Justify My Thug (19 page)

“… You know like I know who killed Stephon!”

“I don't know anything, Tasha. All this shit has got me feeling like I'm living in the
Twilight Zone.
You and this nigga Kyron fuckin', the baby growing in your stomach and us not knowing who the father is, you running off to be with that nigga. And now Stephon getting murked. Oh, and how could I forget … you in a jealous rage, pushing Charli down a flight of stairs. I don't know much about anything right now.”

“That's bullshit, Trae, and you know it. Granted, I'll give you all that other shit you just said, but somebody shooting my fuckin' cousin fifteen times—you know damn well who's behind it. Fifteen times made it personal, and you of all people should know that. That was over kill. It sent a message, Trae. And I heard it loud and clear. Charli Li, your little Chinese bitch had Stephon killed.”

“Didn't I tell you to watch your fuckin' mouth on the phone? Believe me I'm just as fucked up about Stephon as you are, but we can't go jumping to conclusions. We don't know what else Stephon might've been into. He could've gotten mixed up in some shady shit. You can't—”

“Too much of a coincidence, don't you think? I get Stephon to get Ms. China Ho to the club. I push her down some stairs and now he's dead. C'mon, Trae—this was her—them, all day.

“Listen to what you just said.
You
got Stephon to get her there.
You
pushed her down the stairs.
You
assaulted her at our house that day.
You,
not Stephon. So why kill him and not
you?
It ain't like you or I are hard to find.”

“You just told me to watch my fuckin' mouth over the phone. Now listen to you!”

I hung up on him mainly because it was the truth.

My uncle taking the podium caught my attention as I tried to become absorbed in his every word and not the conversation I had had with Trae.

I stood in the back of the church and watched as family member after family member took to the pulpit and shared memories of my cousin Stephon. Stephon's father Bill, my mother's brother, and I never saw eye to eye. So I didn't fuck with him. I always resented him. When the state took me, Tasha and Kevin into custody and made us a part of the system, he never came to get us or try to get us back. He could've took us in, but he didn't and I couldn't bring myself to forget or forgive that sin. The situation with my parents being on drugs, my little brother getting killed at the age of nine and the state taking us into custody, that shit would break the average kid. But me, I've never been the average kid. By the time I was fourteen, I had done a little of everything. Even murder. Yes. Me, I killed someone. Don't let the stilettos and blow jobs fool you. Stephon was the one who found out that Turner, an older drug dealer, had killed my brother Antoine over some drugs that my mother smoked. Nobody, not even Tasha knew it, other than Stephon because he was with me the day I found Turner and killed him. And it was that day, Stephon told me he was going to Law School to be a lawyer, in case I was ever charged with Turner's murder he could defend me. As the memory played back in my mind a sharp pain rippled through my heart as I asked myself where I was when he needed me to defend him?

As the three of us were shuffled from one foster home to the next, Stephon was the only one that kept in touch and did shit for us. And for that, I'm grateful. He always begged me to come to Cali and go into business with him, but I always refused. I told him that I was content with the East Coast dirt, fog and cold winters. For me, it's all about the bricks. My motto was I'ma live and die a Jersey girl. Plus, I told him that I only fucked with the East Coast niggas, those bird flippin', Timberland and North Face rockin' and big dick slingin' niggas. As Biggie Smalls said, money, clothes and bro's that's all a bitch knows. Stephon always laughed me out, said he felt me and from time to time he would throw me a few ends. He was loyal like that. It's crazy but that all seems like it was centuries ago. And now between him and Tasha I am worn down. But look at me! I live on the West Coast but still gettin' that East Coast dick. I guess old habits are hard to break.

Looking back on everything I knew that my life was a mess. Our rough life in the system had hardened me and turned me into a money-hungry, balla chaser. But, I am what I am.

