When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) (10 page)
Authors: Tamicka Higgins
“Bitches, get your damn clothes back on,” Bryon said. “I gotta run and do something. And y’all can’t stay in my house while I’m gone. Hurry up and get your clothes on.”
Byron grabbed his phone and the two woman watched his backside as he walked out into the hallway and headed downstairs. He quickly slid back into his clothes in the living room and grabbed his car keys.
“Bitches, come on!” Byron yelled upstairs.
Rushing, Cynthia and Rene came walking down the stairs. “This nigga is straight trippin’,” Cynthia said. “How you just gon’ hop up out the bed in the middle of the night and say we gotta leave?”
Byron shook his head, not liking how slowly the girls were moving. “Come the fuck on,” he said. Byron grabbed one pile of clothes, not even looking at which was which, and tossed it at Cynthia. He then did the same with the other pile, tossing it to Rene. Each woman caught a majority of the clothes. When they bent over to pick up smaller pieces of clothing that had fallen out of their arms, they heard Byron opening the front door. Cold, fall wind rushed into the house.
“What the hell, nigga,” Cynthia said.
Rene held the bundle of clothing up to her chest. “Oh my God,” she said, her suburban upbringing coming out in her voice.
“I told y’all bitches to hurry up,” Byron said. “I got to go and shit. Ain’t got time for this.” The longer Byron waited, the more he was sure that Knight and Juan not answering his text messages or phone calls was a sign that something had happened. Byron grabbed Cynthia’s arm and pulled her over to the doorway and pushed her out into the front yard. He then did the same with Rene, who was a little more resistant and heavier. Within seconds, both women were out in the floor yard. They both stumbled on a step and toppled over into the front yard, rolling over onto their stomachs. Both woman jumped up and rushed toward the front door with worried looks on their faces. No sooner than the two of them had stepped up onto the stoop, Byron had closed the door in their faces. They heard the lock turn.
Byron rushed downstairs and got into his car. When he pulled out of his garage and rolled slowly down his driveway, he looked over at Cynthia and Rene through his rolled-down window.
“I’ll be back in a little bit,” he said, waving.
“Nigga, you ain’t have to put us outside naked and shit,” Cynthia yelled, visibly angry.
“Girl, you just mad that your ass was too ghetto compared to your friend there,” Byron said, pointing at Rene. “She actually got ass and class. You just got ass. Y’all be all right. If you woulda just put your clothes on like I said, you wouldn’t be out here.”
Byron pulled out of his property and turned down the street, making his way down the curvy street that exited his subdivision. In his front yard, Cynthia looked at Rene as the two of them began to get dressed as quickly as they could. Once they’d jumped up and down enough to slide into their tight jeans, they’d gotten into a full-blown argument. The two women, not even having had the time to slide into their sandals, were now fighting. They threw arms back and forth, both a little high and a little drunk.
Byron drove to the interstate and quickly headed toward the city. Slowly, the space on either side of the interstate transformed. At first, it was thick wooded areas, pitch dark under the night sky. As he got closer and closer to the city, passing by the expressway to O’Hare International Airport, buildings crept up at the sides of the highway. Once he was in view of downtown Chicago, he pulled his phone out. It had been an hour or so since he’d begun to text and call Juan and Knight, and there was still no answer. Byron pushed his accelerator in, shaking his head. “These niggas done fucked this shit up,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
For the next ten minutes or so, Byron drove through the north side of Chicago. When he passed through downtown Chicago, he had to slow down, as the police loved to pull people over and see if they’d been drinking. He kept his cool, however, and continued on until he got off of the highway. Just as his luck would have it, Byron caught every red light between the interstate and his grandmother’s neighborhood. Once he pulled down her street, slowly making his way down the narrow street with parking on both sides, his eyes zoomed in on the house.
As Byron pulled up and parked out front, he contemplated going around back. He shook that idea off, deciding that he’d probably be better off walking around the side of the house so he could get a feel. He started to think that maybe Juan and Knight had fallen asleep, but he questioned how likely it was that they’d fall asleep so hard that neither of them would hear their phones ringing.
Byron walked up to the yard and stopped, noticing a car parked in front of the house. He took a moment to look at the neighbors’ houses, on either side. He tried to think if he’d ever seen this car before. When he hadn’t, he realized that maybe Juan and Jackson had found a little company to have over. With that in mind, he decided he’d go ahead and do the real nigga thing. He’d walk through the front door.
Byron walked up to the front door and let himself inside. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he announced, “Juan! Knight! Where y’all niggas at?”
