Young and Hungry Read online

  “Slow the fuck down. We ain’t hear you, guy. We was at the front of the store, telling some more of them stupid motherfuckers we closed!” one of the twins answered as Mikey, his conscience guilt ridden, stood idly by and mute.

  Hassan put the bags on the counter and glanced around the dark store, searching for Alexis. Not seeing her, he immediately turned to his brother and asked him if she was in the bathroom. Receiving no answer, he asked once more. “Yo, Mikey, I said, where ole girl at? I see her car parked out there, so where she at?” Hassan finally powered his cell back on and was blasted with the notifications of several new voice mails.

  Mikey, no matter how much he disapproved of his brother and Alexis’s relationship, had no desire to be involved in the rape case his lunatic family members would be sure to catch when Alexis woke up from the traumatic beating and sexual assault she had sadly endured. After his trouble-minded cousins reassured him the girl would gladly take a small sum of money and would “get over it,” like the many “black whores” they’d done the same sort of thing to in the past, Mikey had prayed that would be the outcome, but he knew deep down in his heart that, tragically, it wouldn’t. Family loyalty was above everything else where they came from, and no matter what the circumstances, one member was not to cross another. It was tradition and common law, well, at least in their region of the world. But this was altogether different, and keeping his mouth shut would only slow the inevitable that was going to happen. Lowering his face in shame, Mikey knew he had to confess what had taken place. Even though he hadn’t actually touched Alexis himself, he was just as guilty as his crazed cousins, probably even more in his brother’s eyes.

  “Hassan, look, she came knocking at the door and—”

  Seeing that his cousin was the weak link and was not sticking to the game plan, the shorter twin cut Mikey off before he snitched them out. “And I told her we wasn’t opening the door for anybody. I told her she wasn’t special! I told her to kick rocks.”

  “What the fuck, dude?” Hassan replied, shocked, as he unpacked the several bags containing the food. “Why you do that dumb shit? She ain’t just anybody, fool. That’s my girl!”

  “Your girl.” The twin laughed.

  “Yeah, my girl. And if she ain’t here, why her car still parked out there?”

  Thinking quickly, one twin lied and said he thought that she was with another female and that they must’ve left in the other girl’s car.

  Hassan stopped what he was doing to dial Alexis’s number, which rang a few times, then went to voice mail. “Well, she ain’t answering, but maybe this her that left me a message.”

  Before Alexis’s man could check his voice mail or question them any further, the twins started a false fight with one another as a diversionary tactic. When Hassan and a confused Mikey grabbed the two and separated them, the most boisterous of the pair whispered in Mikey’s ear that if they went down, they would drag him down with them. “We already done jailed it, but you haven’t!”

  Caught up in the commotion, Hassan did just as the twins had hoped: he temporarily forgot about Alexis and her whereabouts. When he finished distributing the food, he told them what crazy and over-the-top type of things was going on all throughout Detroit. He informed them that the National Guard had finally been called out to patrol the perimeter of the entire city to ensure none of the criminal rampage taking place would spill into good, law-abiding communities. They weren’t the least bit stunned by this news, even agreeing with the governor’s bold last-minute decision. Hassan also told them it was rumored that residents of those other counties and jurisdictions had been strongly encouraged to carry their licensed pistols in full sight, so any wannabe thugs spilling over from Detroit would know not to corrupt the safety of their homes and businesses.

  “It’s mad crazy out there. It’s like some sort of movie or some shit like that,” Hassan explained as they ate. “I mean, people in long lines at the gas stations who dumb enough to still be serving out the front door, abandoned cars that have run out of gas being set on fire in the middle of Woodward and on Six Mile and down across John R . . . I mean, damn.” He took a huge gulp of cold pop that one of the twins had grabbed from the cooler while double-checking on the sly that Alexis was still passed out. “I ain’t never seen so many . . .”

  “What? Wild niggas?” One twin remarked judgmentally, his words echoing off the walls of the store.

  “I wasn’t gonna say that.” Hassan frowned.

