Young and Hungry Page 8

  Total excitement could be seen on his face as he drove around the corner and parked his truck. Popping a few pills and taking a swig from a pint of Hennessy he kept in the glove compartment, he was ready to face the unknown. Somewhat hesitant about leaving his vehicle, with its expensive rims and sound system, parked in a neighborhood he didn’t know, Li’l Ronnie eagerly decided to take his chances in the notorious high-crime zip code.

  Cautiously, gun tucked in the rear of his jeans, he climbed out of his vehicle and crept through the alley. Despite his sore leg, he then perched down in between two side-by-side abandoned houses. Ten minutes, then twenty went by as he eagle eyed the front of Black Tone’s house, searching for any signs of movement.

  Smelling the awful stench of dead rodents and maggot-filled bags of old, discarded garbage, Li’l Ronnie felt his patience grow short. In reality, he knew he couldn’t wait forever, so he decided to just make things happen. He knew that the situation in Detroit would prevent anyone from calling the police about a man with a gun, let alone the police responding to the call. He’d seen more than his fair share of pistols holstered on hips and in hand since the clock struck noon. The city was on high alert, and everyone who owned a weapon, legal or not, was brandishing it on this day. Li’l Ronnie was no different.

  Stepping out from the makeshift hiding place, he saw that the block was quiet, with the exception of a small group of guys standing in the same driveway the rude female had roared out of. Wasting no time, he darted across the street. Tucking the gun back in the rear of his pants, he felt the barrel rub against his spine as he raised his arm overhead. He approached the house and gripped a concrete window ledge, then lifted himself up. Attempting to look inside, Li’l Ronnie could see absolutely nothing but old furniture through the sheer white curtains.

  Out of options, he went around to the front and walked up onto the porch. Brazenly, he rang the bell twice and received no answer. His next move was simple. He’d kick in the side door and wait for Black Tone to return, no matter how long it took. Bottom line, he wanted payback and wasn’t willing to wait another day to get it.

  It didn’t take much for Li’l Ronnie to force himself through the side door. Of course, it was locked and had a chain securing it, but the frame was old. Like most of the houses in that area that were still lived in, its wood was weak and on its last leg. Although Black Tone had bars on most of the windows and on the front door, his granny had advised him back in the day that she never wanted a security gate on the side door, just in case there was a fire and they needed to escape. Black Tone had never had a problem honoring her wishes, because the only fools in the neighborhood known for breaking and entering already knew better.

  So this is where this pussy nigga be laying his head at, huh? Li’l Ronnie had his gun drawn. No one had come to the door when he rang the bell, and he hadn’t heard anyone at the windows. But that didn’t mean no one was at home. For all he knew, Black Tone or someone else that lived there could be watching him from across the street and was waiting to make a move. They could have been chilling, waiting for him to come inside so they could kill him legally. Li’l Ronnie wasn’t sure, so he was being extra safe as he made his way up from the basement stairs into the kitchen. Nervous, he took his time as the floorboards made noise. Each step seemed to intensify the noise.

  The front living room and dining room were clear, to Li’l Ronnie’s relief. As he stood at the edge of the long hallway, he stared down at four doorways. He’d been in enough homes with old-school layouts throughout the years to know they were bedrooms and the bathroom.

  Gun still held high in a defensive stance, the now semi-spooked soldier made his way down the hall. The pill and liquid courage he’d had was suddenly gone. Clearing the first doorway, to what appeared to be a bedroom that had been turned into a sewing room, Li’l Ronnie was good. He found no one waiting to crack his head. The second door belonged to the bathroom. After sticking his head inside, he made sure the coast was clear, even moving the shower curtain back with the barrel of his pistol. Easing his body back into the hallway, he continued the task at hand. At the third doorway, he stuck his gun into a bedroom, which had to belong to Black Tone. Letting his guard down, he went all the way inside Black Tone’s personal space. Unlike the rest of the house, which seemed like it was caught up in some strange back-in-the-day time capsule, this one room was unbelievable. The transformation was like night and day, like black and white.

