When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) (9 page)

              “Tramar, you heard your father,” Vivica said. “Don’t kill them, Tramar.”

              “I’m not, Vivica,” Tramar said. “I’m not gon’ kill. We just gotta do something with them. I’ll explain later. We just gotta do something with them is all. I can’t just leave them here with they phones and shit so they can make the situation even worse. Just go on outside and get in the car and wait. Jackson,” he looked at his best friend, “I can hold them here while you walk them out to your car since they prolly don’t know what it look like.”

              “You sure?” Jackson asked. In his mind, Tramar had asked him to do that favor so he could be alone in the house. Jackson, too, didn’t want to see his friend add any more unnecessary murder charges. The bank was enough.

              “Yeah, let’s just get this over with,” Tramar said. “Once you come back in, we gon’ figure out what to do with these niggas and the girls and stuff, and we gon’ hurry up and get outta here.”

              Frank and Vivica rushed around the dining room table and across the living room. Jackson guided them out of the door and to his car.

              “Nigga, you know Byron is gon’ catch you,” Juan said, snickering.

              Tramar looked at Juan, seeing that he was the brave one of the bunch. The other three – Knight and the two women – looked as if they were smart enough to know better than to say anything. They stood on the other side of the living room, naked, and in a deep state of confusion.

              “Nigga, shut the fuck up,” Tramar said, pushing the tip of the barrel of the gun into the back of Juan’s head. “Fuck that nigga Byron. Fuck him.”

              Tramar looked over at Knight. “Hey, Little Dick,” he said.

              Knight realized that he was who Tramar was referring to. Hesitantly, he spoke up, knowing that if he said nothing he could possibly have the gun pointed at the back of his head. “Huh?”

              “Tell your buddy hear to shut the fuck up,” Tramar told him, pointing the gun at him briefly.

              The girls squealed, one of them saying, “This nigga is fuckin’ crazy.”

              Knight, stammering, looked at Juan. “Man, just be quiet,” he said, his face pleading. “This nigga is crazy as fuck, nigga. Just be quiet.”

              “You shut your little dick ass up, nigga,” Juan said. “You and me both know that the second he leaves this house, Byron is gon’ have every nigga in Chicago lookin’ for this dude. You over there gettin’ scared and shit, probably cause you done finally got some pussy that ain’t ran out on your little dick ass.”

              Tramar slammed his gun into the back of Juan’s head. “Nigga, I told you to shut the fuck up,” he said. “Shut the fuck up.”

              Juan winced at the pain as the back of his head had already begun to throb. He grabbed his head. Jackson came storming back into the house, breathing heavily as he stepped into the living room. “Okay,” he said. “I’m back.” He pushed the front door closed. “What you think we should do?”

              Smiling, Tramar looked around, looking for ideas. “I wonder if these niggas got some tape or rope in this house,” he said. “Ain’t that nigga say that Byron’s bitch ass grandma used to live here? You know how old ladies is. They always got the shit you need in case something happens.”

              Tramar thought a little more about it. “Look, you hold them here and I’mma go look around,” he said. “Shit, if we got to, we can use sheets and shit, like the ones that my daddy and stepmother been in for the last couple days.”

              Jackson pulled his gun up and kept control of the living room while Tramar went into the kitchen. He looked around in the drawers, but had no luck. He stepped out onto the back porch and looked around on the shelves above the washer and dryer. Yet again, he was not finding much of anything he could use. Tramar then flipped on the basement light and headed downstairs. At the bottom, there were utility-like cabinets built into the wall. Tramar yanked one open and looked around. He smiled when he found two rolls of utility tape. “This’ll work,” he said to himself. “Nice and strong.”

              Tramar headed back upstairs and held the tape up at Jackson. He smiled. “Right here,” he said.

              Jackson nodded. “Okay,” he said. “So, what you gon’ tie them up to, though?”

              Tramar looked around, taking note of the dining room table. He smiled and grabbed Juan by the arm, holding the gun to the side of his head. “Sit down in this fuckin’ chair,” he commanded. “Try to do some stupid shit and a goddamn bullet is going in your head, got that?”

              Juan nodded, feeling a little woozy from being hit in the back of the head. He sat down into the chair as he was told and remained still while Tramar wrapped his wrists against the arms of the chair. He then did his calves, wrapping them to the legs of the chair. Once he finished with that, remembering that there was plenty of tape, he wrapped tape around the back of the chair so it would hold Juan’s neck and head in place, straight up and facing ahead. Now, Juan was sitting upright in a dining room chair. He shook his head. “Byron is gon’ fuck you up, nigga,” he said. “You just don’t know.”

              Tramar snickered before slamming the butt of his gun into Juan’s head. Juan was nearly knocked out from the blow. If it had not been for the tape holding his head in place, his head would have probably slumped over to the side.

              Tramar then did the same with Knight, tying him thoroughly to a dining room chair. He used more on him as he was bigger and probably stronger. Once he and Juan were tied to two different chairs, and facing one another head on, Tramar stepped into the living room and stood next to Jackson. “Now,” he said. “What are we gonna do with the bitches?”

              Jackson nodded. “We should let’em go,” he said, “but you know we can’t. You know they gon’ run and talk.”

              “I promise we won’t,” one girl pleaded.

              “Yeah,” the other said. “Just let us go, niggas, and I swear we won’t say a thing.”

              “I will suck your dick,” the first girl said. “I’ll suck both your dicks if you just let us go.”

              “I knew them bitches was hoes,” Knight said, shaking his head.

              Tramar looked into the dining room. “Little Dick,” he said. “Be quiet.”

              Knight saw the gun pointed at him and shut his mouth. Tramar went back to looking at the girls. He then looked at Juan and Knight and how they’d interrupted their fun time of getting some pussy. That thought sparked an idea with Tramar.

