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T.J. pulled into the back yard of a house that looked like it had seen better days. Once he killed the engine of his vehicle, he hopped out and slammed the door shut behind him. He went up the short steps that led to the back door of the old house which he opened with ease. Te’Qui and Kesha exchanged glances as they thought that T.J. must have been using the decrepit house for quite some time. They were right too. You see, ever since T.J. had been in the streets sticking shit up, he’d been using the house to count up the hauls from his various licks. The place had become sort of like a second home to him. Hell, he’d slept there quite a few times when he was down on his luck.
The backdoor of the house squeaked as T.J. pushed it open. He looked around and then stood aside, allowing Te’Qui and Keisha to enter. As soon as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen, they took in the scenery. The kitchen was dilapidated and decrepit. There was dust on its floors, walls and ceilings. There were also cobwebs high up in every corner, and spiders crawling on them. A couple of rats ran past the entrance of the kitchen which led into the living room. The living room was in the same shape as the kitchen. Only there were large holes in its floor. The holes were big enough to fit a human though. There was a big ass hole in the ceiling, too. In fact, there was a rusted pipe in that hole and it was dripping brown water.
“Hold on. You can’t see mucha shit in here. Limme hit these lights,” T.J. told the couple as they sat the pillowcases of dead presidents on the kitchen table. He then went around the kitchen lighting burned out wax candles, which left a golden orange light shining on everyone present.
“This yo’ second home or some shit?” Te’Qui asked with furrowed brows.
“Hell naw! Sometimes I stash shit here ‘til I get a chance to fence ‘em, but that’s it. A nigga can’t keep hot shit where he lay his head at.” T.J. told him.
Te’Qui nodded his understanding. He knew of mad niggaz that got popped with stolen goods in their house.
“Unh! Lil’ dirty mothafucka!” T.J.’s face balled up as he stomped something with all his might, causing it to make a squished noise. As soon as Te’Qui and Keisha heard that squishing sound, their foreheads wrinkled and they looked down at T.J.’s sneaker. When he removed his sneaker from what he’d squashed they saw a fat ass rat lying on its side. The filthy fucker was lying in its own blood, twitching.
“Ewww,” Keisha hooked her arm with Te’Qui’s arm, disgusted by the sight of the dead rodent.
“Adios, amigo,” T.J. kicked the dead rat out of the kitchen and into the living room, where it disappeared through one of the holes in the floor.
“Yo’, good lookin’ out on savin’ me and wifey back there, my nigga.” Te’Qui slapped hands with T.J., pulling him in and patting him on his back.
“Don’t mention it. You my nigga. I’m down for you, like you down for me.” T.J. told him.
“Fa sho’.” Te’Qui replied.
“You okay, Kesha?” T.J.’s forehead creased as he looked to his homeboy’s fiancée.
“Yeah, I’m good.” A teary eyed Kesha lowered her head and sniffled. Right then, teardrops fell from her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
Seeing that his woman was weeping brought great concern to Te’Qui. His forehead crinkled and he hugged her, rubbing her back soothingly.
“You okay, bae?” Te’Qui asked her.
“No. No, I’m not.” Kesha spoke honestly this time, voice cracking with emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, bae.”
Te’Qui tilted Kesha’s chin upward so she’d be looking him in his eyes. “Sorry about what, momma?” his brows wrinkled.
“This!” T.J. said to him.
When Te’Qui turned around and saw T.J. with one of his .9mms pointed at him, his eyes got big and his jaw dropped.
“Oh, shit, Kesha, move!” Te’Qui shoved Kesha away from him. He went to pull his banga from his waistline, but by then, T.J. was already shooting him. A bullet ripped through his gut and he threw his head back, wincing. He hit the carpeted floor and lay halfway out of the kitchen. He bawled in pain as T.J. approached him, shadow looming over him. He leaned down and pulled the banga from out of Te’Qui’s waistline and slid it into his waistline.
T.J. stared down at Te’Qui as he continuously winced. He watched as he touched his wound and his fingers came away bloody.
“What the-what the fuck you shoot me for?” Te’Qui asked in a pained voice, wincing.
Tiaz Petty. Does that name ring a bell?” T.J. asked.
“Yeah, I know Tiaz. I told you about ‘em, remember? He’s dead now, so what the fuck does he have to do with this?”
“Meet his son, T.J. Tiaz Junior,” he pointed his gun at his chest. “And his daughter, Kesha; my paternal twin.” he pointed his banga at his sister who had tears cascading down her face.
When he revealed this, Te’Qui’s eyes became as big as saucers and his mouth hung open. He was shocked. He couldn’t believe the revelation that had been dropped on him, but he knew it had to have been true for things to have gotten to this point.
“You know, I started to just smoke yo’ ass and get it over with, but baby sis convinced me to do otherwise. She told me about the money you had in yo’ safe. She said you damn near hadda million dollas.”
Te’Qui looked to Kesha with hurt in his eyes. Her disloyalty cut him deep. Kesha bowed her head. She knew she’d done some foul ass shit to him and she couldn’t bear to look him in the face.
“See, I figured I coulda just tortured you to get chu to open that safe, but she told me you were way too fucking stubborn to do that. She said you’d die before you gave up one red cent of that money, and after kicking it witchu for a while, I had to agree.”
Te’Qui looked to the mother of his unborn son, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “So, you never even loved a nigga? You been playin’ me the entire time? Are you even pregnant?”
Kesha finally looked up at him with a shiny face from crying. Shaking her head, she replied, “Baby, no. I really am in love witchu, and the baby growing inside of me is real. He or she is ours. I didn’t...”