  The other twin anxiously jumped in with his two cents’ worth of commentary. “Fuck that, Hassan. Let’s keep it real. You know, like I know, them monkey-minded abeeds can’t act right on no regular day, so you know damn well they gonna be tripping now!”

  “Why y’all always gotta talk shit about African Americans like that?” Hassan calmly questioned as his older brother Mikey remained peculiarly silent. “Everybody ain’t like that. It’s like saying all of us are terrorists because we Muslims or from the Middle Eastern part of the world.”

  “Naw. Fuck all that politically correct talk. The way these black people disrespect they damn self is on them. Now, come on, Hassan. You know, like we all do, niggas gonna be niggas to the day they die . . . fried chicken and watermelon eating, pants sagging, forty-ounce drinking . . . hoes not knowing who they baby daddy is,” replied the twin who had last spoken.

  “Yeah, bro, and don’t forget stealing everything that ain’t bolted down as they smoking a blunt but can’t pay their bills!” the other twin added.

  Normally, Hassan was against racism in any shape or form, but as they said, “At one point or another everything in the dark has a way of finding itself to the light.” Although he had strong feelings and a deep-rooted love for Alexis, after a few more minutes of coaxing and peer pressure, he joined his two loudmouthed cousins in some of their ridiculing of Blacks, Hispanics, Chinese, and—not to be left out—the infamous White man. Before he knew it, Hassan was discussing with them the difference between getting some bomb-ass head from a black chick, namely, Alexis, and the Muslim Middle Eastern girl from the mosque his parents wanted him so badly to marry. Being young and stupid, he then started bragging about how good Alexis’s pussy was and how she low key worshipped him. At one point, caught up in showing out with the fellas, Hassan confessed that even if it was proven that her baby was his, he couldn’t legally claim it if he hoped to get his financial share of his Pops’s business holdings whenever he died.

  “That’s my girl. I ain’t gonna lie,” he asserted, getting cocky with his comments. “And me and her gonna always hang out. But you know I can’t ever, ever take her home! That can never happen. It would kill my mother.”

  Mikey was full of guilt, not knowing what to say or do next. He still hadn’t touched a bite of his food as he focused on the door of the walk-in cooler, where Alexis had been left, knocked out cold. His father would be mortified about the despicable act he’d allowed his cousins to perpetrate as he dumbly stood by. Pops would be disgraced, not only in the family, but in the community as well. Mikey wanted to get Alexis help, but even if he were to stand up to his cousins and call the police, there weren’t any cops to call. After all, Detroit was temporarily lawless.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Li’l Ronnie had his gun shoved in the elderly woman’s face. In her lifetime of seventy-six years her weary eyes had definitely seen their fair share of struggle, heartbreak, and turmoil. One might say her cup had been overrun with a dose of each. But this was much different than anything the God-fearing woman had ever had to deal with. This was against everything she’d ever prayed about and everything her grandson had always shielded her from. Since she’d raised Anthony, he had been her constant protector. Come hell or high water, he’d shielded her from the residential dooms most that lived in the city of Detroit had to deal with.

  If Black Tone was here, he’d never let this type of thing take place, but unfortunately, he was not. While he was preoccupied tending to the next man’s household, his own had b
een violated. Granny was here alone, by herself. Thanks to his “zero fucks given” behavior and attitude, this pistol-brandishing menace had made himself the king of Black Tone’s castle and the immediate overseer of Granny’s fate. The bedridden woman was terrified half to death.

  “You know why I’m here old woman, don’t you?” Li’l Ronnie had suddenly bossed up and become brave. Happily discovering Black Tone was not on the other side of the door, he showed his excitement by towering over the senior citizen and fanatically questioning her. The growing temptation just to take a pillow and cover her head was starting to take over. He could just use his palms and push down, and it would all be over. Black Tone could come in and find his old granny dead and hurt, the same way he was hurt. But Li’l Ronnie felt that him signing her death warrant would be too easy. He wanted his true nemesis to bleed directly.

