The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Blood and Onions

There was blood everywhere…

A deep, red, angry scattering of terminated life and fresh death sprayed like paint upon the walls. Furniture and lamps were turned over. Bloody handprints stained the linoleum floors. Three dead bodies, one of whom he didn’t recognize but was informed had been a Latin King, occupied the room. One was face down, lying in a pool of blood. Another was slumped on the black couch with two bullet holes in his head, his fingers still loosely holding onto an unlit joint, eyes wide open. The last lay dead in front of the television, the video game he’d been watching still on pause. Viper was being told for the second time how several members of the Crips had broken in, looking for a stash of cocaine that wasn’t even there. There had been no lookout replacement since Wild had been apprehended and incarcerated, only guys doing half-assed shifts, and everything was going to hell.

“They thought it was Blood territory,” King Joker announced, his face splotchy and voice cracking. One of the deceased was his second cousin. “They thought Day’s friend was here, too.” Day was a drug runner who was cool with several of the Bloods that came in the area to purchase weed, grub, or fuck some Cuban women. “This is fucked up, man. Real fucked up.”

“It will be taken care of.” Viper sighed. “In fact, it’s being addressed as we speak. I’ve sent out someone to bring me back some names.” Hands on hips, he once again surveyed the scene.

“Kill them and their fuckin’ mothers. Kill them all!” Joker yelled as he knelt over his cousin and gently brushed his eyes closed.

Grief was a strange thing, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The souls of the damned were doing what they did best. Destroy. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and Viper trained the leaders of the pack. This wasn’t our fight. Bloods and Latin Kings got along; they weren’t enemies, and it wasn’t unheard of for them to help one another in various situations, especially behind bars. King felt somewhat distant, devoid of emotional triggers. The sight of these bodies didn’t make him flinch or recoil in disgust. The smell of death no longer resonated with him. He’d been to too many funerals, seen too many dead fuckers in the streets and alleys, and at his very own feet, to give a damn.

This sense of detachment, the lack of feeling or concern for the horrors facing him, was something he’d been experiencing for quite some time. He’d become immune to it long before this moment, but this gave him food for thought. Nothing shocks me anymore. If I saw a priest getting a blow job from a nun in broad daylight, and then she shoots him in the face with heroin while singing a Frank Sinatra song in French, I wouldn’t even slow my stride as I walked on by.

Nothing could make him scream, jump, or lose his cool. He’d taken out so many people over the years, he’d lost count. Many times, you don’t wait around and watch. You spray and go. He was a Warlord. It was his job to keep order, punish and give the go ahead for disposals, and he did the shit well – was one of the reasons why he’d climbed the food chain so quickly. He’d choked, stabbed, tortured, beaten to a pulp so many men during his lifetime, if he tried to write their names in a ledger, his hand would grow tired.

That’s just what this life was about: Kill or be killed. He didn’t relish this, but it was part of survival. No one grew up in the life he lived, the one he inherited, without ever having to waste someone. Most people had no inkling what was really going on in the streets. Once the sun set, under the cover of night, an entirely different world would emerge. The police had an idea, but even they only saw the aftermath, rarely the acts that led up to such behavior. Poverty. Strife. Depression. Need. Greed. Lust. All doorways to what he’d been born into. He understood that in some factions of society, he was perceived as a savage, but savages were created by the same society who judged them. People didn’t care when I was a child in need. They don’t need to care about what the fuck I do now. It’s just that simple.

He was the same little boy who’d witnessed his father shoot a man in the gut for stealing from him, the same kid who had cuts in his arms and hands from shattering glass during a botched robbery in a small family restaurant that resulted in four people being shot to death. He’d grown up around gangs, violence, drug usage, physical abuse, and more. As a child, he’d witnessed atrocious crimes he’d tried to scrub from his mind over the years… crimes passed off as everyday life.

