Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 11

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He lustfully thought about Kenya upstairs in his shower. “So go do you. I’m straight.”

  “You act like you wanna fuck that bitch!”

  “Maybe I do, so like I said, do you!”

  As the phone went dead, Kenya waited at the bottom of the stairs a good minute or so, trying to play off her blatant eavesdropping. Damn, that was deep, but later for Fatima’s good hating ass! “Hey, Ra.” Dressed in an oversized robe obviously belonging to her host, Kenya finally emerged out of the shadows, ready to face her nightmarish reality.

  “Oh, hey, Kenya, you see what I got little man?” He smiled, momentarily acting as if the baby boy weren’t kidnapped and his mother weren’t truly dead in a walk-in freezer across the country.

  Holding her robe tightly closed, Kenya sat down on the couch. Brother Rasul then ran down everything Storm had told him. He also informed her that, at this point, Storm had yet to discover London’s body and she still had a chance to come clean and confess it was an accident.

  “Naw, I can’t go back there, and after all the grimy messages he left on me and my sister’s phone, I really ain’t trying to talk to him.”

  Wanting to gauge the situation, Brother Rasul gave her some more of his and Storm’s conversation for her to think about. “Look, he sounded really worried about his brother, plus he wanted me to tell you that some dude named Marco was out of jail and they was back at war.”

  “Out of jail?” Kenya wondered, not even knowing he had been caught in the first place.

  Brother Rasul finished assembling the bassinet. “Yeah, he told me if I did talk to you or your sister, tell both of y’all to stay outta dodge.”

  Kenya knew she was safe as long as Brother Rasul had her back. “Yeah, okay, but as far as me talking to him, I just don’t know.”

  Hearing the small cries of the baby, Kenya went back upstairs to see about him as well as digest what Brother Rasul had just told her about all the hell Storm was going through. Laying the innocent infant on the bed with just a diaper on, Kenya got London’s cell phone out of her purse. Focusing, she took a picture of Li’l Stone. She wrote underneath the snapshot, Our son, born today. Neither me nor my sister wants to be bothered. Kenya sent the picture and callous message to Storm. At least his ass can see the baby he loves so much! I ain’t never gonna see my sister again!

  * * *

  JORDAN/STORM

  I’m glad Marco decided to trust me and let me go. Jordan nervously drove up to the hospital to meet Storm. Looking around, she cautiously got out of the car wondering if what Marco claimed was indeed true. Do he really have some nigga out here watching me and my damn sister ready to fuck us both up if I snitch him out? Not realizing Marco had no one or no true power, she handed the valet attendant the keys as she clutched the huge envelope close to her breast.

  “Hey, Storm; I’m downstairs in the lobby.”

  “Oh, okay then, J, come on up to the third floor. I’m on the other end handling some business.”

  After waiting for the elevator, Jordan gave every person getting on the evil eye, thinking they were watching her for Marco. No sooner than the third floor door slid open, Jordan saw Storm walking down the hall on his cell phone. “Hey, babe,” she greeted him wanting nothing more than to blurt out that Marco Meriwether’s crazy self was back at her and Big Doc B’s love nest plotting to kill him.

  Putting his index finger up while he was talking, Storm cracked a slightly crooked smile acknowledging Jordan’s presence. “Yeah, I’ma need ’round-the-clock top-notch security on my baby brother’s room.” His nostrils flared as he thought about Tangy, not to mention Marco. “Gimme at least four of ya best dudes on the case. I don’t give a fuck about the damn cost!” Finalizing O.T.’s safety, Storm hung up placing his cell back on his hip. “Hey, girl, what’s up with you?”

  Jordan fought not to tell him the truth as she saw her sister, who chose to ignore her, at the nurse’s station going through some files. “Nothing, Storm, I’m chilling. Here are those papers you needed.”

  Sitting down in the family lobby a few yards away from O.T.’s room, Storm took the documents out the envelope. “Damn, now this here is what’s really up! Thank you so much, Jordan. You don’t know how much I fucking appreciate this shit.” Reaching over he put his hand on her knee. “Good fucking looking out!”

