Honor Thy Thug Read online

  I stopped Don Carlos in his tracks and faced him. I’d known this man for almost half of my lifetime. Kyron introduced Trae and me to Don Carlos after we had been coppin’ weight from one of his people, Freddie Pinta. When Freddie got busted, we stepped in and took over, and we never looked back.

  Don Carlos had always granted me everything I asked of him, but to my surprise, he said, “I’ll get back with you. This news you brought me has worked my brain to the point of fatigue. Come, let us enjoy some wine.”

  “But Don Carlos, we obviously don’t have much time. It may already be too late.”

  “Then there is nothing we can do about it, is there? Come. Let us enjoy.”

  KYRON

  “I can’t do this anymore, Papi.” Mari sighed as she slid off my dick and climbed up off of me.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “You’re fucking me but thinking about her, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Get out, Kyron. When I come out of the bathroom, I want you gone. The disrespect is never going to stop as long as I allow it. You took me to Vegas, Kyron, but when you came back into the room, I could smell her all over you. But this here . . . this is the last straw. Get out!” She stormed off to the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Bitches always gotta find a reason to trip. I wasn’t even thinking about Tasha. Do I wish it was her pussy that I was fucking? Yeah, but my mind was on Kaylin. I hadn’t heard from him since I tried to kill his ass. What a lucky nigga! The surprise element was ruined by some nosy muthafucka. You gotta be careful doing dirty these days because it’s always somebody not minding their own fuckin’ business.

  I glanced at my Patek Philippe. I had to meet up with Kendrick, so I wasn’t planning on sticking around anyway. She was the one who wanted some dick. Shit, actually, I was running late. I jumped up, got dressed, and was out.

  When I got into my ride, I saw my brother Kay get out of a yellow cab. Talking about thinking a nigga up. He came over to the passenger side and got in. “My little punk-ass brother, why are you riding in a cab way out here?”

  “I had to see you.” He leaned over, grabbed me, and hugged me. My brother got in the passenger side giving me a hug. I didn’t know if this was the hug from Judas or not. I checked my hip for my hammer just in case. But I went with it. “I was just about to go holla at Kendrick.” I stared into his eyes to see what he felt about Kendrick. I didn’t know if he knew or not if Kendrick was in on my plot in Vegas.

  He shrugged his shoulders, “I’m game. Plus I needed to holla at you about some money.” We rode to the city choppin’ it up. Kay was telling me about how his money was all tied up in the record company. And how he had to loan Trae some bread for his money issues. I was happy to hear my brother wanted to get back in the trenches. Even though I didn’t trust him I still would welcome him back to the game with open arms. I know he didn’t need any money from me. Trae neither. They both were stacked.

  We ended up having dinner, just like old times. My ass had a little too much to drink. Combined with the weed I was high as hell. On the way back out to Mari’s I had to piss and since Kaylin was knocked out, I pulled off the road right quick. I had to find a spot, since these honkies out here will lock you up for anything. I walked behind the building, pissing as if I would never stop. I never heard Kaylin’s footsteps. This nigga had the gun pressed against the back of my head.

  “So, this is how it ends.” I turned slowly to face him. He cocked the hammer.

  “Betrayal is worse than slaughter” he repeated the words off the headstone. Tears rolled down his face.

  After I was done I looked him in his eyes, murder was the only thing I saw.

  “You pussy!” I spat. “You a true bitch even in my last moments, I’ll go to hell thinking of what a bitch of a brother you—“

  My words were cut off with the blast, the .45’s bark echoed into the night. That shit lifted me off my feet, knocking me against the wall and onto the ground. I struggled to breathe, holding my chest. He leaned down. I didn’t know what he was doing. I hawked blood and spit right into his face. He put his hand over my mouth preventing me from breathing. I kicked and squirmed. My brother laughed.

  “Now you see how me and my wife felt laying in that coffin. You are the bitch and you let miniscule situations cloud your judgment. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, you just kept coming. Funny, I had this dream for some time now but I never knew how it would end. I can rest in peace, knowing that I am the one who sent you to hell. I love you big brother. Always did.”