The last straw, he believed, was when he was forced to witness his own mother being assaulted by an intruder while he and his brother were held at gunpoint. Their father had left months prior, and someone took advantage of the situation. A woman living alone with two boys. She’d never disclosed what happened to her during those twenty-four minutes when their tiny home was ransacked by a couple drug addicts, and she was behind closed doors with some man who was making her scream, beg, and cry. ‘I’ll do what you want! Just don’t hurt my children…’ He and his brother were never without weapons again after that night, which was still etched in his mind. How else would anyone expect him to turn out? He was born from blood and death. He’d lived in blood and death. He’d die in blood and death.

Viper knew one of the dead men, but they weren’t friends. It was another Latin King, a brother not by blood, but by Reye. Protect the crown, protect the nation. He bowed his head and whispered in prayer, “Amor de Rey.”

“There’s no forced entry.” He casually pointed to the front door. They knew these guys.

“You sound like a cop,” King Vodka joked, but no one laughed. “Uh…” He cleared his throat, taking the matter a bit more seriously. “Yeah… but Day’s sister said they broke in.”

“She was here when it happened?”

“Yeah, but she climbed out the back window.”

Viper slipped on some gloves and did a search, looking for any other clues. Moments later, about thirteen Latin Kings and Queens arrived with bottles of detergent, buckets, garbage bags, coverlets, rags, mops, towels, and various other cleaning agents.

“Did you all leave your phones at home and on like I asked?” They all nodded in the affirmative.

“Where do you want us to start, Viper?” King Red asked as he removed his dark sunglasses from his eyes and placed them atop his short, buzzed cut head. A teardrop tattoo, prison blue, sat below his right eye.

“Right here in the living room.” They instantly began to prepare. “Use the sheets and blankets you brought to wrap the guys up in, just like the times before. Then…” he glanced at his watch, “at two o’clock, take the first person out to Franco’s truck. Put him in the bed, be respectful. No bruises or bumps. Wait ten minutes between each body. Break out into groups. I need all this shit cleaned up within two hours. Clean the entire apartment.” He waved his finger around. “Even in the bedroom and bathroom, just in case one of the fuckers who did this tracked blood everywhere they went. If they couldn’t get the cocaine, trust, they weren’t leaving empty-handed. They got a hold of something other than money. All their pockets are empty, too, including their cellphones, but they took anything small and fast no doubt, like jewelry, weed, shit like that. Take the UV light and go over this room especially good to make sure you didn’t miss one square inch. Take the rugs off the floor, throw ’em away. Get into the creases of the linoleum. The corners of the baseboards. Use the OxiClean, dish detergent, and the peroxide. No bleach. Then, when you’re finished, call me.”

It was a common misconception that bleach got rid of all traces of blood. In fact, it was often a red flag to police homicide teams confirming that something amiss had in fact taken place. Gone were the days of South Florida Latin Kings leaving shocking massacres for the authorities to walk in on. Headline news. They’d adapted. No crime scene. No problem.

“Yes, Viper.” The team worked fast.

“Contact their families once you’ve spoken to me. Tell them we’ll take care of the funerals.” He grabbed his keys, ready to head out.

“Viper, let me kill the motherfuckers responsible. Fuckin’ crabs.”

King Coin, who Viper had known for about five years, had come to help make all this shit disappear. Young guy with lots of heart, in Viper’s eyes a Warlord in the making. He was a natural, which was a shame, a blessing, and a curse.

“Coin, I don’t want any fuck ups, so we have to go easy on this. Space things out. Keep ’em guessing. If they know we figured out who it was, they’ll run off.” Coin nodded in understanding. “If someone does what happened a year ago, it’s a fuckin’ wrap!” They all knew exactly what he was talking about. Someone from Naranja had shot a seven-year-old girl. No one seemed to know which amongst them had done it. It was all hush hush. Then, people started disappearing – other Kings. “They were trying to get at Snaps, and I very well may be looking that motherfucker in the eye right now who covered for the coward.” Everyone drew quiet. “Then I heard that one of you motherfuckers said that it was a Black kid, the little girl who lost her life, as though that made it okay. Did you fuckin’ forget who we are?!”