              “Sorry, ladies,” Tramar said. “But I don’t let hoes suck on my dick. Come over here.”

              The two ladies came over to Jackson and Tramar. Tramar took one and told her to lean over and wrap her arms around the banister in the wall that separated the dining room from the living room, a design that made it look as if there were windows looking into the dining room. Both Lexi and Antonia did as they were told. Once the girls had leaned over and wrapped their hands around the banisters, Tramar wrapped their wrists and hands together so tight that they could not move them. When he stepped away, he slapped one’s ass then the other’s. They both moved frantically, still naked, as they tried to understand what was going on.

              “You can’t just leave us like this,” Lexi said. “I swear, we ain’t have nothin’ to do with this. We was just over here chillin’ and stuff. We don’t even know them like that.”

              “I believe you,” Tramar said, “and that’s why I ain’t kill you or nothin’. Don’t worry. Whenever that nigga Byron come over here or whatever and find you, he’ll let you go.”

              “Fuck,” Knight said, in an almost whining voice. “Man, Byron is gon’ kill us. That nigga gon’ beat our asses so bad when he find us like this.”

              “Shut up Little Dick,” Tramar said. “Stop all that cryin’ and shit you over there doin’. Shut the fuck up.”

              “Aye, nigga,” Juan said, looking across at Knight.

              Tramar had begun to head toward the front door when he decided that he’d arrange them a little better. This was when he turned around, stepped back into the dining room, and moved both Knight and Juan so that they were staring at the very asses they’d been inside of just minutes ago. He laughed, slapping Knight on his head as he walked out of the house. Jackson closed the door behind them.

              “Fuck, nigga,” Juan said. “How the fuck you let this shit happen?”

              “Me?” Knight said. “You was the one facing the damn door and went and opened it and let them niggas in here.”

              “Nigga, I only got up ‘cause your ass was over there lost in your little dick world, moaning like a little bitch and shit,” Juan said.

              “Now these niggas gon’ start arguing when we need to figure out a way to get outta this fuckin’ house,” Antonia.

              “What the fuck this hoe think we gon’ do?” Juan said. “We tied up.”

              “Man, when Byron find us, he gon’ beat our fuckin’ asses if he don’t just kill us,” Knight said.

              Everybody in the room hyperventilated. “This little dick nigga,” Juan’s girl, who was on his side of the room, said, shaking her head.

              Antonia looked over her shoulder. “At least you ain’t have to let him hit and shit,” she said. “Girl, I ain’t feel nothin’. I was over there fakin’ that shit like a mug. He was cute with how he came with it, though.”

***

              Byron reached over Rene’s head to flick the ashes off the end of his blunt. Once he’d made contact with the ashtray on the bedside table, he pulled the blunt back up to his mouth and hit it again. There, in his dimly lit bedroom, he lay in this middle of his California King bed. With Rene’s plump body sprawled out to his left, and Cynthia on his right, he looked back and forth as he tried to decide which one’s ass was fatter. He’d just had a crazy threesome where they both competed like champions to see who would be the keeper. Byron chuckled as he leaned his head back, trying to figure out how he was going to decide.

              “A nigga could get used to this shit,” Byron said, his voice low and raspy.

              Cynthia giggled and lifted her head up from lying on Byron’s chest. “Get used to what?”

              “Nothing,” Byron said. “Just lookin’ down and seein’ two beautiful women in my bed.”

              “Oh, yeah,” Rene said, giggling.

              Cynthia looked at Rene with squinting eyes. Yes, she thought the chick was okay,  and she certainly was fun to play with in bed, but there was something about her that seemed just a little too prissy. It was almost as if Rene thought she was better than her, maybe because she had lighter skin. Before Cynthia could think much more into it, Rene said something else that ticked her off.

              “I could too,” Rene said. “Looking up at a strong, successful nigga like you when I wake up. And the dick you put on me, damn.”

              “Girl, it wasn’t just you,” Cynthia snapped. “He gave me some of that dick too.”

              “Girl, who is you over there gettin’ loud with?” Rene asked. “It wasn’t like you was doin’ all that much, anyway. That is kinda why I had to take over.”

              Byron snickered as the two women began to bicker back and forth. It was quite an interesting sight to look down and see both of their heads, now looking at one another, with his soft dick lying on his lower abdomen between the two of them. He reached over and grabbed his phone, thinking of how he’d sent Juan and Knight a text message not too long ago. He was getting a bit concerned that he hadn’t heard back yet, especially since they were not the kind of guys to go to sleep so early on a Saturday night.

              “Them niggas betta not have left that house,” Byron said, to himself. He then noticed that things were getting a little heated between Cynthia and Rene. He paused and told them to calm down, taking the time to rub each of their heads until they were soothed and back to looking at other directions in the bedroom.

              Byron lay there, in the bed for thirty more minutes. After a while, he couldn’t help but think that something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his soul. He was having one of those moments when he was thinking something that he didn’t want to think. The longer he lay in the bed, looking at the streetlamp light shining through his blinds, the more he began to feel a little anxious. For some reason, each time he checked his phone and saw that he was getting no response from either Knight or Juan, he panicked more. Eventually, he called both of them. Yet again, no answer.

              “Fuck this,” Byron said, knowing that he needed to keep the upper hand in this situation with Jackson. “Them niggas not gon’ do no funny shit. I’m headed down there to see.”

              “What the fuck,” Cynthia said, feeling herself being pushed off of the side of the bed. Once she crashed onto the floor, she lifted up onto her knees and looked at Byron as he was doing the same thing to Rene.

              “Get your clothes on,” Byron asked. “I can’t leave y’all hoes in my house.”

              “What the hell is goin’ on?” Rene asked. “Why did you just knock us off of the bed like that?”