Truly
Hussein didn’t get the chance to get onto the sidewalk. As he walked around from the driver’s side, Senior met him on the curb.
“I’d welcome you home, but you don’t too much seem like you want a warm welcome.” Senior sighed. “Seeing as how you doing everything you can to piss my sister off.”
“I think TT needs some hobbies.” Hussein stood at the trunk of his truck, hands moving back and forth at his sides.
“I think you need to find your manners. Son, what the fuck is going on with you? Ya mama and I raised you better than this. I know she’s turning over in her grave watching you turn on your family like this.”
“Like what, Pops?”
“I don’t need to make a damn list. Wrong is wrong, boy.”
“Nah, I think I do need a list, Pops. ‘Cause wrong never wrong when Tina doing wrong. Then it’s ‘for a reason’ or ‘needed to be done.’ Is TT always right, Pops?”
“When it come to this Turner shit?” Senior stepped closer to him, remaining on the curb. “Hell yeah.”
Hussein stepped onto the sidewalk. He already towered over his father when he was on the asphalt. Face to face he had him by almost half a foot.
“If Tina ain’t the problem then being a Turner is.”
Senior’s mouth dropped. His eyes peered into Hussein trying to find something he recognized still.
“And before you bring my mama up again, consider what she thinks of you. I remember plenty nights where she was cursing you out for riding with TT on shit. What would she think of you choosing her over your own son, Pops?” Hussein ran his hands down his face hoping to hide the emotions rumbling through his chest. “What about the bitches, Pops? You think mama would approve of the hoes you running through?”
“You don’t know shit about the women I see. She could be the Queen of England, and you still wouldn’t approve.” Senior sighed.
“Titles don’t make you a good person. Your character determines that.”
“I ain’t tryna replace Sabrina. It ain’t possible. They are well paid for their services. Not that it’s any of your business. And ain’t nobody choosing Tina over you. I’m choosing Turner. That’s today, tomorrow and the day after that. Just like my late wife would want.”
“If you ain’t definitively with me, then you what, Pops?” Hussein moved close enough to whisper in his ear.
“Are you threatening me?” Senior stepped back.
“Man.” Hussein laughed. “You brought me in this world. I could never repay you for that. Majority of my heart is carved out for you, Pops. But you used to tell me that you’d go snitch for Sabrina Turner.
You’d go out executions style for her. You’d go on the run and leave everything behind for her.
Jakia is my Sabrina, pops. You can’t understand that?
” Hussein searched his father’s eyes for understanding.
He didn’t find any. “It’s time for Tina to sit down. I’m taking over the junkyard.”
“How you gonna take over some shit you not even welcome at, son?” Senior asked with a light chuckle.
“Who gon’ stop me?” Hussein said just as War was pulling up.
Nyelle remained in the passenger seat unable to look at Senior.
War wouldn’t look anywhere else. Senior needed to know that he was making a decision.
It was the same one he needed to make. His son or his sister.
Senior nodded his head, looking at the three of them.
His tongue rolled around his jaw. He fought hard not to cry.
It didn’t stop water from pooling around his eyelids.
“Ok.” He nodded his head. “Ok, son.”
“I hate I had to do it like this, but you ain’t leave me no choice. Take a few weeks off. You’re welcome to come back once I get shit in order.”
“Oh, nah.” Senior chuckled. Hand in his pocket, other hand pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You misunderstood me, son. That was merely me accepting that you want to be my enemy. See you seem to have people in your corner already. My sister out there alone, don’t even know how you plotting on her.
” Senior then raised his voice, “she always got me! So, do what you gotta do bitch ass nigga.” He spit into the street barely missing Hussein’s tire.
War looked to Hussein for guidance on how to handle shit. He didn’t know whether to follow up or to lead.
“Run and tell her, Pop. Go warn your sister that I’m coming for her. But if you standing beside her when this shit gets real, then you gon be wherever she ends up.” Hussein said, walking through the gate of the junkyard.
Hussein hadn’t bothered to look back.
“Shit real now, huh?” War said, nodding to Hussein.
“For her. She’s the only one that’s been playing a game. This always been real life to me. For you. For Boom.”
They got quiet as Nyelle walked over. “So, what’s next, Boss?”
“You up next. I need to remind TT of her past. You think you can talk to your people’s get them to take you down memory lane of some old cases?”
“I can do you one better.” She smirked. “Give me a few days.”