A rage that had been burning inside of him swelled up, bursting free. “We’re all linked!” He locked his fingers together, which symbolized the chain of people. Comrades. “These are our people! I know most of you don’t think that way, but enough of you do to put a smear on our name, on the nation. No one disrespects the crown! If I ever hear anyone say some shit like that, that so and so doesn’t count because they’re Black, or because it’s a chick, it’s off with your fuckin’ head!” He made a cutting motion with his finger, as if decapitation was imminent. “We’ve been down with the Bloods since the 1960’s. Since before any of us were born. You don’t shit on what our King forefathers put together. It took a lot of time and investment to form those pacts. You need allies, or you’re fucked. And y’all are fucking it up. Some of you knew who did it, and you tried to hide the one responsible. Protect him from me and the other warlords. You know the magnitude of that.”

“Do you want us to take care of that too, Viper?” King Torch offered. Torch was cool; he got shit done. He respected the old ways, but Viper suspected he could fold under pressure.

“Take care of it?” Viper repeated. He sucked his teeth, then smirked. “No. I’ve got it under control.” In fact, it was already done, only most of the Nation was unaware of that. Once word had spread that he was in over his head, the guy’s family had shipped the motherfucker off to Texas, but Viper had gone right after him. He could have assigned this task to somebody else, but this had been personal. In the end, he’d made sure the girl’s father knew he’d had to ice his own king brother to keep the peace.

He’d also made a public statement at their annual ALKQN meeting in Miami, that that sort of thing would not be tolerated. If you fuck up and miss your target, hitting an ally’s child instead, death was coming for you, from your brethren. It had to be so for them to keep peace. Unlike some of his brethren, he didn’t need to brag about his exploits or report how he ran business, he just produced results. Period. If he hadn’t done what he had, there would have been blood in the streets, and the damage and thirst for revenge could have potentially lasted for decades. Regardless, one always needed to move in silence. That’s their fucking problem. They talked too damn much.

“King Loco was upset about that, too,” Joker added as he began to pick up debris and toss it in a bag. Loco was now dead but the man had made it known that whoever in their family had been responsible for that little girl’s death would pay the ultimate price.

“As he should’ve been. The Bloods are part of the People Nation, just like us.” King Hell added. “Those are our brothers and sisters.”

Many nodded in agreement.

“Vice Lord Nation, and the Black P-Stone Nation. We respect one another. That kid, her name was Kerisha… beautiful little girl. She was the daughter of a P-Stone, man. His name is Jacob, but he goes by Wizard,” King Hell went on to explain as he slumped down in a chair, clutching a bottle of cleaner.

“Whoever did that to her fucked up big time. It almost started a feud. You want this to turn into a Black and Latino thing? Like the shit they try and pull in prison? Like how some of the Mexicans and Blacks go after each other in the penn? Those White guards eat that shit up! It’s entertainment for them. Black and brown men fighting each other to the death over bullshit! Wake up! We’re not them! Is that what you want?” Viper yelled at everyone in that room. “Us pitted against each other?” Several of them shook their heads. “Let Combat 18 and American Front do all that dumb shit! We all bleed red.” His voice echoed throughout the room. “We don’t die, we multiply, and we need the numbers. I don’t like what’s going on. I’m seein’ an uptick in bullshit. You’ve even got other Latino gangs fuckin’ with the Black gangs, and vice versa, out in Chicago and L.A. That’s what some of the police and government want. It keeps them in a job. Divide and conquer. So they can look like the good guys, and we look like scrubs. Let’s just look us for a minute. Do you know how powerful we’d be if each and every Latino and Hispanic gang united? We’d be unstoppable, but we’re even split amongst each other. You fuckers only call me when the shit hits the fan. Next time, call me before you take a dump and turn that motherfucker on full blast.”

He stormed out of there, furious as ever.