  23

  KAYLIN

  I had taken Kyron’s car to the chop shop where Bo was waiting on me. Once his body was discovered, all hell broke loose. Mari was the first to call me, and as soon as she could, she went over to my mother’s house. Then, of course, Kendra and Kendrick were next, making a special trip, rushing over to my spot to interrogate me. My mother then sent a message for me to come over to see her as soon as possible. The three of us headed over there together.

  Kendra, Kendrick, and I were in my mother’s basement, and of course, all fingers were pointing at Trae. “Trae is locked up, so it couldn’t have been him.” I told them. I looked over at the twins, wearing my game face.

  “That don’t mean shit.” Kendra’s ass snapped, interrupting the thoughts of Kyron’s and my last minutes together. My brother talked shit right up to his last breath.

  “He’s locked up, dummy! And as far as we know, Mari could have done it. Y’all sleeping on her; she knew about him and Tasha and all about that Vegas stunt.”

  “What Vegas stunt?” Kendra asked.

  “Nah, Mari wouldn’t have done that,” Kendrick interrupted.

  “What Vegas stunt?” Kendra wanted to know.

  “Oh, this nigga didn’t tell you?” I pointed over at Kendrick. I had his ass now. Kendra thought that her twin brother’s shit didn’t stink. “They all went to Vegas, including Mari, and Kyron gets with Tasha, drugs and rapes her. He ends up catching a case. A rape case.”

  “He what?” She looked at Kendrick with disgust.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Kendrick lied.

  “Yes, it was, Kendrick and you was in on that shit.” I said. “But I’m through talking about it. Let yourselves out. I gotta go talk to my moms.” I got up and left them sitting on the couch.

  The only person who knew that I did the deed was Bo. He was Trae’s first cousin and had come up with us, hustled and warred with us and I trusted him with my life. If anyone suspected it, that’s all they had. I knew my secret would never leave his lips.

  I went upstairs to see my moms. She was in the living room talking with the funeral director. She told me that she wanted to get it over as soon as possible, but I told her I was on top of that.

  “Ma, I told you I would take care of everything.”

  She gave me the stay in a child’s place, shut up, I have company look. “Excuse me, Mr. Holcomb. Then she turned to me and said, “This is Mr. Holcomb of Holcomb’s Funeral Home. He was just leaving. But Mr. Holcomb, you remember my youngest son, Kaylin.”

  Mr. Holcomb stood up; he resembled George Jefferson. He may not have remembered me, but I remembered him. My father took my brother and me to his funeral home on several occasions. Mr. Holcomb would sit us down in his office and give us some ice cream, and my father and he would go to the next room and conduct business. My dad ran the streets and died in the streets.

  “I do, Mama Santos.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. “You might not remember me, but your daddy and I go way back. He used to bring you and your brother to the other funeral home over on 129th. I’ma make sure we have a good homecoming for your brother. I owe it to your father and your mother. Your brother, he’s in these hands, which means good hands.” He held both hands out, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Thank you, Mr. Holcomb.” I showed him to the door. “Has my mother paid you for your services yet?”

  “Nooo! Your mother’s money is no go
od with me. If I took money from your mother, your daddy would turn over in his grave.”

  “Give me your card,” I told him. He went inside his vest pocket and came out with a business card.

  “Call me anytime. I’m available around the clock.”

  “I appreciate it.” I showed him out and went back inside to talk to my mother. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner.

  “Ma, a free funeral? You know all he is going to do is throw that shit together. Is that what you want? I told you I would handle it.”

  “And you can. You can pick out everything except for his suit. I already let Mr. Holcomb know. Now, sit down. That girl Mari was by here.” She let out a sigh. I braced myself. “She said that Kyron raped Trae’s wife. Kay, tell me why on earth would that girl say such a thing? What is the matter with her?”

  “Ma, she’s just angry with him, that’s all.”

