Welcome 2 the jungle . . .
Guns N’ Roses, “Welcome to the Jungle”
Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and the holiday spirit lived in everyone. The leaves had changed from green to gorgeous shades of orange, red, and yellow. The sun was in hiding, but a slight glimmer of hope shined from the sky. It was forty-seven degrees outside, but Gray and Gunz enjoyed their evening walk through the West End no less. Gray was stylishly cute in a red wool coat that tied around the waist, red gloves, black ribbed tights, and black ankle boots.
Gunz, being the man he was, sported a more thuggish look by wearing a checkerboard black-and-white button-up black hoodie, leather motorcycle jacket, black distressed jeans, and shell toe Adidas. Black aviator shades shielded his eyes, while the hood from his jacket covered his head.
“I love this time of the year.” Gray inhaled the crisp fall air.
“I’m more of a summer-type dude.”
“I guess I just love winter because of all the holidays and being around your family and friends and stuff.”
“Speaking of family, I know you don’t know who your old dude is, but what about your moms? Where she at?”
“She moved back to Chonju a few years ago. It’s a city in Korea. A lot of our family is there. I only get to visit her once a year, but we talk on the phone at least a million times a week.”
“You miss her, don’t you?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see her. I’ll be visiting her for Christmas.”
“Damn, I’m glad you said something. I thought we was spending Christmas together.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be back for New Year’s, though. You can have me all to yourself then.” She stopped and wrapped her arms around him. “That is unless you wanna come with me.”
“Nah, I’m good. I gotta stay back and chill wit’ my own people. We can kick it when you get back.”
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t try. Now give me a kiss.”
“Man, please, I ain’t tryin’ to kiss you.” He screwed up his face.
“Oh, word? That’s how we doing it now?”
“Yep.” Gunz slightly smiled.
“Okay, that’s what’s up.” Gray let him go.
“Get yo’ ass back over here.” He forcefully pulled her back into his embrace.
“Nah, you ain’t wanna kiss me, remember?”
“Gray, don’t make me fuck you up in front of all these people.”
“Oooooh, I’m shaking in my boots.” She shook her legs while giggling.
“A’ight, think it’s a game.”
“So be honest wit’ me, Gunz,” she stated as they began to walk again. “Do you love me?”
“You tell me.”
“Sometimes I think you do.”
“Hmm,” Gunz replied, looking ahead.
“So do you?”
“Why yo’ ol’ soft ass always talkin’ about love?” he joked.
“I take that as a no.”
“Whateva. C’mon, crazy ass.” Gunz took her by the hand so they could continue their walk.
“Oh my God, babe, look.” Gray pointed to a parade of people.
It was an entire wedding party coming down the street. Everyone was so happy. The bride looked absolutely stunning in a white strapless taffeta ball gown. Her bouquet was made of lilies and blush-colored roses. The groom didn’t look too bad himself. He donned a very traditional Carey Grant–inspired tuxedo. There were only four bridesmaids and groomsmen. The bridesmaid’s dresses were a deep, sensual shade of purple.
“I can’t wait to get married.”
“Is that right?”
“Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of my wedding. It’s going to be absolutely fabulous.”
“I just bet it is,” Gunz said sarcastically.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to get married.”
“I never really thought about it.”
“Well, if you stick wit’ me, we gettin’ married.”
“How you just gon’ tell me what I’m gon’ do?” He chuckled.
“I’m just lettin’ you know. Marriage is in the cards for me. Whether I’m with you or someone else, I’m getting married.”
“So what do you wanna do when we leave here?” Gunz changed the subject.
“Ummm, we can grab a bite to eat. I am a little hungry.”
“How about Sub Zero?”
“Yes! I have been dying for their shrimp tempura salad.”
“Well, come on then.” He placed his hand around her waist. “I ain’t tryin’ to be wit’ you all day.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to be wit’ you either. I just want a meal, ya dig.” She laughed.
“Gray, don’t play wit’ me.”
“Who said I was playin’?” she countered.
“A’ight, that’s enough.”
Unbeknownst to Gunz and Gray, across town in a dark, vacant room, chaos ensued. Four hired henchmen dressed in all black dragged a severely beaten man across a cold concrete floor and placed him into a metal folding chair. He’d survived their kicks, punches, and hits with bats, and never once did he cry, scream, or beg for help. This man was a soldier, and if need be, he’d die like one.
With his hands tied behind his back, he took a couple of deep breaths in and out as blood trickled down the center of his face. Thoughts of his wife, three daughters, and unborn son tormented his mind. He hadn’t left home on good terms with his wife, Keisha. She’d begged him to stay, but lady luck was calling his name. Bishop had to hit the casino. He promised to only be gone an hour, but Keisha wasn’t trying to hear it.
