The Face That Launched A Thousand Bullets (The Cartel Publications Presents) (21 page)

“And this isn’t the first time Detective Betha and Mesaline have messed up. They have ties to a racist organization called the KYC. These people live their lives trying to persecute black people. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for.”

Those words played in his head for over a year until he was finally released. Once a prisoner, now he was a free man based on a technicality.

“That’s it right there.” He pointed to Nations Bank in Southwest D.C. “Keep the car running, I’ll be right back.”

When he got out he grabbed his book bag and opened the bank door. There were a few people standing around handling business. It took ten minutes to get the attention of one of the bank employees. But he was patient because he’d just done more time behind bars. Finally a thin black woman asked if he needed help when a young man bolted pass him.

“Excuse me, can you get somebody to let me into my safe deposit box?” The young man appeared to be in an extreme hurry.

Kavon remained calm.

“Excuse me young man but I was next.” Kavon replied.

“I’m sorry sir…but if I don’t get in there right now, I’ll lose out on a woman I’ve been tryin’ to get at for a minute!”

Kavon smiled and said, “Go head. I know how that is.”

“Thanks.” He smiled before the attendant let him in the back.

Kavon waited for ten minutes before the young man thanked him again, ran passed him and out the door.

“Right this way, sir.” The attendant said walking over to Kavon. He followed her to the back signed in and proceeded to his safe. “Let me know if you need anything.” She said as she gave him some privacy before closing the door behind her.

When she was gone, he removed a shoebox from the safe and placed it in his book bag. Judging by its weight, it was all there. He wouldn’t bother counting it at the bank. He’d do that in the car.

He walked back to his cab and paid him handsomely for waiting. Then he opened the shoebox and checked the contents. Yep, it was one million in cash. Before he went in he gave Kurt access to the other key and told him to handle two million dollars. Five hundred thousand was for him the other money was to care for his wife and baby. The only thing Kurt took off the top was his share. But with all of the drama he experienced with Tara trying to get more than Kavon allowed her to at one time, he was certain, the 500 thousand was not enough.

People were telling him all kinds of shit about his wife when he was locked down. He heard everything from her being on heroin, to her selling her body for crack. At one point he tried to reach her but the phone was turned off. And he wasn’t able to get a confirmation from Kurt, because he was doing time on a manslaughter charge, unrelated to anything he did for Kavon. Instead of believing rumors, he wanted to see her for himself. He couldn’t believe Tara would go that route. He knew the moment he laid eyes on her he’d be able to tell if everything he heard was true.

The cab driver stopped in front of his old house. He shook his head in disgust after seeing how unkempt the grounds were. A few of the windows were boarded and the others had cracked glass. What hurt even more was that it was the only house that was uncared for on the block. When he saw a black woman tending to the small garden in the front of her home, he knew the white family who lived there had moved on, probably cause of whatever Tara had going on.

The woman rolled her eyes at him, and he imagined how many had traveled in and out of his home.

“Keep it runnin’,” Kavon told the driver. He grabbed his book bag and walked to the house.

When he approached the door, he was surprised to see the key still worked. But the moment he opened it up, a gust of foul smelling wind hit him. The door could hardly open due to all the clothes amongst the floor. All of their furniture was gone. The brass table that cost him over four thousand dollars and the frames on the wall were all gone. He held his nose as he pushed past all of the junk.

Looking at his daughter’s bedroom door, he noticed the wooden sign that spelled Tiara was missing the T. And when he opened it, he saw a dirty mattress on the floor covered with filthy clothing.

A dim nightlight lit the room, just enough for him to see her face. When he walked toward the bed, he stared down at his daughter. Tears filled his eyes. How could he do her like this? How could he abandon his only child? He knew Tara wasn’t strong enough. She told him. The child he prayed to God for every night, in the end, he abandoned.

