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Authors: Tysha

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Chapter 31
Strong as Steel
After multiple hours on operating tables and days spent in ICU, the twins were resting comfortably side by side in a regular room. Dr. Fitzgerald had been sympathetic with their family issues. He arranged for them to share a semi-private room. It was the first time Prince and Jayden had shared a room in seven years. Shy couldn't have been happier. Princess was even allowed to visit her brothers. Brianna and Monica helped her make the twins some macaroni artwork and colorful get well cards. Princess was looking forward to their return home, in part because Shy promised she could help take care of them.
Dr. Fitzgerald and Nurse Gordon were impressed with the twins' recovery. Jayden's turnaround was nothing short of a miracle. Shy's dedication to them was evident. She stayed by their side every day. Dr. Fitzgerald was pleased to deliver some good news.
“Good morning, sons, how'd you rest last night?”
“As good as we could with nurses waking us up every two hours,” Jayden joked.
“That's the best part about being in here. Dr. Fitzgerald, you got some fine broads walking around here.” Prince unconsciously adjusted his manhood when he spoke. Everyone laughed at Prince.
“Good morning, Ms. McGee,” Dr. Fitzgerald greeted.
“Good morning, Dr. Fitzgerald. How are my boys doing and when can I take them home?” Shy inquired.
“Prince can go home today. Jayden will follow in a couple of days, perhaps a week at most. We want to keep close attention to how his body is reacting to the new kidney.”
Dr. Fitzgerald examined Jayden and was pleased with how strong Jayden had become. He completed his assessment of both boys before excusing himself to get started on getting Prince's release papers in order.
 
 
He hated leaving his brother behind but Prince was ecstatic to be home. Taking a hot shower and tasting his mother's cooking were his immediate goals. Prince was exhausted after the hot shower. Dr. Fitzgerald warned him to take things slow because his body was still healing. The level of fatigue took Prince by surprise. He had to take a nap.
Shy and Princess went in search of Prince shortly after hearing the shower water turn off. He wasn't in his room when Shy and Princess went to check on him. Shy automatically knew he had gotten into her bed. The sight brought back a flood of memories that made Shy's heart smile. Shy thought back to all of the times Prince had crawled into his parents' bed. Prince had always found comfort being in his mother's presence. He'd lie and watch movies or just talk to his mother.
“Shhh, he's sleeping,” Princess whispered.
“Do me a favor and stay here with him while I go cook. Can you watch your brother for me?”
“Yeah, I can watch him. I'm going to lie on this pillow in case he needs something. Will you put on a movie for me so I won't be bored?” Princess said excitedly.
It wasn't long before she fell asleep next to her big brother. Shy couldn't help but snap a few pictures of her babies. She left them to rest, feeling blessed.
Prince being comfortable was Shy's main focus at hand. Shy finished with the small details in the family room. The goal was to put the PS3, TV remotes, blankets, pillows, and anything Prince might need within reach. Shy had Monica purchase a dorm room-sized refrigerator and an oversized La-Z-Boy that Prince could sleep on comfortably.
Shy was in the kitchen prepping dinner when the doorbell chimed. NuNu and Mike Frank stood on the porch, looking like young boys with crushes on the teacher. They both blushed when Shy invited them into the house.
“Hi, Miss Shy.” NuNu gave his friend's mother a hug with Mike Frank following suit. “We heard Prince was home. We just wanted to check him out, if you don't mind.”
“He's in the family room. Prince just woke up a little while ago. I don't mind you visiting but don't stay too long; he's still recovering,” Shy stated. She giggled at the obvious discomfort the two boys had when talking to her. Their obvious crush on her was amusing.
Shy returned to her task of preparing dinner. Princess was reenergized from her nap and ready to fulfill her role as mother's helper. “Okay, Mommy, what do we do first?”
Prince was relaxing in his new favorite chair surrounded by teddy bears and baby dolls. Princess left them to watch him while she helped cook. Even Prince had to giggle at the sight when NuNu and Mike Frank entered the room. The new NBA game on PS3 had just come out and Prince was trying to master the game.
