Unexpectedly for Tone, things seemed to go from bad in his personal life, to worst in the streets. The previous night Tone had placed his pager on silent mode, so he never felt the continuous pages from his cousin Mann. If he would have, it would’ve alerted him that something was seriously wrong on the block.
As Tone turned the corner, to his surprise the block was flooded with cop cars. A crowd of people, nosy neighbors and a significant number of bystanders, congregated near an alleyway, which was currently taped off by the police. This signaled that this was an active crime scene. Tone didn’t know what was going on, but he was about to find out. Something was messing up his money and he wasn’t happy about it. The police presence was bad for business.
What the fuck happened? he thought while advancing toward the commotion. His pulse quickened as he got close enough to get a glimpse of the body lying on the ground, blanketed by a white sheet.
Who the fuck is that? he wondered. Simultaneously, a young neighborhood girl turned around and spotted him. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes blood shot red from crying.
“Tone...Shorty dead!” she blurted out.
“What?” he responded.
“Sorry for your loss.” she said, walking away stunned. From the look on his face she realized she had said too much.
Tone was in complete denial. He couldn’t believe Shorty was dead. By maneuvering his way through the crowd, he got a better view of the outline of the body. Still he didn’t want to believe it was Shorty. Tone probably could take it better knowing Shorty got shot and survived. But seeing her lifeless body on the cold concrete was too much to bear.
He overheard two junkies talking. “Yo, they shot Shorty? Man, say it ain’t so.....” the man stated in disbelief.
“Yeah yo. Some rotten no-good muthafucka done killed Shorty!” Another cursed. “I hope they gotta special place in hell for that son of a bitch. She ain’t deserve that....”
Just like that, bits and pieces of gossip began to reach Tone. It seemed like one by one people approached him to tell him what went down and whom they thought was responsible for it. However, no one actually saw anything, there were no witnesses. This may have been all assumptions, but Tone already knew who was behind this. There was only one logical answer...Sykes. But the only question was why? Why kill Shorty when it was him who he had a problem with.
It’s all my fault, Tone thought. He felt a sense of guilt that he was alive and Shorty was dead. In his mind it was like Shorty had taken a bullet for him.
Shorty had warned him, but Tone thought it was an exaggeration. He thought Sykes wouldn’t do anything, that he had more bark than bite. Now he realized just how wrong he was.
Tone couldn’t think straight, there were too many people coming over to address him. The police began staring at him. His presence was beginning to draw too much unwanted attention. He had to get away from the area; already he was beginning to feel smothered by the hood expressing their condolences. The sentiments they displayed were coming from a place of love. Still, it was a somber scene. But through the outpouring of affection, Tone saw how beloved Shorty really was.
Tone felt like his world had just been turned upside down. Shorty was Tone’s right hand. She had started off as a complete stranger but had evolved into his most trusted companion. With her help, Tone had built his drug business from the ground up. So surely he owed Shorty a debt of gratitude, at the very least.
Getting the person who did this lay at the forefront of his mind. Seeking revenge was the only thing that could possibly make Tone feel better about this situation. It was the only thing that would satisfy him. On the surface his rage was invisible, yet inwardly a violent storm brewed. At this point, it was wherever and whenever he ran into Sykes, it was on.
It didn’t matter how long it would take, or what it may cost him in time or money, or what toll that the situation may extract from him, it had to be done. Nevertheless, if Tone had taken everything into account beforehand, the price of revenge may have been more than he was willing to pay.
“Yo, Cuzo,” Mann whispered into his ear as he eased up on him. “I was hittin’ you on the hip, you ain’t get my pages?”
Tone didn’t even turn his head, he sensed the familiar presence of his cousin Mann, now standing at his side.
“Nah,” he said flatly.
Mann continued, “Anyway yo, let’s be out! There’s nuttin’ we can do about this shit right now.”
Tone shook his head, “I’m stayin’. I’ma wait til the Coroner come.”
He felt that was the least he could do. He wasn’t too good at saying goodbye and right now he didn’t want to. But merely paying his respects was not enough. Tone was looking for some payback. Right now, Tone was in a dark place.