  Jordan was geeked, almost forgetting about Marco’s threats. “It ain’t nothing.” She hugged him. “Hey, how is O.T. doing? Can I see him or is Kenya in there with her evil ass?”

  “Kenya?” Storm repeated with complete disdain. “Naw, she ain’t here. She’s—”

  “Hey, I heard she was pregnant,” Jordan, wanting to be his fuck buddy if nothing else, interjected hoping it wasn’t true.

  “Kenya, pregnant? Who in the hell told you that?” Storm knew everyone in his close-knit foursome of his brother and the girls was keeping London’s pregnancy a secret. So whoever heard Kenya was knocked up must’ve seen her twin somewhere and mistaken her for his woman. “Where you get that bullshit from?” His voice started to get louder as he stood to his feet waiting for the million dollar answer.

  “Well, umm, umm . . .” Jordan knew she’d gone too far and had messed up, first by even asking about Kenya’s whereabouts then, secondly, by repeating the dumb shit Marco told her. “I just thought—”

  “Code red stat! Code red stat!” suddenly rang out from the nurses’ station intercom. “Code red stat!”

  As Nurse Jamison, Jordan’s sister, along with several others on staff rushed into O.T.’s room, Storm dropped the papers he was holding on to the floor then wasted no time fighting through the crowd of caregivers getting to his brother’s bedside.

  “What the fuck is wrong? Help him! Help him!” Storm grabbed one doctor up by his collar. “Why are the lights flashing, huh? Why?”

  “Calm down, and please let us do what we need to do!” One nurse tried shoving Storm away. “Please!”

  Jordan stood over toward the side of the doorway, watching O.T.’s body jump up and down wildly as he went into cardiac arrest. Seeing the doctor roughly snatch the breathing tube out of his throat as her sister tore back the blanket, she wanted to run out of the room. Instead, in tears, Jordan held the papers Storm had dropped. Silently praying as the doctor rubbed two paddles together, she took a deep breath.

  “His blood pressure is dropping!” another nurse shouted keeping her eyes glued on one of the many monitors and machines attached to O.T.’s fatigued body.

  “Come on, y’all! Fuck! Help him!” Storm’s eyes watered as his own heart raced and his muscles tensed up. “O.T., come on, nigga, you better than that! Pull through this, nigga! Pull through!”

  Five minutes into using and doing every procedure humanly possible, the doctor in charge stepped back from the bed. Mentally beat, physically exhausted, he took off his gloves and looked downward at his wristwatch. “Sorry, everyone. Stop resuscitation efforts. I’m calling time of death at one twenty-five p.m.”

  “What? What? Naw! You bullshitting!” Clutching his fingers up to his forehead, Storm didn’t want to hear what was just said. “All these fucking machines in here! Naw! Come on! Y’all can do something! Keep trying! It ain’t over! It can’t be!” In denial, he clenched his fist stomping in circles. “Come on, y’all, that’s my damn brother. He all I got! Naw! Hell naw! Fuck!”

  In an attempt to console Storm, the doctor sorrowfully informed him they did everything they possibly could. “We tried. We really tried, but your brother suffered so much damage internally,” he explained. “And I know this isn’t the best time to bring this up, but have you ever thought about donating organs? Your brother might be able to save someone else’s—”

  “Motherfucker, is you fucking crazy?” Storm jumped back knocking over the pole the now useless IV bags swung from. As the needles ripped from O.T.’s arms, he went into a full-blown rage. “Y’all sons of bitches just let my baby brother die and you talking about me helping the next
nigga? Fuck you and them!” Storm, with a face full of tears, took a deep breath as he reached over holding O.T.’s hand. “All of y’all get the fuck outta here and leave me and my brother alone before one of y’all lose y’all’s life too!”

  Knowing he was grieving, the doctors and nurses quickly left removing some of the vital machines, with the exception of Nurse Jamison. “Listen, dear, you take all the time you need.” She touched his shoulder handing him some tissue. “I’ll come back in a little while and check on you.” As she went out of the hospital room, she paused at the doorway whispering in Jordan’s ear. “See what street life gets you? Dead or in jail!”