“What's up, bro?” Mike Frank gave Prince dap. “You don't want it on the game, bro. We can get one in if you up to it.”
Prince was happy to see his friends. Out of all his so-called friends, Mike and NuNu were the only two who cared enough about him to show support. They'd both visited him in the hospital on a number of occasions. Prince appreciated their loyalty to him and Jayden.
“It's all good, bro. We can get it in,” Prince replied arrogantly. He felt his skills were honed enough to win the challenge.
Three hours later, Shy and Princess had fed everyone, including Mike Frank and NuNu, put Quincy a healthy-sized plate up, and finished cleaning the kitchen. It was almost time for Shy to go back to the hospital. Brianna had been sitting with Jayden for hours and Shy wanted to go relieve her. Prince enjoyed the company of his friends but was feeling worn out. All he wanted was another dose of pain medicine and to crawl back into his mother's bed. The stress on his body and mind was exhausting for Prince.
“A'ight, man, good lookin' out for chilling with ya nigga. I gotta go grab a nap fo' real. What are y'all 'bout to do?” Prince asked in a tired voice.
“Time to stomp da block. You already know what it is,” NuNu replied.
“I can dig it,” Prince said.
“We gotta holler before we rise up,” NuNu informed Prince.
Prince used the remote to turn off all the electronics before focusing his attention on his boys.
“What it do?” Prince asked.
“Man, ya boy is living foul. He out spittin' hate on you, Jay, and ya pops. That dude running it down to anybody that he's really a McGee and the new king of the streets,” Mike revealed.
Prince wasn't surprised by the news. After the surgery, Prince had more pressing things to focus on but he knew Raequan was problematic and not going away. Raequan had done too much for their friendship to heal. The discovery of him being a McGee made no sense to Prince. Sharing a bloodline was of no consequence for Prince; he had to lay Raequan down.
“Word is that Rae hired some young kid fresh outta juvie to drive the car that rained down on you but it was dat nigga Dwayne rolling with ya boy that day.” NuNu paused to let the information sink in. Prince and Raequan had been tight all of their lives. Hearing the news had to be overwhelming for Prince. NuNu felt bad for the timing of the information but he knew it had to be told. “Prince, man, it was Rae firing on you, Jay, and Q. Rae was aiming for you but hit Jayden by mistake.”
Shy walked into the room just in time to hear that her suspicions were true. Raequan tried to kill her boys. She was furious. How could a boy she had practically raised as her own turn on the only people he loved? Shy knew it was all a charade for Raequan and Cherise to be tested as donors. Looking at Prince, Shy knew her feelings would have to wait. Prince was in so much emotional pain, it showed on his face. Shy rushed into the half bathroom and grabbed the trash can. It was obvious that Prince was going to be sick.
Prince felt like he'd been hit in the chest by a jackhammer. His mind had trouble processing the information. Prince and Raequan had been like brothers their entire lives. They had done dirt, got girls, stolen, rang shots out on other people, and committed countless other crimes together. None of that mattered anymore. Raequan had abandoned camp and latched on to treachery at the speed of lightning. The pain was too much for Prince. His body ached from the surgery and thanks to Raequan, he was experiencing a setback. Shy made it back just in time. Prince leaned over the arm of the chair and vomited into the trash can. Tears escaped his eyes as his heart broke into pieces. Having to vomit after eating solid food was torture. It felt as if his insides were tearing apart. Blood soon mixed with the regurgitation, frightening Prince and Shy.
“Mommy,” Prince cried out. He was doubled over in excruciating pain.
“Call nine-one-one for an ambulance, hurry,” Shy demanded.
Shy grabbed her son and held on for dear life. She'd tried giving him two of his prescribed pain pills but they came right back up. Prince now lay on the floor being gently rocked back and forth by his mother. Princess kneeled down and stroked her brother's head. She remembered he liked when she played with the waves in his head.
Shy felt helpless to take away her child's pain. It was a horrible feeling for any mother. She kept her arms around Prince until the paramedics arrived. Prince had grabbed Shy's hand as he was wheeled out of the house.