“Go on, I’mserious,” Viper said as he poured himself a glass of ice water from the pitcher on Majesty’s kitchen counter. The woman kept giving him an uncertain look.

“Mama, go ’head!” Troy said, rolling his eyes in an exasperated fashion. “Viper can stay with me. Us men don’t need you here all the time.”

Majesty sucked her teeth and grimaced at her son. Viper placed his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, then pulled out one of the breakfast bar stools and sat down, getting comfortable. Majesty put her hand on her hip and twisted her lips.

“Okay, Majesty. Fine.” Viper threw up his hands. “Just let me do it. I can go. I’ll buy a pre-made crust. Let me get my keys.” Viper started to head to the grocery store.

“No, no. I’ll go. It’s not far.” She waved her arm, then grabbed her purse from the kitchen island. “I can’t believe I forgot the flour to make the crust.” She glanced at her watch. “Yeah, it’s getting late, so I guess I will just pick up one of the pre-made ones at this point.” She was making a homemade pizza and didn’t realize her mistake until it was too late. “I won’t be gone long. Troy, behave. Don’t you talk this man’s ear off or try to do anything slick,” the woman warned, wagging her finger at him. Majesty was very protective of her child, with whom she shared a beautiful bond. He respected that. Viper stood up, wrapped his arm around her waist, and drew her in for a kiss. He could feel Troy’s eyes on them, but the kid remained quiet. It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of the front door closing behind her.

“Well, it’s just you and me now, Troy.”

“Yeah, finally! Mama treats me like a baby, Viper, but she don’t even know I got a hair growin’ on my left leg now.” Yet, he pointed to the right one. “For you know it, I’m going to have a beard and mustache and uh bunch of muscles just like you. Probably in a week or two.” He spoke with such seriousness.

Once again, Viper fought the urge to laugh.

“Help me cut up these green peppers for your mother’s pizza. Let’s save her a little time.”

“Okay!”

Troy seemed eager to help, donning a big smile as he rounded the kitchen table. He watched as the dark-chocolate-skinned boy turned on the faucet, then washed his hands. Damn. She’s got him coached well. Viper chuckled inwardly. Troy had big dimples that reminded him of his own mother. His thick, jet black hair was like Majesty’s, only his was faded on the sides and in the back, and he had eyes that appeared naturally sad, but a smile that was something magical, balanced things out.

“All right, first, are you allowed to use a knife?”

“Hell, yeah! I’m a G! A ninja, too.”

Viper realized that not laughing at Troy’s antics would prove more difficult than he’d initially hoped.

“Cool. This cutting board here is ready.” He reached for one of her boards sitting off to the side, then grabbed a couple of knives, one that was rather dull for Troy’s safety. “Now, when you cut these peppers, you want to make them thin, and you do that by—”

“Are you bangin’ my mama, man?”

Viper turned the pepper lengthwise and cut off the stem. Then split it open to remove the seeds.

“Am I bangin’ your mother… Hmm…” He cut the pepper in two, then shoved half of it towards the kid, handing him one of the knives. “No, that’s too thick. Cut like this. Nice ’nd easy…”

Troy began to watch how he was doing it, then followed suit.

“Perfect. You’ll be a chef before you know it.” Troy smiled, his dimples super deep. “So, what you really want to know is if your mother and I are serious, right?”

Troy nodded and kept on cutting.

“Yeah. We are. We’re in a relationship, and I really like her.”

“That’s good. She likes you, too. Mama doesn’t like a lot of people. She says most people are assholes. Don’t tell her I cussed. I’m just repeatin’ what she said is all.”

“I won’t. She told you that?” He tossed some of the chopped peppers on a plate, then continued to slice the rest.

“She ain’t say that to me, but I hear her all the time on the phone with her friends. Mama hates people, but that’s okay. She loves me, and that’s all that matters.”

He laughed.

