TOO ICY

💎 Prologue.

      
STOP: BEFORE YOU READ, THIS IS PART TWO TO A TWO PART SERIES. THE FIRST STORY WAS DELETED BY WATTPAD. YOU CAN FIND THE FIRST BOOK ON MY PATREON : AUTHORSABREAMARIEC

   I can remember it like it was yesterday.
It was summer, my favorite season of the year. From the Philly block parties - water-ice and pop rocks, fire-hydrants blasting on the corners, to the echo of dirt bikes in the wind as the dope boys rode through the city poppin wheelies.

It was the fourth of July to be exact, rocket popsicle sticks melting in the hands of my big sister and I, trying our best not to scuff or stain our all white
G-fazo's that my Pop's just brought us as we strolled down the rural streets of North Philly. I can still remember the smell of cookout food, charred hot-dogs and burgers - the streets covered with folk dressed in red white and blue on the hood's favorite holiday.

I was excited. My father, who was known to be a workaholic was finally home to spend time with us. The firecrackers he just purchased swung along his hand in the paper bag, as he promised to show me how to light them when it became dark enough. I was counting down until night fell, so we could light the sky up with colors. Unfortunately, that would never happen.

We passed by Ms. Linda's - an old soul food restaurant on the corner of 22nd and Berks. Next Mr. Randolph's dry cleaning, as well as the Papi store that my uncle Eduardo owned. We came to a stop.

"Ay, papi."

My Pop's thick accent called after me, his voice dominating any space he was in.

"Let me tie your shoes, come here."

I did as he told me, picking up the size-4 kicks and making my way over to him.

"You have to pay attention to stuff like that, otherwise you'll wind up tripping on your own two feet. Pay attention, to everything - rule number three." He preached as he tied the laces over each other.

I nodded, he smiled. Running his hands over my hair, he laid his lips against my head before standing back up on his two feet.

"Lorenzo, what's up now nigga!?" A voice yelled, following behind the screech of tires against the black top.

And just like that. He was gone. The silhouette of bullets flying our way, the horrid screams of by-standers, the sight of my father hitting the ground - I didn't understand it. How flesh was so unforgiving. How my hero, would no longer be able to protect. And for what. Why would anyone want to end his life.

"Pa, Pa!" I screamed at the top of my nine year old lungs, my throat burning with pain.

"He's gone, Jhonny" Mya cried, holding me back, "You have to stay down, they might spin the block."

"I don't care, I have to help him!"

I was too young to understand the life my father led. The pain he caused in our community, in order for my family to reap the benefits. Soon after his death I would find out who Lorenzo Savage really was - the most lucrative pusher on the east coast. As well as the biggest executor. The lives he stole, put a target on his back - and while he was my hero, to others he was a villain.

The day of his funeral, it rained. The streets were flooded, and I was convinced the droplets were his tears. No one could tell me different. Lorenzo was a lover, not a killer - and the rumors circulating his death didn't reign true to me. Not yet.

My mother, sobbed herself into insanity that day. She had enough pain for all of us, and she wore hers inside out.

"Alaida, don't worry. We will handle those who did this, Lorenzo did not die in vain." I remember my uncle telling her.

"Why are they still alive, huh. Can you tell me that?" She spat, "I told you all, that he was not safe here. You didn't listen, because you are greedy. Now look, my husband is dead. My children have no father."

"Jhonny and Mya will be taken care of. I promise."

Eduardo stuck by his promise, for as long as he could anyway. For three years, we were taken care of. The Savage Soldiers tried their best to stay afloat without my father, but turns out - he was the brains of the entire operation. Soldiers began to die off like roaches walking into raid, funds were misused, and not to mention - my uncle Eduardo wasn't as smart as my father. He was hauled off to prison with the rest of the family still in business, after a raid from the police by the time I was fourteen. Leaving us with nothing.

My mother - who had been taken care of practically her whole life by the Mafia turned into a shell of her former self. No more birthday parties, holidays, hell - it was a miracle if we ate. My father had to be rolling over in his grave. She turned to the streets for comfort - let the same junkies my father served, take her body hostage. I still hadn't forgiven her for that.

One day, while cleaning up our one bedroom apartment - I came across a shoe box. I smirked at the insides, as it was all the sentimentals that my father left behind. I was happy for that. I thought every part of him was gone.

I came across a little black book. Ran my fingers against the dusty cover, blowing off the residue.

The savage scriptures.

Rule number one - family first.

It was as if my father was speaking to me - telling me what I had to do. The blueprint of his mind in my very hands. I've never been the same since I found that book. In fact, I've evolved into the man I believed my father wanted to be. The rebirth...of Savage.