“She didn’t really wanna go along with the plan, but I forced her to, three months before I got out. I realized who yo’ punk-ass was once she sent me some pictures of ya’ll while I was on lock. It had been years since the tragedy occurred but I’d never forget cho face...ever.”
“Man, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? I never met chu before the night you saved my ass in that parking lot across the street from Club Vicious.” Te’Qui’s forehead creased.
“Now, we met before that. You since you don’t seem to remember, I’ma jog yo’ memory. Just gimme a sec to slip into something a lil’ bit mo’ comfortable first, Crim.” T.J. told him as he pulled an orange bandana from out of his back pocket and tied it around his head. He smiled mischievously at Te’Qui and pulled down his bottom lip, displaying what was tattooed on the inside of it: 7HCG4. This was 74 Hoover Criminal Gang. The same set that Scrappy and Tiaz pledged allegiance to. “Now, you didn’t really think I wassa blood, now did you? Fuck nah! Like father, like son.” He threw up his set. At this time, Kesha pulled out an orange bandana and tied it around her head, just like her brother did. She was in the same gang as the rest of her family.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Kesha told Te’Qui as her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“Ain’t shit to be sorry about, baby girl,” T.J. turned to his sister and brushed the side of his hand against her cheek, affectionately. He then focused his hateful eyes on Te’Qui. “You see, this is an old fashion case of revenge. Yo’ punk-ass uncle, Savon, smoked our pops, and yo’ ass smoked our moms.”
“Your moms? I popped yo-yo moms? W-when?” Te’Qui winced in pain as he held the wound in his gut. He was bleeding like a stuck pig and slicking the floor with blood.
“You wanna know when? Well, I’ll tell you when...” T.J.’s eyes turned glassy as he went on to tell the story.
Scrappy pulled up into the driveway of her mother’s home and hopped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. She ran to the curb and looked up and down the street. She waited until an oncoming vehicle drove by her before jogging across the street to her homeboy, Hittah’s house. As she neared his yard, she clocked him on his front porch with a couple of the homies from their set. He’d just stuck a joint in his mouth and threw playful punches at one of their homies, who threw some playful punches back at him.
“Yo’, Hittah, Hittah!” Scrappy called after him as she entered the yard and approached the steps.
“Hahahahahahahaha!” Hittah stopped playing around with his homeboy and stood upright, snatching the joint from out of his mouth. When it finally dawned on him that someone was calling after him, he turned around to his front lawn. His forehead creased with lines when his eyes landed on Scrappy. The first thing he noticed about her was the welt below her right eye and the blackish red blood dried at the corner of her mouth. He came to the conclusion that she’d gotten into a fight with someone, but with who? He didn’t know. “What’s happnin’, Scrap? And what the fuck happened to yo’ face, girl?” He pinched her chin between his thumb and finger and examined the damages to her face, carefully.
“That bitch Chevy. We threw hands today.” Scrappy told him.
“Chevy? Who the fuck is that?” Hittah’s brows crinkled, wondering who she was talking about.
“What up, Scrappy Doo?” one of the homies on the porch called out to her.
“What’s the word, ma?” the other homie called out.
“Ain’t shit. What’s up, my niggaz?” Scrappy responded and threw up their hood. She then focused her attention back on Hittah. “Her brother, Savon, smoked Tiaz when they were locked up. I faded that high-yellow bitch at his execution today.”
“Is that, right? They put his ass to sleep today?”
“Yeah.” she nodded. “But I ain’t through with her ass. Tonight I’m going after her and her punk-ass husband. That’s why I’m here now. I need you to limme holda strap.”
“Fa sho’. I got them all day. Follow me, homegirl.” Hittah motioned for her to follow him as he headed up the steps upon the porch. He pulled the black iron door open and then the wooden door, crossing the threshold inside of his house. Scrappy followed him down the corridor where they made a right into a bedroom. This was Hittah’s bedroom. It consisted of a twin bed which was stationed against the wall. Its sheet was made up military style, with all of its corners folded and tucked neatly. He had a small flat screen television mounted on the wall, an end table at the center of the floor with all of his hygienic items on it and an army green footlocker at the foot of his bed. The bedroom was as clean as a whistle. There wasn’t as much as a piece of lint on the floor.
With its limited furnishings and tidiness, Scrappy couldn’t help noticing how much the bedroom resembled a prison cell which really didn’t come to a surprise to her since Hittah had done a dime for a body in San Quentin. The way he carried himself and lived was proof that he was institutionalized. Hell, the nigga was still on prison time at that, getting up at five o’clock in the morning and shit.
Hittah shut and locked the door behind Scrappy as she stood where she was taking in the decor of his bedroom. He stuck his joint back inside of his mouth and motioned for her to follow him. They walked over to the closet where he opened its door and pulled the drawstring, restoring light to it. Hittah pushed the little clothing aside hanging on the rack and revealed a long back duffle bag on the floor. He grabbed the bag by its straps and carried it over to his bed, dropping it there. Afterwards, he took the joint out of his mouth and unzipped it. Staring down into the bag, he waved Scrappy over and took another pull from his joint. Still staring down into the bag, he narrowed his eyelids and blew out smoke, letting it waft around him.
“Gon’ take a look. Get whatever piece of steel you want, homegirl.” Hittah told her as he took a step back. While Scrappy busied herself pulling out different guns and aiming them across the room, he dipped his hand inside of the waste basket at the far corner of the bedroom. He came back up with an empty Mountain Dew can which he used to dump the ashes of his joint inside of. The rest of the time he watched Scrappy test out the guns inside of the bag, while continuing to smoke and dump ashes. “You fuckin’ with that one?” he asked her of the long, chrome shotgun with the pistol grip she pointed at imaginary targets around the bedroom. The satisfaction written across her face told him that she wanted the powerful weapon she held in her grasp.