  “Who did this to your brother?”

  “Mom, I wish I could tell you that. Kyron was not himself when he came home. He was stirring up a lot of trouble, making lots of enemies. It could have been anybody.”

  “You wish you could tell me? What does that mean? You know, but you can’t tell me, or you don’t know?”

  “Mom, stop it.”

  “Well, tell me this. Do you think Trae did it because he wasn’t able to finish him off at the hospital? And don’t lie to me.”

  Damn. I had to choose my words and the way I said them carefully. “No, Mom. Trae wasn’t trying to kill him; he wanted to scare him. He has enough trouble of his own. I’ve been meaning to tell you, he’s in jail for two murders out there in California. So trust me when I tell you, he has his hands full. He doesn’t even have a bond.”

  “Oh, my God!” She put the lid on the pot and grabbed her heart. “You boys . . . it seems like it’s all catching up to you. I feared that it would happen like this. I honestly believed that I would never have to bury any of my three children. But I’m getting ready to bury my firstborn.”

  She grabbed a seat at the kitchen table, said a prayer, and then began to cry.

  ANGEL

  Kaylin had been running around with Mama Santos, getting everything together for Kyron’s funeral. I saw it in him. He was numb throughout the whole thing, just going through the motions. He didn’t even want to talk about it, which only made me think that he had something to do with his own brother’s murder. I saw it in his demeanor.

  The funeral was small and personal, with not more than twenty people. Nothing elaborate, and I was wondering where Kyron’s friends were. Hell, he obviously didn’t have any, because the few of us who were there were close family members. The twins, his sister Tamara, Mama Santos, Mari, her parents, and a gentleman who looked just like her. I was assuming that it was her brother.

  The music coming from the organist was the only thing that was easing the tension and coldness in the air. Mama Santos had the pastor of her church, Reverend Mateo, deliver the eulogy. A few members from the church came out to pay their respects.

  Kyron lay up there with a smirk on his face, wearing a pink silk tie and and gray pin-striped Armani suit. Mari stood over the gaudy burgundy casket with the gentlemen who could be her brother. The only people I saw shed a tear were her, Kendra, and Tamara. Hell, I only saw two flower arrangements. What a way to be sent home. No love at all.

  • • •

  After the funeral, I put in a day and a half at the office and then headed out to Cali. I needed some sunshine and a change of atmosphere. When I walked into the house, I was in for a big surprise. There sat all of my girls: Kyra, Tasha, and Jaz.

  “Well, well, well!” I said as I set my luggage down. They all got up, and we engaged in a group hug.

  “We honestly have to stop meeting like this,” I told them.

  “Meeting like what?” Kyra asked.

  “Y’all know that lately ain’t nothing going down in our lives but drama. Let’s keep it real, now. And we can start with my drama.” I kicked off my shoes, and everybody around me moaned and groaned. “What y’all trying to say? Y’all don’t think I got drama?” I stood in the middle of the floor, with my hands on my hips. “We just buried Kyron.”

  “Girl, please. That ain’t no drama. That’s cause for celebration. Nobody cares about his crazy ass!” Jaz said as she brought the glass of wine to her mouth.

  I looked over at Tasha, and she had a blank look on her face. “I agree. You need to do better than that,” she said.

  “Do you know that Kyron sent his goons after Kaylin? They took us to a graveyard way out in North Jersey somewhere, tossed us in it, and tried to bury us alive!”

  “What?” There were gasps from everybody. All eyes were on me. I told them bitches I had drama.

  “Umm-hmmm. If it wasn’t for Lil’ E being in that garage when they ran up on us, I would not be standing here right now. Y’all would be burying Kaylin and me, that is, if you would have found our bodies.”

  “You mean to say Kyron would do that to his own brother and his sister-in-law?” Tasha was obviously into her feelings. “That’s low-down. But you can best believe that I am personally glad that the nigga is dead. If it wasn’t for my respect for Mama Santos I would have went to the funeral and spit on his ass. I hate him!”

