Justify My Thug (11 page)

The lot was empty except for Stephon's big ass metallic silver Hummer H1 parked in the spot reserved for the owner. Next to it was a black drop top Lamborghini Murciélago. Standing next to it was a Chinese man of average height dressed in a black suit. His presence told me what I needed to know. Ms. China Ho was inside the club and for the moment, that's all I cared about.

I'm sitting here chattin' it up with the woman who put me on in this city and now I'm in panic mode. This chick just sat here and told me
everything
. I did not know that she was pregnant by my cousin's husband. Right then and there I knew I had to get her the fuck outta here before Tasha showed up. My slick ass cousin set me up … big time, and now it may be too late. I then knew I was fucked when I got a text message from Tasha telling me that she was in the parking lot and on her way up.

“Stephon are you listening to me?” Charli asked me. I was hoping that she didn't notice the sweat beads popping up across my forehead.

“Sorry, babe. Something came up. I got to get up out of here.”

“Something came up? I just arrived. You invited me and you still haven't said a word about Las Vegas. I'm all ears but I still have to tell you, Vegas is the big league. Do you really think that you are ready for Vegas?” She had the nerve to look like she was getting comfortable in her seat.

“Babe, I apologize, but this is even more urgent.”

“Same ole Stephon. Then let's play catch up and do brunch on Sunday. How does that sound?”

Shit. Will you be around to see Sunday?
I stood up. “That sounds like a plan. What spot do you have in mind?”

“Let me surprise you.” Charli smiled at me.

By the time I locked up my office and turned around, Tasha was coming up the stairs looking as if she was on a mission and looking like a runway model. Where was
Hip Hop Weekly
to get this picture? She was dressed to the nines in a pair of Antik Denims that hugged her just right. She had a low cut yellow blouse and was carrying what looked like a brand new croc print Gucci bag. My cousin takes no prisoners when she steps out.

This was the first time I saw someone smiling with slits in their eyes. She was looking like the devil. I looked at Charli to see if I could read her body language. She appeared to be cool. It was as if she welcomed the challenge.

“So, Steph. Is this why you invited me here? You naughty boy.” Ice dripped from her tone. I knew I was fucked.

“Is my husband here?” Tasha asked as she came up the steps. She was acting as if she didn't see Charli.

“Nah. I haven't heard from Trae in a while.”

“Then why is this bitch here?” Tasha snapped.

Even though I was looking right at Tasha, I didn't see what happened. She was that slick with it. I don't know if she pushed
her, nudged her, tripped or clipped her but Charli went tumbling down about twenty steps.
Shit.

Yeah, I did it.

My punk ass cousin was now at the top of the stairs pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands across his head yelling, “Oh shit. Oh, shit.”

“Shut the fuck up, nigga. The bitch ain't have no business being here. The last time I checked, her restraining order was still in effect.”

“Tasha, what the fuck is wrong with you? The woman is pregnant.” Stephon's ass was turning pale.

“So, the fuck what! She shouldn't have fucked
my
husband.”

I looked down at the bitch. She was at the bottom of the steps out cold, not moving. I believed my work here was done. I started my descent down the steps.

“Where the fuck do you think you're going? You can't just leave her there.” Stephon was panicking.

“She's your guest Stephon, not mine.” I kept on going but stopped when I reached the bottom of the stairs. I swear I was tempted to stomp that fuckin' baby out of her stomach. My cousin must have sensed it because he came flying down the steps and pushed me away from her. “Get your hands off of me, Stephon. Why the fuck do you care about this bitch, anyway? You fuckin' her too?”

“Tasha, get the fuck out of here. I need to call an ambulance. What if she's dead? How are we gonna explain this shit to Trae? Shit, how can I explain this to her people? You don't
even have a clue as to what you just did, do you? Don't answer that. Just leave! Now! Get the fuck out of here! Tasha, go!”

“Fuckin' weak ass bitch.” I stepped closer to Charli, when I was directly over her I hawked and spat in her face. Then I left, totally feeling myself. What I just did felt good at the moment and I didn't give a fuck about anything else.