As I listened to my sister Tasha tell the world why she'd miss Stephon, my blood boiled because he shouldn't be dead. He was too young. Just like Antoine. The same uncontrollable rage and hunger for revenge that I felt years ago was back. My cousin was ambushed and executed. And I wanted to know by who and why? But even if I never found out the why, I'd settle for the who, so that I could do exactly what I did for my brother all those years ago. Kill for him.

At first I thought I lost her by default. The day that Tasha told me she had to go back to California, for some reason, I had a sense of foreboding. I was sure that she'd hook back up with Trae and put an end to our wonderful fuck game leaving me high and dry. I never factored in a death in the family. I had gotten that news from Kendrick. He was teasing me, saying that I was like Jaheim, sitting around and hoping that she'd find her way back to love. I said nigga you got me fucked up. But who would have thought that me,
that nigga,
would be feenin' for my man'z wife? I said nigga you got me fucked up. Definitely not me. But I was and apparently Shorty must've been feenin' for me just as bad. Because as soon as her cousin's funeral was over, she flew back to New York. Right back to me.

I had Shorty up on the kitchen counter fucking the shit out of her. She made a wisecrack about me busting a nut before she got hers, so we had to play a little game of show and tell. I had to
show
her that she ain't got nothing to worry about. And once I got her to come three times, back-to-back, that would
tell
her that I'm that nigga. Now she can barely hold herself up. You couldn't
tell
me shit.

I was deep dick inside of her, had one leg in the crook of my arm, the other one was wrapped around my waist. I wasn't moving. Her pussy was so wet I could feel her juices sliding on my nuts. I was simply waiting for her to say the word and I was going to finish knocking the bottom out. “You want to go again? What?”

“Unh uh,” she whispered.

Shorty was done. You could stick a fork in her. But it was too bad. I didn't feel sorry for her. I needed to get mine off so I started workin' it. She moaned my name and dug her fingernails into my shoulder and back. The name calling shit and fingernail digging only turned me on more. It looked like her eyes rolled back into her head. Even though she was damn near out she was ridin' my dick real nice and I had to give her props for that. You talkin' about a chick breakin' me off, her fuck game was sick. I clearly understood why Trae was going all out on his manhunt for his wife. Shorty started ridin' me faster. She was getting ready to cum. Her pussy muscles were clamping around my dick and I couldn't even move my lips to talk. I could only make sounds, that's how good the pussy was. I grabbed onto the corner of the counter because I couldn't feel my knees. Shorty was hollering and gettin' hers off. My superman cape fell to the floor. I couldn't hold it no longer. It felt as if I released buckets of cum.

This nigga was a damn beast in the dick department. He was exactly what I needed to get my mind off of Stephon's death, Charli Li and Trae.

“Shorty, marry me,” he asked again. And again it was right after he got his nut off. He let my legs down and started kissing me lightly on the neck. “Marry me.”

“I'm already married.”

“Divorce him.”

“I'm trying.”

“So what's the problem?”

“It's not that simple.”

“Tell me yes and I'll take care of shit. I'll make it simple.”

“How Kyron?” I needed to hear this. “I know you don't think that I want something to happen to Trae?”

“Don't worry about how. Just tell me yes.”

“Kyron, he is not going to allow this. Trust me.”

“No, Shorty. You
trust
me. Is that a yes?”

I took my time answering. But I said what he wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

I had just stepped out of the shower and was brushing my teeth when I heard what sounded like Aisha yelling out somebody's name. I shrugged it off thinking that I was trippin'. But as soon as I turned the water in the sink off, I heard it again. I heard her say, “Uncle Trae.”

I knew he'd find me. Quickly, I crept into my bedroom and dressed in jeans, a wife beater and slip on loafers. Then I grabbed my burner out the top of my closet. Not knowing exactly what Trae had come to my house for made me chamber a round. I put the 9 mm in the small of my back to conceal it.

“Daddy! Daddy! Uncle Trae is here!” Aisha yelled as if all of
her favorite characters from
Toy Story 3
was at the door.

Calming my nerves, I walked down the steps to face the man that I believed killed my cousin.

