16. Real
(A few minutes earlier…)
As I leaned back in my office chair talking to Ev, I heard the echoing footsteps of Targen and Ghazi approaching. They dragged someone with them—a man whose muffled protests could be heard even through the heavy door. I sighed, pushing myself upright. Another day, another problem.
The door swung open with a metallic clang, and they entered, half-carrying, half-dragging a struggling figure between them. The man's eyes darted around the room, wild with rage and confusion. His loud complaints ruined my conversation with the beautiful woman on the other end of the phone.
“Sit yo’ ass down and shut the fuck up,” I ordered.
Turning my attention back to the phone, I said my goodbyes, promising to finish what I’d started later. Then, I focused on this place and this situation. The underground facility hummed with a low, persistent buzz. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on the polished concrete floors, while the scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. It was a rare hidden world beneath the Texan soil, a place where morality twisted and turned like the winding tunnels that led to it.
We were in my office, a cramped but perfectly organized space tucked in the corner of the facility. It was a world of difference from the sunlit, wide-open workspace I inhabited aboveground. Here, the walls were lined with medical texts and digital monitors displaying endless streams of data. It kept the darkness in which my team and I thrived alive so that we could continue amassing the fortunes of my family’s legacy. The hum of machinery was a constant companion, a reminder of part of the life my family and I had chosen.
When we’d finally inherited part of our lying ass father’s empire, my siblings and I were astounded by not only the legal wealth, but the illegal fortune as well. His life as a struggling student had been a facade. Ismail came from wealth and multiplied it. His above- and below-ground portfolios were extensive, with everything from real estate to one of his most lucrative endeavors—harvesting organs. Ismail made fucked up personal choices, but the inheritance he provided took a bit of the sting out of how his decisions flipped our life upside down at one point. We took what was provided and expanded.
I thought of how my father’s legacy sometimes caused more problems than the money was worth, especially in the form of Aaqil. I was tired of offering grace, so now I was at the point of making examples. Some people didn’t understand when mercy was offered to them. Sometimes they needed a visual aid to stand down. Gerard had been one. Today, there might be another.
I looked back at my brother with a scowl on my face. “Ghazi, you got one job. Why is this nigga in here?” I asked. “You coulda handled this shit.”
Ghazi sucked his teeth as Targen laughed.
“Say, you really be letting that big brother shit go to your head. I don't work for you, Real. I just agreed to help in this capacity ‘cause you spread a little thin. You still the president or CEO or executive director of enforcement. And I need you to make an executive decision about what to do with this mothafucka exactly,” Ghazi snapped.
Blowing out a long breath, I ran a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the last of the effects of hearing Ev’s soft moans. I didn’t want to wait until tonight to see her. Business had to be handled, though, and I recognized that the man in front of me was bad for that business. He’d been one of the men detailing Aaqil a couple of days ago.
“What he do?” I asked.
“Found this one tailin’ Chennai,” Targen offered. “I thought, ‘Why stop there? He should meet the rest of the family.’ Couldn’t get you, so I called Ghazi."
I stood, brushing off my jeans. "Fuckin’ with my baby sister? Well, ain't that some unsafe shit to do? Why would he play with his life? Tell me that he wasn’t stupid enough to gamble and lose.”
Ghazi tightened his grip on the man's arm. "Lose is too mild of a world. His bitch ass is disadvantaged, working for Aaqil," he replied, his voice cold as a winter wind. "Bitch was up to no good. I knew you and Cairo were here waiting for another… delivery, so we brought him in for a lil’ chat."
I nodded, feeling my expression hardening.Walking over to the squirming man, I grabbed his anger-filled face.
“It’s like you woke up today and decided, ‘Hmm, let me fuck with the wrong people.’ Then, you took it a step further by fucking with one of our hearts? You couldn’t be that stupid. How much did he pay you to lose your life?” The question seemed rhetorical, yet the unsuspecting man began talking.
“I was doing my job. It is an honor to serve?—”
“The question wasn’t why you made a dumbass decision. I asked you how much?”
The muscles in his jaw ticked as he clenched it tightly. “Aaqil only asked that I follow this woman. He told me just to look, to track her movements. I was never going to hurt her. We do not hurt women. Aaqil just wanted information about what is rightfully his!”
The man struggled harder to escape the steel grips of Targen and Ghazi. I gave him a look that dissected him, breaking him down into the parts this “business” thrived on. He appeared to be in his late twenties and took great care of himself. He didn’t know he’d just forfeited his life to save another.
I looked into the man’s eyes, feeling a wicked grin spread across my face.
“A man’s life is only as good as the choices he makes. When you make a choice, you should weigh all sides carefully. Unfortunately, today you will find out that you ended up half past ‘you got me’ and arrived at a quarter till ‘fucked up.’”
His lip curled in a sneer. “This is unnecessary. I just?—”
“Unnecessary? You decided to follow my sister around, violate her privacy, and share information with a delusional pussy. You made the choice; stand by your decision.” I looked at Targen and Ghazi. “Let’s take him to the exam room. Cairo’s waitin'. But, Cairo’s always waiting. Time to see if this fool works."