“I don’t think your mother hates people, I just think she’s frustrated sometimes with how some of them act and so she stands up for herself. I think she likes people a lot, actually. Isn’t she nice to your friends and their parents?”

Troy shrugged. “Yeah. She’s nice to a lot of people, but that don’t mean she likes ’em. She had a boyfriend before you.”

“Yeah? Was he cool?”

“Nope. I ain’t like him. I don’t like a lot of guys Mama has went out wit’. The one I hated the most was this guy named Ashton. She was with him for a little while. I was young, but I remember him.” He noted how Troy’s voice trailed. Sadness tinged his words. “He ain’t treat my mama right.”

“Let’s cut these mushrooms, too.”

“I don’t like mushrooms on my pizza.”

“Well, we don’t have to put them on the entire pizza. Let me wash them here in this bowl. Mushrooms are dirty.” Viper made haste, washing the vegetables in a colander. He then dried them off and divided them up between the two of them, to cut into pieces.

“Somebody popped my daddy and killed him.”

Viper kept chopping. Troy said the words out of the blue… but perhaps, it wasn’t out of the blue at all.

“How old were you when your father passed away?”

“Um, I forget. I was young though. I don’t remember him. I’ve seen pictures of him. Mama gave me his wallet, his jewelry, stuff like that. I still got a teddy bear Mama said he bought for me when I was born. My grandmama said he wasn’t a good man. She said he was a no good nigga. Mama said he was a good man; he had just made some bad choices. She said he loved me, too. Loved me a lot. Said she didn’t want me to grow up and do the same things my daddy did, so she moved us out here.”

They kept cutting, and Viper let the boy talk. He wanted to hear what he said, as well as all the things he wasn’t saying. He had a feeling the boy didn’t get to talk freely like this much. Besides, there was so much one could learn from speaking to children.

“You got a lot of tattoos, like my daddy had. Why have you got so many tattoos?”

“It helps remind me where I’ve been. Where I am. And where I want to go. I like them.”

“Don’t they hurt to get ’em?”

“Eh, it’s different for everyone. I guess I have a high pain tolerance, so for me, not really. Tickles a little. I like the way the art looks.”

“That was kinda confusing, you know, what you said about them helping to remind you where you wanna go. But I think I understand. Like, they tell a story?”

“Exactly.”

“I wanna get a tattoo, too.”

“Do you? Of what?”

“It’ll be my mama’s name, and my daddy’s, too.”

“That sounds like a good first tattoo, little man. I’ve got my mother’s name, too.”

“Do you? Wow. Where?” Troy stopped slicing, his eyes lighting up.

“You can’t see it right now, but it’s on my chest surrounded by roses.”

“That means you must really love your mama.”

“Yeah, I do. We only get one mother. Majesty really loves you, Troy. She talks about you all the time to me.”

Troy smiled, showing all his teeth. Viper imagined the boy felt like now, they had something in common.

“I like you, Viper. You seem cool. I bet you act like my daddy did. I heard he was big time. People were scared of him, too. That’s what my auntie said.”

Viper swallowed… but kept working on the mushrooms.

“You’re doing a great job, Troy. We’ll leave the onion for your mother.”

“Good. Onions stink. I hate onions.”

Viper grinned at him, then they both went to the kitchen sink to wash their hands once again.

“Viper. Can I have one of yo’ dogs? Mama likes dogs, too, and if you give me one, I bet she’ll let me keep it!”

“Come on, we can talk in the living room. Let’s go watch cartoons together.”

“You like cartoons?! This night is just getting better and better!”

Viper cracked up at this.

When they settled on the couch, he handed the boy the remote and the kid chose to watch Teen Titans Go.

“So, can I have one of your dogs?”