“Yeah. I like this one.” Scrappy lowered the shotgun at her side. Her eyes followed Hittah as he mashed out the ember of the joint and tucked it behind his ear. He then walked over to the closet where he got something from off of its top shelf. Once he finally came down with what he had retrieved, she noticed it was a big box of ammunition for the shotgun she’d picked out. He also grabbed another duffle bag from where it was hanging on a hook on the inside of the closet door.
“Look, Hittah,” she started back up, watching him load the shotgun and shells inside of the extra duffle bag. “I’ma lil’ short right now, but if you limme hold that shotty I’ma get right back at chu with that scrilla for....”
“Shhhhhhh.” Hittah turned to her with his finger against his lips, hushing her. He then took her hand and placed the straps of the duffle bag inside of it and closed it up. “Homegirl, you don’t owe me a thang. Tiaz was one of the few homies that made sho’ my books was straight while I was up there in that cage. The least I can do is give his old lady the tools she needs to avenge his death. I would offer to roll out which chu, but knowing how you get down, I gotta feelin’ you’d like to go on this mission alone. Am I right?” he grasped her shoulder and looked into her eyes. If she gave him the word, he was going to load up his thang and shed blood right alongside her. He had mad love for Tiaz, and considered him one of the realist niggaz to have ever picked up a flag.
“You right, homeboy. I gotta get at these folks alone.” she looked at him, scowling.
Hittah presented her with a half smile and said, “That’s what I thought. Gimme some love.”
He opened his arms to her and she walked into him, embracing him. With that out of the way, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. They headed back out onto the front porch.
Scrappy stepped out of the house waving bye to the homies and switching hands with the duffle bag. Coming down the cement steps, she heard hurried footsteps at her right. When she looked she saw the smiling faces of her son and daughter. They’d gotten out of school about forty minutes ago.
“Heyyyyy, mommy!” Kesha called out to her mother and hugged her around the waist.
“Hey, pretty girl. How was school?” Scrappy rubbed her daughter’s back and kissed her on top of her head.
“It was good.” she replied.
“’Sup, momma?” T.J. greeted his mother with a hug as well. She ruffled the top of his close fade and kissed him on his cheek.
“How’s momma’s lil’ man?” she asked with a smirk, rubbing the side of his face, affectionately.
“I’m straight.” he replied. His brows furrowed seeing the welt under her eye. “Momma, what happened to yo’ face? You got into a fight?”
Scrappy touched the welt under her eye and recalled that it was there. “Nah, I didn’t have a fight. I tripped and fell.”
“What’s up, T.J. and lil’ momma?” Hittah called out from the porch of his house where he was busy relighting his joint. “Hey, uncle Hittah!” T.J. and Kesha responded in unison and waved at their street uncle, excitedly.
“Y’all come on, so we can cross the street.” Scrappy nudged her son and daughter towards the curb so they could get ready to cross the street to her mother’s home. Once an oncoming car had passed, Scrappy grabbed her daughter’s hand and they jogged across the street, with her son following beside them.
Once Scrappy and her kids had crossed the street, they made it inside of her mother’s yard and up the steps. She then knocked on the door and waited for her mother to answer. As she waited, she surveyed her surroundings. A moment later her mother, Ruth, unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Yes?” Ruth frowned up as she took a pull from her Newport and blew out a cloud of smoke. She then dumped her ashes on the porch and sucked on the end of her cancer stick again, causing it to shrink in size. Ruth was an older, sassy black woman who stood a solid five-foot-eleven. Her dry, permed out, graying hair was pulled back in a small ass ponytail. There were black moles on either side of her face and at the back of her neck. She had a slight mustache and a caramel complexion. As of now, she was wearing a big T-shirt with Winnie the Pooh on it, black sweatpants and house slippers which showed off her hard, ashy heels.
“Momma, I need you to watch the kids ‘til I-” Scrappy began but her mother cut her off, rudely.
Ruth held up her meaty hand which stopped whatever Scrappy had to say to her right then. She took a healthy pull from her square and blew out another cloud of smoke. She then dropped what was left of her cigarette on the porch and mashed it out under her house slipper, leaving black ashes and embers on the surface. Afterwards, she looked up at her daughter and said, “Scrap, I’m not watchin’ a damn thang ‘til you kick in the money you already owe me for watchin’ ‘nem babies, so fork it over.” She stuck out her hand and flexed her fingers.
“Momma, I ain’t gotta dolla to my name right now. I’m not gon’ have no money for a couple of days. I just need you to watch ‘em for...”
“Unh unh,” she shook her head. “Scrappy, you always late with my money for watchin’ these kids. Now, I love ‘em to death, but I love the roof over my head, the lights in my house and the A.C that keeps my big ass cool in this summa time heat. And do you know what I need to keep these here necessities and luxuries of mine? Money. I’m talkin’ cold, hard, cash.” she smacked the back of her hand into her palm for emphasis. She then placed her hand on the doorknob and said, “I need my money, Scrappy. Not tomorrow, or even the next day. I need all of mine right this minute. Now, do you have it?”
“No. But I can give it to you next-”
Scrappy was cut short as Ruth slammed the front door shut and locked it behind her.
“Ol’ fat, flabby sloppy body, bitch,” a scowling Scrappy said underneath her breath as she grabbed her daughter’s hand and headed back down the steps, T.J. in tow. She was as hot as fish grease at her mother. When she first asked her to watch the kids when they got out of school so she could attend her cosmetology class (a class she missed that day to attend Savon’s execution), she was surprised when she told her she’d have to pay her. You see, Scrappy’s mother was too busy partying and chasing men to take care of her when she was growing up. She gave her grandmother full custody of her so she could run the streets and do God only knew what. Scrappy felt like since her grandmother raised her that the least her mother could do was watch her kids seeing that she was trying to take her ass to school.
