Chapter 9
Shio Cuppacio
Grass crunched beneath my boots as I trudged across the yard.
I hadn’t done any work on the cabin's landscaping or exterior, but the grass had grown lush and green. The spring rain, as well as the mist from the neighboring lake, had done wonders for the nearby plants and turf. The trees curving over the cabin didn’t allow much sun to get through, so I didn’t have to worry about the greenery growing too tall.
In the instance that it did, I was getting Nel over here to handle it.
That nigga lived for yard work. If he could take his nose out of Pia’s ass for five minutes and think, a landscaping company would be a good way to invest his money.
But when a nigga is making dough by the boatloads, small investments are the least of their concerns.
The coolness from the central air dried the sweat that formed during my short walk from the truck to the front door.
Walking past the covered furniture that had become the resting place for dust, I noticed the thermostat's setting was way too low for my liking. The central air was one of the few upgrades I’d made to the cabin.
When I bought it, I didn’t initially know what I would do with it.
But something compelled me to add a state-of-the-art security system that included soundproofing and a non-penetrable door for the basement.
I could hide the fucking president in here, and no one would know unless I gave them insight.
When the temperature was set, I made my way down the stairs into the basement.
The smell of Dove soap hit my nostrils as soon as my foot hit the last step. Not much had changed since I was last here, but there was a cot in the corner, a dresser, and the bathroom had been stocked with toiletries. Besides that, it was just concrete walls.
Tossing the bag of food in the middle of the floor, I crossed my arms at my crotch. “Aye, whatever it is you trying to pull, just know… it’s only one outcome and that shit ain’t gone work in your favor. Not now and damn sho’ not later.”
A grunt, followed by the scraping of feet, sounded to my left, but instead of turning my eyes toward the noise, I kept looking straight ahead.
“Nigga, I could kill you in here.”
Reaching behind my back, I held out the Glock for Hobo to take.
He stood a few feet away from me in the joggers and white T-shirt I’d provided him.
Steam was still emitting from the small bathroom, letting me know he’d just handled his hygiene.
The last time I was here, the nigga smelled like he’d shitted himself, so I made it a point to bring some sanitation products down here along with soap and clothes so he could handle his fucking business.
He was too fucking grown to be smelling like something had crawled up in his ass, died, and clawed back out.
In his hand was a metal pole that he must’ve pulled from the iron bed nestled against the wall.
With a snarl on his face, he eyed the gun, contemplating his next move.
If he decided to take it, he would have not only one but two weapons, and if he knew what the fuck he was doing, he could overpower me. That was a big-ass if, though.
“You got me in this bitch, locked away like a fucking animal, nigga!” He spat on the ground, releasing a nasty, thick yellow glob.
Keeping the gun held out, I looked around the space, doing a one-eighty with my head. “I don’t see no fucking chains or cuffs. You’re free to roam this bitch just like you’re free to take this gun and blow my head off. Or… you can use that pole to slap the gun out of my hand and beat me to a pulp.”
His expression hardened, and he tightened his grip on the black pole.
His knuckles were bruised and cut, and the faint blood marks above his bed provided evidence that he’d been in here punching the walls.
If he broke his gotdamn bones, his ass was just going to have crooked fingers.
I wasn’t dragging a doctor down here unless he was facing a life-or-death type illness.
“What the fuck you on? You’n think I’ll take your gun and kill you, nigga?
I’m a real killa! A real fucking gangsta!
You not really ’bout it because you would have killed me.
You don’t have the heart. What type of kidnapper gives clothing and food to the nigga he kidnapped?
A bed? I would have been in this bitch torturing you!
” He snarled like he had all the answers.
I’d never been the type of person to point out what another person looked like, but Hobo was the bottom of the barrel.
Shit—the nigga was the barrel. His dark skin didn’t shine; it was dull and textured, and that was before I tossed him down here.
Even the huge veneers in his mouth did nothing to improve his features.
Honestly, it made him look more like an animal than anything else.
I didn’t know if he was part horse, gorilla, alien, or all three.
I have no idea what Pia was thinking when she hooked up with this nigga.
He and Nel were in two different leagues.
