No Home Training (2 page)

“What up, my dude?”

“Shit, on our way down to the club. Did you handle that for me or what?”

“Yeah.” O.T. glanced over at London who was still a mess. “I got them in the stash and ol' girl sitting right next to me.”

“That lying bitch!” Storm blurted out trying to further defend himself in front of Kenya. “Fuck her!”

Kenya was still heated at her twin, but sick and tired of Storm and O.T. dogging her sister out. After all, Storm was right and had made a good point. She could've been just lying to get back at her. And considering all the drama she'd brought into London's once simple barely complicated life she did have it coming. “Y'all can stop speaking about her like that!”

“She ain't nothing but a troublemaker. Now I see why you kept the tramp a secret!”

“Listen, Storm! That's my blood!”

“Yeah, she the same blood who was about to turn you in to the rat-ass police,” he condescendingly lectured.

“What the fuck ever!”

O.T. had enough of hearing the two of them argue. “Hey, hey! Y'all can do all that nonsense later. Where y'all want me to take ol' girl? I got moves to make myself.”

“She ain't welcome or wanted back at my crib!” Storm harshly proclaimed as he drove.

Kenya took a deep breath and angrily snatched the cell phone out Storm's hand. “Let me talk to my damn sister!”

After a brief second and urging from O.T., London stubbornly got on the line. “Hello.”

“London,” Kenya hissed. “Why you take those guns out my house? What was you gonna do with them?”

“I don't know.” London puzzled. “I just—”

“And not only that. Why'd you lie on my man? You know y'all didn't have sex! He don't want you!”

“What! Is that what he told you?” London screamed making O.T. take notice. “Well he's partially right, we didn't have sex! He raped me!”

“He raped you!” Kenya shrieked in disbelief at her twin's outlandish claim.

“My brother did what?” O.T.'s reaction was instant shock. “Come the fuck on!”

“Yeah, that's right. Your precious man is nothing more than a cheating animal on the prowl. He held me down and raped me on your kitchen floor in front of the refrigerator!” London informed her sister as well as O.T. who was for once quiet. “I didn't want to do it! He made me!”

“Let me get this straight!” Kenya seethed with burning hatred as her stomach started to churn and her hands shivered. “You saying Storm forced his self on you? Is that right? Just like you claimed your college professor did?”

London was getting fed up. She was truly innocent having had just about enough of all the insults, attacks on her character, and now dragging things up from her past. “Not that the two incidents have anything in common maybe except the fact that both the guys are slime balls, your man assaulted me! On Gran's grave I promise!”

“Well he said he ain't touched you! Let alone take the pussy!”

“And you believe him?”

“Well, he said that.”

“Stop taking up for him, Kenya!” London begged wiping her face with an old piece of balled-up tissue out her purse. “He got you wrapped around his little finger!”

“He said he ain't touch you!” Kenya unconfidently repeated as she watched a nervous Storm grip up on the steering wheel as small beads of sweat started to form on his forehead.

“Stop saying that lie! I'm telling you what happened! He grabbed me from the back and knocked me down on the floor! I even scratched him across his neck trying to get him off me!” The aggravated twin ranted with rage. “But since you so busy defending his no-good butt, we'll just wait and see what happens in a few months then that'll convince you who's telling the truth.”

“Stop lying, London! Why you doing this?”

“I know you weren't trying to major in anything but boys when you were in school and, Kenya, I've always known you aren't the smartest apple in the bunch, but you can trust one thing for sure, DNA don't lie!”

“Naw! It ain't true!” Kenya trapped in denial finally let go all her tears. “You lying just trying to break us up! You lying, London! You lying! You just jealous 'cause I got a man and you don't! You always wanted to be me!”

“Here's a few words of advice my naive two-faced twin sister, instead of worrying about me and my baby breaking you two up, you need to be concerned with the judge breaking y'all criminals up when they arrest you for murder and him for all that drug dealing.”

With that exchange, a frustrated London folded her arms after handing the phone to O.T. who took it back, shutting it slowly, never saying a word as he drove off.

 

 

 

“How did you get that scratch on your neck?” Kenya turned her full attention back to interrogate Storm who now knew he was busted.

“What scratch? Don't let her get in your head!” He tried downplaying the million dollar question. “I don't know what you or her talking 'bout!”

“That one!” She pointed, deliberately digging her nails deep into his skin as she twisted his neck to reveal the obvious.

“That shit hurt!” He snatched back trying to keep his eyes focused on the narrow road. “You bugging!”

“Naw, you is! You did fuck her!” Kenya balled up her fist socking Storm hard as she could in the side of his neck causing the car to cross the lines into the next lane.

Pulling over to the side then slamming on the brakes he charged over at Kenya smashing her face against the passenger window. With his palm painfully pressing her cheek, his fingers tangled up in her hair. Holding his woman there as she helplessly gasped for air struggling to break free, Storm laid his law down. Kenya could feel his angry lips touch her ear as he spoke.