“Where are we going now, mommy?” Kesha asked her mother.
“We’re gonna stop by the house for a second, baby.” Scrappy informed her daughter.
Scrappy went home to get ready for the night’s mission. She threw on a hoodie, gloves, black sunglasses and grabbed an orange bandana. She was going to fly her neighborhoods colors that night when she put in work. She knew Tiaz would be looking down at her and this would make him proud. Before she left out of the house, she kissed her fingers and touched them to the wallet size photo of her and Tiaz at prom which was situated at the corner of the nightstand’s mirror. She then tapped her fist to her chest and headed into the living room of her house.
When Scrappy walked into the living room, she found T.J. and Kesha lounging on the couch watching cartoons. The illumination from the TV’s screen shined on their young faces.
“Y’all come on, let’s go.” Scrappy told her children.
“Where are we going now?” T.J. sat up on the couch.
“I got some business I needa handle. Once I’m done, y’all can come back and watch all the cartoons you want.” she told her children.
“Onna school night, ma?” he inquired.
“Yep, on a school night. You got my word, baby boy. Long as y’all promise mommy y’all gon’ get up in the mornin’. We gotta deal?” she looked between the twins, anxiously awaiting their replies. They looked at each other smiling and nodding before they focused back on her. “Well, what do ya say?”
“You gotta deal, momma.” T.J. approached his mother with his hand extended, to seal the deal with a handshake. Scrappy smiled as she shook her son’s hand and then her daughter’s hand. “Alright, now, let’s go so momma can handle her business.”
T.J. and Kesha grabbed their jackets and slipped them on, zipping them up and throwing on their hoods. They then followed their mother out of the house, pulling the front door shut behind them.
***
Scrappy sat slumped in the driver’s seat as she watched Chevy and Faison’s house. All of the lights were on so she was waiting until they went out before she hit their spot. As soon as the lights in the house were out, Scrappy slipped the black sunglasses onto her face and pulled her orange bandana over the lower half of her face. She then pulled her hood over her head and pulled its drawstrings, enclosing it around her head. Afterwards, she picked her shotgun up from the floor and racked it.
Scrappy looked into the backseat at T.J. and Kesha. They looked afraid and confused. “Y’all scoot down into the seat, momma will be right back.” she kissed both children on their forehead. She went to hop out but Kesha grabbed her arm, halting her. “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Scrappy saw the sadness in her daughter’s eyes.
“I don’t want chu to go, mommy. Can we just go home, please?” Kesha begged her mother, with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
“Yeah, momma, let’s just go home.” T.J. pleaded with his mother.
“We can’t go yet. I have to set things right with these people, they’re the ones that killed yo’ daddy. They are the reason that you and yo’ brother don’t have a daddy anymore.” Scrappy looked between her children. “They took ‘em away from you, and I can’t let ‘em get away with it. You’re daddy would turn over in his grave if he knew I did. You hear me?”
Scrappy used to fuck with Te’Qui back in the day. They were never together but they fooled around when neither of them were in a relationship. Scrappy winded up getting pregnant with the twins. She was going to get an abortion but Te’Qui talked her into keeping them. Through his life of crime he was able to afford to take care of her and his children. They made an agreement to co-parent without the baby momma/ baby daddy drama. Tiaz was a great father and Scrappy’s best friend. So when she found out that he had been murdered while he was incarcerated she vowed to get revenge in his honor.
T.J. nodded and hugged his mother around her neck. Scrappy hugged her son with one arm and kissed him on the side of the head. She then focused her attention back on Kesha who had broken down crying. She pulled the little girl into her bosom, hugging her and her brother. She kissed them both on top of the heads. Once she broke their embrace, she looked them in their eyes.
“Now, y’all look,” Scrappy started up again. “I’ma do what I gotta do in here and then we gon’ leave. It won’t take me long. And once I’m finish, we can order pizza. How about that?” she awaited her childrens’ answers.
“Ma, can I get pepperoni and sausage on mine?” T.J. asked her, excitedly.
“Yes, baby boy. And how ‘bout some ice cream to go with it?”
“Long as it’s chocolate chip, count me in.” he smiled.
“You got it, lil’ man,” Scrappy smiled behind her bandana and dapped up her son. She then ruffled his head playfully and looked to Kesha. “How about chu, lil’ momma? What kinda pizza would you like?”
Kesha wiped her dripping eyes with the back of her fists, sniffling. She then looked up at her mother with a shiny wet face, saying, “Cheese-I’d like a cheese pizza, mommy. And Rainbow Sherbert ice cream.”
“How many scoops, baby girl?” she held her chin up with her curled finger, as she looked into her saddened eyes.
“Two.” Kesha held up two fingers.
“Two scoops it is.” Scrappy assured her. She then hugged and kissed her kids. Next, she looked herself over in the rearview mirror to make sure she couldn’t be identified under her disguise. Once she came to the conclusion that no one would be able to identify her, she grabbed her shotgun and hopped out of the car. She shut the driver’s door quietly and held the shotgun low, like it was a hockey stick. Keeping her weapon low, she looked back and forth over her shoulder to make sure there wasn’t any nosy mothafuckaz out that could witness her handle her business.
Once Scrappy saw that the coast was clear, she entered Chevy’s yard and hunched down. She made her way alongside the house until she entered the backyard. Once she made it upon the door of the back porch, she picked the lock and made her way inside as quietly as possible. The house was dark except for the light that the stove provided above. Still holding the shotgun low, she made her way past the stove, passing the living room and entering the hallway. Scrappy heard shower water running, so she pushed the bathroom door opened quietly. When she did, she met the heat from the steam of the shower and saw a woman’s silhouette behind the shower curtain, as she washed up.
