              “What?” Juan said, noticing Knight’s reaction.

              “I just thought that I heard something,” Knight said, looking at the front window. “Nigga, you sure that nigga ain’t gon be comin’ back?”

              Juan shook his head. “Naw, nigga,” he said. “That nigga is over there busy and shit. Trust me, he ain’t gon’ come all the way down into the hood on a Saturday night just to check on shit. I know him, nigga. That nigga will be over here tomorrow afternoon or some shit. But what you think that you heard?”

              “I think I heard something, but I don’t know what yet,” Knight said. He looked to the honey on his lap. “Excuse me,” he said, standing up. He walked over to the window and parted the curtains slightly. He was relieved to see that the noise had been a couple of dudes walking into a house up the street. It was very clear that they were aggressively ushering a young lady inside with them, each smiling and laughing as they held their sagging pants up to keep them from falling.

              “Shit, nigga,” Knight said, returning to the couch. “Just these niggas goin’ in to the house down the street is all. I’m trippin’ and shit. Now, back to you.” He looked at Antonia’s bare, bouncy chest. He pulled her closer to him and rubbed his face between her breasts, smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

              Juan eventually couldn’t take anymore. His dick was begging to be let free. He stood up and bent Lexi over on the couch, her head now hanging off of the back with her back arched. “Goddamn, you got a big ass,” Juan said, slapping her. He then pulled his pants down to his ankles and positioned himself. Gently, he pushed his way inside of Lexi. He liked the way she moaned at feeling his girth stretch her a bit.

              Knight too had come to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. After sucking on Antonia’s breasts for a couple minutes more, he gently pushed her to the side and pulled his pants and underwear down. Once his short and stubby erection had popped out, Antonia held back a giggle. For whatever reason, she found Knight and his aggressiveness to be so sexy, and even more so now that she saw what he was packing, or a lack thereof. She also bent over on the couch and Knight entered her, his eyes rolling back in his head as his shaft was consumed with the warmness that was Antonia’s insides.

***

              Tramar and Jackson sat in the car, outside of the house that Damon had pointed out to them as Byron’s grandmother’s former house. They looked at the house for several minutes, noticing the way the front room curtain’s had parted ever so slightly. Somebody looked out, but neither of them could see who exactly it had been. They figured whoever it was had peeked out to see what the noise was when a car pulled into the driveway up the block.

              Jackson looked across at Tramar and asked, “Man, you sure they in there?”

              Tramar shrugged. “As sure as I’mma ever be,” he answered. “Look at that place. That just look like a old lady house, and it just look like it would have some of that ugly ass, old furniture that we saw in the picture and shit that nigga posted online. I bet you that he is keepin’ them there.”

              “But what is this other car parked out front of the house?” Jackson asked, being observant.

              “Nigga, you ain’t flakin’ out on me, is you?” Tramar asked, noticing the skepticism in Jackson’s voice.

              Jackson shook his head. “Naw, nigga,” he said. “I’m just lookin’ out for you, nigga. I been helpin’ you rob banks and shit to get the money. You really think I’m bout to flake out on you when we bout to run up in some two-bedroom, three tops, house?”

              “Naw,” Tramar said, turning back to the house. “I was just asking. Shit, I’m ready. Let’s get this shit done.”

              Tramar and Jackson stepped out of the car. The night was so quiet that they could hear the soles of their shoes making contact with the street’s black pavement. The noise of the city – traffic, gunshots, trains, and police sirens – roared in the distance, from all directions. Moving almost silently, and stepping in unison, the two men made their way across the street. As they stepped into the front yard, they remembered what they’d talked about on their way down into the city from Byron’s suburban house. Tramar simply wanted everything to stay coo.

              Tramar, with his gun tucked in his jacket pocket, walked up to the door. Jackson crouched down at the side of the house, ready to jump and take the opportunity should a nice old lady not answer the door.

              Tramar knocked on the door. He heard the talking and clapping noise inside stop as question were hurled into the air over who it could be knocking at the door. Tramar knocked again, this time looking down at Jackson. “They comin’ to the door,” he said.

              Before the door even began to open, a man asked who was standing out on the porch.

              “Your neighbor?” Tramar said. “It’s the dude who live next door, dude. You know me, Byron. There’s a problem.”

              Jackson wanted to snicker at how Tramar pretended to be a neighbor who was under the impression that Byron was in the house. Quickly, the front door opened and Tramar stood across from a tall, somewhat built but still rather thin dude. In the flash of a second, Tramar had raised his gun to head level and stepped over the threshold. His bold move caused Juan to step back, his hands in the air as his boy was covered in sweat from the smashing he’d just been giving Lexi on the couch.

              Jackson rushed in behind Tramar and went right, causing Knight and the two naked girls to jump up. The girls covered their chests and they ran to opposite corners of the room. Curse words flew about the living room like stray bullets. Jackson quickly pushed the door closed.

              “Shut the fuck up!” Tramar demanded.

              “Yo, nigga, who the fuck is you?” Juan asked. He then realized he’d just asked a very dumb question. He looked at the two dudes, who both had guns pointed at him and his company. “Y’all them two niggas that Byron is lookin’ for, ain’t you?” he asked. “Hey, Knight. This is Tramar and Jackson, nigga, them two niggas Byron lookin’ for.”

