The Viper and his Majesty by Tiana Laveen
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Great Balls of Fire
Florida is oneof the sunniest places on Earth, yet the people who live here are some of the shadiest people of all…
Some are shady because that’s all they know, others because they desire to be that way.
Some are born crazy. Others become that way over time due to trauma. Either way, it’s good to know at least one that is sly, skilled, and insane, and willing to school the younger generations. My father knows of many people like this from all walks of life. Though he was never incarcerated for lengthy periods of time, he didn’t tolerate disrespect, and would often suffer the consequences of his hair-trigger temper by spending a little time in the joint. He became responsible for the deaths of two men, one of whom he’d killed in self-defense. He’s been in countless fights and has had to engage in altercations at his car shop when people failed to pay and attempted to drive off with their vehicle fully repaired.
Nowadays, Dad has my three-hundred-and-thirty-pound cousin, Dalian, an OG Latin King with a neck circumference of forty-nine centimeters working part time at the shop to help with these matters, or he would surely go to prison, especially after suffering a couple attempted robberies that resulted in him having to pull out his gun and fire. He’s calmed down in his old age. Still, his associations are what they are and his passion for life is very much intact. Unlike my father, I’m not quick to respond. I’m not reactionary, so most people don’t know what I’m thinking, or what my next move is going to be. I prefer it that way. Natural camouflage. That’s why I can do my dirt in plain sight…
Viper caught his reflection in the glow of the truck’s side-mirror. Flames shot out of the house four doors down, as if some imperceptible demon was squeezing a dragon’s throat with its bare hands, forcing it to vomit flames until the whole place was engulfed in Nature’s fireworks. An ungodly heat spread like chicken pox, and he could feel his temperature rising. He looked back at the house and smiled…
It was two in the morning, and Officer Pinkerton’s house was wedged between the Devil’s ass cheeks as he farted. Out shot the sweltering demon of fire, bleeding motherfuckin’ hellholes as he tumbled from the force of pushed gas and heated intensity. Window shutters fell to the ground in fiery bursts of orange, yellow, and reds. The house had been empty, Viper had made certain of that and timed things just right. He would have preferred that Pinkerton had been home as it would have been the icing on the cake, but the possibility of him being there alone was slim to none, so Viper had settled for the next best thing: The Pinkerton family’s two-day trip to Tennessee.
They might as well have been in a galaxy far, far away. While here in Orlando, the motherfucker wielded his vocational racist antics like a sword, but he’d made the mistake of believing Viper was the sort to let the violation slide.
Viper slipped a toothpick in his mouth and twirled it, satisfied with himself. I did well… That’s some good ass work. He’d doused the entire fucking house under the guise of a yard worker, without ever needing to enter the house and disable the alarm system. He’d even sprayed the yard with fake pesticide and had his white ‘Bug and Weed Killer’ truck parked out front. Blended right in, like drops of rain in a pool. It had taken time, meticulous preparation, and patience. Viper had all of that in spades.
After digging deep into Pinkerton’s private life, he’d discovered a treasure trove of instances of racial harassment, and the man had never gotten so much as a slap on the wrist. His superiors didn’t give a shit, nor did the courts. This motherfucker had free reign. But then, Viper had stumbled upon a jewel of a tidbit that had sparked his interest. He’d also found out how much the man hated fire. Once, when called to assist with a blazing building, he’d freaked out and had frozen on the scene. A further investigation revealed that Pinkerton had been in a fire as a child. How fitting. You give someone I love nightmares; I give you some, too. It’s either this or a gunshot to the head.
Viper had arranged a special meeting after making a few calls to his LK Brothers in Orlando, had them follow Pinkerton, then get an idea of the man’s comings and goings. The motherfucker didn’t know who he was fucking with. One did not mess with a Latin King Warlord and go on with business as usual. This was why many of the police officers coming to his home about the noise ordinance issue knew to leave well enough alone. They didn’t want to be involved with him unless they just had to. Some of the Latin Kings were known to put out hits on any case witnesses or law enforcement that forgot their place. This was one of the reasons they were hated so much: LKs showed no fear. If they were going down, you were coming with them. Amor de Rey…
But every and now again, there was someone like Pinkerton, who tested the waters and ended up drowned.
That was when his father’s lunatic old cellmate had come into play. Maceo was a career arsonist. He’d only spent time in jail once, during his stint with his father, but not because his work was sloppy. The problem had been his ex-wife ratting him out to get full custody of their daughter. Maceo was often hired by people wishing to get insurance money for their burned down properties. His was a lucrative business he clearly enjoyed. On top of that, the irony of it all was beautiful. The motherfucker was also an ex-firefighter and had tips on how to do the deed and hide one’s tracks like one wouldn’t even believe. This information couldn’t be found on Google or in a YouTube DIY video. It was the type of intel that stayed ‘in house.’
