God Bless the Trappers 3

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO“You okay, my nigga?” Royce’s head whipped back and forth between Carlos and the windshield, seeing him wince from his gunshot wound.

“Hell naw, I’m not fuckin’ okay?” Carlos’s bugged eyes looked down at the bleeding black hole in his arm as he clenched it, blood slicking his fingers. “That b***h ass nigga shot me.” He threw his head back and squeezed his eyelids shut, gritting his teeth to fight back the fire in his limb.

“Lemme see, Blood,” a frowning Royce grabbed his cousin’s arm and turned it from left to right, seeing that the bullet was still in him. “It’s still in there, but I’m sure we can get it out. We just gotta get chu some medical attention and you’ll be good.”

Nigga, I can’t fade no hospital, The Ones will be all over the place askin’ questions about this shit.” He looked to the hole in his arm as it ran with blood.

“You think I don’t know that? I grew up in these streets. I ain’t new to this I’m true to this…” he lifted up his shirt and showed off the old staple wounds and gunshot wounds going up his torso. Once he’d let his relative see them, he let his shirt fall over him. He’d gotten them courtesy of a shootout with a rival gang when he was just a young nigga trying to make a name for himself in the streets. “My man’s girl took care of me.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“Nah, a veterinarian, but she knew enough to help a nigga out. I’ma hit her up for you,” he whipped out his cellular and placed a call to homegirl that could take care of his kinfolk’s gunshot wound. “Yo, Vanessa, what chu doin’ right now?” he spoke into the receiver as soon as he heard his homeboy’s fiancée pick up the telephone.

“Ahhhhh, f**k, shiiiiiit, Grrrrr,” Carlos had his head tilted back, eyelids squeezed shut and teeth gritted. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Royce gripping his hand tightly. In fact, he was gripping his hand so tight that the veins showed up both their arms and wrists. While Royce was giving him support, he was taking the occasional swig from the bottle of Jack Daniel’s to help him combat the fire in his wounded arm.

“Fuuuuck, man, this s**t hurt’s!” Carlos continued to complain as the blonde haired, baby blue eyed Veterinarian known as, Vanessa, struggled to pull the bullet out of his arm with a medical tool. Her face was shiny from sweat and her eyes were focused on the hole in Carlos’s arm as she tried to dig the metal slug out of it. She had a face masked with dedication and determination. Feeling she’d grasp the metal slug with her tool, she smiled triumphantly and pulled it out. The small hunk of metal was mashed up and stained crimson.

“There’s the little fella that’s been giving my friend Carlos all that trouble.”

Vanessa dropped the ruined slug into a tin bowl which was sitting on the table. Afterwards, she cleaned up Carlos’s wound and bandaged it up. She placed gauze and medical tape on the kitchen table and suggested that his wound be changed twice a day. Next, she prescribed him a pain killer, which she’d gotten through her plug that worked at a CVS pharmacy.

“There’s about sixty of those in there. You should take no more than three a day. Anymore than that and you’re looking to overdose.” Vanessa packed her things away inside of her worn black leather bag and closed it. She then picked it up from off the kitchen table and looked at Royce as he counted out the money he was suppose to give her for her services.

Once he came up with her quota, he passed her the money and she stuffed it inside of her bra.

“You guys take it easy.” Vanessa shook Royce’s hand and patted Carlos on his back on her way out of the door.

Royce shut the door behind Vanessa and locked it. When he turned around he found Carlos on his feet. He was standing beside the stove with the bottle of Jack turned up guzzling it. Bringing the bottle down from his lips, he hissed and squeezed his eyelids shut. Next, he wiped his mouth with the back of his fist and looked up at his cousin.

“You needa take it easy on that liquor, Blood. You not ‘pose to mix that s**t with them pain killaz.” Royce warned his first cousin.

“I’m already numb to the pain, cousin. This drank got me faded for real, for real. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“Fa’ sho’.”

“Yo’ I’ma crash here tonight if you don’t mind, and then in the a.m I’m outta here. Cool?”