“You are so selfish! All you do is think about yourself! I ask you to stay at home one time, and you can’t even do that! Fuck you! The streets can have yo’ ass!”
Bishop didn’t even respond. He simply grabbed his coat from out the closet and left without saying a word. Keisha stood behind him with tears streaming from her eyes because she knew she and the kids would always play third to his life allegiance with MCM and the streets. Now here Bishop was, regretting his decision and wishing he could turn back the hands of time.
In the corner of the room stood a man he had never seen before. The devil resided in his soul; it was evident by the ominous look in his oval-shaped eyes. Bishop didn’t know who he was or what his beef could be. All he knew was that this man was out to kill.
“Jason . . . Bishop . . . Cruz, you’ve made this entirely too easy for me, my friend.” The man stepped up closer. His voice reminded Bishop of The Joker.
“Tracking you down wasn’t as hard as I though it would be. Every week you follow the same routine. You conduct your business in the streets, on Thursday you go to The Delmar, Fridays you’re at Lumier, Saturdays you hit up Larry Flynt, and on Sunday, you spend time with the family. For you to be Gunz’s right hand man, I expected more from you.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Bishop barked.
“I’m your worst fuckin’ nightmare.” The man laughed hysterically. “No, seriously, allow me introduce myself.” He placed out his hand for a shake. “My name . . . is Christopher Knight. I believe you, a fella named Watts, and the infamous Gunz Mar-ci-ano had the pleasure of killing my brother Richard, better known as Rich.”
Suddenly, everything became clear. This guy was out for revenge.
“Ohhhh how . . . I . . . wish you all hadn’t of done that. You all have made me very angry, and you see I’m a nice guy. I am.” Truth cracked his knuckles. “But you’ve pushed me too far. See, first . . .” He walked around in a circle. “I was just gonna take your drugs . . . then steal Gray away from Gunz, of course, but then . . . you all had to go and get all high and mighty on me and kill my little puppet, Fortune. Now . . . you know I just can’t let that go undone. There are rules to this. I kill one of your people, you kill one of my people, and so on and so forth.” He flicked his hand. “You get the picture.”
“You’re a fuckin’ dead man,” Bishop spat, heated.
“See,”—Truth shook his head—“that’s where you’re wrong. You’re the dead man.”
Before Bishop could utter another word, a gallon of gasoline was being poured over his head. The pungent smell made him want to vomit. This was it. There would be no final good-bye to his family. He’d never get to kiss Keisha’s pretty face. Like Fortune, he would never get to see his son grow. Bishop only had himself to blame. This was the life he’d chosen. All the dirt he’d done had finally caught up with him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Any last words?”
“Yeah.” Bishop looked Truth square in the eyes. “See you in hell, muthafucka!”
Unfazed by his comment, Truth stepped back, lit a match, and tossed it on to Bishop’s lap. Seconds later, his body was aflame. The foul smell of burning flesh filled the air, and for the first time since he’d been abducted, Bishop let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Gunz sped down the highway doing eighty. While sharing a nice romantic meal with Gray, he received a frantic phone call from Watts, telling him to meet him on the corner of Acme and West Florissant. Unable to drop Gray off before heading in that direction, he let her ride with him. The whole time, she sat in the passenger seat with a troubled look plastered on her face. Gunz could sense her nervousness, but now wasn’t the time to ease Gray’s fears. He too was in a state of panic.
Pulling up at the corner of Acme, he spotted Watts and placed the car in park. An eerie quietness surrounded them. No one in the neighborhood seemed to be out, even though it really wasn’t that late. The only thing wandering the streets was a black stray cat in search of food and shelter, and a small crew of his men.
“Gunz, you’re scaring me. Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Gray pleaded.
“I can’t right now. Just take the car and drive home,” he instructed.
“What do you mean take the car and drive home? What the fuck is going on? Where are you going?”
“Gray . . . please . . .” He took a hold of both of her hands. “Just do as I said. Take the car and go home. I’ll be by there later.”
“But, Gunz, wait a minute—”
“Gray, just go!” He opened the door.
“But, Gunz!”
“Go!” He stepped out and slammed the door shut.
“My bad. I ain’t mean to interrupt your time wit’ your lady,”—Watts greeted him with a pound—“but we got trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Gunz asked as they proceeded to walk around the corner to the alley.
“It’s all bad, G. I don’t know who did it, but it’s fucked up, yo.”
Gunz followed Watts into the trash-infested alleyway, and before his eyes, hanging from an electrical pole was Bishop. Gunz was shocked. For the first time in years, tears entered the brims of his eyes. To stop himself from feeling, Gunz took his eyes off the body and looked down.
“They found him an hour ago,” Watts confirmed.
“GET HIM DOWN!” Gunz growled, infuriated.
