Gangstress Page 2

  “I’m sorry for disrespecting you, Mama, but every time you come here you make these rude-ass comments, and I don’t know why.”

  “I’m just speaking the truth, son. Y’all over here living like the Kennedys when everybody around you lives in a recession.”

  “Damn, it’s like you mad that we have moved up in our lives. I offered you this life. You refused it!” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You are damn right I refused it!” Gran yelled. “You people call this the glamorous life, but ain’t a damn thing glamorous about constantly looking over your shoulder.” She huffed. “Julius, I raised you better than this! I worked three jobs to provide a good life for you. I kept you in church and kept your head in them schoolbooks. You should’ve gone to school and made something of yourself,” she continued to fuss.

  “Mama, in case you haven’t noticed, I have made it!” My father pointed at himself. “How many niggas do you know of in the hood who are living this good?” He hit the table, and my grandmother’s purse fell to the floor.

  “Yes, you made it, son, but you made it with other people’s blood on the money you spend every day.”

  Gran was overweight by a good hundred or so pounds. I knew getting her purse off the floor was much too difficult a task, so I snatched it up and handed it back to her.

  “Mama, I don’t give a damn whose blood is on it. As long as I can provide for my family and satisfy their needs, I’m good. When I go to sleep at night, my conscience is clear.”

  “You should be setting a better example for Janelle. You think she’d be proud of the occupation you have?”

  At the mention of my name, I decided to vacate the premises. I needed to go and check on my mother anyway, but before I was even at the basement door, I heard my father speak again.

  “My daughter ain’t stupid. She knows the truth! I’m a hustler, and I’m going to hustle until the day I die! Why can’t you understand that, Mama?”

  “Listen, son, all that killing, stealing, and drug dealin’ ain’t what the Lord intended for the world, and it pisses Him off. No matter how tough you are on those streets, you ain’t no match for the Creator. Your arms are too short to box with God, son, and soon your time will be up,” Gran warned.

  “Well, until the good Lord calls me home, I’m gonna ball until I fall! The legacy I plan to leave for my daughter will be epic!”

  Those words are forever etched into my mind because that was one of the last things I heard my daddy say.

  Chapter Two

  A crash through the kitchen window grabbed everyone’s attention. Items flew into the house like grenades. There appeared to be several small cans with smoke spilling out. Before my daddy had time to react, someone or something tried to force its way into the back door. “Janie, take Gran to the safe room and tell your mama to lock up,” he yelled, and I reached for my grandmother’s hand as she waddled toward me.

  “Daddy, come on,” I screamed.

  “I’ll be down there in one moment, sweetie.” He winked to reassure me, but I knew he wasn’t coming. As soon as we made it down into the basement, my mother waved us over to the safe room.

  “Hurry up!” she urged, having already heard the commotion going on upstairs.

  We entered the small, vaulted room and locked the door behind us. My mother flipped on the security cameras to get a bird’s-eye view of the situation. There were a total of nine twelve-inch monitors linked to hidden surveillance cameras strategically placed throughout the house. Previously, my daddy said he wanted to be aware of every move being made throughout the house in his absence. I thought he was just being paranoid, but today the security footage was very helpful.

  Monitor six displayed the kitchen, and I could see my daddy covering his mouth from the gas. He was backed into a corner, holding one of the pistols he kept in the kitchen pantry. The smoke was a greenish gray color, and it was so thick that it was becoming difficult to see anything. I couldn’t tell what was going on upstairs, but I could hear things being shattered. The safe room was soundproof but allowed the sound from the outside to come in.

  I squeezed my mom’s left hand nervously, and she patted my back with her free hand. Although I could tell she was a nervous wreck on the inside, her facial expression was calm, cool, and collected. “It’s okay, baby,” she reassured me while studying the monitors. Her big brown eyes squinted, trying to see what the hell was going on. Out of habit, she began to chew on her full lips. My mother was a dime, if I said so myself, and I was glad that I favored her. In my opinion, she resembled a thicker version of the rapper Charli Baltimore, with light skin and similar facial features like those pouty lips and slanted eyes. The two women even shared the same body type, height and all. The only noticeable difference was that my mother’s hair was honey blond instead of red. “Daddy will be okay,” she added, still holding her emotions in check for my sake.

