Memphis Streets 4: Skeletons

Chapter 25- Le'Shelle

Blue and white strobe lights line the front door of the Forest Hill Funeral Home.

It's hard to see what's going on with so many people crowded around. The idea of my coming all the way out here for nothing raises my blood pressure.

After reading about Tracee and Reggie's funeral services in the paper, I lay in bed all night unable to sleep. I don't like loose ends. An eighteen-wheeler zooms past me, where I'm parked on the side of the road across from the funeral home.

For a brief moment, my line of vision is obstructed and the Escalade rocks in its wake. When I'm able to see again, the crowd is parting and Brielle and Dice are being shoved through with their hands behind their backs.

"Well, I'll be damned." I watch in shock.

What in the hell did my bougie-ass sister do to get arrested? A cop places his hand on top of Brielle's head and crams her into the back of the police car. As soon as she is tucked in, she glances my way. Laughing, I lift the gat from my lap and salute her. Her eyes widen.

Our dance with death will have to wait. When the squad car pulls off, I tuck the gun underneath my seat and wait to follow three cars behind them. This turn of events keeps me chuckling the whole ride to the precinct. There, I'm unable to follow behind the gated area where the cops escorts their suspects into the building—but I am able to drive down the road a ways and park in a KFC parking lot.

I need to think. Who knows when I'll be able to get at Brielle again? Even if she's able to get out of whatever this situation is, I have no doubt that Dice will tuck her back onto Ruby Cove, where she'll be surrounded by Cartel Lords and stank-ass Cartier's. It'll be impossible to get at her. Today was to be my best shot. I'm hardly in the position to play hide-and-seek. I'm already playing that game with the police my damn self.

Maybe you should just let this shit go. My jaw clenches at that annoying voice in the back of my head. A part of me still wants to go back to playing the protective big sister to that backstabbing bitch.

"I won't do it," I vow, staring into my eyes through the rearview mirror.

I spent my entire life looking after that girl, got locked up, raped, and tossed in the streets while she lived the life of a princess in suburbia, dreaming of becoming a doctor. Where I was hard and jaded, Brielle believed that her shit didn't stink, with her straight A's and her track star status. I told her to wake her ass up, but she looked down on me and heard nothing I said.

Things went south when I set out to prove to her that Reggie Douglas was no different from any other nigga that had taken us in over the years. I'll admit it: I overplayed my hand and got tossed out in the street after my attempt to seduce him. I didn't care. I was ready to go anyway. However, Brielle plunged the first knife into my back and refused to leave with me. That shit hurt, but I bounced and got myself a job down at the Fat Monkey strip club.

I worked the pole, learned how to use my pussy, and clawed my ass out of the gutter. All the while, I still looked after her. My name gave her protection in the streets—and in that shitty high school. And what did she do in return? Showed me her ass—and laid down with my enemies. Who the fuck does that shit? Brielle picked that nigga over me so now she has to deal with the consequences.

The way I see it, her taking a couple of bullets is the least her ass could do.

A rogue idea strikes. I scramble for the cell phone that I'd tossed over into the passenger seat. I scroll through my mental phone book and call a junior Queen G.

"Yo, Avonte. I got a job for you."

"Sure, my queen. I got you."

"I'm over here by the police station off of Third. Who do we have in holding over here right now? Anybody?"

"I'm not sure, but I can find out."

"Good. The sooner, the better. There's someone there that I want to make sure doesn't come out alive."