70. Corinthians
Corinthians
When I walked into Dwayne ‘Mims’ Gregory’s bedroom, the last thing I expected was for him to be standing there, naked, holding his dick.
"Did we interrupt a solo session?" I asked with a small laugh. Mims glared at me, but I didn’t care.
"Nah baby," Uri said, shaking his head. He pointed to the side of the bed, and I glanced around him to see Logan knocked out on the floor.
"Logan?" I cautiously asked, then looked at Uri. "He was fucking Logan?"
"Logan was fucking him," Uri clarified.
"How long has that been going on?" I couldn't help but ask. "And ain't that your uncle?" I looked at Mims.
"He's not my uncle by blood. Aunt Sharon is my mama’s sister."
"Close enough," I said, shrugging. "How long y'all been fucking?"
"Since he was twelve," Uri answered.
"Aww, you’re a victim,” I said, nodding. I understood now the hold Logan had on Mims. He had been groomed since he was a boy, and Logan kept that hold on him.
"I’m not a victim," Mims denied.
"You've been fucking him since you were a kid who couldn’t give consent, and you’re wearing a bra with no titties and a Bob wig," I pointed out. "You are a victim."
"I’m not a victim!" Mims yelled. "You don’t know shit!" I knew that men had a hard time understanding that they could be victims, too. For so long, society only ever talked about sexual assault on women and girls. They ignored the men and boys.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Uri shook his head. He was trying so damn hard to hold on to his temper.
"I know enough," I told him. "Now lower your voice before that man decides to lose his temper. He doesn’t like to be yelled at or for me to be yelled at."
"Fuck you!" Mims sneered.
I would've been insulted if he wasn’t standing there in a bra and wig.
Don't get me wrong, I had no problem with people who did drag; I even enjoyed a show or two, but this wasn’t it.
This was a man, lost in the thought of love with his rapist. If nothing else, I felt sorry for Mims. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to die, though.
"Fuck this," I heard Uri say, then he emptied his clip into Mims. He dropped to the ground, and that was it. No grand flare, nothing over the top. Mims's death was basic and quick because he didn’t matter.
I approached him and went to work, cutting his head off.
My straight razor wasn’t actually going to decapitate him, though.
It would only cut through the skin, muscles, and veins.
When I got to his spinal cord, I stood, lifted my boot, and stomped down, breaking his spine until his head was disconnected from his body.
"Can I just say that was probably the sexiest thing I've seen you do?" Uri asked.
I picked up Mims's head by the wig, half expecting it to come off, but it didn’t. Surprised, I tucked it under my arm and checked his scalp. The wig was a sew-in. "Whoever did this did a damn good job," I said, then turned to Uri. "What are your plans for Logan?"
"Death." He grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him out of the room. His head bounced down each step as we left.
"This nigga is dragging a naked nigga, and she’s carrying a head under her arm," Krude sighed when he saw us. "What the fuck were y'all doing up there?"
"Killing Mims." I held up his head.
"And who is that nigga?" Krude asked, pointing to Logan.
"My father," Nine answered. His cold gray eyes were locked on Logan. "Is he dead?"
"No," Uri answered.
Nine nodded, then knocked on the door, then took his phone from his pocket, dialed a number, then put it on speakerphone.
"Hello?"
"How far are you?" Nine asked.
"Pulling up."
"Alright."
Nine hung up and continued to watch Logan. I couldn't read his expression, but I could see the anger in his eyes. We stood there waiting until Gentle pulled up. He parked his car next to his brother’s and got out as soon as he saw Logan; a slow but malicious smile spread across his face.
"Is this for me?" He asked, looking around.
"Yes," Uri answered him. "Do what you need to do. Ask the questions, get what you need, then kill him."
"Nah," Gentle said, then shook his head.
"It ain't that type of party." He looked around until his eyes landed on Cross' axe.
"Can I borrow that sister-in-law?" Cross didn't hesitate to hand him her axe.
"Thank you." He approached us, then nodded for Uri to step aside.
"I don’t need the words or the bullshit explanation.
