Michele never called Real over to her house and used the word “emergency.” When Real made it there and saw all the family cars parked behind each other, he knew something was seriously wrong.
“What’s going on, Tiffany?” Real asked his cousin, whose eyes were puffy and red from crying.
Tiffany opened her mouth, but when she tried to speak, no words came out.
“Cuz!” Tiffany tried to begin before she broke down again.
“Man, somebody tell me something!” Real shouted as he made a dash to the front door and entered the house.
Everyone was gathered in the den around his mother, and it only frightened Real with burning curiosity.
Something wrong with my ma? Real thought as he broke through the circle of his aunties and uncles.
“Ma, what’s going on? You okay?” Real asked his mother, afraid to get an answer.
“Son, we lost Shada,” Michele broke down in Real’s auntie’s arms.
“What?” Real whispered. He didn’t want to believe what he had just heard, but he knew his mom well enough to know she wouldn’t play death games on her kids.
“What you mean we lost Shamoney? Ma, tell me something!” Real demanded before completely losing it when he heard the loud shrill of Chantele crying.
“Noo!” Chantele cried out from the living room.
* * *
Black and Big Chub were enjoying the news of Shamoney’s assassination. It was music to the Haitian mafia’s ears when Bozo called with the secret code that the mafia used to signify mission completed.
“The gods have prevailed!” Bozo relayed to Big Chub.
“Unc, I can’t believe he’s gone myself!” Big Chub said.
“The gods have prevailed, nephew,” Black said in Creole.
“Yes, they have,” Big Chub answered.
Black picked up his phone and dialed a number he knew off the top of his head.
“Speak, Haitian!” Polo’s voice picked up on the second ring.
“When a lion is feeble and hurt on the inside, what is left of him that makes him a mighty lion?” Black asked Polo, and then began laughing impishly.
“I remember this one. The roar, huh?” Polo said in Creole.
“Polo, you know that your lion can’t beat the master at his own game. You be sure to tell Real that the only way I’ma stop aiming at family is when he yields and steps down from his own power.”
“Ah huh. So you admitting that the lion is mighty?” Polo asked.
“Listen to me good, Polo. Your best bet is to call off your lion and for you to stay in retirement.”
“What ’bout you, Black? Are you going to stay running as a wanted man? It seems like the smartest man that should be in retirement is you!” Polo retorted.
“Polo, listen. You know how the game is with me. Until I kill every yank, I will let the gods handle my lightweight,” Black responded.
“Are you sure the gods still know your name? Last I checked, you had no love for the gods,” Polo said to Black before he disconnected the phone.
“Of course the gods remember my name. How do you think I was able to give them Shamoney’s soul?” Black said to him and himself and Big Chub.
* * *
Everyone was calling Real’s phone and trying to send their condolences, but he wasn’t picking up. Real was even ignoring Mookie’s calls and sending her straight to voice mail. He had no conversation for the world. He needed time to think about all that was going on around him. He didn’t have the solid proof, but he had his instincts. His gut feeling told him that Black, the invisible man, was behind killing his brother, who was stabbed twenty-one times, twenty of those which he didn’t he feel.
Talk to me, ’Money. Who did this to you? Real spoke to himself.
“Somebody knows what happened to you, brah. And I’ma find out who knows,” Real cried, grieving as he took another swig of Remy Martin.
Real’s phone rang, and he saw that it was Kentucky, the man with whom he needed to talk.
“Hello?” Real answered sluggishly, inebriated from too much liquor.
“Good news or bad?” Kentucky inquired.
“Bad news,” Real chose.
“It’s official about what we’re looking into,” Kentucky said, tossing Real a curveball about Johnny dealing with the FBI. “Good news is it can be handled. I say we handle buddy on your own clock, but he makes it easy for us to handle the other problem.”
“I will decide on this when I’m sober. How’s Frank?” Real asked about Chucky.
“He left safely before the sun,” Kentucky said.
“Okay, good. Just give me a couple hours,” Real said.
“Brah, take all day. I’m out here. I love you, brah!” Kentucky said.
“I love you too, brah!” Real sincerely retorted before hanging up.
Johnny’s working with the police, huh?
“Damn it, Johnny!” Real exploded, throwing the Remy bottle to the ground and shattering it to pieces.
* * *
Bellda was at work and couldn’t get through to Real. On her break, she tried him again but still got no answer. She wanted him to know that she was still there for him as a friend. She talked to Chantele and gave her condolences to her, and she promised when she got off from working a double that she would be there to sit with her.
Bellda felt sorry for Chantele, and all she could think about was her gratefulness that it wasn’t Real. She wouldn’t know what to do if she lost him.
I don’t think I could stomach the loss of Real. Lord, what has this man done to me? Why can’t I accept that I lost him? Bellda thought as a tear rolled from her right eye.
She was in pain, and the only person that could relieve her anguish was Real.
But now he’s so in love with Mookie, a cutthroat-ass bitch who has no loyalty for her friends, Bellda thought. I dragged Lala’s ass, and I’ll drag her ass too! That ho got something that belongs to me, and I’ma have her ass. Fuck this chill mode shit!
Her break was over, and it was time to go back to work.
Bellda texted LeLe as she walked back into the building: “We need to talk when I get off!”
* * *
Mookie stayed outside in the car while Lala went inside the bank to cash her check. They were in Orlando and had been taking turns at multiple banks on the way up the East Coast of Florida.
While Lala was in the bank, Mookie once again tried to get a hold of Real. “Come on, man. Pick up!” she said as she persistently listened to the phone ring.
He’s not answering for no one! Mookie thought with frustration.
Their next step was the bank in Tampa, and they had only two checks to cash. Mookie couldn’t wait to get back to Martin County so she could be there for Real during his hardship and grieving period.