  Ignoring her sister’s coldhearted but painfully true condescending words, Jordan was stunned. She was definitely feeling some sort of way. How could she not? She was human no matter how hard she would act from time to time. Jordan was a female and any woman no matter how rough and tough would be moved at this moment. Yeah, it was no big secret, she and O.T. weren’t the best of friends on the outside world so to speak, but this was different. Tears had to be shed. O.T. was a straight-up nutcase and always had her back down at the strip club if anything jumped off. Out of all the bouncers at Alley Cats, O.T. was the first to stand up and the last to sit down. There was no drama that jumped off at the club or in the streets that he would back down from. If a dude wanted it with the younger Christian brother, they could get the full package strong arm pushed to them. He was a known full-blown menace, but now he was gone. What started off as a strong team of infamous criminals banding together—Storm, O.T., Deacon, and Boz—had now had the misfortunate of only one man left standing. Although that tragic information would be like music to Marco’s ears, Jordan looked over at Storm who was obviously devastated.

  “I feel like going down to the morgue and clowning. I’m in my zone and killing that bitch Tangy all the fuck over again for what she did to my baby brother would make me happy as hell.” Storm’s emotions of grief were, of course, at an all-time high. “Look at you, dude.” He rubbed O.T.’s forehead fighting back more tears. “I always thought it was gonna be me and you against the world for a lifetime. Ever since back in the day when we was stealing honey buns and quarter juices out of the corner store, we been getting it. We was on some ol’ Batman and Robin shit, that Green Hornet and Kato type of thang. Now, this here bullshit done jumped off. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe none of what done happened over the past few months. Shit is so fucked up. This is so fucked up. I swear I’m messed up right now, brother. I’m sick with it, my nigga, sick.” In the midst of Storm reminiscing with his now deceased brother, his cell phone vibrated indicating a text message. Instinctively, without looking at the sender, he reached down pushing IGNORE.

  From the other side of the room, Jordan’s feminine compassion kicked in. Although she was a certified rotten-minded female, she was still human. Slowly, she crept to Storm’s side sensing he was on the verge of reaching his breaking point. Shaking her head, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Is it anybody you want me to call for you, Storm, like some family members or something? Who can I call?” Forgetting about Marco and his threats, the usually out-for-self dancer wanted nothing more than to be there and console her suffering, longtime acquaintance.

  “Huh? Call?” Storm, who up until he’d met Kenya only really rocked with his brother and Deacon, realized he was now out here in these streets alone. Deacon was gone, O.T. was gone, and Kenya’s selfish and insecure ass was also MIA. The only thing he felt he had left in the entire world was his unborn baby. “Naw, girl, it ain’t nobody to call. I’m good.”

  “You sure, Storm?” Jordan asked already knowing the answer. “Because you know I’m here for you today, tomorrow, and always.”

  Seconds later, Nurse Jamison reentered the dismal, emotion-filled room. With some final papers for Storm, O.T.’s listed next of kin, to sign off on and a bag containing the deceased’s personal items, she said nothing. With trembling hands trying to hold the ink pen, a devastated Storm fell to his knees throwing up his breakfast on the otherwise clean hospital room floor.

  Chapter Eleven

  JORDAN

  “Dang, boy. Oh, my fucking God, stop sweating me like this. You bugging. I already done told you I’m on top of things. Like I told you all the other times you called last night like you crazy or something. O.T. fucking died, nigga, and Storm needed me to drive him home and handle some other thangs,” she tried whispering as a dog barked continuously from the other room.

  “Why his wifey can’t handle that shit? And damn, bitch, stop telling me about that sucker’s misfortune. Fuck O.T. I hope he rot in hellfire and double fuck Storm ’cause he gonna be reunited with his brother before the dirt gets hard in the cemetery! I got something hot for his wannabe gangster ass.”

  Having spent the night at Storm’s condo getting drunk with him and his boy Ponytail, Jordan was feeling like Superwoman. Nothing could knock her off her square or bring her down from the life high she was feeling. Even though she passed out on the couch, she still slept under the same roof as Storm, one of the top notch playas in the city. Downing a few shots of 1800, she’d ultimately found out from Ponytail that Kenya was ghost and he hadn’t seen her since he’d first gotten there. That was perfect. Jordan knew Storm was alone and vulnerable. She realized that now more than ever he needed a strong woman by his side and with Kenya gone off to wherever, this was her time to shine.