Kneeling by her bedside, he looked at her some more. Her beauty surpassed even that of her mother. Her chocolate skin belonged to him, yet her eyes, hair and even her nose were all Tara’s. Her eyelashes were extremely long and her face was clear and without flaws although she was too frail and skinny to be seventeen.

It was settled, he was taking her out of there. When he touched her gently, a teardrop fell from his eyes and onto her cheek. She opened her eyes, smiled and hugged him tightly. She knew him. But how? He had no contact with her in all these years.

With her hand in his, he moved toward the front door. When he did, he saw a tattered picture of himself and Shy at the cabaret the night he raped Tara. That’s how she knew it was him. He told her to leave it wanting no memories of that beast around her.

Despite years of drug abuse, she was still beautiful to him. Her skin looked dry and she had a small cut in the corner of her mouth.

He heard of people recovering from drug abuse and getting back on track. Maybe with a little help, he could see her through this. At the same time, she did a terrible job as a mother. He looked at Tiara who was almost as tall as her mother and decided to go with his heart. He just hoped that he’d make the right decision.

Kristina’s Diner

Current Day

T
he girl sat in amazement at the stranger’s story. Although the restaurant was even more crowded than when he first started, to her it seemed as if they were alone.

“
Well?” she asked as she occupied the seat between them that at once held her purse.

“
Tammy?”

“
Yeah…that is your name right?” He knew she lied from the beginning.

“
Oh…no…sorry. I thought you were trying to come on to me earlier. My name is Beliza. Sorry for lyin’.”

“
Not a problem, shawty. I rarely use names anyway, but if I’m gonna tell you the rest, I need to know who I’m talking to.”

She smiled to shield her embarrassment.

“
There is more…a lot more.” His voice was serious but calm.

“
Oh, no! Please don’t tell me something happened to the Tiara!” she placed her hand over her mouth and looked at him with saddened eyes.

“
Let’s just say this. Before anything good can happen, tragedy has to take place so that it can be appreciated. And this story is no exception.”

The Saga Continues

What's beef? Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep
Beef is when your moms ain't safe up in the streets
Beef is when I see you
Guaranteed to be an I.C.U, one more time
What's beef? Beef is when you make your enemies start your Jeep
Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep
Beef is when I see you
Guaranteed to be an I.C.U, check it.

-
Notorious B.I.G

Nyzon Peate

Washington, D.C., 2006

Everything Known Was A Lie

N
yzon stared at the woman in the kitchen and wondered what she meant. He watched as the niggas who kidnapped him moments earlier helped her up from the floor. Her eyes were filled with amazement as she shook them off to let her go.

“Look at you….you’re so handsome.”

His head was between her large soft hands as she examined every inch of his face. Any other time he’d be apprehensive about someone touching him but this was different.

“And…what happened to your face?!” she asked briefly skipping the subject. “Which one of you niggas beat this chiyald?” She looked to them for answers but they kept their heads hung low.

“We found him like that.” The oldest one lied giving Nyzon the look to keep their secret.

“Yeah right! Hand me a napkin and some water.” She said directing everyone around her. “And Monesha, go in the bathroom and bring me the peroxide.” When Monesha left she remembered something else. “And the Band Aids too!” her outburst rocked Nyzon’s eardrum.

With everything sitting neatly on the yellow kitchen table, she went to work at once on his bruises.

“Sweetheart, I’m your aunt Jackie.” She dipped the napkin into the peroxide and tapped his face. It stung slightly. “And I’ve spent most of my life looking for you.”

Nyzon sat down at the kitchen table, rubbed his head and unconsciously placed his gun upon it. Her statements confused him. Family? Locally? If what she was saying was true, it meant everything he’d ever known his entire life was a lie. Than he remembered all the times his mother moved him from school to school almost as if she was running from something or somebody.

He was still taking everything in when she screamed, “Oh my LAWD!” She jumped back against the refrigerator rocking the entire unit.

“Listen son…now I know ya’ll gots to do what ya’ll gots to do when you out dere in dem streets, but don’t ever bring no weapons in my house again. You hear me?”