“I don't know what the hell happened that night with your damn sister, but I do know I'm a fucking grown-ass man and you ain't about to just keep putting your hands on me disrespecting a nigga like I'm not! So sit back, shut the fuck up, and know your role!” he hissed as his breath grew hotter. “Let me handle this situation at the club you and Paris created! Then we can deal with whatever! You understand?”

Kenya bossed up and determinedly refused to respond as the window her face was crushed against started to fog up and get misty.

“Did you hear me!” Storm demandingly applied more pressure while waiting for her answer. “I know you hear me talking to you! Don't you?”

“Yeah,” she finally muttered in a whisper, barely loud enough for him to make out. “I heard you.”

“Good, then chill!”

When Storm released her, Kenya opted for the time being to do just that, chill. Moving her matted hair out her tear-filled face, attempting to catch her breath, the exhausted female folded her arms furious, still full of questions with no answers seemingly in sight.

 

 

 

O.T. took London to a hotel that was all too familiar to her. It was the same place Kenya and she stayed when she first arrived in Dallas. After the incompatible, quiet couple checked in getting the plastic credit card–like room key from the front desk, they headed to the elevator. O.T. carried London's bags as he looked down toward her stomach wondering if his niece or nephew was actually growing inside of her.

“What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied stepping onto the elevator pushing the eighth-floor button. “Just thinking.”

“Oh, yeah.” London smirked with a sarcastic attitude. “I bet you were.”

When they reached the room, O.T. put the bags on the floor and slid the key in the sensor. No sooner than the light flashed green London reached over pushing the door open. Coming all the way in the navy blue and ivory white decorated suite, the pair stood silently staring at one another.

“Well.” O.T. was the first to speak. “Is it true or not?”

“Is what true?”

“Is you gonna have Storm's kid?”

“I'm pregnant. So yeah, it is true.”

“So y'all was fucking behind ya sister's back huh? You's straight-up grimy for that one, baby girl! But then again, a guy knows firsthand ya got that freaky bone in ya!”

“Naw, it wasn't like that!” London vehemently protested walking to the window turning her back shamefully on O.T. “Storm raped me! How many times do I have to say it?”

“Come on now, girl! My brother ain't never ever had to take the pussy from no bitch! Chicks be throwing the cat on him left and right, day after day!” he viciously argued raising his voice. “So why would he strong-arm ya silly, hot-ass?”

“You should be asking him why he did what he did, not giving me the third degree! And don't call me a hot-ass!” she yelled shoving him out her way running to the bathroom to throw up. “Go say that to your beloved Paris.”

“Whatever, tramp! Getting some of my brother's dick must've given you back your little confidence!” He flashed back to the afternoon she deep throated his manhood as he posted up in the doorway watching her down on her knees at the white porcelain toilet. “Don't forget, a nigga like me know better!”

“Fuck all you dirty, immoral crooks!” London directed as she wiped the corners of her mouth. “I'm going back home to Detroit!”

“Like I really give a shit! I was just giving your stank-ass a piece of conversation!” Busting out laughing, O.T. took his cell off his hip making a call to check on one of his dope spots. “I'm just glad I had the fucking sense to make you swallow my seed!” He choked up on his dick and nuts. “'Cause you on the ziggy nut boom around these parts!”

“How can you continue to be so mean and heartless day after day?” London got on her feet. “Didn't your parents teach you or your brother any manners?”

“Sorry me and him weren't like y'all. We wasn't born with no silver spoons in our mouth, so fuck you!”

“Shit! It's too late!” Storm hit the headlights so they could be incognito. “These dudes already here!”

A huge flatbed with flashing lights and several cars that Storm immediately recognized as some of Royce's soldiers surrounded Chocolate Bunny's car. With their cell phones in hand, Storm and Kenya could only assume the guys were conversing with their boss, informing him that his woman was nowhere to be found. As the couple hid near the dark edge of Alley Cats' parking lot where Kenya sat nervously regretting her earlier actions now realizing that she was in a world of trouble, her eye involuntary twitched.

“You think they know?”

“Hell naw!” Storm turned to face his woman. “You best believe if they found ol' girl it would've been more motherfuckers out here including the goddamn police!”

“I guess you right.”

“I know I am!” Storm confidently replied. Watching the group circle Chocolate Bunny's automobile as the tow truck driver attached the chains to hook up, Storm grew annoyed trying to figure out his next move. “What in the hell did you do to her whip?”

“I ain't do nothing.” Kenya spoke softly like someone other than her and Storm was inside the car. “That shit was on flat when the bitch finished her shift. Her and the rest of the girls came out and they was like that.”

“Somebody had to do something. Ain't nobody just gonna catch four flats at one time.”

“I said I didn't, so stop blaming me for the crap!” Kenya fumed getting louder when it dawned on her that not only had Paris involved her in murder; she'd obviously set the whole thing up by letting the air out the tires or slicing them.