“Mommy, stay with me, please,” Prince sobbed. The medics had started an IV and gave him a shot of morphine for the pain. Prince was in less physical pain but the drugs did nothing for his broken heart. Shy gripped Prince's hand with Princess hanging from her other arm.
“You listen to me, baby,” Shy began. “You let Mommy handle Cherise and Raequan. I promise on my soul that retributions will be made.”
Chapter 32
Can't Make It Home
Prince had blood in his stomach when the medical tech wheeled him into the emergency room. He was immediately whisked off to surgery. The strain of him vomiting resulted in a burst suture. Dr. Fitzgerald was able to stop the hemorrhage and discover another vessel that would have eventually bled. Unfortunately, Jayden and Prince lay beside each other again. He was going to be fine but his recovery had taken a huge setback. Prince received a number of antibiotics intravenously to prevent any infections. The doctor's prognosis was positive. He was going to be fine. Jayden was sorry to see his brother back in the hospital. The twins worried about each other like an old married couple. Shy was relieved to know the twins would be released from the hospital in a matter of days.
Brianna and Monica took shifts with Shy so the twins were never at the hospital alone. Their bedside manners made Prince and Jayden fall in love all over again. Quincy was off on a college tour with a group of classmates or he'd be helping his cousins too. Shy would reward the girls handsomely once the twins were at home in their own beds. Until that day came, Shy had detailed plans to work out. It was time for her enemies to settle their tab.
Shy had called C-Lok and Bossy to the hospital once both of the twins were resting. She had to get to her targets before they tried to flee the city. C-Lok had additional news to share with Shy. The streets were talking. Raequan had been out playing as if he ran the streets. All of the street soldiers and generals wanted his head on a stick but C-Lok had put the word out: Raequan was his, he was off-limits.
“We all knew Raequan's stupid ass didn't come up with this shit on his own,” Bossy stated.
“I've been thinking about beating his momma to death, literally. Her deception is an entirely different degree of crime. We'll come back to her felony later. Tell me what's up with Raequan. I'm sure Cherise didn't talk him into turning on Prince, not enough to try to kill him,” Shy said, agitated.
“No, she didn't, but you're not going to like the answer. That little nigga's been working with Roberts all this time,” C-Lok announced.
“Yea, I know. What the fuck was that about?” Shy fumed.
“That bitch nigga Roberts has been breathing for too long. When I heard Roberts had Raequan fuckin' with nephew while they did their bids I knew it was time to check that niggas ticket. One of those idiots should've realized how loud the streets talk. They plan was flawed from the jump but payback's a bitch,” C-Lok fumed at the thought.
With everything that happened, Shy had given little thought to her former best friend and her bastard offspring. She couldn't understand why Cherise and Raequan had moved so far to the left. Cherise had betrayed her and acted as if their friendship never mattered. If anyone had the right to be hurt and out for revenge, Shy did. As far as Shy was concerned, Cherise had spit in her face every day that she pretended she wasn't sleeping with Melvin. Cherise was aware of the possible punishment Shy would hand her just for involving her kids. That was totally unjustifiable. Shy sat at the top of the pyramid next to C-Lok and Bossy. It was understood that Shy was a silent partner. She never got her hands dirty. Melvin and C-Lok wanted it that way but Shy was supposed to be financially stable and the second powerful woman in Youngstown, second only to Bossy. She was the third member of the board of directors and for the first time since Melvin was killed, Shy was ready to make an executive decision.
“How do you want to handle this?” Bossy inquired.
“Ultimate crimes call for the ultimate punishment. Get at the peons first; hit up Raequan before the bitch. I'm doing her and Roberts myself,” Shy announced before walking away. The official order had been given; there was nothing more to be said.
 
 
Roberts paced the worn carpet, feeling a mixed bag of emotions. He was angry, frustrated, and scared simultaneously. His two partners in crime had turned out to be mere hired peons. Both Raequan and Dwayne had failed to deliver the desired results of their assignments. Relying on boys to do a man's job had been Roberts's mistake but his hands were tied. The entire plan had blown up in his face.
