Chapter 92

The adrenaline had me angry and scared like shit by the time I made it to D.C., but I couldn’t let that stop me from what I needed to do. I had to check something out, and it couldn’t wait another minute.

I walked from U Street’s Metro station to First Street where I grew up -my old stomping grounds. It took me roughly ten minutes to reach my destination on Flagler Street. The four-story house with manicured front lawn and chipped and cracking blue and white paint hadn’t changed one bit since the last time I had been here with Twan.

I walked up to the front door and knocked. Ten seconds later, Twan’s mother answered the door, wearing an all-white cooking apron with huge red letters that told the world: #1 Mom in the Kitchen Burning. She had on some worn, dingy white house slippers and a baggy pink sweat suit. Her sweet Big Mama aura and demeanor were just as I remembered her.

After she opened the screen door, recognition registered on her face. She smiled and gave me a warm, affectionate hug. “My, my, my…boy, look at you!” she said excitedly. “C’mon in here right now. I know you hungry. I got some taters, collard greens, and smothered pork chops in gravy about to come out the oven right now.”

That’s why I could never play the game like somebody was playing with my wife and kid. I felt that some lines shouldn’t be allowed to be crossed under no circumstance when you beefing, but that’s just me. I felt sick to my stomach even being there like this. I just stood there looking at her, feeling a little sad that I took her son away from her. I didn’t feel bad about getting revenge on a rat who took away a large part of my life. I felt bad about robbing a mother of her chance to love her son

“Naw, I can’t come in right now, Ms. Vernie. I’m sorta in a rush. Is your daughter home?”

“Baby, that chile has gon’ on home to the Lord. She’s been gone a little over six years now.”

Damn, I ain’t know that. So if it ain’t her, then who would seek revenge on me? Twan ain’t have no brothers. Could it be one of his men? I thought and quickly got my answer.

“Yep, all I have left of that chile are memories and her bad-ass son that I’m trying to keep outta the streets.”          

A son? Twan’s nephew? Could he be the one? But how did he find out that I crushed Twan? Damn, that letter I wrote Ms. Vernie while I was in prison, he probably got his own conclusion from that, I told myself. I asked her, “How old is he?”

“Seventeen. He’s just a baby that needs a little guidance.”

Straight into a casket, I thought and quietly backed out of the foyer. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Ms. Vernie,” I said before digging in my pocket. I pulled out my bankroll, peeled off a few hundred, and gave it to her. I felt like I owed it to her for some reason.

“What’s all this for, baby?” Mama Vernie asked, making the money disappear under her cooking apron near her huge breasts. She probably stashed the cash away in her bra like many older women did back in the day when they came to buy crack from me.

“For remaining strong through all the pain and losses you’ve been through. Oh, and tell your nephew that I’d be willing to change his life around if he ever wants to talk to me face to face.” From living to deceased, I thought while heading down the concrete steps.

“I will, baby…I sure will!” You be good now, you hear!” she called out and waved to me as I walked down the block.

I needed to find Twan’s nephew quick, fast, and in a hurry so I could clean his ass up for the stunt he pulled on my family and the way he left the picture on my door. I overlooked the two attempts he made on my life, ‘cause he was only doing what he felt he had to do, but bringing my family into the equation catapulted this into something far more deadly and totally uncalled for.

No more thinking needed to be done. Twan’s nephew wanted me dead, I’m sure of that now. And even if he didn’t mean no harm, he still got the beef. There would be no more looking over my shoulders or worrying about some creep like him ambushing me or approaching my family in a threatening manner. No more phantom stalker or ugly past bullshit. His hand had just been exposed.

By leaving him a message, I felt like that would give him a taste of his own medicine and hopefully intimidate him. Even though I’d never harm one strand on Twan’s mother’s head, the little creep didn’t know that. I wanted him to experience the same fear and mixed emotions that I felt when I found out about how he came at my family.

I was still fucked up mentally about it all and I didn’t think I’d ever be at peace with myself if I didn’t send him to hang out with his dead mother and uncle.