  Look at this rat-ass nigga living good in the hood! Expensive laptop, huge mounted flat-screen, king-size bed, a dresser full of cologne and framed pictures of his ho ass with all these rappers, even the damn mayor of Detroit.

  Li’l Ronnie had been running behind his uncle for years. He was accustomed to both him and Ethan stuntin’ on people when it came to flashy cars, expensive jewelry, and just flaunting dope money all together. No doubt, Li’l Ronnie often took his showboating a little bit further than what was called for. He knew deep down inside that this wild character flaw was the real reason he was in the predicament he was in at the present: having to break into someone’s home and kill them.

  Li’l Ronnie felt the malice in his heart grow. Here he was, standing in the middle of what he felt was the pit of evil. Everything surrounding him smelled, felt, and was Black Tone, the asshole who in one night had changed the rest of his life forever. If he didn’t make shit right and make Black Tone pay for how he had handled him yesterday, he’d never be able to face the world again, or himself, for that matter.

  Li’l Ronnie’s heart raced. Not bothering to search the last bedroom with the closed door, he sat his gun down on the edge of the dresser. Using his forearm, he swiftly cleared off the contents, sending them flying every which way. In the midst of the sound of the many bottles breaking, he failed to hear a faint voice call out. Enraged, Li’l Ronnie snatched up the closed black- and red-colored laptop off the bed. After raising it high above his head, he brought it crashing down onto the floor. Seeing parts of the electronic device separate on impact, Li’l Ronnie smiled. He was finally getting some sort of satisfaction from the over-the-top ass kicking he’d taken the night before.

  Totally out of control, he ran over to the far side of the room and placed both hands on the lower area of the mounted flat-screen, and, using all his strength, he yanked two good times before ripping it down off the wall. After throwing it out into the hallway, Li’l Ronnie paused, thinking he’d heard something.

  Wasting no more time, he leaped back over the bed to the other side of the room. Quickly, he retrieved his gun. His arm shook as he listened attentively, and a lump grew in his throat. Li’l Ronnie couldn’t swallow and couldn’t breathe. As bad as he wanted to send Black Tone to the upper room, the thought of taking another ass whupping if he missed his initial shot was taking an immediate toll. The gun he was holding seemed to grow heavier as the moments dragged by. Small beads of perspiration started to form on his forehead. Soon sweat was leaking from the tiny wrinkles in the wannabe thug’s upper brow.

  Frozen in fear, Li’l Ronnie heard a tiny cracked voice call out from behind the last bedroom door, the room he had failed to secure.

  Damn. What the fuck was I thinking? I dropped the ball, he thought. Not sure of what to do next, he took a deep breath. He wanted to piss on himself but held it the best he could. Li’l Ronnie realized he’d come too far to turn back and not far enough to finish what he’d come to Black Tone’s house to do.

  Darting his eyes from the closed door to the front of the hallway repeatedly, Li’l Ronnie heard the voice call out once more. Tilting his head to the side, the now petrified small-time criminal thought for sure the voice was saying “Anthony.” Wait a fucking minute. Is that an old damn lady?

  Li’l Ronnie felt a small bit of relief come over him. If his ears were not deceiving him, that wasn’t Black Tone hiding behind the closed door to lure him into that room, but his elderly grandmother, the same person who had given him the address and with whom his nemesis lived. Fi
nally finding inner courage, Li’l Ronnie wiped his forehead and took a few steps toward the shut door. Holding the gun steady in one hand, he reached down and placed the other on the glass diamond-shaped doorknob. Not knowing who or what he’d discover on the other side of the dark-stained wood barrier separating him from his fate, Li’l Ronnie braced up. Slowly, he proceeded to turn the knob to the right.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Black Tone had just arrived down at Detroit Live, much to Amir’s relief. The electricity in the city had been out for a few hours, and sheer pandemonium had already set in. News reports were coming in constantly about various small crimes, as well as hardcore felonies, that were being committed. Some houses were burning, while others were being vandalized. There were no police or firemen to come restore order, just residents standing outside on the block, wondering why.