  Marco, on the other hand, had been trapped in the hotel room since the day before and was growing restless. He was definitely on edge and was ready to snap. Having eaten the few candy bars, a bag of chips, and even the garden salad that came with the room service meal Jordan ordered for him before she left to meet up with Storm, he was irate. He had already taken a risk by creeping across the hall and stealing someone else’s room service order left by their door. But he didn’t care. He wanted exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. And putting the final nail in Storm’s coffin was no exception. Truth be told, that was the force that motivated him to avoid getting apprehended. “Look, you stankin’ little porch monkey, just how long you think I’m gonna sit up in this motherfucker waiting for you to snitch me out to the damn police? Do you want me to just do what I said I was gonna do and pay that nurse sister of yours a little visit? Because I can make that shit pop off real quick fast and in a hurry. Is that what you want, you cock-thirsty cunt?”

  “Marco, you know what?” Jordan thought about her holier-than-thou sister and the cruel judgments she’d always passed on the lifestyles others lead. “I already done told you what was up and you could trust me. But if you feeling like coming out that motherfucker and all them cops still searching for that ass and killing my sister, then go right ahead, my nigga. You can slow kill that bitch right now. You best believe I got insurance on her ass. Matter of fact, go the fuck ahead. I need some extra money in my damn life. Do you, nigga! That’s a come up waiting for me.”

  I got a chance to be living large with Storm, so fuck Marco! I should call the police on his black ass! After hanging up on him and transferring all calls from the hotel room number Marco called from straight to her voicemail, she continued to cook Storm and Ponytail a huge breakfast as the unfriendly dog from the rear of the kitchen area kept barking.

  * * *

  STORM

  Selling dope, making money, and meeting the deadline he was facing were the last things on Storm’s tormented mind. He couldn’t care less. When his phone vibrated and the number 5 showed up, he shook his head. He’d still failed to look at the huge amount of previous texts that’d come in after word of O.T.’s tragic death spread throughout the drug-infested streets. Those texts, unfortunately, included the one Kenya sent with his newborn son’s picture attached.

  Nursing a hangover from the bottles of liquor he, Ponytail, and Jordan went in on and the Kush they blew, he could hardly make it to the bathroom to take a piss.

  Damn O.T. He stumbled toward the stairs as he smelled the strong aroma of turkey bacon
and eggs fill the air. I need to get in touch with those dumb bitches for real. His mind jumped to Kenya and London. Sixteen seconds later using the banister to hold himself up, both females’ cells were going straight to voicemail. Angry at the world, already missing his brother who was his best friend, Storm smashed his phone against the front door breaking it almost in two. If the person who’d killed O.T. was still alive walking the streets at least Storm could have the satisfaction of murdering them and causing their family the same amount of grief he was feeling, but Malloy was right. His men had robbed him of that joy taking Tangy out. Now all he had was his pain. She didn’t have any family, except for Paris, and what was the point of killing her? She was already half dead and crazy living in the nuthouse.

  “Fuck the world!” Using his fist, Storm swung, punching a dent in the drywall on the side of the room. Twenty seconds later, the scent of the food cooking had him throwing up, unknowingly in the very spot his baby was born. Exhausted, not wanting to face reality, he blacked out across the couch.

  * * *

  JORDAN

  What the fuck? Hearing a crashing sound then Storm yell something out, Jordan was puzzled. Peeping her head out the kitchen door, she saw him facedown on the couch. Not knowing if he was going through another one of his emotional breakdowns he’d gone through all night, slowly she approached him. “Hey, Storm, baby. You good?” The closer she got, the more evident it became that Storm was knocked out cold.

  “Hey, girl, what’s good?” Ponytail came up from the basement wiping lotion on his face. “Is that you up here making all that damn noise?”

  “Naw.” Jordan laughed knowing he was somewhat of an ally. “That was your manz over here.” She signaled toward the couch. “That shit from last night still got him gone.”

  Ponytail headed to the kitchen taking in the smells of the cooked food Jordan scraped together from the few items in the refrigerator and cabinets. “Real rap, that’s good. He going through some major drama right about now, ya feel me?”