Since I was already in Kentucky, I decided to stay a few days to see if Marvin would show up. Frangela, the housekeeper and nanny, only knew what Marvin wanted her to know and that wasn't much. After all that talking she did I found out that, not only did she not know where Marvin was but she had no clue as to when he'd return. What I did know was that wherever he went, he took Aisha with him.

After paying her a few dollars to keep my surprise visit still a surprise, I left and checked into the Hilton. I was enjoying the solitude until my phone started blowing up nonstop. I was getting back-to-back calls from Stephon and then Tasha. I didn't answer any of them. I wanted to stay focused for the unpleasant job at hand. Then I got a call from Benny, my lawyer. If Benny was hittin' on my cell phone, then something was wrong. His second time calling, I picked up. What he told me gave me an instant headache.

“Shit!” I gritted as I ended the call. That's why Steph and Tasha were blowing up my phone. They needed me to do damage control. Tasha's vindictive ass had pushed Charli down a flight of stairs. No one knew her health status and now Stephon was scared shitless. I went back to Marvin's house, reminded Frangela
to keep our secret, and said my goodbyes. Then I was on my way back to California.

Last night I heard Trae come in and then immediately leave which only left me to believe that he went to check on his Chinese ho. That very thought felt like a stab in the chest. But what's done is done. I knew what I had to do. So the first thing I did before I got out of bed the next morning was call my sister. “See how soon you can get me a flight out to New York.”

“Why? What's going on? You don't mean today do you?”

“Yes. Today, Trina.” She had no clue as to all that had gone down the day before. I told her, “Get me as far the fuck away from this nigga as possible. I'ma get my kids and ride off into the sunset somewhere.”

“Yyesss! I'm coming with you.”

Here I was ready for war and this bitch was all excited about going to New York. “Trina, just make the reservation and come pick me up.”

I hung up and then continued to map out my strategy. My first instinct was to chop off his dick. The more I thought about it, the more I saw that I probably could pull it off and get away with it.

I was with Kendrick when he got the call from Trina that she and Tasha would be catching a red-eye up this way. I immediately called Tasha to question her as to why I had to hear the
shit from someone else. Of course she wouldn't answer my call. But that ain't stop shit. I snatched up a total stranger and borrowed his phone.

“How come I'm the last to know that you are on your way up? What? You're not planning on seeing me? And why are y'all taking a commercial flight? You have access to a private jet.”

“Kyron, I know you gonna let me do me!” She snapped.

She sounded vexed. I had asked Trina if she and Trae had a fight and Trina's response was she ‘didn't think so.' I figured that she wanted to be around her girl Angel so I asked, “You staying at my brother's?”

“No, I'm not. I don't need them to be judging me and I don't need them all up in my business.”

“Then where are you staying?”

“At a hotel, Kyron.”

“A hotel?” She was really starting to piss me off. “Tasha come on now. You have keys to my crib.”

“No, Kyron. I don't have your keys anymore. And no, I'm not staying with you; we are no longer fucking around like that. Remember?”

“Who said anything about fuckin' around? We are supposed to be talking about me, you and the baby
remember
? You know what? Fuck it. I'll see you at the airport.”

“No!” she snapped. “I'm serious Kyron. Don't waste your time. I'll let you know when I'm ready to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” I laughed it off. “The only thing I want to hear is you calling my name as I'm beatin' that pussy. So bring it to me.”

I hung up on her this time.

When I awoke, I looked around and realized that I was in a room at my father's palatial estate Rancor Los Arboles, in Rancho Santa Fe, California. The room had a panoramic view of the clear blue sky. The walls were made of glass and there was a 60 inch plasma screen T.V. made into the wall over top of the fire place. The floor was bare except for one white Asian throw rug that matched the king-sized white bed that I laid in. In the corner of the room stood my chauffer and bodyguard Luther. As soon as he saw me eyeing him, he left the room immediately.