  Dedicated to being a devoted grandson, Black Tone stayed around his own house, making sure everything was safe and secure on the home front. He had been living in the neighborhood long enough to trust that even though he and sworn menace Dre had issues dating as far back as when they were kids, Dre and his crew would not violate his dwelling. Black Tone stared out the window, watching Dre come and go repeatedly, carrying bags of stuff inside the house he shared with Alexis and her small son. She and Dre had never seemed to connect throughout the years, even after becoming adults. They both love each other when it came down to it, but that was about it.

  After speaking to Alexis earlier, he knew that she planned on packing an overnight bag and getting out of Dodge until this travesty in the city was over. Black Tone had informed her that he’d seen one of her coworkers and hanging buddies the evening before down at the club. He’d reassured Alexis that Sable had been treated VIP well on the strength of her being not only Ethan’s woman of the moment, but her homegirl as well. Any of Alexis’s people were his people at Detroit Live, whether he agreed with their lifestyles or not. Black Tone would do anything for his friend if she asked. There was no limit to his loyalty, and she knew that.

  Having packed Granny’s necessary overnight items, he placed the bag near the front door. His aunt called and indicated she’d be by very shortly, so Black Tone left his sleeping grandmother, who was hopefully having pleasant dreams. When he rode by Dre and his crew as they were unpacking yet another load of ill-gotten gains, Black Tone nodded but never cracked a smile. The understanding pertaining to their troubled relationship was extremely mutual: Don’t fuck with me, and I won’t fuck with you.

  * * *

  “Oh my God! Finally! What in the hell took you so damn long? Wild Child and them been down here? Where you been? The light’s been out. Folks acting crazy everywhere in town. It’s been on the news.” Amir held up his cell phone, showing the local breaking news updates.

  Black Tone had barely stepped foot out his truck before being bombarded with questions. “Okay. Then, Amir, pump your fucking brakes. They had you covered, so what’s the big deal? Besides, the sun ain’t even down all the ways yet. You look like you still okay and the building still standing. All the real bullshit jumping off in the inner city, anyhow. Like where I stay at. You know, where your peoples is at!”

  Amir momentarily stood silent. He was ashamed of himself. He exhibited selfish intentions in most things that he did, and so the firstborn son had forgotten even to inquire about Pops and his little brothers. He knew his twin cousins, who’d been called in for backup, were no more than two pieces of no-good shit that would slice their own mother’s throat if it meant they could get over in the world. Them, Amir didn’t worry about. He knew they would be good, by hook or by crook. That sinister bloodline of theirs was tainted years ago. However, Mikey and Hassan were different. Even when he tried to get them to branch off into his side business, they’d been too soft to even attempt to go hard. Pops and his poor sickly mother had spoiled them both, ruined them for the streets. His younger siblings hadn’t been forced to run barefoot through the war-torn country he was born in. They were American raised.

  “Damn, I got so much on my mind. Fuck. Did you go by there? What’s the deal? Is it all good?” Amir responded.

  Black Tone smirked as he watched Amir blurt out question after question. Finally, he answered, “Yeah, man. I drove past there, and it looked quiet. It was a few people walking by the front door. I went through the back alley, and the cars were pulled up and locked behind the gate.”

  “God is good. I’m glad that’s one less thing I have to worry about, at least for the time being. As long as Pops and the family is good, I’m good.”

  After giving Wild Child and the others from Zero Fucks Given that were on post a fist pound, Black Tone and Amir walked inside the empty nightclub. Several battery-charged table candles lit the bar area, making it bright enough to see. Both Amir and his head of security were used to seeing in the always dimly lit establishment, so this was nothing new for them to adapt to.

  After making sure the door was closed and they were alone, Amir gave Black Tone an update on what exactly had been happening since the two had parted ways twelve hours earlier. “So, Tone, this morning, as anticipated, I got the package delivered. It was on point, just as promised. Your good friend Brother Rasul came through, as always. It’s top quality.”