              Tramar kept a cool head, wanting to keep control of the situation. He stepped closer to Juan. “Where the fuck is my family?” he asked. Tramar then turned and looked at the living room furniture. “Jackson,” he said, keeping the gun on Juan, “look at this furniture.”

              Jackson remained calm as well as he looked around. When he looked back to Tramar, his eyes were wide. “Nigga, they here,” he said. “They here in this house.”

              “Where they at?” Tramar asked, looking at Juan. Something told him, by the look in Juan’s face compared to that of this other guy, Knight, that Juan was the ringleader. Knight didn’t look all that smart and Tramar was just meeting him. “Where the fuck is my daddy and stepmother?”

              Juan smiled. “Nigga, we don’t know where them niggas is,” he said. “Fuck you, nigga. You know that when Byron catch up with your ass, ain’t no tellin’ what he gon’ do. You just diggin’ a bigger hole for yourself.”

              “Daddy!” Tramar announced. “Vivica! Are y’all here.”

              “Yes, baby!” Tramar could hear his stepmother’s voice announce. “We in here, Tramar! We in here! The bedroom!”

              It was like music to Tramar’s ears to hear his stepmother’s voice again. Hearing her voice meant that his dad’s voice was not too far away. Tramar looked over at Jackson, who was holding down his side of the room. “Jackson?” he said. “You think you can hold all these niggas in place while I go back there? We don’t know what kind shit they might have around here, tucked away and shit.”

              Jackson nodded. “Exactly what I was thinkin’,” he said, in response. “If either of these niggas move, I’mma put a bullet in them. I’m sick of this shit.”

              Tramar ordered Juan to go over to the other side of the room with Knight and the two women. Juan stood next to the naked women and Knight, who was also naked. His fists were balled tight. The idea of being held against his will, especially with his small manhood on display, just didn’t sit all that well with him.

              Tramar made his way through the dining room, going around the table. After he looked into the kitchen and saw that nothing was there, he made his way to the small hallway to the right of the dining room. There, he looked to the right and saw a door with a lock on it. He quickly rushed to the door and tried to open it, but it was dead bolted.

              “What the fuck?” Tramar yelled.

              “Son?” Frank asked. “Tramar?”

              “Tramar!” Vivica yelled. “There’s a key out there I think they use. There’s a key!”

              Quickly, Tramar looked around and noticed the small table flush against the wall in the hallway. Feeling around in the dimly lit area, the tips of his fingers ran across some keys. He picked them up, fumbled with key after key until he found one that would work in the lock. Upon pushing the bedroom door open, Tramar wanted to break down in tears. His father’s swollen face and the look of sheer terror in Vivica’s eyes each said a thousand words all by themselves. Rage, once again, pumped through Tramar’s veins.

              “Come on, y’all,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Let’s just hurry up and get outta here, okay?”

              “What is going on, Tramar?” Frank demanded to know. “And they got our clothes out there or something.”

              “Yeah,” Tramar said, noting how they were both wrapped in bed sheets, in a bedroom that was thirty years behind time.

              Tramar turned around and noticed that there was a second bedroom at the other end of the hallway. In the much smaller room, he saw bundles of clothing on the floor. Upon looking closer at them, he knew they belonged to Frank and Vivica. He swooped them up off of the floor and took them to the bedroom. While his father and stepmother got dressed as quickly as they could, Tramar went back out into the dining room. Seconds later, he stood behind Juan. He breathed heavily as he raised his gun up to the back of Juan’s head.

              Jackson shook his head. “What you doin’, man?” he asked, making sure to keep his gun pointed at Knight and the girls. “Nigga, what you doin’?”

              “Shut up real quick, Jackson,” Tramar said. “Okay, which one of y’all niggas did that to my daddy? Tell me. Which one of y’all niggas did that to my daddy?”

              Juan and Knight stood quietly. Neither of them wanted to answer because they’d both taken part in the brutal beating. However, they both felt the man deserved it for hitting them over the head with the dining room chair.

              Frank walked out into the dining room. “Tramar, don’t,” he said, his voice almost thunderous. He couldn’t stand to see his son holding a gun up to the back of another man’s head. He already felt that the gun violence plaguing Chicago was too much to bear to see on the news. There was no way in hell that he could watch his son do that. Frank was still trying to process what he and his wife had seen on the news. They wanted so desperately to believe that the man who robbed the bank where the security guard had been shot and killed was not the same suspect as Tramar.

              “Daddy, not right now,” Tramar said, his arm shaking. “I’mma kill whichever one of these niggas did that shit to you. Just tell me which one and the sooner that we all gon’ get out of here.”

              Frank looked into his wife’s eyes for a moment. They knew, after years of marriage, what the other one was thinking. Vivica shook her head slightly before Frank said, “It wasn’t neither of them. It was the leader nigga, not one of these sorry motherfuckers. Tramar, I’m telling you boy. It wasn’t them, it was the other one.”

              Tramar groaned under his breath. The very thought of Byron not only kidnapping his family, but also beating his father’s face so brutally made him really want to take somebody’s life.

              “Okay,” Tramar said, calming down. He’d decided to spare the two sidekicks’ lives tonight. The more he thought about it, the more he realized there really was no need to kill either of them. However, there was no debating whether or not he’d get Byron. Byron was a dead man walking – he just didn’t know it yet. “Daddy, Vivica, go outside and wait in the car while we do something with these niggas.”