He did what he did. He deserves to die." He looked at me. "You want his head, right?"
"Yes."
Gentle nodded, then stepped around Logan. He had the same empty look in his eyes that Nine did. There was no love lost. Just a man finally slaying his demons. He lifted the axe over his head and chopped off Logan's left leg.
"Ahhh," Logan screamed as he jerked awake.
"Shut the fuck up!" Gentle said as he slammed the blunt end of the handle into his forehead, knocking him out cold. "You didn't give a fuck when I yelled and screamed as a kid until I passed out!" He flipped the axe in his hand and chopped off his other leg.
Logan jerked awake again, but this time Gentle didn't hit him. He let Logan reach for his legs only to realize they were gone. Gentle kicked him in the shoulder, making Logan fall back. Logan tried to crawl away.
"Please," he cried as he dragged his body across the driveway. "Please."
"Please is a weak nigga word, remember, Logan?
" Gentle taunted as he walked beside him.
"What would you tell me when I said that?
" He smirked. "Oh yeah. Please makes you a bitch. Grown men don’t beg!
" He lifted the axe over his head and slammed it down on Logan's right arm.
He moved to the other arm and did the same thing.
Then, he flipped Logan over to his back and stared down at him.
"You begged, Logan. That makes you weak, and what do we do to niggas that are weak?
" He stared down at him. "We show them no mercy.
" Gentle lifted the axe one last time, but this time when he brought it down, he cut off Logan's head.
"Come on, big bro," Nine said, coming to stand next to Gentle. He took the axe from him and handed it to his wife. "Come on."
"I hope he's in therapy," Krude said, shaking his head.
"And if he ain't, he needs to be because that ain't right.
" He looked over at us. "You two niggas, too.
" He mugged us with a look of disgust. "Four, you over smiling and shit like a proud parent and Corinthians you rubbing that damn head like it’s a cat or something in your arms."
I looked down at the head in my arms and realized I was twirling the ends of the wig between my fingers. "Oh, sorry," I said, then stopped. "I was just enjoying the show."
Krude narrowed his eyes at me. "You make a therapy appointment?" He asked, and I nodded. "For when?"
"Therapy is always on Tuesdays."
***
Uri parked his car in his parents' driveway and stared at the house.
Seeing this house now, all these years later, felt different.
It didn't look as big, as scary, as dangerous as it did when I was a kid.
The overly large bushes and trees looked little, brittle to a degree.
The windows were dirty, the brick walls looked like they were seconds away from crumbling.
"You good?" I asked him.
"Yeah," he answered. "You?"
I waited to see if I felt anything other than relief. I didn't. "Yeah," I answered with a soft laugh. "I'm good."
Uri nodded, then got out of the car, rounded it, and came to open my door. My cousins and sister waited at the end of the driveway. They weren't needed for this. This was for Uri, and it was ending.
Hand in hand we walked up the porch and opened the door. Nine, like always, was a step ahead of us, so the door was unlocked. The smell of baked chicken, green beans, and bread filled my nose.
"She didn’t cook when I was a kid," Uri said.
I wasn't surprised. What he told me about his mama never screamed motherly.
Uri always said she wasn't like him. He directed us through the living room, then the dining room, and eventually we reached the kitchen.
His mama sat at the island, dressed in a suit, hair bone straight, makeup perfect.
The first thing that struck me, after the thought of how beautiful she was, was how young she looked.
"I made dinner," she finally said. Her voice was soft yet firm. Her tone and demeanor felt more like a random Wednesday dinner with us instead of why we were really here.
"I've seen you before," I said, ignoring her statement about food.
"A few times," she replied with a nod. "Each time was purely selfish."
"Selfish?" I repeated.
"Have a seat, Corinthians, you too, Uri," she pointed to the empty seats across from her.
"I'd rather stand," I told her, shaking my head. My memory flashed with instances I'd seen her over the years. As a kid in the park, before my assault, randomly at the library when I was in college, and then after my assault at the ice cream shop with Judah.
"I guess you want to know why, right? Why I was around."