  “Why are they doing this?” I cried.

  “That’s the game, baby,” she responded like this home invasion was nothing. I had never been involved in anything like this, so I was scared.

  Bang. Bang. We heard shots pop off upstairs, and that’s when my mother lost her cool and went ballistic. She immediately hit the key code on the safe and reached inside to retrieve two Desert Eagles. With one gun in each hand, she turned to me. “Janie, Mommy loves you so much, and I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become!”

  “Where are you going?” I panicked.

  “Daddy needs my help, baby.” She kissed my cheek.

  “Mom, don’t leave me please,” I begged. We heard it again: pop, pop, pop.

  “Gran will be here with you, and everything will be okay. Don’t be scared, baby girl.” My mother kissed me one last time and headed out of the safe room. That was the very moment that I learned firsthand what a down-ass bitch was. Many people talk about that shit, but my mother was a real one. Without a second thought, she risked her life to save his.

  A few moments after she left, I wiped my tears and turned my attention to the television monitors. Frantically, I searched for a visual of her and held my breath until she appeared on the screen. As I watched, things seemed to move in slow motion as she crept up the stairs and into the formal living room. I figured her plan was to go through the living area, into the dining room, then into the kitchen to sneak up on the attackers. But just as the smoke began to clear, I saw a masked gunman creep up behind her. This was like a scary movie, and I wished I could’ve turned the channel.

  “Mommy!” I screamed as if she could hear me, but it was useless. My ears started ringing, but I didn’t hear the shot that sent my mother to the floor. However, I did see her stomach explode as the bullet pierced her skin and penetrated her body.

  “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . .’” My grandmother had begun to pray while I frantically searched for life in my mother. “This was not supposed to happen this way,” Gran kept screaming and shaking her head. My mother hadn’t moved, but where was my father?

  Finally, on monitor two, I saw my daddy crawling toward the front door. He was wounded but still alive. In an instant and without hesitation, I reached for one of the weapons inside of the open safe. I wasn’t sure what type of gun it was, but I vaguely remembered my father calling it Nina.

  “Janelle, what are you doing? They’ll kill you!” Gran warned.

  I didn’t bother to reply. In my mind, I was already dead without my mother and father. If they killed me, at least we would all be together again.

  I hit the stairs three at a time and gripped the gun like my life depended on it. On several occasions, my daddy had taken my mom and me to the gun range, so I was well educated with how to pull the trigger. As I made it to the top of the stairs, I paused to listen but heard nothing except the sound of police sirens. Figuring the worst was over, I headed over to my father, because trying to save my mother was no longer an option. I knew with a hole the size of Texas in her stomach, she was already on her way to
the afterlife. When I reached my father, I noticed he was hurt pretty bad and bleeding from everywhere.

  “Janelle.” He tried to speak but went into shock and started gasping for air.

  “Daddy, who did this to you?” I cried and dropped my head onto his bloody shoulder, holding on to him for dear life. I desperately needed my daddy to get up. He couldn’t die. Not today, on my birthday. “Daddy, who did this?”

  “Family,” I heard him whisper, then he gurgled up blood. I didn’t know what he meant that day, but in the years to come, it would hit me like a ton of bricks.

  Chapter Three

  The death of my parents was devastating, to say the least. The memory of our last day together is forever at the forefront of my mind. I often wondered who was responsible for the heinous crime, and I vowed daily to get answers one way or another. I wanted so badly to seek vengeance on the culprits. The shit they caused had a domino effect on my life, because things just kept getting worse.