Swallowing hard, he pursed his lips together tightly and allowed a tear to slide down his cheek. This was his fault entirely. He’d brought Bishop into this life, and now because of it, he was dead. Bishop was not only his homey, but his best friend. They’d been through everything together. Since the age of seventeen, they’d held each other down. How was Gunz supposed to go on living when Bishop would no longer be right there by his side? Things were now better than ever. They were financially back on top and both happy in their personal lives; but now he had to tell Keisha that the love of her life, her husband, and the father of her kids was dead and gone. Unwilling to show any sign of weakness, Gunz wiped his face.
As he turned around to face Watts and his crew, he saw Gray turning the corner. The look on her face said it all. The reality of what he did for a living was no longer just a figment of her imagination or something she could just sweep under the rug. It was screaming in her face, loud and clear. Gunz was a monster. He killed people on an everyday basis. Lies, deceit, and mayhem were all a part of his world, and somehow she’d infused herself in it without even a care or a bat of the eye. Gunz knew from that day forward she would look at him differently. The man she’d gotten to know would just be a shadow and imagery of the man he really was underneath the surface, but his eyes still begged for her to understand.
“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home.”
“I . . . CAN’T . . . DRIVE!” Gray screamed before throwing his keys at him and running off.
Hours later, as rain poured from the sky, Gunz stood outside of Bishop’s door, unprepared to do the worst. Reluctantly, he rang the doorbell. Gunz could hear the sound of Keisha coming down the steps.
“Who is it?” she asked nervously.
“It’s me, Keish. Gunz.”
Perplexed by why he was at her house so late, Keisha tightened the knot on her pink robe and quickly unlocked the door.
“Hey, Gunz.” She smiled warmly.
“What’s up, Keish? I’m sorry to be stopping by so late.”
“It’s okay, but I was gon’ say if you’re looking for Bishop, he’s not here. The last I know he was at the casino.”
“Oh, I know. I actually came to speak to you.”
“Is there something wrong?” She placed her hand on her protruding belly.
Gunz knew that he should just spit it out, but for a minute, he got caught up in the reality of the situation. On any given day, Keisha was due to pop, and what should have been a joyous occasion would now be filled with loss and regret. He couldn’t do it to her. Everything in him wanted to give her a little bit more peace.
“Gunz, are you okay?” she asked softly, taking him by the hand.
“Keish, I got something I need to tell you.”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, fully knowing what he was about to say. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” Gunz held her hand tight.
Unable to digest it all, Keisha stood frozen stiff. Her forehead was scrunched together, causing her eyes to squint as tears flowed like rivers from her eyes. At that moment, she was willing to give up her heart, her home, anything she owned, just to be with Bishop again. He was her rock, her shoulder to lean on. She was part of him, and he was a part of her, so now that he was gone, a part of her had died too.
Gunz pulled Keisha into him and wrapped his arms around her. It didn’t matter that rain was dropping heavily onto them at a rapid pace. They needed each other like they both needed air to breathe. Under the midnight sky and cloud-covered moon, they mourned the loss of the person neither of them wanted to let go.
Soaking wet, Gunz buzzed Gray’s loft for the fifth time. He had to see her. At that moment, he needed her more than ever before.
“Will you just go home,” she pleaded through the intercom.
“Not until you come talk to me.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t have anything to say.”
“Please,” he begged, placing his forehead on the metal gate.
Gray ran her hands down her face and sighed. “All right.”
Minutes later, she exited the building with her hands in her pockets. Gunz swallowed hard. By the look on her face, it seemed as if she’d had enough. Gray entered her code and walked through the gate.
“What is it, Gunz?”
“Come here.” He reached out his hand for her.
“No.” Gray shook her head.
“Are you okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay? I just saw your best friend hanging from a pole. This shit is crazy. I can’t do this. More importantly, I can’t believe that I tricked myself into believing that I could be with a man like you.”
“A man like me?”
“You sell drugs for a living, Gunz. You kill people,” she stressed.
“You don’t think I see how my life affects people?” he questioned, angry. “This whole thing is my fault!” He pounded his fist against his chest. “Bishop wasn’t supposed to sell dope. I forced this life on him. He was supposed to go to college and play ball, but one night, we got pulled over by the police. I had some weed and coke stashed in the ride, so I ran. Bishop didn’t get out fast enough and got caught, but guess what? My nigga didn’t snitch or nothing. He took the bid for me. Now look . . .” Gunz’s bottom lip trembled. “My nigga dead and I gotta carry around the burden of knowing it’s my fault.” He broke down and cried.
Seeing Gunz in such a state caused the ice around Gray’s heart to melt. Gunz wasn’t the type of man to show emotion, so to see him cry only told her that their relationship was growing, not fading away. Gray took her hands out of her pockets and wrapped her arms lovingly around Gunz. Yes, his life was dangerous and she should back away now while she had the chance, but there was no way she could turn her back on him now.