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Authors: Tysha

BOOK: Young-Minded Hustler
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Monica pulled into the driveway and stopped short of the garage. “A'ight Jay, get the girls in the house,” Prince instructed.
Jayden pulled himself up slowly. His body hurt from the sudden movements but nothing could have kept him from protecting Brianna and Princess. He'd have given his own life to save theirs.
“It's okay, Brianna. You and Princess come on,” Jayden coaxed.
Brianna and Princess remained curled up, not moving. Monica had gotten out of the front seat and opened the back door for her sister.
“Oh my God, no!” Monica cried.
“What's wrong?” Prince demanded. His heart sank when he saw what had Jayden frozen and Monica panicked. “No, no, no!” Prince cried out from somewhere deep inside his soul.
Brianna and Princess hadn't moved. Princess was terrified and Brianna was in shock. The voices sounded like white noise to them. Brianna tried to sit up but her body ignored her brain's directions.
“Brianna, Brianna, baby, come on. You have to sit up,” Jayden begged.
“Brianna, please move, please,” Monica cried.
No movement from them could only mean death. Everyone began crying and begging Brianna to let Princess up. Still with no response.
Shy heard the screams and raced to the back door with Karl on her heels. She swung the door open, ready to fuss at the kids for making so much noise. Instead, Shy rushed to the car. When she saw Brianna holding her daughter, both covered in blood, Shy inhaled deeply and grabbed her chest to calm herself.
“Brianna, baby, it's okay. Come on and let me help you.” Shy spoke slow and soft. “Princess, sweetie, come to Mommy.” Shy fought back tears. She knew her daughter was alive. Her heart told her so. “Come on girls, it's safe. I'm right here.”
Brianna burst into tears when Shy began to stroke her back. Her body shook uncontrollably. Karl stepped past Shy and gently pulled Brianna upright. He carried her into the house with Jayden and Monica in tow.
“Mommy!” Princess screamed.
She was alive. Tears of pain became those of joy and relief. Seven-year-old Princess was the glue that held them all together. Without her, Shy knew Prince and Jayden would be forever lost. It was a miracle. God knew the McGee family couldn't survive another tragedy.
Chapter 36
Meanwhile . . . Across Town
Raequan pushed his old school, gold-toned Bonneville up McGuffey Road feeling as cocky as ever. Since discovering his true birth right, Raequan had made it be known that he was the oldest son of Legend a.k.a. Melvin McGee. He told every street hustler, hood rat, friend, and enemy alike that he, not Prince, was in line to take over the family empire. The reins were his for the taking.
His entire life, Raequan had tried to emulate someone. All he knew how to do was stand in someone else's shadow and mirror the way they moved. As B-Boy's son, Raequan became a liar and a thief. He took advantage of every situation and relationship that presented an opportunity for him to get over. He had no identity of his own. All of their lives, Raequan had schemed to be exactly like Prince. To Raequan, Prince's life, in comparison, was better than his own. Prince's mom was more attentive, affectionate, and loving. Prince's looks outshined his own. Raequan was no match for Prince whatsoever. Being jealous-hearted came natural to Raequan; he got it from his momma. Receiving confirmation that he was a McGee was equivalent to being crowned king of the prom. The title was his; it didn't matter that he got it by default.
One Way's classic hit song “Cutie Pie” bumped from the Bonneville's speakers as Raequan approached his destination. He purposely arrived to the meeting an hour late. Raequan figured Sam, Rex, and Tyrell could wait. They needed him more than he needed them. Arrogance was the reason behind Raequan's disrespect for the game. He didn't understand that a man's word was important. Not too many people would deal with Raequan anymore. He didn't have a friend left after word leaked about him trying to shoot down Prince. Any respect he had left in the game dwindled when rumor on the street was that Raequan set his own mother up to be robbed and beaten. The streets wanted him gone. There was no room in the game for snakes. Raequan thought respect and fear went together like cake and ice cream. He was wrong.
“This is trippin'. He got the game fucked up if he thinks somebody's kissing his ass,” Sam barked.
“Here that bitch-ass nigga come now,” Rex reported while looking out of the front room window.
“A'ight, let's be 'bout it and get this shit under our belts. Play ya role,” Tyrell instructed.
The three street hustlers had distain for Raequan. They'd all gone to school together and had never liked Raequan. He was tolerated because of Prince. After being in juvenile detention with Raequan and Prince, the three-man team came to hate Raequan even more. Tyrell knew how loyal Prince had always been to Raequan. The way he'd played Prince was unforgivable. Unbeknownst to Raequan, he would soon find out just how much he meant to the streets.