Scrappy pulled her bandana down from the lower half of her face so that Chevy could see exactly who it was giving her the business. She then crept over to the tub and snatched the shower curtain back. A startled Chevy whipped around. Her hair was slicked back and her naked body was shiny with wetness. Her eyes nearly leaped out of her head and her mouth hung open, seeing the woman she’d threw hands with at Savon’s execution.
Scrappy’s face balled up with animosity. Lifting her shotgun, she took a step back from the bathtub and said, “Remember me, bitch? This is for Tiaz!”
Bloom!
The first blast smacked Chevy up against the tiled wall, splattering her blood against it. The back of her head and body deflected off the wall, but a second blast forced her back up against it. She slid down in the tub dead, leaving a bloody smear behind her on the wall. The hot shower water continued to run, washing off some of the blood smeared on the wall.
Scrappy observed her handiwork for a moment before coming out of the bathroom. As she was stepping out into the hallway, the door of the master bedroom was opening and Faison was coming out with a fat ass .357 Magnum revolver. Once he saw Scrappy with the shotgun, he knew what time it was so he tried to blow her head off.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Scrappy pulled her head back inside of the bathroom, narrowly missing getting her head knocked off. She stuck her shotgun out of the doorway and around the corner, blasting. A lucky shot caught Faizon in the chest. His eyes became as big as golf balls and his mouth open. He looked down and saw blood pouring out of his chest. Once he croaked in pain, Scrappy knew she’d gotten him.
With Faison at her mercy, Scrappy decided that now was the best time to capitalize off of the situation. She racked her shotgun and swung out into the hallway, pulling the trigger. The report from the powerful weapon was loud and dangerous.
“Aaaah!” Faison hollered out in agony, feeling fire rip through his chest again as he was propelled backwards. He fell against the side of the doorway and fired his revlver at Scrappy, missing her. Sliding down to the carpeted floor, Faison fired off one more shot before dropping the hand holding the .357 beside him. His head fell back against the doorway. His eyes were stretched wide open and his jaw was slack. He was dead.
Scrappy approached Faison cautiously and placed two fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. As soon as she confirmed that he was dead, she heard the other bedroom door creak open. Swiftly, Scrappy turned around ready to send some hot shit through a nigga’z chest. She lowered her shotgun once she saw a young Te’Qui standing in the other bedroom’s doorway. She felt sorry for him when his eyes landed on his slain father. She could see the heartbreak and tears building in his eyes. Instantly, the grief written across his face changed to one of bitterness and hatred. His nose scrunched up and he balled his hands into fists. Acknowledging the hostility in his face, Scrappy braced the stock of the shotgun against her shoulder and aimed the weapon’s barrel at the youth’s chest. Her mind played tricks on her as she hesitated to pull the trigger, seeing Te’Qui morph back and forth between her children.
Realizing that she couldn’t bring herself to take the life of a child, Scrappy lowered her shotgun at her side and pulled the bandana up over the lower half of her face. She then rushed into the living room, through the kitchen and out of the back door. She jumped down into the lawn of the backyard and ran along the side of the house. Having cleared the yard, she ran across the street towards her car. Reaching the curb, she deposited the shotgun inside of the gutter and reached for the door handle of her vehicle.
Blam!
Scrappy’s chest exploded and her blood splattered against the driver’s window. T.J. and Kesha’s eyes grew big and their mouths formed O’s. They couldn’t believe their innocent eyes. Their mother had been popped in front of them. They observed their mother whip around to where the shot had come from, only to get popped in the chest two more times. Her blood dotted the side of her car and she dropped to the sidewalk. As soon as she did, she revealed Te’Qui standing behind her. His eyebrows were slanted and he was biting down on his bottom lip. His father’s .357 Magnum revolver was pointed at Scrappy’s car, as its barrel wafted with smoke.
Te’Qui lowered the .357 and stood beside Scrappy, looking down at her. Horror was etched across her face as she stared up at him, accusingly. She tried to say something to him, but she only managed to choke and gag on her own blood.
“Mommyyyyyy!” Kesha called out to her mother. She and T.J. jumped out of the car and rushed to Scrappy’s side. They stood on either side of her and held her bloody hands. Scrappy smiled weakly for them, but she ended up coughing up blood. T.J. and Kesha’s faces were slicked wet from crying. They’d lost their father, and now they were losing their mother. “Mommy, please dont die, please don’t leave us. We love you.”
“You can’t die, momma. We love you so much. What would we do without you?” T.J. asked as he used his blood stained hand to wipe away his dripping tears. He sniffled and more tears seemed to flood his cheeks.
“It’s-it’s okay, mommy’s babies, I’m going on to a better place,” Scrappy claimed. “I’m going to heaven.”
“Is that the same place that daddy went to?” Kesha asked innocently. When Tiaz was murdered in jail, Scrappy had told her and her brother that he died and went to heaven. That heaven was a beautiful place. And only the specialist of people went there.
“Y-yes, baby. That’s-that’s-,” Scrappy winced as she coughed up more blood. “That’s where daddy is, and I’m going to be with ‘em. And if you’re-you’re good down here, then-then you and your brother can come there with us, too.”
By this time, T.J. and Kesha were sobbing hard, scared to death that they were going to lose their mother.
Twelve’s sirens filled the air, but Te’Qui hadn’t budged. He stood there holding his banga and watching Scrappy spend her last moments with her children.
“You promise, mommy?” Kesha asked her mother.
Scrappy placed her bloody hand against the side of her daughter’s face and smiled weakly. “Yes, baby girl, I promise.”