“Bool,” he dapped him up. “Look, don’t worry about nothing. We gone find that b***h-ass nigga and we gone split his mothafucking onion. Straight like that, Bleed. We ain’t letting s**t ride.”

“That’s love, cousin.” Carlos gave him a one armed hug and pulled back, taking the Jack to his head again.

“I’ma get chu a pillow and some blankets and s**t, G. The couch is all yours, homie.” Royce went off down the hallway to get the s**t he told him he was going to give him.

****

“Shhhhh, it’s gone be okay, lil’ man, everything is going to be alright.” Donald tried to calm a crying Marquise. Hearing all of the shooting outside had awoken him from his sleep. He ran up into the living room, just in time to see Carlos hanging out of the window with the stick, shooting at Kreon and exchanging gunfire with Donald. He’d never seen a live shootout before and it terrified him. He was afraid that Kreon, Donald and his mother would be killed.

Kreon appeared to be even angrier when he entered the house and heard Donald’s voice coming from Marquise’s bedroom.

“Who the f**k is this nigga?” Kreon asked Odette as he entered Marquise’s bedroom and flipped the light switch on. He found Donald sitting on the side of Marquise trying to comfort him as he lay in bed crying. As soon as Donald heard the hostility in Kreon’s voice, he whipped his head around and wondered what was going on. For the first time Kreon could see his face clearly. Homeboy was a brown-skinned dude that stood about five foot ten. He had a muscular build and light brown eyes that appeared to glow. He had a wide, flat nose and lips twice the size of Kreon’s lips. The beard surrounding the lower half of his face was thick and plentiful, but it was well trimmed and aligned his face perfectly.

“The friend of mine I told you about…Donald.” Odette hurried up and said it. She knew that Kreon was about to blow his f*****g top and she was afraid of what the aftermath was going to be. Her heart thudded and her palms began to clam up.

“Donald?” His brows furrowed further and he went to approach Donald. Odette jumped in front of him trying to explain the situation, but he shoved her aside.

“Kreon,” Marquise sprung from his bed and ran over to his mother’s boyfriend, leaping into his arms. The boy kissed him on his cheek and pressed his head against him, holding him tight. “You’re alive, you’re okay. I thought that bad man hangin’ outta the window of that big car had killed you.”

“Nah, lil’ homie, Kreon is hard to kill.” Kreon said with his eyes glued on Donald as he mean mugged him. “O, take lil’ man into yo’ bedroom.”

“Wait, what are you about to do?” she asked, taking her son away from him.

“Just do like I said.” he replied as he continued to mean mug Donald. Without uttering another word, Odette went to oblige her man’s orders. Once she was gone, Kreon addressed Mr. Rap star. “f**k is you doin’ at my girl’s house, homeboy?” He spat rapid fire at him.

“You should ask yo’ girl that.” Donald responded as he rose to his feet. He was in a blue thermal and puff vest. A pair of unlaced construction Timberland boots was on his feet. A gold and diamond chain hung loosely around his neck with the DMK (Dope Money Klique) logo on it, which was D.M.K set against black onyx with two syringes crossing one another to form an X.

Old boy dressed, moved, talked and acted like a nigga straight off Connecticut soil.

“Nigga, you don’t tell me what the f**k to do!” Kreon spoke in a tone laced with animosity as he pointed his .38 at Donald. Donald had gone to pull his gun, but the young man was just a little too fast for him. He had about two bullets left and he was dying to put them all in his chest.

When Donald saw the revolver, he froze up and slowly lifted his hands up in the air, palms showing. He was scared but he wasn’t trying to show it.

“This how you treat the nigga that just saved yo’ life, yo?” Donald asked in his Connecticut drawl.

“Nigga, save these nuts!” Kreon capped back with his trigger finger itching, he c****d the hammer on his revolver with his thumb.

“Yo’ homie, be easy,” Donald tensed up, his heart racing.