  “Cool. That’s what’s up. A nigga like me aims to please,” Black Tone said, nodding his head.

  Amir slipped Black Tone his cut of the heroin package. He often played the part of the middleman to cop the drug. Amir and the connect were both Muslim, and he felt that meant something. However, in the drug world, no bona fide plug mattered if you didn’t have someone to vouch for your pedigree. Black Tone was Amir’s link to his homeboy, so they both made money. After opening up the envelope, Black Tone ran his thumb across the top of the cash, silently counting it. He knew with the money he had in the bank and also hidden in a shoe box at his granny’s, he’d be ready to pay for the hip replacement surgery she needed. Her insurance felt she was too old and refused to cover the procedure, but her grandson felt differently. He knew the quality of her life would greatly improve if she could just get out of that hospital bed he was renting.

  “Oh yeah. That reminds me. I got a call from Ethan a little while ago,” Amir said.

  “Ethan, huh? What he wanted?”

  “You know he wanted to take a cop and make shit right about that incident last night.”

  “Yeah, that knucklehead nephew of his. The little idiot with all that mouth. I hope he knows he had that ass kicking coming. We couldn’t run the risk of the authorities coming up here last night, because he wanna clown. Especially since my peoples was in town to make that drop-off this morning.” Black Tone took his cut of the money out of the envelope and placed it in his front pocket, creating a bulge.

  Amir was in total agreement with Black Tone’s methods of keeping order at Detroit Live. Although it had been deemed a hot spot with the local cops in the past, since Amir had taken over ownership from his deported third cousin, twice removed, all had been good. The staff and Amir had been forced to call the cops a total of maybe once or twice since he got the keys to the front door and transferred the liquor license. It was Amir’s main objective to stay off the radar as much as possible, and if Black Tone made that happen, he was king. No questions asked.

  “No, no, no. All was good with him. He knows his nephew all too well, so he said. Ethan said that the boy has been nothing but a headache since he was a small child doing dirt on the block.”

  “Oh yeah?” For some reason, Black Tone thought about Dre and his longtime shenanigans. He and Li’l Ronnie could have been twins in terms of their demeanor.

  “Yeah. He said that sense of entitlement he has because he’s his sister’s son got him all fucked up, thinking the world owes him something. Ethan told me that his girl was in here watching that boy act a fool and that he needed to be dealt with. So there it is.”

  Black Tone walked behind the bar and got a bottle of water out of the now nonfunctional refrigerator
. Thankfully, it was still cold, and he swallowed the refreshing drink. “Sometimes a good old-fashioned ass kicking is what these lames out here need to act right.”

  “Well, I told him that what happened last night down here was over with and done, as far as I was concerned. But the boy didn’t talk shit and threaten me. He did that to you. I also told him that the package was due in later, and that he’d have to check with you and make sure you was good with it. I mean, the little hood nigga had no respect!” Amir took a seat at the bar and laughed after he referred to Li’l Ronnie as a nigga.

  Amir knew Black Tone was going to call him a sand nigga in return, and he did just that. Elated, Black Tone always kept the club and his illegal drug business on target; Amir knew Pops was wrong about him trusting him. Black Tone was more than a bouncer; he was his family. So if he felt Ethan was out of the loop, no matter how much money he spent, then so be it. Point-blank, period, he was out.

  “I told him before he cops, you’d holler at him later so y’all could chop it up,” Amir added.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Burdened with multiple plastic bags full of food and accessories he, Mikey, and his cousins needed to make it through the night, Hassan kicked twice on the steel door with his Prada loafers. Looking over his shoulder at Alexis’s car, he knew she was going to be mad that he hadn’t been here to greet her. He knew that she, Mikey, and Pops hadn’t always been on the best of terms, but Alexis had never let that stop her from making herself perfectly at home whenever she was up at the store. For Alexis and Hassan, color and religion had never been a major issue between them. Even though they knew any relationship they had would be challenged by both families, they felt their love could be and was “bigger than the game.”

  “Hey, what took y’all so long to open the door?” Hassan barked when the door was finally opened.