  “When is that faggot-ass Black Tone coming back? Where he at? He wanna be running around like he so fucking tough and his ass can’t be got. Like he untouchable. Well, fuck. Look at me now, all up in this nigga shit!” Li’l Ronnie’s hate-filled rant worsened as he had not received the evil satisfaction he was looking for.

  Granny had yet to mutter a single, solitary word since the ordeal started. Shocked to find out it was not her grandson making all that noise and commotion from the other side of her closed bedroom door, she didn’t know what to say or what to think. Silently, she prayed she was having a terrible nightmare and would wake up soon. However, after a few more minutes of getting threatened, she decided to speak. Parting her dry, cracked lips, she started to quote bible verses.

  Definitely not in the mood to have church, Li’l Ronnie vindictively pressed one hand roughly over her mouth, demanding she shut up. She didn’t. She wouldn’t. When her attacker’s voice got louder, she prayed. When he grabbed her by both shoulders and shook her until the headboard slammed back and forth against the wall, she prayed. When the devil’s servant started to lose his patience altogether, he resentfully slapped her face repeatedly.

  The old woman was close to passing out but endured the stinging, excruciating pain of it all and still prayed. Li’l Ronnie was frustrated. She was strong willed. He was out of breath and quickly came to the realization that he had been beaten by Black Tone the night before and now his granny was winning. Infuriated at the sheer thought of it all, he felt his already explosive anger grow. Locking eyes with the wrinkle-skinned warrior, Li’l Ronnie warned her if she even whispered God’s name once more, it would certainly be her last time. Granny was defiant as she spoke out one final time. This time louder and with more conviction than before.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and—”

  Before she could finish the verse, Li’l Ronnie dug deep down inside himself and brought up a huge glob of saliva. Showing the ultimate disrespect he could muster, the deranged monster hawked in her face. “Fuck you, old bitch, and fuck God too,” he yelled out as the thick, smelly discharge slid down from her eyes and each of her cheeks.

  “And thy staff, they comfort me,” She barely got the last strong-willed words out before Li’l Ronnie made good on his threat.

  Sinister in his intentions, he reached down and grabbed the lower rails on the hospital rental bed. Using all the strength the devil had blessed him with at that moment, he lifted the bed up to his chest level. “Talk that shit now!” Callously, he then sent the bed crashing clear over to the other side of the room. When it slammed against the wall, Granny’s frail body flew from underneath the sheet and the thin blanket. “I warned you, old bitch! Now pray about that,” he taunted as she wept, painfully wedged in between the metal frame, the floor, and the wall.

  Before the tormentor could turn to retrieve his gun off of his victim’s nightstand and leave, Li’l Ronnie noticed something that looked out of place where the bed once was.

  What the fuck?

  He bent over and picked up an oversize Nike shoe box. After opening it slowly, Li’l Ronnie couldn’t believe his eyes. Finally, he would get some of the satisfaction he was looking for when he first kicked in the side door. Li’l Ronnie gazed into the box containing green-, red-, blue-, and tan-colored rubber bands wrapped around nice-size rolled bundles of money. After all he’d been through since the night before, he felt he deserved a come up. Of course, he believed this monetary blessing was definitely it. Li’l Ronnie knew the old woman hadn’t accumulated this type of cash, and laughed out loud, knowing he’d found Black Tone’s stash on the humble.

  Fuck it! That bitch nigga just bought himself some time. He can live a few more days and feel the loss of his hopefully dead-ass granny and his grip.

  Li’l Ronnie tucked the shoe box underneath his arm. With his gun once again held high defensively, he ran out into the hallway. Seeing and hearing no one coming to the elderly woman’s aid, he then returned to the kitchen, jumped down the four stairs heading toward the side door, and left the same way he’d entered.

  Stopping at the edge of the red rosebushes that lined the front of the porch, Li’l Ronnie looked to the left, then right. Overly cautious, he had to make sure there was no extra pair of eyes watching him. If so, he’d have to deal with them, just as he had the stubborn old woman. Once he felt safe, he darted across the street and disappeared between the two abandoned houses he’d perched between earlier.

