Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 6
“You know what, Fatima, you might need to come back in here and pack all your belongings because I don’t take orders from women, especially disrespectful ones who don’t know their place!” He looked from side to side to see if any of his neighbors were out listening to her rants and accusations.
“Naw, Rasul, I tell you what! You can just burn all my stuff! I’m good! You’s a fake-ass Muslim!” Fatima, calling herself a strong black woman, refusing to shed a tear, threw his spare house keys onto the grass and sped out of the driveway.
Brother Rasul retrieved the keys then slammed his front door shut. Infuriated about the way he was spoken to and disrespected, he went to the bathroom leaning over the white porcelain sink. Splashing cold water on his face to calm down, he took Fatima’s advice when he rose up staring into the mirror. Damn, why do I always put my neck on the line for Kenya’s crazy ass? He used his hand wiping down the wetness from his angry mug. Why?
* * *
STORM
Having fallen asleep in the waiting area, Storm was awakened from his dream-turned-nightmare just as he was killing his stepfather. As his heart rate pumped overtime and his adrenalin slowed down, his eyes opened to see a nurse with a handful of papers standing over him. “Damn, hey.” Storm sat up from the scrunched position he was sitting in. “You got some news about my little brother?”
Nurse Jamison placed her hand on his shoulder. “Are you Tony Christian?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Well, can you come with me? I want to talk to you in private.”
“Yeah, of course.” Storm stood to his feet shaking off the deep, troubling sleep he was just in.
“If you have any other family members down here, they are more than welcome to join us.”
At that moment, it hit Storm like a ton of bricks that neither Kenya nor London had shown up to the emergency room. “Naw, I guess I’m here solo, so we can just go.”
Following the nurse behind the otherwise secure triage area, Storm was led into a small, serenely decorated room with six leather chairs and a coffee table with a box of tissue sitting in the middle. “Please take a seat.”
“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’ve been down here for hours.” Storm checked his watch for the time. “I’ma need to see my brother. First y’all said he was in surgery; now y’all got me in this room. Quit trying to stale me out! What’s the deal?”
Nurse Jamison felt his pain and decided to delete the formalities and cut to the chase. “Okay, Mr. Christian, I’m gonna be blunt with you. Your brother Othello is in extremely critical condition. The doctors are still doing what they can do; however, it’s bad. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for you.” She took a seat next to Storm in an effort to console and hopefully ease his fears. “He definitely is gonna need several more procedures done before he’s out of the deep end of the water, but his body needs time to heal from the more serious of the wounds just treated. He’s being moved into a special trauma unit, and you can visit with him. But just keep in mind he’s been through a lot and is extremely weak. You can sit with him, but be aware he is unconscious. He has a lot of machines and monitors in his room, so please don’t be alarmed.”
Storm took in everything she’d just said. “Thanks for breaking it all down to me. I appreciate you keeping it a hundred.”
“Not a problem. I’m gonna take you to your brother now, but you can only see him briefly. They’re preparing his recovery room, so he’ll be moved almost immediately.”
Storm slowly entered the dimly lit hospital room. Inhaling the overwhelming smell of disinfectant, mixed with sickness, he saw O.T. laid out with tubes and needles in every part of his body. Damn, what the fuck!
Noticing Storm’s apprehensiveness, Nurse Jamison spoke up once again, touching his arm. “It’s okay. He needs family. You’ve got to be strong for him.”
In shock, Storm sat down next to O.T.’s bed. Reaching out, he held his brother’s hand. “Yeah, dude, don’t worry, that bitch Tangy is dead. The fucking police shut the ho down right after she shot you.”
Upset seeing his only family fucked up, knocking at death’s door, Storm posted up as long as he could. When the medical staff arrived to transfer O.T. to the other ward, Storm went back into the small private waiting area where he tried once again to reach Kenya.