My whole body ached and I noticed that I was attached to a single I.V. drip. I heard the door to my room open and in walked my father, with two of his men. My father came straight to my side, bent down and kissed my forehead.

“My child, you had me worried. The doctor just left and he assured me that your concussion was minor. He examined you and found no broken bones. You have a few bruises and a knot on your head from your fall. The paramedics inside the ambulance discovered that you were bleeding below the waist. At the hospital before I had you moved, I was told that you were with child—but you miscarried. I'm disappointed, Charli! You never told me that you were pregnant.”

I looked into my father's eyes. They held so much wisdom and history and pain. Once being a part of the Triads in China, he migrated to the U.S. to find another way to live. In the states, old habits were hard to break and three years after landing on American soil, Charlie Li was the overlord of a large Chinese underworld that specialized in selling knock-off clothes, narcotics and counterfeit money to the highest bidders.

Him ruling the underworld was 30 years ago, three years
before I was born, and now my father looked old. Years of war, love, betrayal, killing and prison had taken its toll. Where his once silky black hair used to be, was now covered in grey. The only thing that remained the same was his smile and his eyes.

“I had just found out myself.” That was all I could say before I started to cry.

“Tell me, my child, who did this to you? You sustained a fall at Club New York. Was Mr. Trae Macklin the person who hurt you?”

“No.” I must have responded a little too quickly. My father's eyebrow rose. I continued, “Mr. Macklin had nothing to do with it.”

“Then what happened to you? Did you fall down?”

“Mr. Macklin's wife seems to believe that I wanted to take her husband away from her. Her name is—”

“Tasha. Rosalyn Tasha McNeil is her maiden name. It became Macklin after she married.”

“But how do you know—”

“My child, it is my business to know everything. The minute you told me about your business venture with Trae Macklin, I had him checked out. He was born and raised in New York. He and his partner, a mister Kaylin Santos, attracted the attention of both the Columbian and Italian mob bosses there. They were used by the dons to amass a lot of wealth. But in the meantime, Mr. Macklin and Mr. Santos invested wisely and left the family business or at least they tried to leave. But the dons will not let them leave. In this business, it's blood in, blood out. You come in walking and you leave in a box. Mr. Santos established himself in New York with a soon-to-be music empire, while Mr. Macklin elected to come here and start a new life. I know everything there is to know about Trae Macklin, his wife, his
children, his entire family. Are you telling me that Rosalyn Macklin attacked you?”

I nodded my head.

“Since you got yourself into this mess, I should let you handle it yourself. After all, getting pregnant by a married man is not a noble thing.”

“Father, I will handle this myself.”

“No. The girl will be dead by tomorrow—”

“No, Father I have other plans for Tasha Macklin. I want to deal with her personally.”

“I will kill her husband—”

“No! Father, please let me handle both Trae Macklin and his wife. But there is one person that you can kill for me. Before this day, I loved him like a brother, but he has betrayed me.”

“And who might this be, my child?”

“Stephon McNeil.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Stephon McNeil. Rosalyn McNeil Macklin's cousin.”

I nodded. “He's the one that arranged the meeting between myself and Mr. Macklin. He knew what was planned for me. His actions are inexcusable.” I was disappointed in Stephon.

My father was dressed in his ever-present black custom made shirt, black slacks and Chinese-made suede loafers. He paced the floor in front of my bed. It was what he always did when he made decisions. “It will be taken care of.” My father spoke in rapid Mandarin to one of his men, Samu who left the room quickly. Moments later, he returned with a wooden box. He gave the box to my father, who brought it over to me. He placed the box on my bed and opened it.

“Our people have made knives and swords for centuries,
but the greatest knife makers who ever lived weren't in the renaissance or some other period; they're living and working right now.” He reached in the box and pulled out a knife of some kind. “No one from any era in the past can touch what the best craftsmen are doing now. This knife is the Rembrandt of knives. It was made—hand-carved by a man named John Jensen. This replica cost me 100 thousand dollars. Isn't it beautiful?”