I’m supposed to be there by him through it all. I’m already staying with him every night.
“What the fuck!” Mookie exclaimed when she saw all the police surrounding the bank.
Fidgeting with her phone, she tried calling Lala, who was not picking up.
“Girl, get the fuck out of there!” Mookie screamed as she became paranoid while starting up her Charger. “Come on, Lala! Get out of there,” Mookie said, and again tried calling, but to no avail. So she tried sending her a text: “Police! Get out!”
When Mookie raised her head and looked toward the bank, she saw that the Charger they had rented was surrounded by Orlando sheriffs and two plain-clothed detectives, who were aiming their Glock 21s at her. Mookie was scared.
“Ma’am, step out of the car with your hands up. Please don’t do anything stupid!” the redneck detective demanded.
Mookie did exactly as she was told. As she was being handcuffed behind her back, she saw Lala being led out of the bank and taken to a Chevy Tahoe SUV.
Where the fuck did we go wrong? Mookie thought as the detectives led her to another unmarked Tahoe.
She couldn’t see Lala from the tent, but she could feel Lala probing her mind with the same question: Where did we go wrong?
* * *
Pimp and Luscious made it back to the swamp on time and were surprised to see that Lala and Mookie hadn’t returned yet, and they weren’t picking up their phones.
“It’s not like them to not pick up. Neither of them is picking up!” Pimp said while sitting at her kitchen table counting the $30,000 they had accumulated from hitting multiple banks on the West Coast.
“Maybe they in a no-service zone,” Pimp suggested.
“I pray that it’s not nothing other than that!” Luscious said, relaxing on the comfortable sofa in Pimp’s living room.
“So, what we wearing to the club?” Pimp asked Luscious while she sat at her kitchen table full of money.
“I was thinking we all just leopard it out! I got a catsuit, so that’ll make all the boys come to the yard,” Luscious said.
“Oh yeah, well where did you get it from?” Pimp asked.
“That’s too much information. If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you!” Luscious exclaimed.
“Girl, what the fuck is going on? They’re still not picking up. Do you have Katina’s number? Maybe they headed over to her spot. Tampa was their last spot. That’s what she told me,” Pimp said.
“I don’t have her number, but I can Facebook her,” Luscious said.
“Do that while I go take a shower. When I’m done, we heading over to your house,” Pimp said as she strutted off.
She was ready to see V-Money tonight. She was dick-starving and in need of some real hardcore sex. She was ready to be called every dirty name in the book. As she showered, Pimp’s mind went to Shamoney. It just didn’t seem real to her that he was killed in prison. Her heart went out to Real and his family. Shamoney would surely be missed.
This shit is crazy how a nigga here one moment and gone the next! Pimp said to herself in the shower. Where the fuck are Lala and Mookie?
* * *
Kentucky had made it to the top of an abandoned building under construction in Martin County across the street from the courthouse. It was where he lost the FBI. Courtney trailed him. He knew she hated when he played that game with her. Now it was his time to watch. He carried a black backpack on his back with his favorite sniper gun—an M-110, which was faster than a .300 Win. Mag. bolt action. He was skilled enough to hit a bullseye three hundred yards away and faster than an eye blink.
He had seen Courtney and her partner walk into the courthouse with another agent. Johnny had just exited the car with them, and then he hopped into a cab. Looking at the sky, Kentucky saw that a downpour was on its way, so he just sat down and waited. It was now a waiting game as he sat in the ready position.
Rushing to the courthouse to get a warrant signed was a headache, but it was routine, and they had their probable cause to search and seize all property associated with Travon “T-Gutta” Jamison. Johnny had given the scope on T-Gutta, and now it was time to move in and take down everyone affiliated with the Swamp Mafia.
Agents Davis, Smalls, and Swells waited patiently for Judge Leven to overlook the merits of the warrant in his chambers, and sign.
“Why is it taking forever?” Smalls whispered to Davis and Swells.
“Only in Martin County. If we were in Dade, then this wouldn’t be a problem,” Swells exclaimed, pacing outside with his hands behind his back while the trio waited for the bailiff to come announce the judge’s presence.
“Where do you think Mr. Dirt went off to this time?” Smalls asked.
“I wish I could tell you,” Davis returned, sitting on the bench next to a hunched-over Smalls.
“So we get the warrant signed, and we take him down the moment we see that he’s home. Then we take down Markee Anderson with the 4-Life circle,” Agent Smalls explained.
“Sounds like a plan, but I still want to wait out the funeral. You heard Real. He feels that Black is responsible for the death of his brother,” Davis explained.
“So just like a fly’s attracted to shit, let’s see how bold Black gets!” Smalls suggested.
“We could do that. It’ll be a good move. Let’s see what we get, and then after the funeral, we move in!” Davis exclaimed.
It was ten minutes before the judge returned and signed the search warrant for Travon Jamison. The agents then walked out together in the heavy rain.
“Damn it! There was no sign of rain!” Smalls shouted.
“I’ll be soaking wet—!”
Crack!
Before he could say another word, Swells’s head exploded from a sniper’s shot. Davis and Smalls quickly drew their weapons and ducked, trying to find the shooter’s location.
Crack!
Another shot took down Smalls, knocking the wind out of her as the vest stopped the bullet. The pain was horrible, and all she could remember before things went black was Davis standing over her screaming into his walkie-talkie for backup.
“FBI down! East Ocean Boulevard courthouse. We have a sniper.”
Crack!
“Aww!” Davis screamed in pain, going down to his knee when a bullet pierced his thigh.
He’s going to kill me! Davis thought as he fell into unconsciousness.
Kentucky took off.