Hood Misfits, Volume 4 Page 3

  I reached in the pocket of my jacket and brought out a pocket knife. At that point, I no longer gave a fuck. As soon as another dancer came for me, I jumped up and gave her a nice cut across her face for the affront. Bitch wanted to work for Micah then I would end her career as a dancer. She fell back against the wall with a loud scream. I stomped that bitch for good measure. A hard pull against my ponytail brought my attention back to someone behind me. I didn’t know if it was another dancer or a player. Either way, my knife caught them in their gut with a slash. Blood covered my hand and I knew that if I ran out those doors, all hell would break loose. The fuck if I cared anymore. Micah was a few feet away from me. I stabbed and cut up any person I thought meant me harm. I grunted, yelled, and screamed like I was in a Mortal Kombat match. I backed all of them up off me by any means necessary, shoved the doors open, and rushed out. I saw a broom. Sweat dripped down my face and blood saturated my hands. I quickly grabbed the broom and slid it through the bars. I jumped back as a body slammed into the door trying to open it.

  I looked up to see I was in the area that was still hidden just before you walked onto the field. I quickly pulled my jacket off and cleaned my hands and face as best I could with it. Leaving nothing to chance, I rushed through the tunnel and onto the field. It didn’t take me long to find the man of the hour. Photographers surrounded the area he was in as he ran drills with the quarterback. Sweat drenched his body, and his abs clenched each time he angled his body to run around a cone. His cheeks inflated each time he blew out air. He was focused. The head coach tried to stop me, but I was too quick. Enzo saw me before I even made it over to him. I couldn’t read his face and in that moment I didn’t care.

  “I need to talk to you,” I told him.

  He stood there with sweat drenching his face and the Under Armour apparel shirt he had on. He stood with his hands on his hips breathing calmly, but the rise and fall of his chest alluded to the fact that his cardio was in overdrive. Something was on his mind I could tell. The sight of him caused an array of different emotions in me. His light eyes took me in. He glanced down at my hands and the look that passed his eyes made me look down at them too. Blood was still there so I slid my hands into the pockets of the jeans I had on.

  “Talk,” he said to me.

  Being that close to him made me remember the time when I shared my body with him. I’d never had pleasure from a man the way he’d given it to me. I felt as if he had turned his back on me without a thought in a sense. I couldn’t help that I still thought about him at night. I couldn’t help that I often cried when thinking about him and the time we’d shared, albeit volatile; we still had a connection. He’d been the only man who had killed for me. The only man who ever protected me beyond the scope of keeping Dame’s pussy under lock and key when I used to dance at Magic City.

  It kind of hurt my feelings to know that whatever it was that we had was done. Yeah, the nigga was crazy as all hell, but . . . he gave me something I’d never, ever had. He gave me protection. He protected me whether he wanted to or not. I didn’t know how to explain it. A girl like me never had a father or any kind of man around to protect me. All my life I’d had to protect myself from men. So when Enzo came around and we found ourselves in a mess, it felt good to finally have a man who would kill for me even if we weren’t together. Enzo had killed for me and something in me would always be attached to him because of that. Always. I wanted to protect him even if he didn’t want me around him at times.

  I spoke frantically. “Micah has a bounty on your head. Come Sunday your teammates and some of the Angels are going to be gunning hard for you. He caught me and Tino in the hall and ambushed me.”

  Enzo looked behind me toward the direction I’d power walked from and then back down at me. “You okay?” he asked.

  I didn’t expect him to ask me that, but I nodded anyway.

  “Good. Tell me what else you know,” he said.

  I shrugged. “That’s it for now. How did this nigga get away? I thought you had him handled.”

  I was scared, still amped from the adrenaline and the rush of the fight from the hallway. I knew he probably thought I was trying to jump stupid with him, but I wasn’t. I was just tired. Tired of running and tired of playing that fucking game of cat and mouse with Micah.

  “We ain’t got time to hash that out right now. Shit happened that I didn’t foresee happening. Get back to my aunt’s place and wait there for me.”

  “I know Micah is probably going to try to follow me.”