When Byron shut the door he flipped the light on. He stopped dead in his tracks just inside of the front door, in the living room. He looked at two thick women, who he did not know, tied to the banisters in the wall. He then saw Juan and Knight, who both looked shaken. They were tied up so tightly all they could do was face forward. They all were naked.
“What the fuck happened here?” Byron asked, walking up to the dining room doorway. Just then, he thought about his company and looked toward the bedroom hallway. “I swear to God, if y’all niggas let them get outta here…” he said, his words trailing off.
Byron pushed past Juan, walked around the dining room table and into the bedroom hallway. As Byron moved, Knight’s eyes darted around as he was in fear of Byron and his wrath. He knew everything would change the moment he saw that Tramar and Jackson had come and gotten their company.
“What the fuck!” Byron yelled from the bedroom. He came rushing back into the room and stood looking at the four tied-up adults. “Y’all niggas let them get away? Are y’all fuckin’ kiddin’ me? How the fuck did they get out of the room? And who the fuck are these big booty hoes and shit you got here at my fuckin’ grandma’s house.”
“W-w-well,” Knight began, stuttering.
Byron looked at him then down at his small, exposed manhood. He snickered and slapped Knight across the face with the back of his hand. “Shut your little dick self up,” he said. “I knew there was some reason I couldn’t stand to listen to your dumb ass talk. Shut the fuck up and look down at that, little ass dick.”
Knight immediately stopped speaking, hoping that Byron would show him some mercy since he’d never really been in charge of what he and Juan did for him. Byron became even more enraged. Violently, with all of his strength, he slapped Knight across the face and told him again, “What the fuck I say, nigga? What the fuck I say?”
Without thinking, Knight dropped his head and looked down between his legs. Byron now turned his attention to Juan. “Nigga, what the fuck happened?”
“Man,” Juan said, hesitantly, knowing that Byron was not going to like what he was about to say. “We was chillin’ and shit, you know kickin’ back and relaxin’ and shit. There was somebody at the door. They said that they was your neighbor, and they even said your name and shit, which told us that they might know you and think that I was you and shit.”
“Uh huh,” Byron said, trying to contain his anger. “And?”
“So, I opened the door and they rushed in and shit,” Juan explained. “It was them two niggas, both of them had guns and shit. They was sayin’ something about somebody had told them that your grandmother used to live here or somethin’, but I don’t really know what they was talkin’ about.”
“And y’all niggas just open the door and shit for people you don’t even know without havin’ your guns drawn and shit?” Byron said. “What kinda niggas do some shit like that? Open fuckin’ doors without havin’ any heat?” He looked at Knight. “And what the fuck was this sorry ass nigga doin’ when you was up and openin’ the door and shit? He ain’t have his heat ready so he could watch your back?”
Juan hesitated, not wanting to answer the question. Byron took that as a no. “Is you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he said, very angrily. “Is you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, nigga? You ain’t even climb out the pussy to have your boy’s back and shit, and you just gon help them niggas run up in here?”
“Sorry, Byron,” Knight said, trying to be a grown man and hold back his tears. “I ain’t think he was gon’ open the door and shit. I just thought he was goin’ over there to look out. Next thing I know, he opened the door and shit, and they in here with guns pointed at us.”
Byron snickered and shook his head. In a quick swoop, he slid his belt off. He’d already grown tired of talking, especially with Knight. With his small manhood exposed, and his excuses, Byron had lost all respect for him. With the veins in his arms bulging, Byron gripped his belt as he slashed Knight all over his body. Knight yelled, begging Byron to stop. Tears now strolled down his cheeks from the pain and stinging all over his body.
“Shut your little dick ass up,” Byron said. “Shut the fuck up cryin’, nigga. Shut the fuck up!”
Knight held in the tears as Byron continued unmercifully. When Byron noticed that Juan was snickering at what his buddy was going through, Byron turned to him. He began to do the same thing, while not going as hard on Juan as he’d gone on Knight. When Byron finished slashing Juan, he looked over at Knight. Once again, his eyes couldn’t help but notice the embarrassment between the grown man's legs. For that reason, he lashed Knight several more times before walking away, still enraged. When he turned around, he looked at the tied-up idiots. “I’mma kill them niggas, Tramar and Jackson,” he said. “They just don’t know that I’m bout to hunt they asses down and shit.”
With that thought in mind, Byron pulled open the front door. “Can you please untie us?” one of the girls asked. “We will do anything,” she added.