Viper had paid him to get the supplies, and to extend his knowledge and assistance in the matter. Now, he was able to sit here and enjoy the bonfire from afar. He’d carried out the deed on his own, followed the instructions to the letter, and even had his father let him borrow an old pickup truck.
Popping a salty peanut in his mouth, he sat back and continued to enjoy the show.
The scars Pinkerton had created would be slow to heal. Troy had experienced a nightmare in the hotel room the first night in Disney World. After a long day of fun, and they’d retired to bed, he’d heard the child’s faint whimpering as he’d quietly made love to his mother in the adjoining room at three in the morning. Viper had gotten out of the bed and tossed on his boxer shorts to check on things. When he’d opened the door that separated them and discovered the child balled up in a fetal position crying his eyes out, that had been the final straw. Majesty had slipped in Troy’s hotel bed and cradled her child close to her chest. She’d rocked with him and hugged him tight, keeping him in her arms for the rest of the night, even after Troy had fallen fast asleep.
The boy would forever be affected by that traffic stop and had confessed that he had cried in the car on the way to Disney World because he’d been convinced Viper was going to be shot and killed by Officer Pinkerton. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Troy’s trauma ran deep. What Viper didn’t divulge to Majesty was that this son of a bitch had squeezed his nuts so hard during the search, his name should’ve been Christmas nutcracker. His testicles ached for hours afterwards. That had been the pathetic officer’s last-ditch effort to provoke Viper to punch or kick to defend himself, to make it appear as if he were fighting and resisting arrest. None of that would have shown up on camera since Pinkerton had cleverly kept it discreet. Who would believe the word of a high-ranking gang banger over that of a seasoned cop with an impeccable record? Viper was no fool. He was a member of one of the most prolific gangs in Southern Florida, certainly the largest. Added onto that was his lengthy criminal history.
If he’d given in to his urges to strike, it would have resulted in him being thrown in prison, and who knew when he’d get out again? His freedom would be gone. His woman, gone. His dog training business, gone. Everything he loved and worked so hard for… gone.
So, he’d forced himself to remain quiet and not give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing the pain he was in. He’d forced himself to think about what was at stake, and how, if he’d just made it through that, his life would not change for the worse. His wrists had remained sore long after the handcuffs were removed, and on top of it all, his wallet had been rifled through and most of his cash stolen after he’d refused to let them search his vehicle, no doubt hoping to find an illegal substance.
Oh yes, that son of a bitch had been desperate for an arrest, and had no issue hiding behind his badge and stealing from people he felt didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as he, let alone have a nice car, a beautiful girlfriend, and money to go on a weekend family trip to Disney World anytime he damn well pleased.
You steal from me, I take from you…
And Viper wasn’t talking about the money…
Troy had had his serenity and excitement snatched away from him that fateful morning. His woman’s peace had been robbed at racism-point, causing her to be distraught both for her own sake and for the sake of her child and lover. Their happiness had been temporarily jilted, tricked into slinking away to allow room for a hideous force to enter and pilfer the simple pleasures of life. Viper glanced at the house burning the fuck down, mad as hell as he replayed the events in his mind that had led him there.
People in the neighborhood exited their homes, moving like sleepy zombies clad in their pajamas and robes. They stood in their doorways or on the sidewalk, holding their phones up as they pointed at the billowing black smoke and glorious flames.
He turned on the ignition. The engine of the old beat-up truck vibrated, then purred. He lit a celebratory Cuban cigar and drove off, slow and easy, like a well-timed thrust in Majesty’s tight, wet pussy. The flames dancing in his rear-view mirror looked beautiful with their wide, red hips and upward flowing hair. Shifting in his seat, he snuck a glance at the red rosary hanging from the truck, like the one in the bedroom the night Dad had left.
The gunmetal body of Jesus on the cross caught the glow of the blaze as he rode on past, a flicker of passing light moving across the nails in the Messiah’s hands and feet. Fire trucks approached, the sirens blaring. They sounded like broken cries, oozing from the automatons that arrived to put out the infernos of pain… But they were too late. That pain had spun into a mighty wrath, and that wrath erupted into controlled madness. Nothing was salvageable, just like when God had destroyed the world with the flood. This time, there was fire. Two tragic sheep, two ravenous lions, and two guileful serpents loaded upon Noah’s ark. The Viper and his shadow counted as a pair…
He turned up the speakers to drown out the sound of the alarms, all crying for a lost cause. He got back on the highway, and as he passed where he’d been pulled over that morning to be dishonored by Officer Kenneth Pinkerton, in the opposite direction going back to Boca Raton, he waved. Masego’s ‘Navajo’ serenaded him on his journey. The snake had left the protective cover of the garden of Eden, and now he’d returned, his belly full and his needs satisfied…