“War, I need you to round up some soldiers.”
“I got them all day.”
“I know it. Get me the best and show them how this motherfucker runs.” He looked around.
“Bet.” War and Hussein dapped up.
Hussein locked the gate with a new lock. He dropped the extra pair of keys into War’s hands.
“Toy been around?” He asked War. “Ain’t seen her since the funeral.” War answered walking backwards to his car. “Want me see about her?”
“Nah, I’ma slide around there to see if I see her. Tell Mook get word to her if I don’t.” Hussein jumped in his Palisade.
He whipped around the way where Toy liked to hang. He parked where he’d be noticed. Someone would run and tell her he was out there. She’d show face eventually.
The blue corner store had new windows again. He figured since he was gone for weeks, they would, but something about them looked different. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Where Toy?” Mook scared the shit out of him, hands on the glass of the passenger side window.
“Mook, what the fuck?!” he barked, pissed off. “You can’t be creeping up on me like that, nigga. I could’ve killed your ass.”
“You pose to keep ya head on a swivel.” Mook chuckled.
“And what the fuck you mean where Toy?” Hussein snapped. “You ain’t seen her?”
“Nah. Not in a long time.”
“What’s a long time, Mook.” Hussein sighed.
In crackhead language a long time could be yesterday. Time wasn’t a real thing for them once they got that shit in their system.
“Since the last time you shot them people store windows out.”
“Who said I did that?”
“I seen you.” Mook laughed alone. “But did you know they daddy Arab, but they momma Mafia?”
“You bullshitting. Them people marry they own kind. The Arabs and the Mob. I gotta see that shit to believe that shit.” Hussein stared at the store.
“When I ever lie?” Mook twisted up his lips.
“Let me ask you something, Mook. How you know that?”
“I was in the store and seen her for myself. They was putting cameras and shit up and new windows, too.”
Hussein stared at the windows. Mook’s storytelling was helping him make sense of shit. The new windows were bulletproof.
“Let me ask you another question Mook. You said you saw me shoot the windows of the store.”
“Yup. Twice.” Mook showed two fingers.
“Did you tell them that?” He nodded at the blue corner store.
Mook took off running. It didn’t matter.
Hussein had already put the shit together.
He’d catch Mook another time because one thing about an addict, they always showed back up.
And when he saw him, he was going to fuck him up.
For now, he needed to know if the momma sent Toy running or if they did something far worse.
He jumped out the Palisade, walking over to the corner store.
He walked inside to see the young nigga the little boy described to him weeks before.
Terror filled his eyes when he saw Hussein in person.
He wasn’t expecting him to be so tall, so solid.
His parents said they’d handle him, but they weren’t there to help him.
“Write this number down,” Hussein said before reading his number off to Samir. “Tell ya peoples to call me.” He walked out of the store as quickly as he entered.
Only niggas that never felt pressure before, panicked. He was used to it. Either Toya was alive or she was dead. One made a bigger problem for him, because he’d have to do anything to get her back. If she was no longer with us, he’d do everything to make them regret it.
GBMC | 5:53 P.M.
“Why in the fuck you didn’t tell me that Hussein was home?”
“What? Wait.” Prissy rushed into an empty exam room. “When did he get home.”
“You’re supposed to be marrying the man. Why don’t you know this already?”
“Because he doesn’t trust me. And he doesn’t trust me because of you!” Prissy yelled.
“I know you done lost your fucking mind. Get your ass over here and I mean now!” Tina roared.
“I’m at work,” Prissy argued, throat burning, tears in her eyes.
“Dead people don’t work. You can be in trouble with that job, or you can be in trouble with me. Pick your trouble, Prissy.” Tina ended the call.
“Fuck.”
Tina was the least of her worries. Nisha was supposed to be getting a medal for Tina’s arrest by the time Hussein got out.
She thought she had at least a few weeks.
Now, he’d be pressing her about that Cassidy bullshit.
She’d give Nisha up before she let Hussein hold her responsible for it.
That would still only be telling on herself because she gave Nisha access to Tina.
She dropped her phone trying to call Hussein and check his temperature.
“Hello?” he answered.
“I was calling to see if it was true,” she spoke softly. “You’re home.”
“I am.” Hussein pulled away from the curb. “Where’d you hear it from?” he asked.
“Tina. She’s pissed.”
“As she should be. It’s only going to get worse. Get off early. Come home. I don’t know what she’s going to be on.”