Luckily, her beauty overshadowed everything because if it hadn’t, my nephew would have come out looking all types of crazy.
Taking six steps in his direction, he flinched but tried to play the shit off.
“I’ve been holding the toolie out for six minutes now, but all you’ve done is talk about what you would’ve done.
You’re alive, yes… but only because I’m a man of my fucking word.
I told your jit I’ll keep you alive until he’s ready to take your ass out himself.
Plus, I’m not into caging and starving grown-ass men.
My rap sheet is extensive, but kidnapping isn’t my usually choice of crime until I snatched yo’ big ass up.
It would have brought me great pleasure to take yo’ hoe ass out like I’d done that bitch you’d been laying up with. ”
His eyes expanded as he stumbled upon my revelation.
“Oh, you think just because I wear this fucking Jesus piece that I have compassion?” I took another step in his direction. By now, he was damn near in the bathroom. “When it comes to my family, matter of fact, it can’t come to them. And that’s why yo’ bitch somewhere stankin’.”
“You… You killed a woman? I thought… I thought mobsters don’t kill women and children?”
Flapping the gun in the air, still waiting for him to take it, I laughed.
“Ion know why you thought that dumbass shit. And when the fuck you become the moral police? I mean… I knew yo’ ass was the police since you and Detective Davis had a good rapport with one another, but…
morals? Nigga, you tried to take yo’ baby mama out but shot your son instead.
Then you ran, like a bitch. Hobo, you in this bitch without shit binding you.
If you was really ’bout it, you would have been gone. So, last chance—take the gun.”
We stared one another down, and even though this shit was a complete waste of my fucking time, I wanted to give him a fair chance.
“I should kill you.”
“Shit, what’s stopping you?” I cocked my head. “Take the gun. I gave you the play. But you may want to grab that Bible from over there on the corner. You’re gonna need it because, if you miss, your ass is done.”
“Fuck you and that bible! You niggas playing a dangerous game.”
“Stop thinking I play by any rules outside of my own, Hubert.” Waving the gun at the bag of food before tucking it inside my waistband, I crossed my wrists in front of me. “Pick the fucking food up and eat it. You need your strength.”
Still with the frown on his face that made him look worse than the fucked up physical attributes he was born with, his ungrateful ass kicked the bag. A salad, fruit, three turkey sandwiches, and six bottles of water rolled out.
“Ion want this shit! I need a burger! Some wings! Steak or some shit! Fuck I look like? A rabbit?”
“With those big-ass teeth in your mouth? Yeah, you can pass for a rabbit, but not the furry, cute ones. Eat the fucking food, Hobo. I don’t have to feed yo’ ass. Don’t take my kindness for weakness. Besides… the fucking cholesterol and blood pressure you have, you need healthy choices.”
“Nigga, you looked at my MyChart?”
“Yeah. I had to make sure I’m not housing a sickly-ass nigga. Eat the fucking food, Hobo.”
Instead of waiting for his reply, I walked backward. This nigga didn’t pump any fear into my heart—not even by a long shot—but weak niggas like him did coward shit like sneak hits. If he did some shit like that, nephew was going to have to understand my reasoning for ending his sperm donor.
“This mob shit can’t save y’all forever! I got people that’s gone come see about me! Watch! You gone be begging for my mercy, and it’s gone be you that need the Bible.”
I smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
That shit made him even more mad, and he started yelling.
“My son will let me go! He will never hurt me! I took care of him and his dusty-ass mammy their whole lives. Where was you mob niggas? Hunh? That lil’ nigga came from my nutsack!
” Hobo was foaming at the mouth, but he hadn’t moved from his spot.
“You a talker. I’m a doer. Remember that shit, Hobo.”
Closing the basement door, I left the house the same way I came.
Hobo had been my last stop of the day before I took it in.
Hopping in the truck, I picked up the blunt that was still lit and inhaled.
I’d put the lean and the pills down, and I didn’t drink as much as I used to, so my daily blunt was one I hadn’t been able to let go.
Outside of working out and prayer, it was my calming mechanism, and if I didn’t have the potency in my lungs, a whole bunch of motherfuckers would be in the dirt.