Mann sympathized with what his cousin was going through. He knew Tone always took death hard, especially when it came to the people he truly loved. Tone and Shorty had a bond that he never could really understand. But what was understood amongst them didn’t have to be explained to him.
He often asked his cousin why was he still dealing with Shorty long after his need for her expertise had gone, after all her fuck ups.
“Shorty taught me everything I know about hustlin’ in Baltimore,” he once told him. “I wouldn’t be where I’m at without her.”
Shorty’s murder really hurt Tone, to him she was one of them. She was a part of his inner circle, so he felt like he had been cheated of a good worker and robbed of a great friend.
After the Coroner van arrived and placed Shorty’s remains in a black body bag, whisking it away to the city morgue to perform an autopsy, Tone collected himself and walked away as the crowd began to disperse. All he kept thinking was, he had some unfinished business to take care of, immediately.
Back at the apartment, Tone and his cousin Mann continued to discuss Shorty’s murder. His cousin made it clear that he had no personal interest in revenge, his mind was on the money and he wasn’t out here for anything else. It made no difference to him whether Sykes got away with it or not. As far as he was concerned, let someone in her family handle it, or let the police take care of it.
Tone didn’t share those same sentiments. He wasn’t going to let the beef end with Shorty’s death, or wait for someone else to step up. He took it upon himself to be that someone else. So, this was far from over. Sykes had to deal with him now. And Tone would be shooting to kill.
“Yo, what happened today could have happened at any time to any one of us. That shit ain’t on you. Don’t beat yaself up over that kid,” Mann advised. “Everything happens for a reason.”
Tone leaned against the kitchen countertop with his eyes cast downward at the floor, his stressed facial features showed little interest in what his cousin was saying. Mann couldn’t tell if he heard him or not. Suddenly, he looked up, needing a distraction from his thoughts.
“I know,” he stated flatly. “I just feel bad. Shorty is dead because of me. It’s as simple as that. She was just guilty by association.”
Tone fell silent for a moment. He stared blankly at Mann, but there was nothing in his eyes, no fear, no pain, no sadness.
“Yo, word to mother, I’ma kill that bitch ass nigger!” he blurted out.
Mann interrupted, “Bosses don’t kill people. They get people killed. Yo, you too valuable to even be thinkin’ like that.”
“Fuck that!” Tone shouted. “This shit is personal. He gotta know where this is comin’ from and why.”
“Tone, you ready to risk everything you built? We gettin’ crazy money! Think about it. You said the nigga a dope fiend. If that’s so, why even bother with him? He already killin’ himself. Just let Karma handle it for you.”
“Yeah, he is killin’ himself. But a bullet will help him speed up the process,” he snapped. “At some point in time, you gotta stand fa sumthin’ or niggas will walk all over you. Can’t just let this shit go.”
Tone feared if he didn’t handle this that his conscience would eat at him. He felt like Shorty would never forgive him. He talked the talk, now he had to walk the walk.
At that point, there was no talking Tone out of it. Mann knew it. His cousin loved him, and he knew that Tone knew that he loved him too. Mann had no choice in the matter. He had to ride with his cousin because if the shoe were on the other foot, Tone would be riding for him. No questions asked.
It was dark after Shorty’s death. The streets just didn’t feel the same to Tone any more. Every day he grew tenser. He was still making money, which was cool, but it just didn’t feel right without Shorty. She had never been easy to work with, but her sudden absence affected Tone greatly. It was weird just to be out on Ashland Avenue and not see her serving a customer, collecting money or running around all crazy. It was her advice that he sought on anything from drug sales to woman problems, that he would miss the most.
The cold reality was Shorty was dead and Tone felt a debt of responsibility because of it. Mentally, he was having a hard time that she wasn’t here.
Tone looked up and down the block, his eyes taking everything in. Like every day since it happened, he hoped and prayed Sykes would show his face. But he didn’t. Tone was frustrated by his inability to locate Sykes, however, he knew he couldn’t hide from him forever. Eventually he’d make a mistake, and Tone vowed it would be his last. All he had to do was wait patiently for the opportunity to present itself, then strike. Being a heroin addict, Sykes straddled that fine line between addiction and desperation. Tone knew something would give, he just didn’t know when.