“Shut cho hoe ass up ‘fore yo’ label mates be makin’ a rest in peace song! You was up in here fuckin’ my b***h, wasn’t chu? Wasn’t chu, nigga? You thought chu was gone come up in here and make me look like a mothafuckin’ fool like you did her baby daddy, didn’t chu? Well, I’ma ‘bouta make you look like the fuckin’ fool.”

“Man, it ain’t even like that, I came over here ‘cause…”

Swhack!

Kreon cracked him across the face with his .38 and he bowed at the waist, holding his face with both hands. When he rose back up there was a nasty gash over his eyebrow and it was oozing blood. The blood had gotten into his eye so he squeezed his eyelid shut to stop any more from getting in there. He stood before Kreon, pistol pointed in his face, wincing and wishing he’d never came by Odette’s house, but it was far too late now. Kreon ordered the nigga to slowly pull out his banga and toss it onto Marquise’s bed, and he obliged him.

“Now, you talk when I tell you to, nigga, run me all yo’ s**t!”

“Aww, naw, dawg, I can’t go out like da…” Another crack in the face cut his words short and he grabbed his face again. This time when he removed his hands there were a few cuts on it, which were red and threatening to trickle blood.

“There goes that mouth again! Now, un-ass yo’ s**t!” Holding the pistol on Donald, Kreon watched as he relieved himself of all his jewelry and laid it on the bed. He then pulled out the money in his pockets and tossed it on the bed. “Now, strip!” Donald frowned and looked at him like he couldn’t be serious.

This pissed Kreon off and he threw his hand into the air, firing a shot into the ceiling and causing debris to fall. The gunshot startled Donald and he took off his Angels fitted cap and exposed his receding hairline. The nigga had a hairline like George Jefferson’s.

Odette walked back into Marquise’s bedroom to see what was happening. “What’s going on in here? Oh my God, bae, what’re you doing? I told you it’s not even like…”

“Shut up! Shut the f**k up! This all yo’ fuckin’ fault, I’m not even tryna hear that noise!” Kreon barked over his shoulder heatedly.

He was so angry that the vein on his temple was twitching and his nostrils were pulsating. When he turned back around, he found Donald in his boxer briefs and socks. “Yo’ draws too, homeboy, hurry that ass up!” he wagged his .38 at him.

Donald looked like he wanted to protest but decided against it. He could tell that Kreon wouldn’t hesitate to put something blazing hot in his ass and he didn’t want to agitate him any further.

“Mommy, is everything okay?” Everyone heard Marquise from inside of his mother’s bedroom. He was standing at the door with it cracked open.

“Ev…everything is fine, baby boy. I want chu to climb in bed and turn the TV up as loud as you can get it. Can mommy’s big boy do that for her, huh?”

“Okay.” The boy shut the door.

Donald took off his boxer briefs and kicked them to the side. Now, he was standing in the bedroom holding himself. He was frowned up and his jaws were clenched so tight that his muscles shown in them. He looked like he wanted to spit threats, but something inside of his head told him he’d do better keeping his mouth shut.

“Get cho lil’ boyfriend’s phone,” Kreon ordered Odette, still holding his pistol on Donald. “I want chu to film this shit.”

Odette did exactly what she was told and started filming Donald.

“Alright, Donnie Boy, here’s what I want chu to say…” Kreon went on to tell dude what to say on camera. When he bucked, he threatened to shoot his balls off and he complied.

“’Sup y’all, dis dat b***h ass nigga D. Dot from the Dope Money Klique, I just wanted to say f**k dem niggaz from my squad. EZ Money Bagz, Too Fly, Fowl Language, Strategy and that nigga, Khaos. All dem niggaz can suck my d**k, straight up! All you niggaz some b***h-ass niggaz and I’m King of the b***h- ass niggaz, word to mine, son!”

“Good. Now walk, p***y!”Kreon kicked Donald in his ass and pitched him forward. He nearly fell but kept on walking to the living room like he’d been ordered. Once he’d gotten to the front door, Kreon told the nigga to open it and step out onto the porch. As soon as he did, Kreon kicked him in the ass and he fell down the steps. He then scrambled to his feet and took off running down the block, butt ass naked.