“I don’t want chu to die, momma. I want chu to live forever and ever. Please, don’t go.” T.J. whimpered. His mother looked to him and rubbed the side of her face, leaving a bloody hand impression behind. She smiled at him as well.
“I’m sorry, baby boy...” Scrappy eyes rolled to their whites and her head dropped to the pavement. She expelled her last breath through her wide open mouth and her body went still.
“Momma? Momma?” T.J. shook his mother harder and harder, trying to get her to respond but it was already too late. She was gone.
“Mommy, wake up! Wake up, please!” Kesha shook her mother alongside her brother, but she wasn’t moving.
At this time, Twelve was pulling up back to back. The red and blue flashing lights of their vehicles illuminated Te’Qui, T.J. and Kesha. The doors of the police cars popped open and the cops hopped out, drawing their guns on Te’Qui. They ordered him to throw down his revolver and he obliged. Afterwards, one of the cops moved in to handcuff him. Te’Qui was placed into the back of one of the police cars. He watched as the coroners came and took Scrappy’s body away. He looked to her children and found T.J. mad dogging him, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyebrows were arched and his nostrils were flaring.
“I’m gonna kill you, you hear me? Huh, do you fucking hear me? You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!” T.J. hollered out to Te’Qui. He tried to run over to him but the cops restrained him. “Limme go, limme the fuck go, you bastards!” he struggled to break free from the police officers’ arms, but their hold was like steel. Eventually, T.J. got tired of trying to fight the cops off and went limp in their arms. He broke down sobbing and crying, teardrops splashing on the street.
“It’s going to be okay, son. It’s going to be okay.” One of the police officers assured him.
“So, this is what this is all about, huh? Some get-back for me poppin’ yo’ moms when the bitch peeled my momma and my daddy? Nigga, fuck you and her! I’ll spit on that hoe’s grave!” Te’Qui spat at T.J.’s feet, still holding his wound. His entire hand was bloody now. He was sweating profusely and had turned pale.
T.J. looked at him smiling devilishly, resembling Satan. “I feel you, now feel this!” He pointed his gun at Te’Qui’s forehead as he mad dogged him, waiting for his fate to be sealed.
Choot!
T.J.’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. A surprised look spread across his face, and he slowly turned around. He was shocked to see Kesha standing behind him holding the sniper’s rifle which was wafting with smoke, having been fired.
“I’m sorry, T.J., but I can’t let you kill ‘em. I love ‘em.” Kesha said apologetically as tears cascaded down her face. Her brother scowled at her and went to shoot her, but she shot him again. The bullet slammed into him, lifting him off his feet. He crashed to the floor and his gun went up into the air, dropping to the surface.
Kesha lowered the sniper’s rifle and pulled Te’Qui upon his feet.
“Uhhh!” Te’Qui winced from his wound. Holding his gut, he walked over to T.J. He took the keys to his car out of his pocket and put it in his pocket. He then took the gun off of T.J.’s waistline and picked up the one he’d dropped. When he stood up from picking up the gun, he looked down at his deceased homeboy’s face. T.J.’s eyes were bugged and his mouth was ajar. He was clearly dead from the expression on his face.
Kesha broke down weeping having looked down at T.J.’s face. Her shoulders rocked and she bowed her head, big teardrops fell from her eyes and splashed on the floor. Te’Qui limped over to her and threw one of his arms over her shoulders, consoling her as best as he could. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back soothingly.
“Come on, ma, let’s get outta here.” Te’Qui told her.
Still weeping, Kesha looked up into Te’Qui’s eyes, tears constantly spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, bae. I never meant to hurt chu, I...”
“Shhhhh. Right now isn’t the time; we gotta get that money and get outta here.”
“Okay.” she nodded.
“Come on.” he nudged her towards the kitchen with one of his guns.
Te’Qui and Kesha made their way into the kitchen. He hoisted a duffle bag over his shoulder and she hoisted one over her shoulder. As soon as they turned around, they found a deranged T.J. charging at them. He had a large splinter in his hand, and it was cocked back in a stabbing motion.
“I’m gonna kill you, you fucking whore!” T.J. screamed at the top of his lungs.
Te’Qui stepped in front of Kesha and pointed both of his guns at him. He popped his toys off back to back.
Blocka! Blocka! Blocka! Bloc! Bloc! Bloc! Blocka! Blocka! Bloc! Bloc!
T.J. dropped his splinter to the floor as he was hit with a barrage of bullets. His head bobbed and he danced on his feet, moving backwards. He took one last step back and went flying through an enormous hole in the floor of the living room.
“Aaaaaah!” T.J. hollered out in freefall. “Uhhh!”
Te’Qui and Kesha walked over to the enormous hole in the floor. They peeked over into it and saw T.J. impaled on some rusty pipes sticking from out of the floor. His eyes were as big as golf balls and blood was pouring out of his mouth. Holding on to the rusted pipes sticking from out of his torso, he looked down at them. His head then fell back and his arms and legs stiffened. He was without a shadow of a doubt dead.
Te’Qui, still looking down at T.J., took a deep breath. He then tucked his bangaz into the front of his Dickies and grabbed Kesha by her hand, leading her out of the decrepit house.
Te’Qui and Kesha walked down the short flight of steps of the back porch. Te’Qui popped the trunk and they dumped their duffle bags inside of the trunk, slamming it shut afterwards. They went to climb inside of the vehicle, but a sharp whistle at their rear drew their attention. They looked and found Big Will with a long ass, black shotgun.
“Fuck you think you going, lil’ nigga?” Big Will asked, with hatred plastered on his face.
Instantly, Te’Qui stepped in front of Kesha and pulled out his bangaz again. When he heard someone jump down behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. He found Enzo standing to his feet after having climbed over the fence. He was clutching a shotgun too, except his was long and chrome.