Byron stopped and went back. Since he knew that the girls were complete strangers to the situation, he showed a little mercy on them. Plus, they were certainly thick in all the right places. “I see these niggas been spendin’ some money to get some good pussy like this over here,” he said as he broke the tape with a knife he’d gotten from the kitchen. Within minutes, the two women were free.
Byron told them to hurry up and get gone before he thought to do something else with them. The two women rushed into the living room, slid into their clothing as fast as they could, and darted out the door. Byron was walking out behind them when he’d heard Juan say, “What about us, nigga?”
Byron looked back at them, his nostrils flared. Lashes covered Knight’s body as the grown man felt helpless, beaten, and humiliated from being exposed. He shook his head before going over to Juan. He grabbed the back of the chair and pulled it into the kitchen, putting Juan in the back, by the pantry. This way, if he tried to yell, it would be a lot harder for people outside of the house to hear him. Byron then went and stood in front of Knight.
“Now,” Byron said. “What I’mma do with the little dick nigga?”
Knight shook his head side to side, wishing that he could just die at that moment. “I’m so sorry, Byron,” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry. I ain’t see what he was doin’, I swear.”
Byron had heard enough of Knight’s excuses. The humiliated man needed to be the example first, then he would worry about what to do with Juan. Byron grabbed the back of Knight’s chair and pulled him until he was out on the front porch. Knight fidgeted, realizing that he was being taken outside, naked. “Stop,” he said. “Byron, man, you ain’t got to do this. You ain’t gotta take it this far, man. I swear, man. You ain’t gotta do all this.”
Byron slapped the back of Knight’s head as if he were a bitch before pulling the front door closed. He then turned Knight toward the front of the house, to where he now faced the sidewalk that led down across the front yard and out to the street. Anybody walking by tonight and in the morning would be able to look up onto the porch and see Knight in his entirety. Byron stepped off the porch, leaving the humiliated Knight on the porch stairway. He begged and pleaded to be taken back in the house, not wanting to be exposed to the world this way. Byron got in his car, lowered his window, and pulled out of his parking space. He rolled by Knight, who was helplessly fidgeting. “Be there when I get back and maybe I won’t kill your little dick ass, nigga,” he yelled before accelerating down the block.
Knight sat there, dropping his head down. All he could do was hope that Byron would be coming back soon, and before the sun rose.
Chapter 6
“Tramar, is what we saw on the news true?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, Tramar,” Vivica said. “You can trust us, baby. We just want to know if it’s true or not. Did you really rob them banks like the news is reporting?”
Jackson and Tramar, in the front seats, looked at one another. “Yeah,” Tramar said. “It was us. And yeah, I did. I had to do it. Byron said he wanted the one million to get you two back, and I was willin’ to do whatever I had to do.”
Frank paused for a moment, finding his son’s actions, or his reasoning behind his actions, somewhat noble. However, he still couldn’t look past the fact that his actions were indeed crimes. “Well, son,” he said, hesitantly, “what about the security guard? I guess I should be askin’ the both of you this. Which one of you killed the security guard like the news was reporting?”
Once again, Jackson and Tramar looked at one another across the consol. “I did, Daddy,” Tramar answered. “He was about to shoot me, so I had to shoot him.”
“What are you two going to do?” Frank asked, looking out of the window. “Are you taking us home or what?”
“We gon’ take you home, Daddy,” Tramar said. “But you can’t stay there. We gotta find this nigga Byron and stop him because he is not gon’ just stop. That nigga is crazy, and he’s not gon’ let you have a night’s sleep for the rest of your lives, Daddy. We gotta find him. Now, I was already thinking.” Tramar had heard his father getting ready to speak, but was more forceful to cut him off. “I was thinkin’ that we go back to the house real quick and y’all pack a couple of bags as quick as you can. We gon’ put you in a motel or hotel or something, paying with cash, until we handle this Byron thing, and then you can go back to your normal lives.”
“And what about you and Jackson?” Vivica asked. “You two are wanted armed robbers in Chicago. And,” she paused, “one of you is wanted for murdering a security guard.”
“I don’t know,” Tramar said, trying to be brave about the situation. “I don’t know what we gon’ do yet. Maybe lay low for a while, see what happens. I know some Nigerians I might be able to get with to get some fake IDs and stuff.”
“Son, you’re gonna get caught eventually,” Frank said. “This isn’t the movies. This is real life. Nigga, they will catch your black ass eventually.”
“I know they will,” Tramar said, looking into the backseat. “I know they will.” His lips were curled sharply. “But that don’t mean that I can’t do whatever I gotta do to hold that off, Daddy. I gotta do it. I’mma at least make sure that you all are taken care of and stuff and that y’all ain’t gotta worry about this crazy ass nigga coming after y’all anymore.”
