28. Deacon
A week later…
Seeing Ma and Mrs. Stephens coming together like the best of friends on the day of the community event let me know my plan had worked out. When I saw Squeak unconsciously clutching her chest I had to try and reassure her that love would still win where we’re concerned. However, I didn’t expect the last dunk coming from Ma and Mrs. Stephens, when they joined efforts to complete a third opportunity to fill my lungs with water. Their asses walked off like they had something too. Since it took me the rest of the day to stop feeling like I was talking through a tunnel, I guess they had. Not to mention, becoming the butt of multiple jokes from my club brothers and sisters during clean-up.
“Nigga, snap out of it. Your ass is picking the wrong time to go to outer space and shit,” Shadow says, forcing me back into the present moment.
“My bad,” I say.
“I wish I could say this shit comes as a surprise, but it doesn’t. What I want to know is why?” Gunz asks.
I blankly stare at the two people tied to chairs inside the clubhouse, feeling nothing for either of them. While everybody says they’re loyal to you, some don’t understand the definition with enough comprehension to exercise its meaning.
“Does it matter now?” Sinful asks, rolling her eyes.
Sinful didn’t attend the community event despite it being mandatory for every active member. What had been equally weird is that Sinful didn’t attend the club meeting the day after which had caused red flags to rise for me. Thanks to Kodak, we found out that not only had Sinful been fucking Too Sweet but also his cousin and Daxx. It now explains why Sinful stepped out of my personal space the day I found out Too Sweet was involved with Satan’s Cobras.
“How about you? What do you have to say for yourself, nigga?” Gunz asks the other person tied to the chair next to Sinful.
This person’s deceit and involvement did come as a surprise due to the affiliation with Baxtown Iron as a whole.
“You little niggas got too big for your britches. I made y’all, and you had the nerve to toss me aside like I’m not the reason you even have a patch to wear,” Bulldog says, pushing against the binding around his body.
“Oh, poor doggy. What happened… the women stopped letting you fill them with jelly after our president and vice president deemed you useless? In my opinion… it took too long. Your bitch ass ain’t never been about this life,” Smoke says.
“Fuck you, little nigga,” Bulldog snaps.
“Bet,” Smoke says, walking away whistling, and a smirk rises on my face because I already know what’s coming.
“I’ll be back,” Diesel says, following behind Smoke.
“Ooh, this shit is about to be good,” Shadow says cheerfully, rubbing his hands together.
“Oh, your ass can co-sign this and not the other shit. You fake as hell,” Gunz tells Shadow.
Meanwhile, I take a seat in one of the chairs away from where Sinful and Bulldog are sitting in the middle of the floor. This ain’t the fight or vengeance I’m exacting, so I’m gonna watch the events unfold for now.
“What the fuck is that?” Sinful’s eyes balloon when Diesel and Smoke reenter the room carrying travel cages reminiscent of the ones often used for cats or dogs.
“We’ll save her for last. Let’s start with this nigga,” Diesel says, walking toward Bulldog with Smoke on his heels.
Diesel and Smoke place the carriers on the floor an inch away from Bulldog before they each slip on a pair of heavy-duty black gloves. Once done, they bend and open the door of the carriers with an instantaneous hissing piercing the room.
“Come on and eat, Wild Thang,” Diesel says before the triangular head of a coppery-red snake darts forward.
“Oh shit!” Bulldog shouts.
“Ahhh,” Sinful screams with tears running down her face.
“My bad, I pissed her off when I forced her into this small-ass contraption. My girl is used to finer digs,” Diesel says, grabbing the snake and placing it on Bulldog’s lap.
“Tell me about it, my girl, Ruckus, is—fuck, hold on, girl,” Smoke says when his snake lunges out, biting Bulldog’s bare feet when the cage door opens.
“Son of a bitch!” Bulldog hollers.
“Man, this shit is better than watching National Geographic,” Shadow says, munching on a bag of popcorn while taking a seat beside me.
Laughing, I shake my head at Shadow because his ass is so unserious sometimes, and the way he’s chomping the popcorn is comical.
“Let me have some of that,” I say.
“Nah, Get your o—damn, what’s that fucking smell?” Shadow’s nose twists, and he shuts his bag of popcorn like the smell will get inside.
“Sinful’s funky ass pissed on herself,” Gunz says, pointing.
“Aye, wrap this up. I’m getting bored. Besides, my hands are itching.” I shrug, ignoring the pleading within Sinful’s eyes when she looks at me.