“Yeah, fuck you think yo’ young ass going?” Enzo said off of Big Will.
“What’s y’all beef, Blood?” Te’Qui asked Big Will. He figured that Enzo must have figured out that he was the one trying to rob him that night at Club Vicious, but he didn’t know how he found out.
“Yo’ bitch-ass tried to rob me. And don’t try to deny it either ‘cause yo’ lil’ fat-ass homeboy dimed you out.” Enzo mad dogged him.
Once Enzo had finished speaking, Big Will spoke up. “You killed unc, Blood. You killed Drama. That’s family. And nobody touches my mothafuckin’ family.”
“I didn’t touch Drama, but I can’t say I hadn’t planned too. I suppose T.J., my fat-ass homeboy, told you otherwise though. Am I right?”
Big Will mad dogged Te’Qui hard as fuck, but he didn’t say anything though. A single tear slid down his cheek and his nostrils flared. That was enough to let Te’Qui that the answer to his question was yes.
“Well, I can already see there ain’t no way I can talk my way outta this shit. We gon’ have to get it poppin’, am I right?” Te’Qui looked back and forth between Big Will and Enzo, to see what they’d have to say.
“You mothafucking right,” Enzo assured him.
“Cool. Big Will, you already know a young nigga with the shits.”
“Gotsa to tip my hat to ya, I do respect yo’ gangsta.” Big Will conceded with a nod.
“As I do yours,” Te’Qui replied. “Check this out, my girl’s preggo, let her walk. Y’all let my boo walk and we can get into some gangsta shit.”
“She can bounce.” Big Will said, stepping aside so Kesha could walk past him.
Chick-chick!
Enzo racked his shotgun and pointed it at Kesha, saying, “Nah, fuck that! The bitch stays put! She rides wit ‘em so she can die wit ‘em. Fuck ‘em both!” keeping his eyes on the couple, Enzo spat on the ground.
“I wasn’t going no where no way, bitch-ass nigga!” Kesha mad dogged Enzo, standing back to back with Te’Qui. “Like you said, I ride for my man,” she pointed her sniper rifle at Enzo. “We can get it poppin’ right here and right now.”
“Bae, fuck are you doin’? I can probably get Big Will to let chu walk.” Te’Qui said to her in a hushed tone, wincing. His eyes were on Big Will, but he was speaking to Kesha.
“Fuck these niggaz, bae. If it go down, then it go down.” she spoke fearlessly. “At least this way, if we die, you and the baby and I will all be together in heaven.” Uneven tears rolled down Kesha’s cheeks and she took one hand off her rifle to wipe them away.
“I love you, ma.” Te’Qui told her.
“I love you even more.” Kesha proclaimed.
“Shall we?” Big Will asked of the showdown.
“Yes, we shall.” Te’Qui replied.
And with the question having been answered, an ghetto orchestra played.
Bloom! Bloom! Bloom! Blocka! Blocka! Blocka! Bloc! Bloc! Choot! Choot! Choot! Blocka! Bloc! Bloc! Choot! Choot! Bloc!
A cloud of gunsmoke loomed in the air. Seconds later, bodies hit the dirt, leaving Te’Qui and Kesha standing victorious.
Kesha looked ahead to find Enzo lying on the ground, still gripping his shotgun, dead. She looked down at her duffle bag and it had thirty small holes from shotgun pellets. The rounds from Enzo’s powerful weapon struck the duffle bag, shielding her. To be sure she hadn’t been hit; Kesha patted herself down for wounds, discovering that she was okay.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Kesha said surprised. She had been sure she was going to end up shot or dead. “Bae, I got ‘em, I got his ass.” she turned to Te’Qui. He was still on his feet, but Big Will was lying on his back, dead. His shotgun was lying above his head on the ground.
“I got Big Will, too.” Te’Qui said with pain in his voice. When Kesha grabbed his arm, she saw his blood pelting the dirt.
“Oh, my God, you’re bleeding!” Kesha said in a panic.
“Awww, fuck, nigga, shot me,” he groaned and touched the side of his face, fingers coming away bloody. He dropped to the dirt on his knees and fell on his side, ending up on his back.
Te’Qui lay on the ground with a bloody face and torso. The side of his face was singed and there were several small holes in it from buckshots.
“That mothafucka shot me, baby.” he lifted his head from off the ground and looked down at his body. At this time, Kesha was lifting up his shirt to examine his wounds. His torso was singed, bloody and had small holes in it from the buckshots. “Awww, shit, Keesh, this is it! This is it for me, ma! I’m done, I’m done.”
“No, no, no, don’t say that! You’re not gonna die, you’re not gonna die!” Kesha cupped Te’Qui’s face and looked into his eye. He was blinking his eyelids, struggling to keep his eyes open. His bloody hands held her wrists as he tried to meet her gaze. “Look at me; you look at me, gotdammit! You’re not gonna die! Repeat after me, I’m not gonna die! Say it, I’m not gonna die!”
“I’m not-I’m not gonna...” Te’Qui’s eyes rolled around and she smacked him to gain his attention. His eyes looked to her, struggling to hold her gaze. “I’m not gonna die-I’m not gonna die.”
“Yes, yes, yes, baby. That’s it, that’s it.” Kesha looked up at the sky, hearing Twelve’s sirens filling the air. She knew that the law would be there soon and she didn’t want to be anywhere in the area with all of those dead bodies lying around.
Kesha fished through Te’Qui’s pockets and got out the car’s keys. She ran over to the car and unlocked the door, pulling the backdoor open. She then ran over to Te’Qui, grabbing him under his arms and pulling him towards the vehicle. He was pretty much dead weight so she was struggling as she dragged him. On top of that, beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and ran down her face. It took some effort, but she managed to get him into the backseat. Once she slammed the door shut, she jumped in behind the wheel and backed out. Next, she shifted the car into drive and floored it. The car crashed through the double gates, and made a right into the alley.