“What up, niggas,” Raequan's words dripped with arrogance as he walked in the house.
“Yo, dude, we ain't that cool. You ain't gon' be just walkin' up in my crib,” Sam fumed.
“My bad, nigga. No disrespect.” Raequan gave a fake apology. He took a seat on the black leather sectional and got right down to business. “I trust we're good on that?” Raequan sought confirmation that the cocaine was within arm's reach.
“Yeah, my man, we good,” Sam replied.
Sam was a natural-born criminal. He never made a move without analyzing the potential cons and pros of every situation. He didn't have to dissect his dealings with Raequan. The contract to take care of Raequan was like a dream come true. Sam knew Raequan's greed would make it easy to get next to him and, as expected, Sam was right.
“I don't see no bundles. You ready, nigga?” Rex smirked in reference to the additional money Raequan owed the crew.
“Don't even disrespect me like that. I always got mine,” Raequan said, cocky.
“Word.”
Rex opened the black suitcase to show Raequan his cut of the product they'd stolen from Cherise. Raequan tried not to show his excitement. When he'd hired Tyree, Sam, and Rex to rob his mother, Raequan knew they could handle the job. Raequan had lost what little respect he had for his mother when the paternity results were revealed. He held a lot of animosity about the entire situation toward his mother, which only fueled him to be on top. It was time for him to be the boss, his time to take over. His black heart made it comfortable for Raequan to step on his own mother's back to climb to the top.
“Good job, niggas. Let me get what's mine and y'all got the rest. Job well done.” Raequan gave a light-hearted laugh. He'd given the crew instructions to steal Cherise's stash of money and product. It was a simple task with the keys and lock combinations having been provided. Raequan assured his hired hands that there was very little risk of being caught. They too figured Cherise would never suspect her son of such betrayal.
Time ticked by and Rex and Sam had become anguished. They had business to take care of and wanted to get it popping. Raequan was beneath them and did not deserve to continue breathing their air.
“Where's the bread, my man?” Tyrell quizzed. He too was ready to get work started.
Raequan went out to his car and returned with a duffle bag full of money. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning. The dope and money were his ticket to becoming somebody on the streets. It was time for Prince to fall off, as far as Raequan was concerned. His life had been hell because of the parents he was cursed with but no more. Raequan was determined to leave them both behind while he rose in the ranks.
“It was nice doing business wit' you, dude. 'Til next time.” Raequan grabbed the suitcase and turned toward the door.
“My man, I'ma need you to do me a favor before you dip,” Sam said through an evil smirk.
“What up?” Raequan answered.
“Put that case back down and empty ya pockets,” Sam instructed.
Tyrell and Rex pulled out their guns and aimed at Raequan's head.
“Fuck is dis?” Raequan asked in total surprise.
“You know what this is, nigga. We decided to keep all of the dope and ya money. Now, do like my man said and empty ya pockets,” Rex said before patting Raequan down. He knew if Raequan had any sense about him, he came through the door strapped. Rex was wrong.
“You need to be jacked. What true nigga comes into a deal without his shit on his hip?” Tyrell laughed.
“Y'all niggas fuckin' up fo' sho. You think I ain't comin' for y'all head behind this bitch-ass shit? Fuck's up?” Raequan thought it might've been a joke. He emptied his pockets of their contents and threw his hands above his head. Rex and Tyrell each grabbed an arm and twisted it behind his back. Raequan's hands were immediately duct taped.
“Take this nigga in the bathroom and make him strip,” Sam instructed his cohorts.
Rex and Tyrell pushed their victim down the small hallway and into the bathroom. Raequan knew his time was up. There was no way he would walk out of the house. Even with all of the dirt he'd done to people, Raequan felt he hadn't earned such a fate.
“Ty, go take care of his ride. We'll be right behind you. Rex, take his shit out back and burn it in that pit like we planned. I got dis one alone,” said Sam.
“Repent now, nigga, you're done.” Rex pushed Raequan into the shower stall.
“Come on, Sam, we cool, dude. We came up together; how you gon' play me like dis?” Raequan cried.
“It's how the game's played. Your deal was good but not good enough. Anyway, I ain't ever liked ya bitch ass.”
Raequan was so frightened, he pissed his pants.