Out of sight didn’t mean out of mind, thoughts of Sykes dominated Tone’s attention. He hustled all day, then he and Mann rode around Baltimore City at nighttime to well known open air drug markets, in search of him.
“Here is somethin’ you can’t understand,” rap group Cypress Hill sang through the car stereo. “How I could just kill a man.”
“Yo, I’m gettin’ tired of listenin’ to this shit,” Mann complained as he drove.
Tone ignored him. He sat stiffly in the passenger seat as his eyes scoured each drug block and each street the car passed. They went from East Baltimore, to West Baltimore, Park Heights to Cherry Hill, on a search and destroy mission. He had his eyes peeled for Sykes or anyone who fit his physical description. He had a heightened sense of awareness about everything around him and everything in his vicinity. Tone didn’t overlook a thing. He was anxious to get some payback for Shorty’s sake, and for his as well. He knew the streets were watching, wondering how he would respond or if he would at all. Tone had the answer to that question tucked safely under his seat, in the form of a fully automatic tech-nine machine gun.
That night, or any other night that Tone went looking for Sykes, he didn’t find him. So Tone decided to be more strategic in his approach to tracking Sykes down. He removed himself from the block in the hopes that his absence would lure Sykes into feeling comfortable enough to come back around. He struggled with the thought that his absence might be sending the wrong message, that people might think that Sykes ran him off the block, or that he was scared. But that wasn’t the case at all.
“Let these niggas think what they wanna think,” Mann replied after hearing his plan. “Fuck ‘em!”
His cousin’s endorsement of his idea meant a lot to Tone, especially at a time like this.
“I’m just gonna lay low,” Tone told Mann. “As soon as anybody see ‘em, hit my house phone and I’m out here.... On his ass!”
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Sonya said, sarcastically. “You been home a whole lot lately. What’s up Tone?”
She looked at him with a stern expression on her face, expecting Tone to tell her the real reason he had been in the house so much lately. Sonya knew something was up. They had been living together for close to a year now. She had studied his habits and routines. Being a homebody just wasn’t him, so Sonya knew something was wrong. What it was she had no idea.
Instead of snapping at her, Tone chose to kill her with kindness.
“Yo, let’s go to the movies,” he said. “That new flick New Jack City just came out today.”
“What?” she answered. “It’s too early in the day boy.”
“So what you sayin’, you don’t wanna go Sonya?” Tone accused her.
She stated, “That’s not what I’m sayin’. I’m sayin’ it’s early. Why don’t we wait till tonite?”
“There’s no better time than the present,” he tried convincing her. “You gotta be spontaneous..... Let’s make it a date. We can go to the movies at Security Mall, then we can go downtown and get somethin’ to eat. You wit’ it or what?”
“Okay,” Sonya said excitedly. “Tone, what we gone see?”
“New Jack City, I already told you,” he added. “Go get dressed. And don’t take long.”
Hurriedly, Sonya disappeared into her walk-in closet in search of a cute outfit to wear. Meanwhile, Tone dressed in black from head to toe, in a pair of black Levi’s, black hoodie, black leather jacket and black Timberland Chukkas. He put his .380 caliber semi- automatic in his pocket, just in case. There was no way he was leaving his house without protection. Things were too nasty in the streets for him right now.
Sonya promptly reappeared, looking stunning in a pair of form fitting jeans and some high heels.
“Lookin’ good girl,” he stated, watching as her face lit up. “You ready?”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Tone threw her a set of car keys, which Sonya caught. “We takin’ da MPV,” he told her. “You drivin’.”
Sonya sucked her teeth. “Why can’t you drive?”
“Cause I’m not,” he replied. “That’s the least you can do. Damn, I’m takin’ you to the movies, bout to feed you and fuck you. What else you want from a nigga?”