Kesha ripped down the trashy ass alleyway, looking back and forth between the windshield and Te’Qui. His bloody hands were lying on his waistline and he was staring up at the ceiling, eyes hooded. Seeing him like that scared the shit out of Kesha. To her, he looked like he was dead, lying face up inside of a coffin.
“Come on. Come on, baby. You gotta stay with me now. Stay with me,” Kesha, still looking back and forth between her lover and the windshield, grabbed Te’Qui’s hand. She held it firmly, as she drove through the alley. Looking ahead, she saw several police cars race past her line of vision, red and blue lights flashing.
“Bury me...” Te’Qui said just above a whisper, loosening his grip on Kesha’s hand.
“Hold on, baby. I’m finna bust a turn from outta here,” Kesha told him. Reaching the end of the alley, she made a left turn and sped down the block. She glanced into her rearview mirror and saw the rear ends and flashing lights of the police cars that had passed her when she was speeding down the alley. “Okay, baby. Now, what were you saying?” she glanced into the backseat at him; his eyelids were nearly shut.
“Bury me-bury me a,” he spoke in a whisper this time, sounding very weak.
“No, no, no. I will not bury you! You can’t die, bae! You cannot leave me and your child in this world alone.” she cried, fresh tears coating her cheeks. “You hear me? You cannot do this to me, to us.”
“When I die...make sure you bury me a g. Bury me a g, bury me a mothafuckin’g.”
The only things that could be heard then were the blaring police sirens and Kesha’s sobs.
“Te’Quiii, Te’Quiiii, Te’Quiiiii, wake up, baby! Please, wake up! Te’Quiiiii!” Kesha’s bone chilling screams ripped through the air.
Staring up at the ceiling of the car, Te’Qui was confronted by a big bright florescent light. The ray of light was so strong it could blind your average man, but Te’Qui was staring into it without so much as batting an eye. He saw himself running towards his loved one, Chevy, Faison, Baby Wicked, etc. They were all standing in a gorgeous green, grassy field with beautiful blooming daisies surrounding them. The flowers and grass moved having been disturbed by the cool occasional breeze of the warm weather. The sun was shining at his loved ones back as well. They were all wearing smiles across their faces. They looked happy too; far happier than they did when they were alive.
Seeing his loved ones receding before his eyes, and the brightness of the sun growing brighter and brighter, Te’Qui started running harder and faster. In fact, he was running so hard that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears and his husky breathing. Worry stretched across his face and water pooled in his eyes. He feared this would be his last time to reunite with his family and friends. That if he didn’t take advantage of this opportunity that he’d never see them again, ever. That thought terrified him.
“Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa! Haa!” Te’Qui huffed and puffed as he ran, tears sliding down his cheeks as he desperately tried to touch his relatives with his outstretched hand. “Wait, wait, don’t leave me! I need you! All of you!”
Te’Qui’s loved ones grew smaller and smaller, and the sun grew even brighter. It wasn’t long before his relatives and loved ones disappeared before his eyes and the sun over shadowed him. Te’Qui stopped running and looked up at the sun. He placed his hand above his eyebrows and stared up at the sun, looking through narrowed eyelids.
“Noooooo! Nooooo! I don’t wanna go yet! I don’t wanna...” Te’Qui screamed and screamed, which caused veins to bulge at his temples and neck. He wailed long and loud, tears continuously sliding down his cheeks and dripping off of his chin. “Noooooooooo! Noooooooooo!”
The blinding rays of the sun eventually swallowed up Te’Qui as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Shorty thereafter, the sun gradually receded and the wails of a baby flooded the hospital room.
“Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa!” a bloody, slimy baby hollered and hollered as he was pulled from between Kesha’s chubby legs. The doctor holding him with his latex gloved hands, turned around to Te’Qui, who was standing off to the side. He was dressed up just like the doctor was. He had on what looked like a bonnet, surgical mask, apron and gloves. He nipped the umbilical cord and handed the scissors to one of the nurses. He then walked over to the sink with the doctor holding his son, where he washed him off. While he was busy doing this, Kesha was being cleaned. Once the baby had been washed and rinsed, he was dressed in a red beanie with Outlaws in black stitching. He was then wrapped up firmly in a blanket and placed into Te’Qui’s arms. The young gangsta looked down into his son’s face, smiling. It was nine months later, and he had survived his gunshots wounds. The side of his face was scarred badly from the hot pellets of Big Will’s shotgun and his stomach had also been marred. Still, by the grace of God, he was alive and well.
“Hey, lil’ man, how you doin’, huh? How you doin’?” Te’Qui asked as he tickled his son’s chin. The little guy had the perfect combinations of his parents’ features. He wasn’t anything short of beautiful.
Te’Qui passed the baby to Kesha. She stared down at her bundle of joy, smiling. She was sweaty and her hair was matted on her face.
“Hey, baby boy, happy birthday. Happy birthday...” A crease formed on her forehead and she looked up at Te’Qui. She realized that they hadn’t come up with a name for their new born son yet.
Te’Qui held Kesha’s gaze as he thought of a name for their son. Once a name came to mind, a smirk formed at the corner of his lips before he replied. “We’ll name ‘em Brice. That was Baby Wicked’s government name.”
Kesha smiled and said, “Brice. I like that name. Brice it is.” She kissed baby Brice and brushed her nose up against his, lovingly. Te’Qui put his arm around Kesha and kissed his son’s forehead. He then kissed Kesha.
And they went on to live happily ever after.
The End