Raequan was already in with the McGee family. Roberts had played on Raequan's shortcomings and insecurities in order to manipulate him into betraying his loved ones. Had Raequan gotten the job done, Prince would be dead. Getting rid of a seventeen-year-old hustler wasn't difficult, not in Roberts's mind. Dwayne had been assigned to getting close with Shy and failed miserably.
Pacing the floor had done nothing to help clear Roberts's head. Roberts decided he needed a drink to calm his nerves. He was down to his last twenty dollars until payday. His beat-up Chrysler was running on less than a quarter of a tank of gas so Roberts had a decision to make. Give his last few dollars to the gas station attendant so he could get back and forth to work, or hand it over to the barmaid working at the corner hole in the wall.
Roberts sat on the barstool, wallowing in the hell he'd created. Life had treated him unfairly for far too long. Working as an undercover narcotics officer was a dangerous job but the benefits had proven addictive for the ex-cop. He missed the days of financial comfort and power he held behind the badge. Roberts caught a glance of himself in the mirror behind the bar and found a stranger looking back. His dark chocolate complexion looked ashy and rough. The dark eyes women used to describe as sexy were cold and sunken. It had been weeks since he stepped foot in a barbershop and he was in dire need of a haircut and shave. His appearance was a testament to the way he felt on the inside.
“Hey, baby, you want a refill?”
The young, sexy barmaid interrupted Roberts and his pity party. He looked the pretty woman up and down. She was blessed with natural green eyes and sandy brown hair. Her body was full in all the right places; her creamy mocha skin looked smooth and soft. She was easily as close to perfect as any woman Roberts had ever seen. This woman was no older than thirty and had probably worked as a stripper at some point in her life. Roberts was sure she banked large dollar amounts in tips every night.
“Did you hear me, suga'? You ready for another one? It's dollar night, so drink up.” She smiled at Roberts, causing his penis to jump to attention.
“My bad, Miss Lady. Yeah, keep 'em coming,” Roberts flirted.
“Don't worry, daddy, Vanilla will take care of you,” she said and brushed her hair off her left shoulder.
“Did you just start working here? Because I haven't seen you before.”
“So, that makes you a regular customer. This is my first week here. My name is Vanilla so you holler for me when your glass is empty,” Vanilla instructed. She winked her eye before moving on to another bar patron.
She had agreed to do a favor for a close friend who always rewarded her generously. Everything her friend asked of her was outside of legal parameters but Vanilla Cream Johnson was up for the task. Men had always melted in her hands. Vanilla held a Master's in hustling men and was proud to be titled a gold digger. There was no shame in her game. Many men had run through Vanilla's legs but never for free. Rent, utility bills, car notes, shopping sprees, expensive hair weaves: it all defined who she was. Vanilla used older men for her necessities and the younger ones to satisfy her healthy sexual appetite.
Vanilla was not tending bar for the money; she was on assignment. She had her target in sight and was well prepared to fulfill the contract. By the end of the night, Roberts wouldn't be able to recover from what Vanilla would put on him.
Roberts mindlessly tossed back drink after drink. He watched Vanilla's hips sway from side to side all night. The more he drank the more attention she gave the washed-up detective. Alcohol to Roberts was like crack to a dope fiend. The more he consumed, the more his body craved it.
“You look like you're past your limit. You're two sheets to the wind, suga'. I'm cutting you off,” Vanilla said in her sexiest voice. It was last call at the bar and time to execute her plan.
Roberts opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He was unable to converse with the object of his desire. Something was not right. The number of drinks he'd tossed back was routine. Roberts shook his head in attempt to clear his mind but it only made things worse. He was dizzy, nauseated, and embarrassed.
“Hey, are you all right, suga'? You're not looking too good.” Vanilla faked concern. She reached out and grabbed his hand.
Roberts felt the warmth of her skin on top of his own. He was elated. The simple gesture was the only human contact he'd had in months. Even then it was with a prostitute. His head was having brief moments of clarity in which he wanted to beg Vanilla to go home with him. After multiple attempts, Roberts found his voice.