* * *
KENYA / STORM
Having driven for hours, Kenya was exhausted. In between her guilty conscience and being concerned about Li’l Stone, she exited at a small motel to get some much-needed rest. Wiping the sleep out of her puffy red eyes, Kenya went to the front desk ringing the silver bell attached to the counter. Showing them London’s ID and paying the thirty-five-dollar short stay fee, she was soon heading to her room. After opening the door and making sure no one was looking, Kenya took the laundry basket out of her rear seat taking the baby inside the mildew-odor-filled room. Carefully setting him on the bed, she then returned to the car getting the bag with his diapers and milk inside. Changing the infant’s wet and soiled diaper, she made him a bottle running it under the hot water. As she rocked Li’l Stone in her arms while feeding him, Kenya used her other hand to take her cell phone out of her purse.
“Damn, I need to put this shit on the charger.” She noticed she had barely one bar of power left. Flipping it open to call Brother Rasul and check in with him, she pushed SEND placing the phone to her ear. “Hello.”
“Yeah, hello! Hello! Kenya!” Storm’s strong baritone voice shouted through the earpiece. “Kenya! Hello!”
Stunned he was on the line, Kenya was frozen with fear. She wasn’t ready to face him and what he was going to say. By now she knew he’d discovered the God-awful truth of what she’d done. Oh, shit, damn!
“Yo, I hear your ass breathing!” Storm was going hard not letting up. “Stop bullshitting with me. This ain’t the time! I know you hear me don’t you?”
Kenya stared down at Storm’s son and stopped rocking. “Yeah, I hear you,” she mumbled almost so low he had to press his finger against his eardrum to hear her voice.
“Look, I know you still pissed about that insurance bullshit, but that shouldn’t stop you from being down here with me!”
The insurance papers? Why he saying that? Why ain’t he talking about London?
“I mean, Kenya, baby, I know I was wrong not to tell you, but do I deserve this?”
“Huh?” Kenya questioned confused with where he was going with his conversation.
Storm, relieved she’d finally answered his call, laid everything out. “How you think I feel to be down here in this son of a bitch by myself?”
“By yourself? Down here?”
“Yeah, by myself! Who else was gonna be here?” After a few brief seconds of silence, Storm went on. “Where was you at when it happened?”
“When what happened?” Still focusing on the baby, who was now wide awake, Kenya hoped he wasn’t being so nonchalant in asking where she’d let her sister die.
“Did you see that ho Tangy shoot him or what? Matter of fact, when the fuck did she get out of jail?”
“Tangy?” Kenya was really lost. “Did you say Tangy?”
“Yo, Kenya, what in the fuck is wrong with you? Why in the hell you keep answering my damn questions with questions? Is you high or something?”
“Naw, I’m not high. I was just—”
“Listen, it’s obvious you don’t give a fuck about that slimy-ass cousin of Paris shooting O.T., but I thought at least London cared. Why she ain’t down here at the hospital with me?”
It was then that Kenya’s stomach dropped to her knees. She exhaled as her chest went up and down feeling like a huge weight had been lifted. She started putting two and two together, quickly realizing that the loud barrage of gunfire on the block earlier must’ve been Tangy shooting. Damn, when did that crazy bitch even get out? she wondered as the wheels in her mind kept turning. That’s what that old, nosey-ass bitty told him. Oh my God! That was O.T.’s feet I saw in that fucking driv
eway! “Listen, Storm,” Kenya said, slowly easing the bottle from Li’l Stone’s mouth seeing he had enough, “I had no idea Tangy would do something like that!”
“Whatever. At this point, it don’t even matter ’cause the bitch is dead, but you still didn’t say why y’all ain’t down here and why you ain’t try to get in touch with a nigga!”
He ain’t even been to the crib! He don’t know shit about London. “Well, I’ve been—”
Having had enough of the one-sided twenty questions game, an infuriated Storm asked to speak to London. “Let me speak to your sister. I wanna see why she ain’t here checking for my brother she love so damn much!”
Hearing Storm put the words “London” and “love” together in the same sentence, Kenya’s blood pressure started to rise. Standing up, she placed Li’l Stone on the bed. Closing her eyes tightly, she wished she could turn back the hands of time.