One thing about some of us men within Baxtown Iron that most don’t know is that we domesticate pets that most would find repulsive. While Boston, Smoke, and Diesel’s pets often take care of their light work during a killing mission, my girl, Carol Ann, ain’t about that life. She’s only my pet who enjoys the comforts of her penthouse, nail polish, and frilly tutus. Although witnessing the destruction of the pets my brothers own, I’m kind of intrigued about finding something else to house for the benefit of aiding in my sending a nigga to the afterlife.
Later that night…
*whap, whap, whap*
My fists repeatedly connect with the bare chest of the nigga who I have been punching for the last hour. Both of his eyes are shut, and blood is flowing like a river from his mouth thanks to the teeth I’ve knocked out. Yet, my fury and the ice running through my veins haven’t simmered or released me of my chokehold. With every hit, Squeak’s cries penetrate my ears, increasing my punches' intensity. The haze covering my eyes has me stuck on the image of Squeak trembling in my arms, and it incites me to keep going. I’m energized after only watching my brothers kill Bulldog and Sinful earlier.
“Pl-p,” Daxx’s words are low and mumbled due to how swollen his lips are, yet his ass won’t be receiving any mercy from me.
Knowing he not only killed Squeak’s cousin but set out to keep me from marrying Squeak has my mouth twisting before punching Daxx again.
“Boogeyman, my mothafucking ass. Bitch nigga,” I rant, breathing hard with flaring nostrils.
“Hold up. Drink some water, champ,” Gunz says, pulling me away from Daxx with the assistance of Can’t Get Right due to my resistance.
“While this nigga is refueling and shit, I got a question. Is this about to be our new method for ridding the world of our enemies?” Shadow asks, smoke from his blunt colliding with the smell of wood coming from the adjacent fire.
Silence echoes around the area. My blank and murderous orbs are focusing on nigga I’ve been working over. His hands are mangled from being hit by a hammer upon seeing him at my arrival. Blood is oozing from the bullet wounds in his knees. Yet, none of it satisfies me because Squeak’s image hovers on the surface.
“Y-you—you’re not gonna get aw—” Daxx mumbles breathlessly before I cut him off.
“One, two, Deacon came for you. Three, four, your fate is walking through the door. Five, six, Gunz add more sticks. Nine, ten, this bitch nigga will never breathe again,” I recite after grabbing the weapon I’ve been allowing to marinate over an open flame.
“Ahhh,” Daxx screams when I put the hot crowbar on his chest directly over his heart.
Seeing Daxx’s flesh instantly bubble, boil, and start to peel from his body has a sinister grin stretching across my lips.
“Ma ain’t got a clue this is why your ass won’t leave the club or make it into the pearly gates,” Gunz says over Daxx’s screams.
“Right. She might want to re-dedicate her life to Big Homie next Sunday because, clearly, He shut off her phone privileges. It’s a damn shame that with all the oil she uses, not one of her prayers reached Heaven’s hotline,” Shadow says, shaking his head as everyone but Daxx laughs.
“Let’s finish this so I can go home and give Squeak some it's over, dick,” I say, removing the crowbar after Daxx’s screams cease.
“Bet,” Gunz says.
Me, Gunz, Shadow, and Can’t Get Right pick a silent Daxx up and toss him in the nearby fire.
“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” I say, wiping my hands off before turning and walking toward my truck.
“Hold on. Y’all didn’t answer my question. Is this gonna be our new burial grounds for bitch niggas?” Shadow asks behind me.
“We can discuss it at the next club meeting,” Diesel says.
“How? Everyone isn’t aware of this location,” Smoke asks.
“If your ass would stop pillow-talking with Tinker Belle, neither would she. I saw the footage of her and Squeak out here a while ago,” Diesel adds.
“Wait, what? I ask, stopping to look at Smoke.
“Don’t look at me like that. Your ass is in a monogamous relationship now, so you understand the power of the pussy,” Smoke says, hanging his head.
“Damn, this nigga done let Tinker Belle’s pussy whup him. I’m glad I didn’t go after her. I ain’t got time for that,” Shadow interjects before I can respond.
“You’re a bitch, bro. No matter how much I enjoy Squeak’s pussy I ain’t out here singing like a canary,” I say.
“Oh, but that wasn’t you letting the power of pussy motivate you?” Smoke asks with his brows hiking after pointing over his shoulder where Daxx is roasting like a chestnut.
“I’m out,” I say, smirking without answering his question because it ain’t only Squeak’s pussy that has me out here killing niggas.
“Mhm. Exactly, bro. Stop capping,” Smoke says to my retreating back, and all I can do is throw my hand up while flicking him off.
The sound of laughter hits my ears, causing my smirk to widen as my steps increase at the thought of fucking Squeak with a new sense of appreciation when I get home.