Tone and Sonya had a great time at the movies. They really enjoyed each other’s company. Just being together for that long period of time bought back memories for Sonya on why she fell in love with him in the first place.
“To me the movie was dope. Nino Brown was that nigga until he took the stand and snitched,” Tone commented.
“Because he snitched that ruined the movie for you?” Sonya wondered.
“Muthafuckin’ right,” he said. “See, I don’t expect you to understand that, you not in the streets.”
“I’ll be glad when the day comes when you not in the streets either,” she declared.
“I hear you,” Tone responded. “That day will soon come.”
Sonya had some apprehensions about that statement. If Tone really meant what he said, he could show her better than he could tell her. She had to admit, today was a good start. Now if he could be more consistent with spending quality time with her, then they might be able to get back to where they were, where he was as connected to her as she was to him.
Tone leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, we gone be aiight. I promise you, my love. I’m doin’ this shit for us.”
It took her a moment to process what he said and to recover from his affectionate kiss. Sonya couldn’t help but think what a romantic thing for Tone to say. Suddenly their relationship was beginning to feel hopeful again and not like they were doomed. “I love you, Tone,” she said.
“I love you more,” he replied. “But do me a favor, drive by Pennsylvania Avenue on our way downtown.”
“Really?” Sonya snapped. “Tone, you really know how to kill a moment. Can’t you handle that shit on ya time. You on my time right now.”
“Just do me that favor,” he asked. “I need to see somethin’ real quick. It’s only gone take a second.”
Sonya drove down Security Blvd. to Edmonson Avenue, and then she took a left on Fulton Avenue and a right on North Avenue, which lead to the notorious Pennsylvania Avenue. Just as Tone suspected, there were plenty of people out and about. Like a hawk his eyes scanned each person’s face, the addicts, the dealers, and the commuters on their way home from work, until he came across one that looked familiar. Suddenly, Tone sat up straight in the passenger seat as he began to stare more intensely. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him. He couldn’t believe his luck. That face that looked eerily familiar to him belonged to none other than Sykes. It was a small world and suddenly it had just gotten smaller.
“Slo down,” Tone suggested. His eyes were following Sykes’ every movement.
Yeah, that’s that fat nigger, he thought.
Tone took a shot in the dark by driving to Pennsylvania Avenue and Gold Street, a renowned drug block, and finding the unexpected Sykes, looking like he was going to cop.
“Pull over,” Tone ordered Sonya.
“What the hell?” Sonya said, surprised. “What’s so important?”
“Gotta go holler at somebody real quick,” he replied.
“Whatever you say,” she continued.
“Do me a favor. Whatever you do, don’t cut off the car,” Tone warned. “I’ll be right back!”
The way he said that, the intensity in his voice, made Sonya pause momentarily and stare at him. As soon as Tone jumped out the car it made her question why they even came this way. Something wasn’t right, she could tell. Her common sense told her as much. She knew there was more to the story.
With his hoodie pulled low over his head and his hands jammed inside his pockets, Tone walked quickly across the street. Suddenly people began moving out of his way, as if they could sense that he was up to no good. Tone continued to follow Sykes, who at this time was oblivious of his presence. Soon as he turned on to Gold Street, Tone picked up his pace. He steadily began to close the distance between them. Tone didn’t want to shoot him in the back, especially not from far away. He wanted to get close enough to put a bullet in his head.
Unaware that he was being stalked, Sykes continued to walk toward his ride while clutching a few bags of dope. All that was on his mind was making it to the car and getting away from around here so he and his driver could go somewhere and get high.
Just as Tone removed the small caliber gun from his pocket and began to quicken his pace, Sykes must have felt his presence because he turned around just in time to see the weapon being raised and pointed in his direction. Tone saw the fear in his eyes. Sykes looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Immediately, he took off running.
Boom! Boom! The gun roared.
Two bullets quickly whizzed by his head. Sykes’ surprisingly quick reaction had amazed Tone. He hadn’t expected that.
The sound of the first shot immediately grabbed Sonya’s attention. She doubted that it was gunfire until she heard it again. She turned to the direction that the noise had come from. Realizing it was the same direction that Tone had disappeared into, she began to wonder just what the hell was he up to.