  Enzo shook his head and nodded up to the sponsors’ box. “You just get to your car. I’ll handle the rest. Get to the sponsor box and a friend of a friend is there. You’ll get to your car and where you need to go.”

  For a second I just stood there and looked at him. I wasn’t expecting any of that. I was prepared to fight him, be annoyed with his attitude. I was prepared for anything but what he gave me. I didn’t know what to feel or what to think.

  “So you’re not—”

  “Angel, we ain’t got time to be jawing, shawty. Get the fuck on like I told you,” he snapped. “Go up the stairs toward the west exit through the stadium seats. Somebody will meet you there. I’ll see you when I see you,” he finished.

  Just as he finished talking, I saw Micah and a few of the players who were chasing me come rushing through the tunnel then stop abruptly.

  “Oh shit, my nigga, Micah,” Enzo yelled and threw his arms up in the air like he was about to go and hug the man. “Yo, Micah is back and walking around. Good to see you back on your feet, nigga. Shit, I thought you were a goner for a second. It’s funny how life hangs you upside down, huh?” Enzo said with a sinister smirk.

  Reporters and photographers flocked to the dark-skinned male in the tailored Brooks Brothers suit. Micah gave a sneer at Enzo then smirked as reporters shoved microphones and cameras in his face. Enzo put on a smile for the camera and walked over to throw an arm around Micah’s shoulders.

  “I ain’t ever been one to let one little accident slow me down,” Micah countered. “I always come out on top. Always,” he said coolly as he sneered at Enzo.

  “Even still, you’ve got to be more careful, man. Everybody always got their own agenda and you never want to get caught in the crosshairs of another man’s agenda. You’ll find yourself locked down somewhere near death and the only thing that can save you is fate.”

  Enzo gave a laugh that reminded me of the rapper Jadakiss when he did that kooky laugh at the beginning of all his tracks; then he slapped Micah on the back. As the reporters looked on, a bit confused at the exchange between the two, I got the hell up out of there.

  Chapter 3

  Enzo

  Ooh wee, we seemed to be back at the same ol’ bullshit for another same ol’ day.

  When I walked down that tunnel after Angel, I definitely wasn’t expecting to see that nigga Micah surrounded by the media. Flashing lights and chatter had me on edge. Them cats with their cameras and shit seemed to surround us both, pointing their cameras as if we stood in the middle of a execution gun line, but I was chill with it. Wasn’t shit but a ploy for Micah who thought it would shake up my world and stop me on my feet.

  Thumbing my nose, I crossed my arms over my chest with an amused look. But what he wasn’t realizing yet was that I was trained by the best. So, I stood there playing the beloved athlete. I gave them some grins, winked, and spit some jokes all while speaking in code to a nigga who had me feeling like I was chewing on shards of glass.

  Honestly, I was amazed at myself, because I was in the middle of blacking out again, yet I was functioning. Nothing but hatred poured from me; but to the lights and cameras, I came off as suave and enthusiastic about the game and my manager. Funny thing was they had no damn clue what was really going on, and I couldn’t wait for them to find out. So the moment that the cameras started to spread out and turn their backs on us, I immediately dropped my arm and my eyes darkened like soot.

  Micah shifted on his feet in
a turn and glared at me through narrow slits.

  His intimidation didn’t faze me a bit. I stepped forward then jetted toward him so fast that I was able to bypass his fuck-boy security. My hand swallowed the side of that nigga’s face to slam him directly into the wall of the tunnel we stood in while I spoke to the side of his face.

  Searing hatred had my nostrils flaring but a creeping sinister humor bubbled from me and had me laughing at this nigga’s pain. “It’s unfortunate that our little meeting was cut short, but I promise you, we will . . . hang again. Feel me?”

  Micah gave a grunt; then a menacing sneer peeked out from under my hand. “Maybe, but next time I’m thinking it’ll be you. But, check it, whatever you are about to do, I wouldn’t do that, if you feel me.”

  My gaze stayed on Micah but I wasn’t stupid. I knew the cameras were still around. I also knew his security was getting up. Which was why when I felt the tap of a gun against the back of my neck, it had me slowly dropping my hand then backing away.