"Yes."
"She was around?" Uri asked, confused, and I nodded. "When? Why didn't I know?"
"I thought it was random," I answered him, then turned back to his mama. "But it wasn't."
"No," she replied. "It wasn’t. In the beginning, I wanted to see what made you so special. Why Robert was infatuated with you so much. Even when you were a kid, he came home talking about you. It was always what his pet did. How proud of you he was."
"I was a kid."
"So was I," she laughed humorlessly. "How much older than you all do you think I am?" She looked at Uri and me. "Do you know?"
"No," Uri answered.
"I had your brother a few days before I turned eleven, and with you I was just shy of twelve."
"You were a baby," I softly said.
"I was," she agreed. "I went from living in my parents' house to here." She twirled her finger in the air. "My father said I was a business deal. The highest bidder had bought me, and that was Robert. He beat, raped, broke, and tortured me until I barely recognized the person in the mirror."
"You look fine now."
"Hatred does that to you," she shrugged.
"I hated Robert, then you Corinthians, then Uri and Kenbral for getting away, then myself for not being strong enough to get away.
Then the cycle started over. Robert, you, the boys, me.
Repeatedly until I realized that I was never going to get away.
And I think that's what Robert wanted. Me lower than low because that's when he started being nice to me.
I got my GED, then went to college and then med school. "
"You're a doctor?" I asked, and she nodded.
It all started falling into place. There was no one Robert would've allowed to touch me.
No man he would've trusted to inseminate me.
But the woman he groomed from childhood?
She would do what he said without hesitation.
"You're the doctor that inseminated me."
"I am."
"Why? If you hated me so much, why did you do it?"
"Because I thought it would get Robert to love me," she replied.
"In my mind, you were the enemy. Robert wanted your attention.
He wanted nothing more than to come home to you every night.
To love you. I'll be honest, I half-assed your insemination.
I intentionally placed the sperm in the wrong place, but that damn Strong sperm always finds a way.
You got pregnant despite my poorly executed placement.
" She shook her head. "Robert watched you damn near every day of your pregnancy.
Making plans, designing your house. He just knew you would end up together. "
"I never wanted Robert."
"I know that now," she insisted. "But then?
It didn't matter. I just knew the man I loved, or thought I loved, loved you.
" She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the countertop.
"Then, I saw Uri. My baby wasn't a baby but a grown man, and I saw how he looked at you.
" She looked at Uri and sadly smiled. "He looked at you in a way that I'd never seen.
It wasn't obsessive like Robert. I could see that even from a distance.
He loved you. In a way that Robert would never.
" Her eyes watered, but no tears fell. "Robert saw it too, and he got mad.
Beyond mad really. He beat me every time he saw y'all together.
Every time he turned on the TV, he watched the security cameras.
Every time you laughed or smiled, his reality set in.
That you and Uri were always endgame. You always were destined for each other.
He would never. Could never have his spot.
So, I came up with a plan as he came up with his. "
"He planned to kidnap Cori and Judah," Uri said.
"Yeah, he planned to kidnap them and kill you."
There was a part of me that felt bad for her.
She was a victim of Robert's, too. Sold by her father, raised by her abuser, and forced to be a mother all before she was even a teenager.
Her life was fucked up. Robert took everything from her.
His control knew no bounds. Her education wasn't even her own.
Robert made her inseminate me with what she thought was his sperm. Torture and pain were all she knew.
"So why did you shoot me?" Uri asked. "If you knew his plan, why did you shoot me?"
"To piss you off," she replied. "I know the body. I know where to hit to injure but not kill you. Shooting you gave you the fire to go after Robert finally, and I could finally be free."
"We came here to kill you," Uri told her. There was no remorse in his voice. Just straight facts. He felt nothing for his mama. No empathy for the little girl who'd been betrayed or the woman she'd become.
"I figured," she said, nodding. "Which is why I dressed the way I did." She pointed to her outfit. "I never get to dress up. I wanted my last outfit to be nice. There's one thing I ask first."
"What’s that?"
"I want to see Robert die first," she answered.