  With both my parents gone and no other family to claim me, I had two options: become a ward of the state or live with Gran. Neither option was ideal, but I reasoned with myself that Gran’s house had to be better than living in the system. Boy, was I wrong!

  The first sign that Gran was on that bullshit was while planning my parents’ funeral. With all the money my father had, everyone expected him and my mom to be laid out in style. I’m talking tailor-made suits, custom caskets, the whole nine. Instead, Gran had them cremated before having a simple memorial service at her church. I questioned her about her choice of funeral arrangements. Her excuse was there was no need to send them to hell in style. It really pissed me off, but what could I do?

  Her second strike occurred when she donated all the money that my parents’ friends had given her out of respect for my father to the muthafuckin’ church. Her pastor praised her for being a saint, but I thought the old bitch was crazy. Didn’t she notice that her beloved pastor had upgraded from a Lincoln Town Car to a Lincoln Navigator while she still drove a Ford Escort? When the pastor and his family went home to a mini mansion in Bloomfield Hills, we went home to a raggedy, run-down apartment on Woodward.

  Gran’s third strike came when she changed my school and stripped me of everything I owned. I went from riches to rags, so to speak. She made me donate all of my Michael Kors, Alexander McQueen, Coach, and other designers to the homeless shelters in her neighborhood. Then she took me shopping at Kmart. Ain’t that some shit? While I walked around looking like a bum, the bums walked around fresh to def. I was tired of Gran, her rules, and her way of living. Night after night I prayed to wake up from this nightmare, but day after day I awoke to the same shit. It was time to make a move and get the fuck out of dodge. I’d been here ten months and twelve days. Today would be my last.

  “Ain’t you gon’ say good morning?” Gran spoke from the corduroy sofa that had seen better days.

  Damn, you didn’t even give me a chance! I thought, but I said, “Good morning.”

  “You better hurry up before you miss that bus for school.” She gave me the once-over with her eyes. “Why are those pants so tight? And why are your bra straps showing?”

  “It’s the style, Gran.” I sighed and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. I started to grab two since I knew it might be a minute before my next meal. I didn’t know where I was going, but I was hell-bent on leaving here.

  “Girl, you better fix them clothes before somebody mistake you for a streetwalker.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I bit the apple and pulled my top over my shoulders. “See ya later,” I lied.

  “You’re forgetting something.”

  “No, I have everything,” I lied again.

  “What about that book bag?” She pointed a finger in need of a manicure to the red backpack on the floor.

  “I don’t need it anymore.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because today is the last day of school and then we’re out for summer vacation.” I hadn’t lied about that part. Today was the last day of school, which made my getaway that much smoother. Teachers were not taking attendance. They couldn’t care less if I showed up for class. Therefore, the truancy line wouldn’t call and alert Gran of my absence.

  “All right, I guess.” She looked skeptical. “Well, come straight home, because tonight we have a meeting at the church,” she reminded me on my way out the door. I rolled my eyes because the only meeting I had today was with the next thing smoking away from here.

  Chapter Four

  After five long hours and three bus transfers, I was back in my old neighborhood. My parents’ property had been seized by the FBI. Therefore, I couldn’t go home, but I did feel good being back on the old block. Everything appeared to be the same, minus the FOR SALE sign in our front yard. I started to go kick the sign down but decided to keep walking toward Alicia’s house instead. The school she went to was already on summer vacation, so I knew she would be home.

  Just as I rounded the corner, my best friend Alicia Malone came out on to her porch with a magazine and her cell phone. “What’s up, girl?” I called out while walking down the street. She squinted from the sun and smiled wide when she figured out who I was.

  “Damn, bitch, you can’t call nobody.” She ran off the porch toward the sidewalk to greet me.

  “I’ve been on lockdown,” I explained.

  “Girl, I’ve been missing you so much.” She smiled again. “I didn’t get a chance to make sure you were okay after what happened.” She put her hand on her curvy hips.