“Daddy, do I have to go to camp today?” Aisha asked as soon as she saw me. She was hugging Trae's waist. “Can I stay here with you and Uncle Trae? Please! Please! Please!”

I gave Trae a head nod and turned to my daughter. “Your bus will be here in a few minutes, baby, what am I supposed to tell all your friends? I'll make sure that you see Uncle Trae after you get out of camp. He might even pick you up. How about that?”

“That would be super. Uncle Trae, you gonna take me to your house, right? I wanna see the Twins!”

“The Twins are in Florida, but they'll be back soon. They miss you. I miss you. Everybody misses you.”

“I miss everybody, too. Auntie Tasha, Auntie Angel, Mommy …”

“I know, baby. I'll make sure that you see everybody, okay?” My man told my daughter.

“Promise, Uncle Trae?”

“Promise.”

I watched Trae bend down and hug Aisha. She held onto him tight as if she knew that she'd never see him again. Then a horn blew outside. Aisha grabbed her book bag and ran out the door.

“You just up and disappeared on us, yo.” Trae said as soon as the front door slammed shut. “How was Florida?”

“It's good to see you too,” I replied as we stood across from each other.

“You sure look sober. That rehab joint in Florida was a real good look.”

“Cut the bullshit, Trae. Just as sure as you're standing in my
living room here, you know I never went to no fuckin' rehab in Florida.”

“I don't know shit, son. How about you fill me in. Starting with Kyra. Where is she?”

“Straight like that, huh? No, how you doing or nothing?”

“You know I ain't come all the way to West Bumblefuck Kentucky to bullshit. There's a lot of worried people back home, so again, where the fuck is Kyra?” Trae walked over to the bar, grabbed a stool and sat on it.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. It felt like Trae was staring through my soul. Shit. I felt naked in front of this nigga. At that moment shit started flashing in front of my eyes like I was watching it on High Def. I started seeing scenes of me taking Kyra through all the bullshit once I started getting high again. I saw the day that she first confronted me about the dope she found in my dirty laundry. I saw the day she brought my daughter to the dope house. I saw her with that cop nigga, Rick. I saw her lying in the car with a bullet in her head.

All I did was ask this nigga a simple question and now he standing over there looking all spaced out and shit. This nigga must be still getting high. Either way, it won't matter in a little while. I'ma make all his pain and suffering go away.

“Yo, Marv, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

The focus came back to his eyes. Marvin dropped down on the couch and put his head in his hands. “I fucked up. Now I'm lost without Babygirl.”

“What the fuck happened, yo? How did you fuck up? Again, where is Kyra?”

“He shot her … it happened so fast. I thought they were bullshittin'. I shot one of em' … then Fish … Fish—”

“Fish? Who the fuck is Fish? Who shot Kyra?”

“I got out of the car to go and talk to Fish … after I shot Junie, Mook froze up. He had a gun pressed against Kyra's head. I thought that … Fish had killed Mook. Then he shot Kyra.”

“Who the fuck is Fish?” I asked again.

“My cousin. He wanted to rob me. He sent Junie and Mook at me. I was slippin … the dope had me … I couldn't see—”

“Kyra was shot and you did what? You left her?” I asked already knowing the answer.

“She was dead, yo. We were dirty. I wasn't thinking, couldn't think. Lo kept telling me to come on … that was the last time I saw her.”

“Where's her body, Marvin?”

“I don't know,” he replied and closed his eyes.

“You mean to tell me you just left your wife's body there? You didn't even think about giving her a decent burial? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hers wasn't the only one. We left other bodies—”

“Fuck everybody else! I'm talking about Kyra.” I was now yelling at this nigga. He was too long to tell me what I came to hear.

“I told you we were dirty. We had to leave before the cops came.”

Standing up, I shouted, “Dirty? What you did to Kyra was dirty, muthafucka.” I pulled my gun out of my waist. “You deserve more than death,” I said as I cocked one in the chamber. “Let me ask you one more thing, what happened to Rick?”