RIPPED & READY (PART 78)

RIPPED & READY (PART LXXVIII) 

          During Joseph’s brief absence Collin managed to yank confession out of me like a dentist extracting a tooth.  It was painful at first but then there was relief because the temporary secret that had been rotting my inner cavity was now resting on the shoulder of somebody, I felt, was a true friend.  Then, to lighten the load even further, Collin filled Joseph in on the specifics so that I wouldn’t have to repeat them.  Joseph was speechless as he sat listening to all the graphic details. 

          “He raped you here on our sofa –the same one we’re sitting on?” He asked, cradling me in his arms. 

          “That nigga D’Andre is living foul, brothas – he’ll eventually have to return to the state of Cali and show his face, meanwhile we will need to figure this shit out because I am not sure what we are facing,” Collin said, placing his hand on top of mine, rubbing it. 

          Sitting in between the two of them I felt safe for the first time in weeks – I knew it was only temporary though because there was a possibility that, before everything was said and done, somebody was going to get hurt.  I mean, both of those cryptic messages being quoted; “Play that mutha fucka to the end,” and how all three of them kept calling me “Brutha Marco,” like they were all part of some twisted brotherhood or sinister sect.  I was beginning to wonder if they had 666 stamped on their fucking foreheads some place. 

          Knowing I had zoned out, Collin snapped his fingers in front of my eyes and said, “None of that shit, nigga, we can’t have you drifting in and out of Marco-land, we need you sharp and alert,” he said. 

          “Pops is tied up in this some way, Collin, but I just cannot put my finger on what he has to do with all of this.  The last time I saw him he was with some ditzy, over made up, floozy, and he was acting like Ned the Wino from “Good Times”,” I said, sniffling (not from tears from allergies).

          If I was green then my baby, Joseph, was the “got-dayum” Jolly Green Giant because he didn’t have an ounce of street in him. Both of his parents were College professors and he grew up in a world with professionally manicured lawns – there was even a maid and a butler (yep, my boy was living the life of a two six-figured-income household).  I remember the first time he took me to his parent’s home in Santa Cruz and, let’s just say, I wanted to take my “day-um” shoes off before stepping foot onto the lush,cold-gray, carpeting inside the living room. 

          His mom, Carletta, looked like a young Dorothy Dandridge, and his pops was the spitting image of Mario VanPeoples (uh, right down to the curly hair and dimples).  His moms was extremely lady like and elegant, and his pops was the strong, silent type (uh, huh, very few words, but his facial expressions spoke more than words could ever say). 

          In the looks department, my boy was the perfect blend of the two and, like most good parents, they sheltered him a lot.  Joseph started out in the Cub Scouts and still had all of his badges and patches adorning the walls of his childhood room.  When I walked into his room for the first time I thought the Brady Bunch had thrown up all over the décor. 

          “Baby, I didn’t know Lance was that way, he seemed so nice when I first met him.  I should’ve stopped seeing him though when he made a move on me after I had already told him I was seeing somebody,” he confessed. 

          I know he just didn’t say…

          Were my ears deceiving me or did he just say…

          I was “got-dayum” sure that that last part he said was just a…

          Hold the fuck up…

          “Joseph, you didn’t tell me that he tried to make a move on you,” I said, looking at him for re-clarification. 

          “Baby, I knew if you knew that you wouldn’t want me to stay friends with him, but I thought I had it all under control because he never tried anything else after that,” he said, in that whiny little voice I loved.

          “Joseph, from this point on we cannot keep secrets from each other.  Had I known then what I knew now, you muthafucking right I wouldn’t want you around him,” I said, in an elevated voice. 

          “I’m sorry, my nigga,” he said (trying to sound street in front of Collin). 

          Both Collin and I looked at each other, then at him, and started cracking up.  “Baby, do not ever do that again,” I said, giggling.

          “Yea, bro, stick to being Poindexter, it befits you,” Collin added, rubbing his head.

          “Fuck ya’ll,” he snapped back, embarrassed.

          CRASH!

          The sound of breaking glass echoed off the walls of the apartment startling us. 

          “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!” Collin shouted, pushing us both down to the floor. 

          The three of us stayed low until we were certain that there wasn’t anything else following whatever it was that busted through the sliding glass door window.  When it seemed as if the coast was clear, Collin crawled carefully over to inspect what it was that was thrown.  Once he had scoped the area outside, he rose up from the crawling position, and cautiously walked over to the area where whatever had landed. 

          What he found was one of the large stones from the pond, with a note attached to it. 

          It read:  Brotha Marco, it’s time to play the muthafucka to the end, and if you know what’s good for you then you’ll answer a phone call that will come at around 6:00pm this evening.  You will receive further instructions and do not involve the police, or you’ll need a body bag for someone very close to you, Nigga.

          We all sat back down onto the sofa, breathing heavy. 

          I was beside myself. 

          Moms...

          Danita…

          Fear wrapped me up in a blanket of panic and I fumbled for my phone and once I had it in my hand, I hit speed dial and when my mother answered, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

          “Mom, where is Danita at?” I asked, nervously. 

          “Baby, what’s wrong? Where are my grandson and son-in-law,” she asked, cheerfully.

          “Look, mama, we don’t have time for that right now, where is Danita?” I asked again, this time more sternly. 

          “She’s in her room, I think, baby, you’re scaring me, what’s wrong, Marco,” she asked again, this time with motherly concern.

          “Never mind that right now, mom, go check to see if she is there,” I told her. 

          “Well, alright, hold on a minute and let me turn off the burner of this stove,” she said, flabbergasted. 

          “Marco, baby, she’s not in her room,” my moms said, with fear in her voice. 

          “Mama, get in your car and drive over to your sister’s house,” I commanded. 

          “Baby, what is wrong?  Where is your sister at?” she said, and by the tone in her voice she was now in frantic-mode.

          “Just do as I say mom, you could be in danger,” I told her, rising up from the sofa, tripping over my own two feet. 

          Collin grabbed me by the arm and kept me from falling. 

          I told Joseph to call my boss, Clyde, and tell him that a family emergency had come up (Hopefully I’ll still have a job after all this bullshit is over).

          Click!

          Collin pulled the top part of his Glock back and checked to see if it was loaded. 

          When he snapped it back, I jumped.

          “Nigga, what are you doing?” I asked, as my heart beat thumped inside the walls of my rib cage rattling my already frayed nerves.

          “What the fuck do you think I’m doing nigga, I’m making sure that if something jumps off that we got something to leap back with,” he said, sucking his teeth (He was now in full gangsta boy mode). 

          PAP! PAP! PAP!

          All of a sudden, shots fired and bullets pierced the door.

          “JOSEPH! GET DOWN BABY,” I yelled.

          I rewound back to the night of Collin’s party...

          The night his moms was gunned down...

          It sounded like baby Iraq outside...

          The war had now found it's way to The Woods Apartment complex.

          I could hear Joseph screaming and Collin telling him to stay the fuck down.

          If they didn’t want the cops involved they sure had a funny way of showing it.  Hell, with all this gunfire, how could the cops not get involved?

          Out of the blue I heard a familiar husky, female voice screaming. 

          It was Anita’s…