Running behind Sykes, Tone quickly gained ground. He was so close that he could hear Sykes gasping for air. Stopping in his tracks, he aimed his gun. Tone’s adrenaline was racing through his veins. His finger tightened on the trigger. His thoughts seemed to slow down as the surreal moment played itself out on that side street.
Tone desperately tried to steady his hand so he could get a clean shot at Sykes’ head. He knew his first two shots had missed just by the ease of which his victim was still running.
“Yeah nigger, what’s up now,” Tone yelled, removing his hoodie.
In his mind Sykes was a dead man. Tone stood less than fifty feet away from him, thinking how easy it was to kill him before he got to the car. Now he would put this drama to an end once and for all.
Fearing for his life, Sykes summoned a burst of speed that even he didn’t know he had. Thinking Tone was hot on his heels, Sykes began to run in a zig-zag pattern to his ride. As he ran, Sykes couldn’t help but think that at any moment he was going to catch a bullet in his back or to the back of the head. In fact, he braced himself for it.
Just as Sykes reached the car door, Tone calmly took aim and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Tone stared at Sykes in disbelief as he scrambled to get inside the car. Once again he squeezed the trigger at the car window, because Sykes had already fled inside, and again nothing happened. It was then that Tone realized that there was a malfunction in the gun. It had jammed. As if his life depended on it, Tone quickly ejected the clip into his hand, removing the awkward angled, unspent shell. He then slammed the clip back into the gun. He cocked the gun back and prepared to fire, but it was too late. The getaway car was gone.
The sound of tires screeching signaled to Tone that his opportunity was getting away. So he did the only thing he could do. He chased the car, firing erratically at it while running.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The crackle and pop of gunfire sounded. Once the car was out of sight, Tone turned and ran back in the opposite direction. Sonya had already been looking in the direction where the loud gunshots had come from. Within a few seconds, Tone reappeared, running from that exact same corner.
“Drive!” he shouted as he entered the car.
“Was that you shooting?” she questioned.
When it came to certain things involving the streets, Tone had to spell it out for her. More than likely, this always took place at the wrong time. Now was one of those times. He didn’t have time to offer an explanation. Sonya just needed to play her part, do as she was told, and drive.
“Yeah!” he barked. “Now let’s get the fuck outta here.”
“Oh my God!” she cried as she quickly drove away.
“Slow down!” Tone coached her. “You goin’ too fast. You gone get me knocked.”
Stunned, Sonya kept her eyes on the road and drove as best she could. Her nerves were shot. She was scared and angry at the same time. This was too much for her to handle. She felt like she didn’t deserve to be an accessory to a crime. What if that person was dead? What if someone had written down her tag number? Then it would all come back to her since the car was insured under her name.
This was it for her, their quiet evening together was now officially over. She wanted to go home and calm her nerves.
When Tone finally turned around, convinced that there were no police cars behind them, he noticed that they weren’t headed downtown in the direction of the restaurant.
“Where you goin’?” he wondered. “The restaurant ain’t this way.”
“I’m goin’ home.” She rolled her eyes. “I had enough of you for the night. Tone, I don’t believe you did no dumb shit like that wit’ me in the car. You put my life in danger....”
“What?” Tone snapped, searching her face for a sign that she was joking. Something that told him this wasn’t real. He found none.
Tone knew he exercised poor judgment and this was bad timing. But he had to do what he had to do. He didn’t know when he’d see Sykes again. Tone thought about explaining the whole situation to her. Quickly, he changed his mind. He felt no matter what he said, Sonya wouldn’t understand. This was some street shit and a civilian would never understand it. There was no way he could ever justify the shooting. Tone figured Sonya would eventually get over it, she was a trooper.
It took every ounce of his willpower to bite his tongue and not get into an argument with Sonya. Out of frustration, Tone grinded his teeth together loudly. He had little else to say.
“Yeah, take me home!” he said aloud. This is the last time I try be nice to yo ass, he thought.