  Back in his truck, Li’l Ronnie placed the show box full of cash and his gun down on the passenger seat. After starting the engine, he put his beloved Benz truck into gear and skirted off. Before making it out of the neighborhood, he crossed paths with the same guy he thought he’d recognized earlier. For a brief second, the two locked eyes. Slamming down on his brakes to avoid an accident, Li’l Ronnie allowed the other guy to have the right of way.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Lying in a small pool of blood that had grown between her legs, Alexis felt an excruciating throbbing pain not only in her face but in her vagina as well.

  Oh my God. Why?

  Battered and bruised, she tried to stand to her feet but couldn’t. She wanted to yell out for help, despite the ache in her swollen jaw, but she did not know if her attackers were still close by.

  Why did they do this? Why Mikey ain’t stop them? she thought.

  As her eyes fought to focus in the pitch-black rear walk-in cooler, she heard voices in the near distance. Disoriented, Alexis thought one belonged to her beloved Hassan, but she wasn’t sure.

  If that’s him, why ain’t he helping me? Why is he just out there laughing?

  Realizing that staying there, waiting to be gang-raped again possibly, wasn’t an option, she gathered her strength the best she could. Wanting nothing more than to see her infant son’s face once more, the single mother prayed, asking God to help her. As she turned over on her stomach, Alexis reached her arms forward and balled up her fists, and then she crawled, scraping her elbows along the way on the sticky floor. Halfway to the sound of the voice that she now recognized for certain as Hassan’s, she saw a faint blinking light over to the side. Getting closer, she saw it was her purse and cell. Fumbling with the phone, Alexis saw Hassan had indeed called her, but for what?

  He called but he is not back here helping me? He in there, chopping it up with them animals, laughing and talking shit!

  At this point, she didn’t know who to trust, especially since the two goons who had assaulted her were obviously friends of her so-called man.

  Why in the fuck he tell me to come up here, and he knew he was gonna be gone? He set me up!

  Calling the police for assistance was not happening. There weren’t any on duty. Requesting an ambulance to treat her wounds was also not an option. Detroit was on shutdown, and like the news reports stated, it was every man for themselves. Feeling totally betrayed and confused about how to get out of the store alive and back to her son, Alexis texted the only two people who, despite the vile things they had said to each other, would have her back—Dre and, o
f course, her good friend Anthony.

  At da store. Nine-one-one.

  As far back as beepers and cell phones went, she and her brother had made a pact that no matter what kind of bullshit was going on between the two of them, they would never, ever use the code 911 with each other unless it was a matter of life or death. And other than the night their overly religious mother had died, he and Alexis never had. That was, until now.

  Out of breath, she hid behind some cardboard boxes, just in case one of the twins returned, wanting round two of abusing her. Painstakingly listening to Hassan, the love of her life, and the coldhearted attackers joke about her and all other black people, like they were common dogs that roamed the streets, Alexis’s hatred for Hassan grew instantly and her belief that her “baby daddy” had truly set her up to be raped increased. Before she knew what was what, she once again lost consciousness. While she was out of it, Alexis’s mind drifted back to the day her son was born and she recalled how ecstatic Hassan had claimed to be, even saying he’d denounce his family if they dared to mistreat his firstborn seed for being half African American.

  * * *

  Black Tone and Amir were going back and forth over which person would be stopping by to pick up what package. Not wanting his team to know he was as deep off into the program as he was, Black Tone kept a careful watch on the front doors of the club. He’d told his cousin to come and get him if anything out of the ordinary jumped off. They all understood it would be dark soon and the situation the cash-strapped city was in would soon be plummeting from bad to worse. Well, as most of the mayhem was going down in residential neighborhoods, a few daredevils might be tempted to take a walk on the wild side and try Detroit Live. Black Tone was dedicated to not letting that take place.

  Amir took out his cell and started to calculate. Having ordered just enough product to make him a nice hefty sum off the top, he informed Black Tone that possibly leaving Ethan out of the equation this time would maybe not be such a terrible idea.