  The top of her body was small, but from the hips down she was at least a size twelve. Alicia was brown skinned with high cheekbones and a big smile that was very contagious. We’d been best friends since kindergarten, and nothing would ever change that. Both of our daddies had hustled and lost their lives in the game. It just so happened that my father and her father were also best friends. She was practically my sister, and I was happy to be back in her presence.

  “Girl, did you hear me?” Ali snapped her fingers.

  “Yeah, I heard you,” I lied. I couldn’t recall a thing she had said.

  “Anyway, I can’t believe your grandma let you out.”

  “She didn’t. I ran away.” I walked up to her porch and took a seat. After a tiresome day and walking several blocks, I was beat. The Kmart gym shoes did nothing to comfort my aching feet, so I removed them and began to massage my toes.

  “You ran away?” Ali repeated. “Where are you going to go?” she asked out of genuine concern.

  “I’m down to go anywhere except back to that bitch’s house.” I was dead serious, and Alicia could tell.

  “Well, you know you’re always welcome over here,” she offered, but I hesitated. Her stepfather, Tyrone, was abusive and had kicked Alicia’s and her mother’s asses every time he felt like it. I’d kill the nigga dead or return to Gran’s house before I let him put his hands on me.

  “I’ll think about it.” I smiled. Truthfully, I really didn’t have anywhere else to go, but I needed to see how things were lying with Tyrone before I agreed to stay here.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah. What do you have?” My stomach rumbled on cue.

  “I have some leftover pizza from last night. Let me go heat you up a plate.” She went inside the house, and I stayed on the porch.

  After a few minutes of waiting, I grabbed a Jet magazine and began to thumb through it when I spotted a familiar car speeding down the block. It was Ace, my father’s protégé.

  “I know that’s not who I think it is,” he called from the window.

  “It depends on who you think it is.” I smiled. I hadn’t seen Ace since the afternoon my parents were killed. My stomach fluttered, as I had often thought of him and wondered what he was up to. Had he moved on in life, was he locked up, or did he even remember me, let alone his vow to look after me? Most people didn’t honor promises like that, but I knew Ace was different.

  As I approached the idling car, my mind tra
veled back to the day my daddy had brought him home. It was New Year’s Eve when my father found him at McDonald’s begging for money and food about five years ago. Ace was only thirteen at the time, so naturally, my father was curious as to where his mother or father were. He confided in my father and told him that he and his mom were on the run from her pimp back in Atlanta. The very day they arrived in Detroit, their rental car was hit head-on by a driver who had been texting. His mother, Elaine, died on impact, and he was rushed to Children’s Hospital after suffering a broken arm. Once the medical staff found out he had no other family members, they alerted child protective services, and you know how the story goes.

  Ace was in the system for exactly two weeks and had already endured beatings, starvation, and molestation. He decided enough was enough and left with the clothes on his back. My father felt for the young man, so he brought him home and cleaned him up. My parents couldn’t enroll him in school without paperwork, so my father gave Ace a job and started to teach him the ropes of the dope game. He treated Ace like a son and was grooming him to take over the family business for that fateful day when he was to retire. Unfortunately, my father was killed before Ace’s training was complete. Therefore, my father’s right-hand man, Chucky, took over the hustle. I wasn’t sure where that had left Ace, but I sure hoped he was still employed in the family business.

  “What’s up, ma?” Ace pulled to a stop in front of Alicia’s mailbox. “What’s good, family?” His smile was as wide as a fat woman’s ass, and his dimples were sexy and deep. Anthony “Ace” Valquez was African American and Puerto Rican. I couldn’t remember which parent was of which ethnicity, but the boy had pulled the best genes from both of them. His caramel skin, long, black eyelashes, hazel-green eyes, full lips, and strong bone structure made him the crème de la crème to women.

  “Hey, you, long time no see.” I walked toward the black and red Dodge Charger with white racing stripes. He was in the car with some chick who was all frowned up.