“I'm straight.” Roberts gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I must have tossed back one drink too many.” Roberts cleared his throat and tried to steady himself on the barstool.
“Here, drink some water to bring your high down,” Vanilla instructed. She opened the bottle of water for her mark. It was late and she needed to speed up the process. Being in his company was uncomfortable. Vanilla found Roberts to be creepy. “I know you're not trying to drive home.” Vanilla faked concern.
“My house is down the block. I walked.” Roberts slurred each word. The cold water felt refreshing going down the back of his throat. After two big gulps, Roberts set the bottle of water on the bar and stood on his feet using the bar to steady himself.
“You look shaky to me. I don't have to help close the bar. Why don't I help you home?” Vanilla smirked. Knowing no man would turn down her offer, Vanilla retrieved her purse and bag from their hiding place. She walked around the bar to join Roberts.
His eyesight was blurry but a blind man would appreciate the body on Vanilla. Roberts's drunken mind raced with thought of putting Vanilla is various sexual positions. He wondered if she was flexible.
Vanilla put her arm around Roberts's waist and led him out the door. Out on the street Roberts felt a small measure of clarity as the wind blew in his face. He glanced over at the woman on his arm and again became mesmerized by her beauty. The logical question would've been what a woman of her caliber was doing with a loser like him. With no money, no car, and a lack of personal grooming, he was clearly beneath a confident, strong woman like Vanilla. Alcohol was a confidence builder pulling him right into her spider web of deceit. Roberts was like a puppy dog on a leash being yanked around by its abusive owner. He was oblivious to the effect the woman he lusted after would have on his very short future.
“This is my place. You're going to help me inside aren't you?” Roberts forced his crooked mouth into a smile. There were so many things he wanted to do to Vanilla. He needed to get to his little blue pills before moving things forward. Vanilla smiled and helped Roberts ascend the rickety steps leading to his front door.
Vanilla frowned at the foul order that smacked her in the face upon entering the run-down apartment. She was outdone by the sight.
Why would he invite people in here? He should be embarrassed and ashamed. Let me get this fool out of his misery and get the hell out of here. C-Lok gonna pay me double for this shit.
“I know it needs cleaning but it's a place to lay my head,” Roberts offered as a weak explanation for the way he lived. He pushed some dirty clothes off the old, dusty couch to make room for his company to have a seat. “Have a seat and I'll get us a drink.” Vanilla remained standing.
“Don't you think that's a bad idea? You've had plenty of alcohol tonight,” Vanilla reminded her host. She frowned at the thought of drinking or eating in her current environment.
Roberts ran his rough hands over Vanilla's hips and behind. He took in all the contours of her body and became excited.
“You're probably right. I don't have anything else to offer you,” Roberts said apologetically. His mind was still reeling from the alcohol but it had done nothing to stop his sexual desires. Vanilla did not protest or move when Roberts continued to molest her body with his hands. That gave him the green light to continue. He had to take a Viagra before going in for the kill. “Go on and chill for a minute while I go in the back. It won't take me long.”
Vanilla dug through her purse in search of the murder weapon. She'd found it just in time. “Look at what I found.” Vanilla held up a bag of cocaine.
Roberts was excited Vanilla got down the way he liked. He responded like a kid in a candy store. A good hit trumped a stiff drink every time. Obviously an addict, Roberts pushed the old newspapers, food, and mail from the coffee table. Vanilla poured half an ounce of coke on a magazine cover. Roberts was now on bended knee in front of the table. It didn't matter that his guest had not joined him on the floor. Nothing could make Vanilla touch anything in the filthy domicile. She used her long nail to form three lines. Roberts had his nose running along the magazine cover before Vanilla pulled her hand back. His left nostril took in the drug as if it were a vacuum. Seconds later, Roberts lifted his head back and pinched his nose. “That's some good shit,” Roberts said before it hit him. He wiped his bloody nose with his shirt sleeve as his eyes began to water. Something was wrong. The inside of his nose and throat felt like they were being shredded.

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