“See, bitch-ass nigga,” Sam said in response to Raequan's bladder releasing. He grabbed Raequan roughly by the neck and slammed him against the tiled wall.
“Sam, man, don't do this. Please, man, listen, we cool, just let me go.” Raequan continued to cry and beg for his life. His words landed on deaf ears. Sam was having fun. He'd accepted the job with no hesitation. The money was great but Sam would've done Raequan for free.
“Fuck you, nigga,” Sam responded. He took hold of Raequan's shirt and spun him around. With Raequan's back to him, Sam put the 9 mm to his neck and pulled the trigger.
Raequan's body fell to the floor with a thud. Sam kicked Raequan in the face for one final insult and left the bathroom. He had no remorse or second thoughts about taking a man's life. Sam was a natural-born criminal and would forever live like one.
Rex had the car running and in drive. Fire from the back of the house was already creating gray smoke when Sam hopped into the car.
“We good?”
“We great, nigga. Let's ride.” Sam smiled.
“I hope that fire don't backfire on us,” Rex said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“They need to find his body. We need this all over the news for two reasons,” Sam began.
“So the hit will be confirmed is number one. What's the second reason?” Rex asked, perplexed.
“To let the streets know it's less one parasite.” Sam laughed.
Sam and Rex picked Tyrell up from the junkyard where the owner had instructions to crush the car immediately. The old man had already paid him handsomely to do so. Unfortunately, the next morning it was reported that Raequan Jackson had been found bound and shot in the neck. He was alive and in critical condition. If Raequan lived, he'd be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Even if Raequan pulled through, he wouldn't have much of a life to live.
 
 
Cherise was shocked when the doctor released her so soon after being admitted. A nurse explained that it was standard procedure to send home patients who underwent a mastectomy, hysterectomy, and various other procedures. Early release is very hard on patients who have no one to take care of them at home. The day she was released from the hospital, Cherise was surprised to see Tara and Nyla. They were a godsend. They'd cleaned her house after the police released the crime scene. At one time, Cherise had been like a little sister to Tara. Despite anything Cherise had done, she did not deserve to be the victim of a home invasion. Tara had enlisted Nyla to help get the house together for Cherise. Cherise was grateful. Tara and Nyla's help made a bad situation easier to handle.
Cherise lay in her queen-sized bed, crying. Her physical body was still recovering from the beating it took, and emotionally, Cherise was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The depth of depression Cherise had sunken into destroyed any thoughts of climbing out. She'd been in the bed for over a week. Life outside of her bedroom was too overwhelming. Fear kept Cherise from descending on to the first floor of her house. Every inch of it caused quick flashes of the brutal attack to invade her mind. Cherise refused to put herself through more emotional pain.
“I can't do this. I have to get out of here,” cried Cherise.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and climbed out of bed. The walls were closing in on her inch by inch. Cherise needed a place to take refuge until she pulled it together. There was no way she could recover living in her house.
“I'm going to get a suite somewhere. Come on Cherise and think.”
Cherise continued talking to herself from the time she got in the shower until a hotel manager finished up the paperwork needed for her to move into an extended-stay hotel. She only had two suitcases to unpack. It didn't take long for Cherise to get settle. Her cell phone had been ringing all morning. The phone displayed a number but no name so Cherise chose not to answer. After sending the call to voice mail a couple of times, Cherise answered with attitude.
“This is Northside Hospital calling for Miss Cherise Peters-Jackson,” said a woman.
“This is she speaking.” Cherise tried to sound proper.
“I'm sorry to inform you that your son Raequan Jackson was brought in last night with a single gunshot.”
Cherise gasped and grabbed the wall to keep from falling on the floor.
“What happened? Is my son okay?”
“No, ma'am, he isn't. He's already undergone emergency surgery. There are many forms to be completed that allow us to give him the best care possible. Please get to the hospital as soon as possible. He's in the ICU. We will be looking for you.” The woman spoke with compassion.
Cherise's heart raced and her breath became short. She felt a panic attack coming on. Cherise fought against it. Her son needed her. She would have to grieve for herself later.
A short, middle-aged nurse called for the surgeon when Cherise arrived. All Cherise could do was look at her baby through the thick glass window. What she saw scared her to no end. There were tubes, machines, and various other medical equipment attached to Raequan's frail body. Raequan was unrecognizable. His face was swollen to twice its size and had turned black and blue. A machine breathed for him. Cherise felt both hopeless and helpless.
The doctor explained Raequan's dire condition to Cherise as best he could.

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