A Hood Legend (20 page)

“Soon,” Scorpion said. “But first I'll make him sweat—plus I have to tie up a few other things. I'm no longer with those assholes in D.C., but when I call Felix, I'll demand a trade for the drugs and I'll set it up for you to take him and his girl out at the same time ... unless you have a better idea.”

“Yours seems fine,” Myrmidon said, looking at the two kings and three fives in his hand.

Scorpion was pleased with Myrmidon's personal thirty-five foot cruiser that carried radar capable of sweeping a thirty-mile radius, and he was more than happy to find that the four-stinger launched anti-aircraft missiles. “One must always be ready for anything,” Myrmidon had always said. The boat also had a tripod, concealed under a tarp that could hold an M-240B machine gun, located behind a hidden wall. The boat was nothing flashy and if a check was made, the Coast Guard would see that it was owned by a photography company in McKinney, Texas. Before leaving the cabin, Scorpion talked to Myrmidon alone and stressed the fact that the woman was not to be touched. Myrmidon watched Scorpion get on his jet skis and head back to Miami, which was nine miles away. He rejoined the card game and tried to stay focused, but he couldn't; something else was on his mind. He ordered his men to go on watch and prepare to move further south.

* * *

Back at Felix's mansion in Miami, Menage looked at his Rolex. It was a quarter to ten, and still no word from Detective Covington. He found himself in the same tight spot as earlier. Vapor lay asleep on the floor by his feet. Felix was now upstairs with Rosita. She took it hard when he told her about Chandra and her emotions were sincere.

Menage hated the fact that he could do nothing for Chandra. He thought of the worst, and his stomach turned. He balled his fists so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms. Sitting on his ass wasn't making him feel any better, and he didn't want to feel better; he wanted Chandra back. Ignoring the tears streaming down his face he stood up, and Vapor got up and stretched his front paws. Felix was at the top of the stairs when he reached the front door.

“Are you leaving?”

Menage stopped in his tracks. With his back facing Felix, he said, “Call me, Felix ... and don't hold nothing from me. I don't know if you ... we ... should tell 'em they got the wrong girl if Chandra hasn't told them by now. I just want my girl back and nothing or no one will stop me from doing what I have to do, because it ain't the same no more.”

By the tone of Menage's voice, Felix knew there was nothing he could do or say to stop him as he walked out the door with Vapor by his side.

The cool breeze outside caused Menage to turn up the collar of his Ecko windbreaker as he made his way toward his Escalade. Taking out the third row seats, he put Vapor in the back. Sitting behind the steering wheel, he sat back and wiped his eyes. Vapor whined and stuck his head between the two front seats to lick his face. Menage got a hold of himself and reached under his seat to feel the steel of the MP-10. Starting up the SUV, he looked back at the mansion to see Felix's silhouette in the doorway. Pulling out of the driveway in silence, he clenched the steering wheel with both hands, trying to control the madness and pain that overtook his body. His temples became tense as he flexed his jaws.

The silence was driving him to the point of no return. “CD three, song nine, volume mid,” he said turning on the system by voice command. Maximum volume would have been too painful for Vapor's ears, and he now stuck his head out of the window. Seconds later, “Smile” by Scarface began playing from the four fifteen-inch speakers. The song caused goose bumps to form over Menage's entire body. Squinting his eyes in a hateful gaze, he allowed the words of Scarface and Tupac to seep into his torn soul. With the music still playing, he came to a stoplight and paid no attention to the girls on the corner trying to get his attention. He was on another level—in a zone. Something inside of him told him that his life would never be the same again. Some muthafucka was touching him by taking his girl. He managed to smile as he gunned the ESV when the light changed. He knew he'd see his girl again and he knew he'd see the muthafucka who took her. When he did, he knew he'd ask them to smile for him as he emptied the clip of his Glock 9.
Smile for me ... won't cha just smile ... for me ...

* * *

DJ was laid back on his couch with his feet hung over the armrest, brushing small stems of weed from his shirt. He was on the phone with Lisa, yelling over his loud stereo system.