“Why is he after you two in the first place, Tramar?” Frank asked. “What in the hell did you do to make this man this damn mad to where he’d go doing some crazy shit like this?”
Jackson tapped Tramar on the knee where Frank and Vivica couldn’t see from the backseat. “We’ll explain the full story later,” Tramar promised. “We gotta get to the house as quick as possible in case that Byron nigga know anything. We gotta hurry up and get out of sight.”
Jackson drove the car to Frank and Vivica’s middle-class neighborhood. The street seemed so much darker tonight than it would normally. The wind was somewhat strong, rustling the leaves on the trees. When Jackson pulled into a space in front of the house, Tramar looked back at his family. “Like I said, y’all rush in there and pack enough clothes for a few days. Let’s make this as quick as possible.”
“We don’t have our keys,” Frank said. “He rushed in on us that morning and took us hostage.”
Tramar pulled his keys out and tossed them to his father. “Use mine,” he said, looking up and down the street. “Let’s just make this quick.”
Frank and Vivica climbed out of the backseat. Tramar watched as they made their way up to the house and let themselves inside. Lights popped on around the house, in different rooms as the older couple rushed around. Jackson and Tramar sat out on the street, quietly.
“This shit is real as fuck,” Jackson said.
“Yeah,” Tramar said. “See my Daddy’s face, though. I’mma fuck that nigga Byron up as soon as we find his ass. I don’t give a fuck. I’mma kill him. That’s the only way.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “That is the only way. Byron not gon’ stop. You know once he find his boys tomorrow tied up like that, he gon’ fuckin’ flip and really get into action.”
Tramar shrugged. “That’s okay with me,” he said, nonchalantly. “When the nigga do start to make some moves, we gon’ catch up with his ass and stop his movin’. That gon’ be the last thing I do before I leave Chicago.” He looked up at the house. “Come on Daddy and Vivica. Hurry up so we can get the fuck outta here.”
Jackson and Tramar talked for a couple of minutes about the motel options. Tramar agreed that he didn’t want anything that was too fancy. While Chicago was a big and busy city, Tramar wanted something that would be a little off the radar. They thought about driving up into Wisconsin and getting them a room there. With all of the small, woodsy towns in Wisconsin, it would be the perfect place for his father and stepmother to stay low until everything smoothed over with Byron.
Jackson pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Oh shit, nigga,” he said out loud. “I got like a gang of text messages and missed calls from Ayana.”
Tramar immediately leaned over and looked into Jackson’s phone. “What they say? What’s wrong?” he asked.
Jackson read various text messages to Tramar from Ayana about what was going on at the hotel. When Tramar had heard enough, he snatched Jackson’s phone out of his hands and called Ayana. She answered on the first ring, fear underlying her voice. “Hello?” she said. “Tramar? Tramar? Jackson, let me talk to Tramar?”
“Baby, this is Tramar,” Tramar said. “What the fuck happened? What you mean you got up and had to leave the hotel? Where the hell did you go? What happened?”
“Tramar,” Ayana said. “I just got a bad feeling and I had to get up out of there. Something was just telling me that something was about to go down, and if it wasn’t, I still needed to get out of the room. Well, I’m glad I got Quan up and left when I did. We sittin’ inside of that McDonald’s down the road. When we went downstairs, that’s when they was comin’ in the hotel lobby.”
“They who?” Tramar asked, getting alarmed. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe Byron had more goons out in the streets and these guys had somehow tracked Ayana down. There was no doubt in Tramar’s mind that Byron would do some sneaky stuff like that.
“The police, Tramar,” Ayana. “And some other people dressed in suits. I got that feelin’ after I got off the phone with my mama. She called and said that Chicago detectives had come to her door lookin’ for me. Shit, I’m so scared. Every time a car rides by the restaurant, I think the driver is lookin’ at me or something. How do they even know who I am? Tramar, what the fuck is goin’ on? Where are you?”
“We just got my daddy and Vivica back from Byron’s grandmother house,” Tramar said. His mind was being pulled in so many directions. He wished that he could be in two places at once – with his father and stepmother and with his girlfriend and son. “What about Quan? How is he doin’? What did you tell him?”
“I stepped into the bathroom when you called, Tramar,” Ayana said. “I mean, he’s okay. I hated to wake him up like that, but I ain’t want him to have to go with the police and stuff. He’s confused and he keep askin’ me what’s goin’ on, and I just don’t know what to tell him. Plus, he was askin’ about you and shit, Tramar. What do you want us to do? You want us to just sit here all night?”