“Yo, Kenya! What the fuck! Did you hear me? I said put London on the phone. I’m tired of playing around with your childish ass!” he yelled as some of the hospital staff walked past the once quiet room he was occupying. “I’m under enough stress; now put London on!”
Three seconds short of having a nervous breakdown, Kenya paced the cheap motel room floor with her cell pressed to her ear. “Stop telling me what to do! You got me fucked up to keep asking about my sister! Why you so worried about her?”
“Because she’s having my damn baby all right? So excuse the fuck outta me if I wanna talk to her! My brother is lying in the other room fighting for his life, and I want my people here with me! Is that too much for a nigga to ask?”
“Your people?” Kenya paused. “Is that what you said? Is she the only one you worried about?”
“Yeah, she’s having my fucking baby, my flesh and blood, so yeah, I’m worried about her! Stop damn tripping!” Storm blurted out tired of walking on eggshells about London’s controversial pregnancy. “And real motherfucking rap, at the end of the day no matter what silly shit you talking, he still my son and I ain’t never not gonna be around him! So grow the fuck up and put your sister on the—”
Thank God Kenya’s cell went dead in the middle of Storm’s aggravated, inspired rant. Looking at her screen, which was now dark, she hissed his name in vain, tossing the cell onto the nightstand. Barely able to keep her weary eyes open she lay down on the bed talking to the baby. “That’s messed up about O.T., but how he gonna be saying that bullshit to me about London? He wrong as hell!” Lifting her head up hearing her sister’s cell phone vibrate twice inside her purse, Kenya smirked ignoring the two calls she knew were both from Storm.
“Hello! Hello!” Storm repeated not receiving an answer from his so-called girl. “I know that dumb, simple-minded bitch ain’t just hang up on me again!” Knocking the box of tissue to the floor, he was over Kenya’s games. Pissed, to say the least, he then dialed London’s cell getting her voicemail. This time he left a message just to spite Kenya: “Yeah, hey, baby momma! I was just checking on you and my son. I don’t know if ya jealous sister told you, but O.T. is hurt and needs you to come down here. Matter of fact we both need you, so call me or come on down.” Before hanging up, he put the icing on the revenge-filled cake. “Oh, yeah, tell my son I love him more than anything or anybody on this earth!” That will teach Kenya ass to say fuck me and my little brother!
Chapter Five
It was the crack of dawn. Having faced one of the most confusing, troublesome, and tragedy-filled days of their lives each person in their twisted circle prayed for a new beginning.
* * *
PARIS
Sergeant Kendricks’s lower back was killing him. After sleeping in the sparsely padded chair for hours in anticipation of Paris maybe once again speaking, giving him a small bit of a lead he and Malloy could use to possibly close a few open cases, he stood to his feet. Stretching his arms, Kendricks peered out the window. Adjusting his firearm that was tucked on his side holster, he called the stationhouse checking in.
“Naw, Malloy, she still unconscious. I’ve been out here all night and not a single word. But I did inform the staff to take her butch cousin off her emergency contact list. I’m gonna stay out here another few minutes and talk to the nurses who were on duty when she was doing all that talking and see what light they can shed.”
“Yeah, okay, good. When you leave there get some shuteye. I’ll catch up with you later and fill you in on what went down with Storm in detail.”
“All right then, Malloy. Later.” Ending the call, turning back around, Sergeant Kendricks once again stared into Paris’s sleeping face wishing he were years younger and could actually pull a female like her, but he knew “bad bitches” were reserved for gangsta-style dudes like the ones he hunted on a regular.
* * *
KENYA
Awakened by the miniature sound of Li’l Stone’s cries for a bottle, Kenya wiped her eyes feeling refreshed. Having slept off her anger for the things Storm was saying before her cell went dead, happily she gave her nephew what he was yearning for. As she fed him, she plugged her phone into the charger. Even though Kenya was dreading having to listen to another one of Storm’s rages that was sure to follow when he got home and discovered she wasn’t there and London was dead, she still needed her phone while on the road. Part of Kenya felt sorry for Storm having to deal with O.T. being shot on his own, and wanted to turn back, while the other part knew things between them could never be the same.