Slam!

Kreon slammed the door shut and turned around to Odette. His pupils danced with fire and his nostrils flared. He was gripping his .38 so tight that his knuckles turned white.

At this point, Odette was terrified of Kreon. He was madder than he was that night in the parking lot when he’d gotten into it with the white dude in the Trans Am. With how angry he was now, she pondered whether he was going to harm her or not.

“Gemme this fuckin’ cell phone,” Kreon snatched Donald’s cellular from her and slid it into his pocket. He then tucked his .38 on his waistline. This put Odette at ease some, but he still had his fist to thrash her with, so she was still cautious of him.

“Kreon, the only reason Donald came over here was because he wanted…”

“I don’t give a f**k what reason he had to come ova here! I said, no mothafuckin’ exes, and you agreed to it! You lied to me so you can’t be trusted!” He barked on her and his spit clung to her face.

At that moment, she was in the corner of the living room, looking as scared as a mouse, quivering. “You can’t be trusssttteeeddddd!” Kreon blacked out and started slamming his fists into the wall on the side of her, and knocking several holes into it. Plaster and debris went flying everywhere and falling to the floor. Odette ducked under him and ran over to the couch. Standing where she was, she watched in horror with her hands to her bosom.

Kreon turned around to Odette. His eyebrows were arched and his nose was scrunched up. His arms were hanging at his sides and his fists were clenched tightly, veins shown in his hands. There was plaster residue on his fists and some of it dropped to the floor. Kreon’s eyes were red and he was seething. His jaws were locked so tight that they throbbed.

“Kreon, you need to stop, you’re scaring me!” Odette cried. Her tears were cascading down her cheeks.

“You ain’t gotta be scared of me no mo’, O. We done!” he made to walk out the door and she rushed over and grabbed him by his arm. He looked down at her hand like it was covered in vomit.

“Wait a minute, what do you mean we’re done?”

“Like I said, nigga, we through, I ain’t fuckin’ witcho scandalous ass no mo’, real shit.”

“Kreon, I swear to God, I wasn’t f*****g with Donald. Look, bae, just sit down and lemme explain.”

“Nah, ain’t s**t to explain. Even if you wasn’t f*****g that nigga ova here, you had ‘em up in here. I told yo’ black ass no exes and you still disrespected me by having some nigga up in the house. And not just any nigga, the same mothafucka that chu crept on yo’ baby’s daddy with.” Kreon became silent as if he’d just came to the realization of something. “Awww, man, the same nigga, Mocha? You tryna play me for real, huh?”

“Bae, I…”Kreon hushed her with his finger to her lips and said, “Nah, lil’ momma, you ain’t gotta say nothin’ else. What’s done is done.” He took his finger from her lips and continued, “As soon as I walk outta that door, you dead to me. I’ma forget that you ever existed. In fact, I’ma have your funeral in my head before I make it outta yo’ yard.”

Kreon turned his back on Odette and opened the front door. As she watched him shut the door behind him, she began to cry. She stood where she was in the living room trying to imagine what life would be like without him and she couldn’t see herself without him…ever. If she wasn’t sure of anything else she was sure that she was in love with him. There hadn’t been a man yet that touched her heart the way that he had, and she wasn’t about to let her foolish pride stop her from going after him.

With that in mind, Odette opened the door and ran out onto the porch. She made it outside just in time to see Kreon jumping behind the wheel of his vehicle and cranking it up. Acknowledging this, she hurried down the steps and to the gate of her home. By the time she’d made it to the gate, Kreon was driving off past her.

“Kreon! Kreonnn! Kreonnnnn!” Odette called out after her lover over and over again, but he kept on going as if he didn’t even hear her, which he didn’t. Not one to give up easily, Odette darted back inside of the house to get Marquise ready; she was going after her man. She’d be damned if she lost the best thing that had ever happened to her when she’d just gotten it.