Tramar shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I’mma be right there, okay,” he said. “I promise. I’mma be right there. We at my daddy house. We lettin’ him and Vivica pack they shit up real quick so we can go put them in some hotel. Then, we’ll come and get you. Once we do, we gon’ go get this Byron nigga. We saw his ass was prolly at home earlier. I’mma kill this nigga for puttin’ us through all this shit. I swear to God I’mma kill that nigga.”
Tramar finished talking to Ayana then saw that his father and stepmother were headed back to the car. Once they climbed in the backseat, he told her that he’d call her when he was on his way. Just as he was hanging up, he heard her interject that she only had an eight percent charge left on her battery. Tramar, fearing the worst, promised that he’d be there as quickly as possible.
Tramar updated everyone in the car, explaining to his family that he was taking them to a low-key motel. “I know it may not be the kinda place you’d normally stay, but it will definitely be off the grid, and they’ll take cash and fake information,” he said. “So, please, just bear with it.”
“Son, we have money and stuff, you know,” Frank said. “We can get a hotel of our own.”
“Daddy, I’m a wanted man,” he said. “If they stoppin’ by Ayana’s mama’s apartment and tracking Ayana down to what hotel she’s staying at, then I’m sure that they got a watch on your account and stuff and will be looking at what hotels you check into. I wouldn’t doubt that they been by the house when you was bein’ kept in that place.” Tramar looked back at his father as Jackson drove the car further toward the Chicago outskirts. “Daddy, what did that man do to your face like that? I swear to God, I’mma take care of him so y’all won’t have to worry about him no more.”
Frank looked into Vivica’s eyes, the both of them knowing that he’d told a lie back at that house. Frank shook his head. “Son, are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Yeah, Daddy,” Tramar said. “Ain’t got no other choice.”
“Now, tell me why y’all owe this nigga anything to begin with,” Frank insisted. “I wanna know.”
Jackson and Tramar both guided Frank through the entire story. At many points in the story, Frank could do nothing but shake his head. At this point, however, there was definitely no going back. He had to accept it for what it was. Rather, he looked out the window at the malls and shopping centers they passed. The entire world seemed like a different place as he and his wife rolled around in the back seat of a car with wanted bank robbers.
Jackson pulled into a motel parking lot on a road that had been under construction for a while. “Here?” Vivica asked, looking out the window. She’d grown up poor, but hadn’t stayed in any place this low since she was a young, struggling college student.
“I know, Vivica,” Tramar said, wishing that his family would have never gotten involved. “But look, there’s a lot of construction going on in the area and the roads are kinda empty at night. Plus, this ain’t exactly the kind of place you’d be going if you wasn’t really coming up here on purpose. Like I said, they’ll take cash and faulty information. You just gotta lay low up here for a couple of days or so. We will bring food back to you and stuff.”
Vivica pushed her way out of the car, taking money from Tramar. “Just go up there,” Tramar said, “and use your feminine charm to get a room. And please, make it quick so we can hurry up and get to Ayana and Quan. I told you about what they down there goin’ through.”
Frank watched as Vivica walked up to the motel office. “Son,” he said, leaning into the front seat. “What are you going to do with that boy? With Quan? You can’t have him out in the streets with you while you’re doing all this dirt.”
“I know, Daddy,” Tramar said. “I know. That’s why I was gon’ ask if I could shield him from all this by bringing him to Granddaddy and Miss Vivica until it’s time to take him back to his mama’s house.”
Frank groaned lightly. He knew there was nothing he could say other than yes. He knew also that the alternative could possibly be his grandson winding up in the system until his mother found out what had happened. Frank then thought about Quan’s mother and was happy to take care of the boy. Even he felt he could do a better job with that boy than Precious.
“All right, son,” Frank said. “All right. You and Jackson go and bring that boy here. No matter what you do, make sure that you keep him safe. You don’t wanna have to live the rest of your life with that on your mind, trust me. You really don’t. Just make sure nothing happens with him. And Ayana? What are you going to do about her?”
“The detectives are on to her now,” Tramar said, shaking his head in disgust. “Apparently, based on what she said, the detectives had said to her mama they think that she may have been the getaway driver for the robberies.”
Frank paused for a moment then asked, “Well, was she?”
Tramar looked back into his father’s eyes. Without speaking, he nodded his head. Frank leaned back, rubbing his chin as he watched Vivica prance back down to the car. Once she got inside, she held up a room key and told them that it was around back on the other end of the motel.