  “Me and you have unfinished business, nigga. You a little too uppity for my taste and you’ve had your hands in my pockets for far too long, Shawn. You think you are invincible like your brother Dame, but guess what? That nigga is kicking up dirt and you’re about to join him and his twin, asshole,” Micah snarled.

  The moment he spit out that he knew about my blood tie to the Orlandos, I realized that this nigga had been possibly setting me up from the gate. My jaw clenched tight as I stared this nigga down. I could feel the nerve in my jaw ticking when my facial expression went blank. His admission of truth pissed me off even more, but in a good game of cards, you never show your hand, so I did what I did well and that’s play dumb.

  “Oh, yeah? Don’t even know what you talking about. But I have checked that you got a bad obsession with a nigga I didn’t even like being forced to run with. But that’s cool though, you do you and I do me.” I snatched my arm out of Micah’s security’s grasp then pushed them niggas back to get out of their zone.

  The sound of the news crews circling back around with a group of fans and football players to where we were let me know the show was back on. That was when I noticed Micah giving a nod and suddenly the tunnel was crowded with teams of FBI agents. Agents pointed their Glocks my way. Fans backed away in shock, hissing out questions as camera crews shot on.

  “Shawn Banks! I am Special Agent Reyes. You are under arrest!” one agent barked out.

  Anger had me looking that nigga’s way in confusion as I pushed that fool off me and went off, “Man, fuck you! Tell me what the hell I did! Huh? Huh? I thought so. Kiss my ass, nigga.”

  I understood in that moment that Micah had played his high card. Bitch nigga was serving the law, as if he had a fucking right. With what I knew about him, all I could do was laugh and be dragged away. Several of my teammates who were against me laughed, and threw up middle fingers to show me whose side they were on. Others stepped forward and tried to pull me away from the cops.

  A huge smile played on my face while I resisted. I slammed my shoulders into officers and shouted in protest, “I ain’t do shit! Tell Coach to hit my emergency contact! Let them know what’s up!”

  The crowd who watched on seemed to become just as angry as I was and I felt pride in that moment. That was until I saw Micah on the sidelines of the tunnel speaking to the Feds. This cat had the nerve to be looking concerned. Suddenly all that knowledge about that fool flashed before me and all I saw was red. I would have spit on him but the Fed who held me back kept me from doing so. So, all I could do was vehemently watch Micah play some snitch shit, “I am law” bull crap.

  “I’m trying to tell them that you aren’t some drug dealer, Enzo. That those drugs ain’t yours, but all I can do is try! Take care of my player. I don’t know what is going on, fellas, but this is a prized player and if you hurt him, it makes us lose money, respect that,” he said with fake concern in his eyes.

  Drugs? So this nigga got some shit planted somewhere and is setting me up? Oh, okay. I saw some silence exchange pass between him and several other agents. Several agents came to his side and pushed him back, telling him to stay with other citizens.

  A nerve in my jaw ticked, causing me to bristle. “I ain’t do shit. But I bet that the one who did it is right in front of you, ain’t that right, Micah . . . Mr. Federali.”

  I shook forward as best I could and spit at his feet. That was when a beefy arm snaked around my neck. It quickly snatched me back and pulled me away. I swear I was on some blackout shit but this crap just kept getting worse.

  “Don’t worry, Shawn! I’m not sure what is going on, but we will send you the best legal representation Atlanta has,” Micah yelled out, brushing his blazer off while looking down at his Italian leather shoes. Twisted laughter followed right after.

  Then my fans immediately started throwing drinks at the officers and other objects that littered the field. Chants of, “Enzo, Enzo, Enzo,” followed me through the tunnels.

  Reporters tried to follow, spitting out questions, and all media was on me. I was loving the hype. Because whatever Micah was playing, I was about to twist that shit and turn it into my favor. It was his move and he called checkmate.

  It was my turn and I had some fire just for him now that I knew the truth to the other half of me. “Loyalty, pain, and mayhem” was my personal motto. ENGA for life, for sure. All gloves were off and now I was going to turn into the beast while I kicked my feet up in hell and tried keep my sanity.