“So I figure I'll stay with you tonight,” Lisa said.

“Huh?” he said searching for his lighter. He was starting to dig Lisa. She didn't bug him if he didn't call or ask him a thousand questions. She was so down to earth and the sex was off the chain.

“Boy, turn the radio down so you can hear me!” she snapped.

“Hold on a sec,” he said reaching for the radio remote. “Okay, what you say now?”

Lisa sucked her teeth. “I said I might stay with you tonight. Can you pick me up from work?”

“Yeah, what time?”

“Uh ... 'bout midnight ... is that too late?”

“Nah, I'll be there. Whatcha think—I got a curfew or something?”

“Whateva, just be on time, DJ. Look, they just called me over the P.A. I'll see you later.”

When she hung up, he wondered if he should have told her about Menage and see if she could find out anything about him. He would have been surprised if she'd told him about Benita and Menage and even more surprised if she'd told him that the section Menage was in was guarded and off limits—even though it was an empty room which was unknown to her. DJ lit his freshly rolled blunt. Pulling deeply on the potent spliff, he closed his eyes and held the smoke deep in his lungs. Moments later, the coke-laced blunt had blurred his vision. Nodding his head to the music, his entire body seemed to pulse rapidly. He seemed to hear new words and beats in the song. Slowly exhaling through his mouth, he looked around his apartment.

“I ... I'm the nigga dat floss on dem dub deuce twinkies,” he said taking another pull on the coke-laced weed. He smoked half the blunt before putting it out. He felt damn good. There was money in the stash spot, coke was cut and now being shipped to its buyers and a new whip was sitting in the driveway next to his Escalade EXT—both on chrome. He thought of Tina, wishing he could see her one more time. “Silly- ass bitch!”

Menage stopped and ran his fingers across the crash bar of DJ's candy red Escalade. Next to it sat a platinum Corvette C-5 convertible with a kit. He didn't recognize either vehicle, but he figured that one of them was DJ's and the other belonged to company. He patted his leg, calling Vapor, and walked up to the door and rang the bell.

DJ was in the kitchen warming up pizza and talking on the phone with some young girl that just finished school and thought he was God's gift. She already had a threesome with him, and she found the experience pleasing and fascinating. The older woman that he brought to the hotel did things to her that had her trembling and drained by the end of the day, and she owed it all to DJ.

“Hold on a sec,” DJ said sighing angrily. He laid the phone on the table as he went to the door. He left the phone just in case it was another girl, even though he told them to always call first. But the coke, weed, and glass of Remy had him slipping. Convincing himself that it was a girl, he smiled and adjusted his erection in a way that caused a print; maybe it was a booty call. He flung open the door without asking who it was or looking through the peephole. His high quickly vanished as he stumbled back and fell on his ass. Menage stood in the doorway with hate in his eyes and gripped his Glock 9 behind his leg. Vapor sprinted into the apartment baring his fangs, emitting a low, deep growl. DJ's teeth chattered and his bladder became weak, warming his midsection.

* * *

Myrmidon walked into the small cabin with a tray of warm food for Chandra. Closing the door with his foot, he set the tray on a table in the corner.

“I'll take the cuffs off so you can eat,” he said reaching into his back pocket for the key. “And don't bother trying to escape; I doubt you can swim thirty miles to shore—not to mention the sharks. Anyway, I'm not a babysitter but you will talk to no one but me.”

When the cuffs came off, Chandra rubbed her swollen wrists and tenderly touched the bruise near her hairline.

“There's a first-aid kit under the sink in the bathroom ... I'll check on you later.” As quickly as he entered the cabin he was gone.