Burping the baby and rocking him back to sleep, Kenya turned on the shower in the low-budget motel waiting almost ten solid minutes before the water even got lukewarm. Feeling the wetness, Kenya let the flow spray from the nozzle as her emotions fought. After getting out and drying off, she was about ready to hit the highway once again. Searching through her purse for a comb or brush, she felt London’s cell phone vibrate. Damn, this still on. Pushing the button on the side to light the screen, Kenya saw two missed calls: one from Fatima and one from Storm. In the corner, there was a small envelope with a circle around it indicating London also had voicemail. I almost hate to hear what that nigga done said. Her mind told her not to listen, but her curiosity, of course, got the best of her.
Three seconds in to listening to Storm’s hurtful message, Kenya knew she’d made the right decision to say fuck him! Changing Li’l Stone’s diaper, Kenya loaded him along with herself into the car and took off.
* * *
DEADLY ALLIANCES
7
With eyes still half closed, Storm lifted his head to read the text message from a random number he’d never seen before. Taking time to process what exactly that number meant, he soon realized it was the amount of days he had to make his initial payment on the product he’d just been blessed with. However, considering his brother, the main street hustler in the family, was on his back fighting to live, Storm automatically got a headache, knowing that blessing could easily turn into a curse. Shit, all this is fucked up! He went to the bathroom located a few yards from O.T.’s hospital bed. After taking a morning piss, Storm washed his hands regretting the message that he’d left London hoping Kenya wouldn’t hear it. I know Kenya ass is spoiled like a motherfucker, but that shit I left was cold. The warm water loosened up his stiff hands he’d slept on. But still, she and London should’ve come down here.
Checking with the doctor, who promised O.T. was stabilized for the time being and out of immediate danger, Storm headed out the hospital and toward the location he’d parked his car the night before. “What the fuck?” Looking up at the signpost, which read DO NOT PARK FIRE ZONE YOUR VEHICLE WILL BE TOWED, Storm couldn’t believe his shady luck.
“Damn, I guess I need to catch a fucking cab to the damn crib and get Kenya’s ass to get the car outta impound! That’s the last time I’m putting a car in a ho’s name!”
Beep! Beep!
Hearing the sound of a horn honk twice and the small candy apple red Toyota driving up, Storm cracked a half-crooked smile. “Whoa, girl, you right on time.”
“Hey, Storm, I heard about O.T., so I came to sit with you and Kenya’s evil-acting ass,” Jordan announced, winking. “You know we family inside Alley Cats and out, even though ya girl fired me!”
“Damn good looking, J. I appreciate that shit!” Storm finally had someone in his presence who cared what he was going through. Sure, she had been just a dancer at his club and a troublemaker, but at least she showed up. “O.T. is holding his own. You know that nigga is a warrior. Can’t shit shut him down!”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Jordan remarked running her fingers through her long weave. “Is he up to visitors? Where is Kenya at? Is she still inside?”
Storm was snatched back to the reality that his woman was MIA. “Naw, she somewhere else right now. But, dig this here. These sons of bitches done towed my shit! Can you run me out to my spot?”
“Yeah, babe, jump in.” Jordan, a bona fide flirt, made sure her miniskirt was pushed up as far as it would go so Storm could see her legs and the three-inch stilettos she was rocking at seven in the morning. Having never been to her ex-boss’s house, she followed his directions. With every twist and turn, Jordan shifted her body as sexy as she could.
Storm had seen her swinging naked on a pole a hundred times over, so seeing her with clothes, skimpy as they might be, was of no big deal. Besides he had more important issues on his plate than a scheming female. “Make a right turn. The second street. Just past the light.”
Jordan was jealous seeing the houses and condos that were out of her price range. Even if she tricked and dance double shifts for nights on end, she’d be hard-pressed to live like Storm and Kenya obviously were. Showing her gold teeth, Jordan smiled giving out compliment after compliment. “Wow, you doing the damn thang out here ain’t you? You out here living like the white folks live.”