  I was surrounded by nothing but bullshit. See, motherfuckers know when they are feeling extra that they ham that shit up to the fullest and, right now, the five-o in front me was on some major bullshit. One oversized motherfucker was sucking up life with the way he kept taking breaths, and his partner, a wandering-eye, Deebo-looking nigga, stared me down as I sat in a cramped interrogation room. Now, I was wondering exactly what case I was catching that had these punk-ass niggas sweating me so hard. But at the same time, I was enjoying how they kept stretching out the time.

  The Feds and five-o had been serious about my shit. I had thought my lockup would be only a few hours. But when it stretched out to more than one day, more like three, I knew they were sniffing around trying to trump up multiple bricks on a brotha. It was all good for me though because I knew my PR rep, with the guidance of my mother, Shy, was out twisting this to my favor, which had been privately negotiated after learning about Micah’s vendetta against me.

  Angel had hit me up to it while I was practicing before the big game. Our words were short but it was what it was. It was too many eyes and ears. Thinking about her, our whole interaction with each other, was on some sour shit. The majority of it was on my part and I felt bad about it, having seen that she’d been proving that she was here for the team. As a man, I knew I was wrong for putting my hands on her, in turn treating her like another bitch on the street.

  I had low tolerance for bitches, but she was put in a situation that she had no control over or wanted to be a part of; yet she still made sure not to be a foul bitch in her mind. Micah had destroyed our lives, causing us to be monsters, and I helped to add more fear in her. Shit, Shy ain’t raise me to be that way. The streets did. But I knew better so there was no excuse, so I was sorry about it. Still, if any harm came to Drew, I’d kill the pope if I had to and that was the truth. So I sat back, and relaxed with a knowing smile on my face with what Angel told me, thankful for it while inhaling the scent of stale cigarettes and weak coffee.

  “I take it you two aren’t Nightwings fans huh?” I laughed with a sly smirk when Uncle Phil’s bushy brows and bloodshot eyes glanced my way a little too long for my taste and comfort.

  “Cute mouth, kid.” Uncle Phil licked his overly glossy pink lips and cooed my way while shifting in his chair causing it to creak with his stocky build.

  In my mind, I was disgusted with how the nigga was trying to play me in the moment, but I kept it cool and collected, kicking back and not letting my disheveled experience give an
ything away. My hand reached up as far as it could, being that I was handcuffed yet again, and scratched the side of my bushy beard.

  “But, no, you’re wrong. My partner and I are number one fans of yours, so much so that we’ve been following your every movement since your start,” he said in a too gleeful and gloating type of way.

  Deebo gave a laugh then crossed his arms over his broad, budging chest. “Where’s the body, Shawn?”

  My brow quirked upward in question while I continued to study each cop in front of me. Something in the way they were in my face let me know that they were puppets for Micah, and I wondered how I could play it to my advantage.

  “Body? I’m not clear about what you’re talking about, my man. You all pulled a foul big time and dragged in one of ATL’s golden kids on some bullshit about a body? Oh, damn, y’all must be bored today,” I goaded them.

  My hands were still cuffed due to the scuffle I had with several of the cops and it annoyed me that they were still bound as I spoke to Thing One and Thing Two.

  Laughter came from both men and Deebo spoke up again: “Word on the street and evidence show us that you’ve taken out several people for your enjoyment. Scottie Kruger has been reported missing for several weeks now and surveillance shows that he was in the area of your complex. So again I ask: where’s the body, Shawn? Don’t you want to get back to your ailing aunt?”

  Frowning, I gave a bored sigh and murmured out loud to myself, “I’m ’bout tired of you motherfuckers bringing her into shit. That’s a fucking queen move if ever—”

  “Excuse me?” Uncle Phil barked out, causing me to glance up at him in annoyance.

  “I said I’m sure she’ll be fine. My aunt is a survivor and she knows I’m a good man. Ask me whatever you want but it’s all going to be the same answer. What body? Where, who, and why? Send my condolences to the family of that missing person.”