“A pet is a big responsibility, Troy. You’d have to talk to your mother about that first, and—”

“Awww, come on, man! I’ve got experience. My grandmama got this ugly dog, Beijing, that she makes wear little sweaters, and it’s always throwin’ up. It must take this little doggy pill every day, and that thing look like one of my grandmama’s wigs. Grandmama said she don’t wear wigs, but I saw one sittin’ on her dresser one night. At first, I thought it was the dog, but it didn’t have no tail or ears. She was in the bed asleep, and her head looked like a big brown Q-tip with a little gray fuzz on it. Like when a lollipop falls on the carpet and you pick it up, but you can’t lick it, ’cause see, it has dirt and lint on it. She was lyin’. That thang I thought was her dog is her hair.”

Viper burst out laughing, but quickly put on a straight face. Troy sported a serious look as if for the life of him, he didn’t see what was so funny.

“Were you nice to the dog, even though it looked funny?”

“I was really nice to it, Viper, and I like to play with it when I go over there, but I want a big dog! Not one that could be mistaken for a wig. I want a dog like you got! You got Pit Bulls, I’ve seen ’em, and Mama said you train dogs.”

“I do.”

“That’s cool!”

They sat in silence for a while. His gaze rested on a framed picture of Majesty and who he knew now was her mother. He appreciated the times they shared here after that first night. Majesty would arrange it for them to spend some private time together, though with her finishing school and work, and his schedule, too, sometimes it was difficult to make plans. Still, they managed to go out on dates and make love as often as possible, one time on her lunch break, a quickie in his truck in a deserted parking lot. But, he yearned for more.

“Viper?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you want to be a dog trainer when you were a kid? Like, did you always know that’s what you wanted to do?”

“I did, actually. I just didn’t know what it was called.”

“I don’t know what I want to be yet. Maybe a doctor. But I like music, too, so maybe a producer.”

“That’s normal. You’re young. You might change your mind many times. I wanted to work with dogs, but sometimes I wasn’t sure where I’d end up. I’m glad it all worked out.”

“’Cause you could be dead like my father?”

He stared at Troy for a spell, then nodded.

“Yes. I believe I could’ve been.”

“I think sometimes, people make bad choices, like Mama said about my daddy, not because they want to, but like, they feel that they have to or somethin’ worse will happen.”

“I think you’re probably right.” Viper sat back and crossed his arms.

Sometimes, people are like onions. We must look beyond that first layer of skin to see what’s really going on.

“Viper, I wish people would stop lookin’ at others and thinkin’ stuff that isn’t true. Like… judgin’ ’em, I guess.” The boy shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, my grandmama judges my mama all the time. Mama don’t tell me anythin’ but she always looks sad and mad after she get off the phone with Grandmama.”

“You seem to overhear a lot of conversations.” Viper playfully pushed the boy into a side pillow, making the kid laugh.

“Mama tells me a child should stay in a child’s place. But I learned a lot about her from hearing her on the phone. I learn how she really feels.”

This kid is smart. Real smart. Look at the words he uses and how he talks. How he pieces things together. Troy is a bright child, and I know that is due in part to Majesty.He’d seen the boy’s room. She had an entire bookshelf in there, full of books about space, great Black inventors, math workbooks, and Biblical tales. His room was decorated nicely, with a big world globe on the desk, as well as framed art on the walls with inspirational sayings. Viper’s love for Majesty grew in part due to her love for her son. He found it sexy. Admirable.

Just then, he heard the front door unlocking, and they both turned to see Majesty walking through it.

“It was crowded in the store tonight. I decided to get a couple liters of pop, and some chips and ice-cream, too… Thank you,” she said when Viper got to his feet and took the bag from her grasp.

“Troy, did you give Viper any problems?”

“No, Mama.” Troy then burst out laughing as he pointed to the television.

“He was great, Majesty. He even helped me cut up some of the toppings for the pizza.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then headed to the kitchen with the bag. As he removed the items and set them on the counter for her, he heard Troy say, “Mama, guess what? Viper said I could have a dog if you say I can! He also said you’ll probably say no, ’cause you’re real mean.”

“Boy, I know you lyin’! He ain’t say that about me!”

Viper shook his head and chuckled, his heart light and content…