The man struggled, pulling against Targen and Ghazi like a caged animal. "You can’t do this! I was just following her," he shouted, desperation finally creeping into his voice.
My eyes narrowed, searching his face for truth. Ghazi shook his head.
“He’s lying, bruh. Aaqil probably put him on her, but this fuck up lost sight of his plan. Searched his car. Found zip ties, rope, a hood, a needle, and enough of a tranq to lay her out for a long time. Bitch could’ve killed baby girl,” my brother revealed, the rage that I suddenly felt reflected in his tone.
The man shook his head hard as fuck. “Nobody was going to?—”
I chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Oh, we ain't worried 'bout ‘nobody.’ We’re lookin’ for ‘somebodies’ that do stupid shit to land them in our exam room.”
“Stupid?” he spat. “All of the things your family does! Chennai… she is beautiful. Perfect. I was just going to take her away from all this. Who are you to judge?—"
Targen scoffed. “You didn’t know? We’re in the business of judging. We like to imagine ourselves as the stars of daytime TV. You know, one of them courtroom shows?—"
“Like some black Judge Joes,” Ghazi piped up.
I grilled him. “Nigga, Judge Joe is black.” I turned back to Aaqil’s puppet. “Anyway, you, my nigga, have been tried, judged, and now, we execute.”
They marched him down the narrow corridor, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The exam room was already prepped, its gleaming instruments laid out like a surgeon’s banquet. Cairo stood by the table, his white coat crisp and clean, a stark contrast to the grim business at hand.
"Hey, Cairo," I called as we entered. "Got us an unexpected one. This man decided he wanted to take Chennai. You ready to put on a show?"
Cairo looked up from the chart he was studying, his eyes sharp and focused. "You know me, Real. I stay ready. Too bad our new patient made such a bad choice. Now, he gets to be a practice dummy. Let’s see if he got what we need. He looks like a walking payday.”
“I love the way you think, bruh. Take all that shit from him. We were only scheduled for a liver and kidneys, but our friend here is donating his worthless carcass for the advancement of science. Whatever you can sell, take it.”
The man was pushed onto the cold metal table, his protests falling on deaf ears. Mona stepped forward with a syringe. She wasn’t as retired as she led Ev to believe. Her steady hands had seen more than their fair share of these surgeries.
"Time to relax a bit," she said, her voice soothing yet firm. "This won’t hurt at all. Thank you for your gifts.”
"You are all crazy," the man hissed, fear threading his words. "You cannot just take my organs!"
Ghazi leaned in, his voice low and menacing. "We ain’t takin’ nothin’ that ain’t owed. You run with Aaqil, you know the score. In your next life, choose to be a real nigga and come to women correctly. Stealing them ain’t it. Now, be a good boy and let Mona do her job."
Mona injected the sedative with practiced ease, and within moments, the man's struggles ceased, his eyes drooping as he slipped into unconsciousness. She stripped him down, then bathed him with an antiseptic solution before ordering us to move him into the operating room. There was a flurry of movement as Mona hooked him up to various machines and administered drugs that would sink him further into oblivion. Minutes later, the room settled into a focused silence, the only sound the rhythmic beep of monitors. This work was dirty, no doubt about it, but it served a purpose. We didn’t just pick anyone. People who trespassed, who brought darkness into the world—those were our targets. In the language of the streets, this was our way of evening the scales.
The room was alive with a quiet intensity, the air thick with anticipation as we scrubbed and suited up. Cairo moved with the grace of someone who had spent countless hours doing this shit, each movement deliberate and precise. He glanced up, scalpel in hand, ready to begin.
"Alright, folks, let's get to business. First up, we’re goin’ for the liver. We have a buyer down in Mexico who’s been waitin’ on one. Pray for a match."
“You ‘bout to kill this fool and talking about pray. Y’all sick for real,” Targen muttered.
Cairo made the initial incision with a steady hand, the scalpel slicing cleanly through the skin. The soft hiss of the ventilator was the only sound as we collectively held our breaths. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching intently.
"How’s it lookin’, Cai?"
"Pristine," Cairo replied, carefully navigating through the layers of tissue. "Looks like he never even smelled a drink. We ‘bout to make a buyer real happy. A quarter mil ticket coming right up!”
He continued with his meticulous work, each removal orchestrated like a symphony, the instruments glinting under the harsh lights. Ghazi and Targen watched from the sidelines, but even the procedure’s gravity couldn’t stop Ghazi’s usual silliness.
"Cairo Hamilton: genius by day, terror by night," he mumbled. "He removing that fool’s organs like he playing the game Operation. That’s diabolical work.”
“Kidneys are beautiful. Hopefully perfect for that young mama who had to start dialysis,” Cairo pronounced lowly, caught up in the macabre surgery.
“Maybe this is the Lord’s work,” Targen joked.
I didn’t know if the shit was diabolical or divine. But beneath the Texan earth, far from the prying eyes of the world above, the work would continue.