  “I feel you. He did it. He tried to have us killed. Now that was a moment.”

  “That’s fucked up!” Kyra said.

  “Why does he hate his brother and Trae so much?” Tasha asked me.

  “I don’t know. Kaylin won’t talk to me about it. But from the little bit I gathered from his sister Tamara, it was jealousy. Simple as that.”

  I looked around the room at everyone’s face. We were all perplexed. Each one of us caught up in the thoughts of the many tragedies that had fallen into our lives. We had loved and lost. Everything we said we would not be we had become. The mood was becoming gloomier by the second. I walked over and plopped down next to Kyra. I needed the mood in the room to lighten up. That’s why I was here. I needed to spread some good cheer.

  “Look at your stomach, Kyra! You are glowing,” I told her.

  “Yes, I am very much pregnant. Thirteen weeks, to be exact.” She smiled and rubbed her stomach.

  “You look happy. Are you happy?” I wanted to know.

  “Actually, I am.”

  I turned my attention to Jaz. “So, Ms. Thing, how are you and Faheem making out?”

  “I might be moving back to Jersey,” she announced. “I’m looking at the medical school at Robert Wood Johnson. Georgia is history. We are just about done packing. I’ve been trying to tell Faheem that he is overreacting and that we don’t have to move, but he won’t listen to me.”

  “Shit, the hell he is overreacting! You sleep on niggas if you want to. Trust me, I know. You see what just happened to us, and that was flesh and blood seeking to hurt us. So imagine what someone outside of family will do,” I told her.

  Our attention turned to the front door. Someone was banging hard. We all rushed to see who was banging as if they were the Po Po. When we got to the front door, we saw that’s exactly who it was, the Po Po. I opened the door.

  “Oh, shit,” Jaz mumbled. “What done happened now?”

  “Mrs. Tasha Macklin?”

  “Yes? How can I help you?”

  My name is Detective Clyde Allen. I’m with the L.A. County Police Department. Do you have a relative named Trina—”

  “Yes, I do,” she cut him off.

  “Are you next of kin?”

  “That’s my sister, why?” Tasha grabbed her chest.

  “We need you to come identify the body.”

  “Identify what? Why? What happened?” I could see her other hand begin to shake.

  “Can you come with us now?” Mr. Allen asked her.

  Tasha turned around and looked at all of us. Her eyes were tearing up fast, and her whole body was shaking. Even though we heard what they just said, she announced it again with her voice trembling. “It’s Trina. Oh, God! They wa
nt me to identify her—” She started to say something, but then she fainted, sliding down the wall. We all rushed to her side.

  The detective stood there, looking in through the screen door. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. Kyra had already rushed off to get a damp towel, and Jaz went for her cell phone. “I’m her attorney. Can you give me your card, and we’ll get to the coroner’s office as soon as we can? It’s obvious that we can’t leave right now.”

  He looked at me and then looked at Tasha. He went into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Call me when you are on your way so I can meet you there. It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m hoping that Mrs. Macklin can answer a few questions.”

  “I will, and thank you for understanding.”

  After about a half hour, Tasha was okay and all riled up. She said later for the morgue. She wanted to go by Trina’s apartment to do some investigating first. Kyra volunteered to stay home with the kids, and the rest of us piled into the truck and drove over to Trina’s. When we arrived, it did appear that the neighborhood had had some excitement. The truck came to a stop, and Tasha dashed out. I was right on her heels.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” she said to a young white girl who was carrying a skateboard. “What happened around here?”

  “Tragedy. I never saw anything like it. They literally set the girl on fire. She was running through the parking lot, screaming and hollering. Here, look.” She pulled out her iPhone, and we formed a circle around her, stretching our necks trying to get a good look.

  I’ll be damned if she hadn’t caught some of the incident on her phone. She must have been upstairs, because the image was far away and aimed downward. And it was Trina. I could tell by her voice. The top part of her body was covered in flames. She was running and releasing blood-curdling screams. We all gasped. Tasha choked up and started crying.