She listened to him lock the door from the outside. Maybe she could find a weapon—swimming was out of the question. She slowly made her way to the small bathroom and looked in the mirror. She was beyond tears now, so what she saw had no major effect on her. Her left eye was sealed shut. Searching for some pain pills, she suddenly realized that she was topless and her skirt was halfway torn from her body. She took off her ripped panties and tossed them in the trash. After searching the drawers back in the small room, she found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. They would have to do for now. After cleaning herself up as best as she could, she tried to stomach the food that was left for her; she needed the energy to go on. She kept telling herself over and over to be strong but she felt so scared, so alone. She faintly called out Menage's name and wished it were all a dream. She prayed for herself and her child until she curled up on the bed and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

“Yo, son, what the hell wrong wit' you?” Menage said putting away his Glock 9. “Easy, boy,” he said giving Vapor a quick rub to calm him down. He walked into the apartment and reached out his hand to help DJ up off the floor.

“You ... you ... y-you,” DJ stuttered as he stood up on rubber legs. He paid no attention to his pissy jeans. “Now dis some shit,” said DJ lost for words.

“But yo, nigga, we need to talk. And it's a long story.”

They stepped into the living room and Menage frowned his nose at the odd smell in the air. DJ, still shook, sat down—pissy jeans and all. As Menage told him about Felix's secret plan, DJ looked at him like he was a ghost. Vapor growled repeatedly at DJ and bared his fangs every time he looked at him. Finally the story was coming to an end.

“So, man,” Menage said looking off in the distance, “somebody got my girl and don't nobody know a fuckin' thing.” He covered his face with his hands and muttered something that DJ couldn't understand.

“So ... you been outta the hospital since ... Friday?” Menage nodded his head yes. “Uh ... so what you gonna do now, I mean—”

“DJ, fuck the chop shop, the dough, fuck all that shit; I'm out the game. I just want my shorty back, yo.” Then he asked DJ if he had company after remembering the two cars out front.

“Nah, not yet, but I got this chick coming over tonight. What's up?”

“Nothing really. I just peeped the two rides out front.”

“Oh, yeah. I got the truck last week and the 'Vette yesterday.”

Menage's mind was on other things besides asking DJ where he got the dough for the whips outside. DJ told him that he could crash in the spare room down the hall. He finally noticed after going to his room that he had pissed his pants. Mad with himself for having allowed Menage to put fear in his heart, he punched the wall and cursed him. He knew that silly-ass Tina would have a fucking fit when she found out that Menage was alive and well.
Fuck her.
If Menage were out of the game, the chop shop would be his. He just hoped that no one would find out who was behind the two hits. His mind went back to Tina and how she would probably spill it all if she ever got caught in a trap. DJ pondered the possible repercussions of killing Tina while he was in the shower.
What would Dwight do?

Menage was in the back room lying across the bed. He was fully dressed with the light on while Vapor lay curled up on the floor. Menage couldn't fully trust anyone and didn't plan on changing that fact. He looked up at the ceiling with his hand behind his head under the pillow, gripping his glock. He tried his best to stay awake, thinking it would do some good to be up for Chandra's sake. His mind said one thing, but his body said another. Sleep came easily and about half past midnight he awoke. He rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. He took off his holster and then his shirt. He walked out into the dark hallway to go to the bathroom when he bumped into someone and turned on the light.

“Oh, shit,” said Lisa taking a step back. “Damn ... you scared me.”

“My fault,” Menage said as Vapor poked his head between his legs to sniff Lisa. She looked at him from head to toe.

“You must be DJ's friend; he didn't tell me your name. Is that your truck out front?” When she saw his bare chest and the fresh wounds, she instinctively reached out to touch him.

“You need to put something on that. Hold on, I'll be right back.” Before Menage could stop her, she turned and went back down the hall. By the time he was done using the bathroom, Lisa was coming back down the hall. Menage wished she would just leave him alone. She followed him into the room with Vapor sniffing her feet.

“Do he bite?” she asked.

“Sit down, Vapor.” Vapor whined and retreated to the corner. Menage sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his shirt.

“No, just lay back and I'll put this on you,” she said holding a tube of ointment. Menage frowned. “Look, I'm a nurse and if you don't keep that clean it can and will get real messy. Now lay back. It won't take long.” Slowly he lay back, slipping a hand under the pillow behind his head.

“So that's your ride out front?” she asked again.

“Yeah,” he said as she gently began applying the ointment to his chest.