Beep, beep, beep. The truck backed up, lights flaring and roared out the front of the lot, with Royce's boys following close behind on alert as if they were serving as personal body guards or pallbearers to Chocolate Bunny's fallen car.

“Okay, it's all good. I think they gone.” Storm threw the car in drive and cautiously crept to the rear entrance of the club near the Dumpsters where Kenya directed him to park. Glancing down at the car's digital clock before getting out, and looking up to the moon, which was rapidly disappearing, he schemed, realizing the time factor was crucial. “We should be able to fix this bullshit before the sun comes all the way up.”

“I hope so.” A tormented Kenya looked around for any signs of movement, putting one sneaker on the ground keeping the other in the car.

“Damn! Come on!” Storm motioned searching deep behind the second to the left black and gray huge metal containers that were serving as somewhat of a makeshift tomb. “I'm gonna need your help.”

Forgetting that less than thirty or so minutes ago they were at each other's throats, Kenya and Storm were now once again functioning as a team. Several strong yanks and a few tugs on the extra thick body, he soon thankfully unwedged the stiffening corpse. He couldn't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for Royce who not only was gonna suffer the loss of his girl, but his unborn child.

Furious that he was forced to dispose of a chick whose only true crime was shaking her ass to get that loot he shouted out orders in the empty parking lot to Kenya. “Do you at least got the alarm off and the door open yet?”

“Yeah,” Kenya did a quick search “I spy” peeking around the deserted building. “It's open.”

“Well come get her feet!” he demanded as he tried unsuccessfully to drag his suddenly deceased employee without ripping a gaping hole in the back of her head causing anymore incriminating evidence to spill into the concrete pavement. “This bitch heavy as shit! I can see stumping Nicole out, but damn ya had to kill her?”

“I told you I ain't have no choice. She had Paris's gun about to pull the trigger!” Kenya shut her eyes walking backward with her victim's ankles clutched in her hands.

After winning the battle of getting the body into the club, Storm tossed her onto the middle of the kitchen floor along with her scuffed sandals that had fallen off. Bam! The murdered dancer landed face first probably breaking a few bones that she didn't feel anyway. Storm then reached over hitting the light switch for the kitchen. Pushing her over on her back revealing the true ghastly sight of Chocolate Bunny live and in motherfucking color, he shook his head with disgust.

Her T-shirt and miniskirt were ripped from all the dragging to and from the dumpster and more than a couple of tracks from her $400 weave were hanging loose. With the apparent bloody wounds from the gunshots soaking her grimy clothes and the foul-smelling thick caked burgundy dried remains of her miscarried fetus in between her legs splattered on both thighs, she was center stage on display at Alley Cats one last time.

The usual hard core drug dealer closed his eyes briefly for a moment of silence out of respect for a female he'd stuck his dick in once or twice back in the day, then grabbed Chef Terry's always sharpened meat cleaver that was hanging on the kitchen's overhead rack and went to work. Keeping his mind preoccupied with the haunting memory of abuse he suffered at the hands of his stepfather he murdered as a youth, Storm's heart went numb.

Kenya's empty stomach bubbled in pain as she instinctively turned her face away trying to focus on the stainless steel walk-in refrigerator and the industrial-sized oven, hoping when she turned back in the other direction her victim would've somehow magically disappeared. But hell naw! No dice! Unfortunately no matter how hard the ex-stripper and drug mule turned business woman now murderer concentrated and prayed, she couldn't block out the haunting sounds of her man Storm who'd initiated his plan of disposing of “the problem” by hacking, cutting, slashing, and mangling skin, followed by twisting, ripping, and breaking bones that were on the very verge of rigor mortis.

With every limb that he mutilated the fatal gunshot sound seemed to echo repeatedly in Kenya's mind. Consumed with culpability for her drastic now regrettable actions she covered her ears with both hands, yet still couldn't drown out her guilt. The wrist, one leg, then the next, a snap severing the elbow and a clean crack of the neck all seemed not to bother Storm, who had it embedded in his brain that he was running interference, saving Kenya from a definite prison bid.

In about a solid hour the heinous deed was done and the body parts including Chocolate Bunny's undisturbed upper torso was stuffed into a huge oversized duffle bag and thrown into the trunk. Disinfecting the small work area he used for his ghetto version autopsy he then washed his hands with hot scalding water. After the weary couple snatched the security surveillance tapes out the recorder and reset the alarm system they drove off, merging in with the early morning rush-hour traffic.

“Instead of driving all the way out to the crib, I'm gonna drop you off at Paris's then get rid of that situation.” He signaled to the rear of the car. “You can clue that ho in and make sure she keeps her damn mouth shut.”

“Okay,” Kenya eagerly agreed not overly anxious to ride with a chopped-up dead body. “I got some stuff to tell her anyhow.” She raised her eyebrow letting Storm know that she wasn't done with the whole London and him thing.