"Von! Come here and make sure them string beans don't cook too long. I gotta call Latoya back to see if she can watch you and D'Kiyah tomorrow while I'm at work."
My Mom's voice cuts through my airpods, jolting me from my trance-like daydream of going to the league and swimming in cash everyday.
"Yes, Mama."
I say, not really knowing what she said. Luckily for me, my lil sis is an angel in disguise, and as soon as my mom leaves the room, she grins with an adorable smile, her small braids swinging, and says,
"Mama said watch the stove."
Grinning, and patting her head, I dramatically look around before dropping my voice to a whisper.
"Nice save, sis. I owe you an ice cream cone for that quick save KiKi. You and me? We're the best team ever."
Patting her head some more, I stand up and make my way to the stove, scrolling through my favorite playlist: Vibez, and tapping on the song Type of Way by Rich Homie Quan.
Making sure to keep the stove in the corner of my eye, I open my Message App and shoot my friend Dante a text.
[Yo, Te. What's the word on that job you lined up?]
A minute goes by and no response, so I sigh in annoyance and just immerse myself in the song and watch the stove, occasionally stirring the pot of string beans to make sure they don't burn.
🎶My niggas been hustlin' trying to make him something, ain't no telling what he'll do for the paper🎶
🎶Soufflé, I'm straight, I steak my plate, sade, I'm a smooth operator🎶
"Von. Von! Mommy's coming!"
My head perks at Kiki's voice, which had saved me yet again.
Snapping out of the music-induced trance, I quickly stir the string beans once more before shooting D'Kiyah a grin and a wink.
"Thanks again, Kiki. That's an ice cream cone and a candy bar I owe you now. Keep score for me, yeah?"
D'Kiyah giggles adorably, once more nodding her head and setting her braids with beads jangling all over.
"Good," I say patting her head.
"I'm back."
My mom says, a smile on her face. I can tell that Auntie Lotoya must've said yeah to watching us, and inwardly I groan.
It's not personal, don't get me wrong. I love Auntie Latoya. But it's a love that's easier to maintain with more distance between us.
Everyone has that family member, right? The kind you love, but would prefer to not have to see.
That's Auntie Latoya. She's my mom's older sister, and is kinda like the the local cat lady. Okay, fine. She is the local cat lady.
Like I said, I love her to death, but it's Hella embarrassing to have to go out with her.
Anyways, my mom comes into the apartment's kitchen, tucking her phone into her back pocket as she heads to the stove.
"Kiki, Von, listen here. Auntie Latoya's gonna be watching yall starting tonight for the next few days. I don't wanna hear that you actin a fool. LaVontae? I'm talking to you."
Holding back a sigh, I nod, annoyance burning in my heart.
"Use yo words, Von."
My mom says, her voice hardening.
"Yes, Mama."
"Good, now Von, you already know to help D'Kiyah with her homework and to make sure she's not gettin no crazy ideas from Latoya. I'm heading out now, Latoya'll be here in less than 10 minutes. Be good, baby," my mom says, scooping up Kiki and giving her a quick peck on the head.
As she sets her down, she turns to me as I'm pulling out my phone after a text notification made it vibrate in my pocket.
"Bye, Von. I love you," She says.
"Bye mama. Love you too."
I'm about to text back Dante when a quick hand snatches my phone out of my hands before I can react.
"Hey!"
Looking at my mom's goofy grin and my phone she's twirling in her hands, I sigh softly, already knowing my mistake.
"Von, don't tell me you think you too old to hug and kiss me. Because so help me god I'll kiss you even if you're sixty years old."
Nodding with a small smile curling at the edges of my lips, I say, "No, Mama. I know."
Kiki giggles as my mom pulls me into an overdramatic hug, planting exaggerated kisses all over my face.
After about 30 seconds of this, my mom has to stop, because KiKi's giggling so hard she's snorting like a pig.
Smiling broadly, I sigh. "Even my favorite little sister laughs at my torture. Oh how cruel my family is."
My mom shoots me a side eye, but her smile gives away her true feelings.
"Smart ass kid," She says under her breath chuckling, pulling the still giggling D'Kiyah upright.
"Von, stay here until Latoya gets here. Love you both."
"I love you mommy."
"Love ya mama."
The beat up apartment door shuts with a click, and I carry KiKi to the worn down and practically broken couch, clicking on the TV to the Disney Channel.
Before long, KiKi is immersed in the show, and I pull out my phone to see if the text I got earlier was from Dante.
[Yo, Von! U one lucky mf fr. I just got the word that a vaccine tent on the corner of Oxdayle and 37th is paying walk in volunteers over 3k to get a shot. U in?]
Looking at the text, a wave of relief washes over me. With dad gone, mom's been working way harder. I need to also be a bread winner for the family, but no job worth having wants to hire a 14 year old.
McDonald's or Rally's, sure. But that isn't enough to help mom out on a consistent basis, nor is it enough to give her and Kiki the life they deserve to live.
Dante Hughes was the first person I met since moving up here who I could genuinely consider my friend.
Everything I've needed help, or just someone ti listen, he was there. Either telling jokes, or passing a nigga some money.
His family consists of his two older brothers and three older sisters… all of whom are big time players around Kernston, Illinois.
His oldest brother, Jameson, is closely affiliated with the 10point Gang, a gang currently suspected by the FBI for the death of a popular Illinois senator last year who was poised for Vice Presidency this year.
His other brother, Curtis, is not only affiliated with 10point gang, but has suspected ties as a drug runner for the 606Boys, an internationally renowned criminal organization recently getting infamous on the world stage after the small time gang from Michigan developed a new drug called JETS, and started selling it abroad as well as domestically.
That's just his brothers, to speak nothing of his sisters. Needless to say, my mom doesn't like me hanging out with him, fearing a bad influence may lead me down the wrong path.
But, to be fair, Dante isn't like his siblings in that regard. He's still involved of course, often quoting Curtis' mantra: 'only people who put money on the table have a say at it.'
But he also does normal stuff, like go to school, play 2K, hoop at rec center with me. All the stuff a normal, non-gangbanger 14 year-old would do.
But due to his family's infamy, amplified tenfold locally, he's lumped right in there with the rest of them when you think of the Hughes family.
After a second text from Dante hits my phone, I stop thinking about anything else but getting paid.
[Yo, Von? You in gang?]
[You already know. I'm at the crib. Pick me up so I can be in and out before my aunt finds out.]
[My nigga. I thought you'd say that. I'm already outside.]
[Lez git it. Omw]
•••
Yo, Von! Hop in bruh. I borrowed Jamiyah's 'Vette, so if we late you ain't the only one who finna catch a whoopin.
Type shit, I say laughing. As soon as I hop in and the door clicks shut, he floors the accelerator, the engine roaring like a jet engine as we peel away from the curb outside Jonah Hill Apartments, the projects I stay at.
"Holy shit!" Both me and Te say simultaneously as he drivez down the straightaway at 90mph, bringing a grin to my face.
I look over and say, "Yo, Te. Thanks, bruh. I really needed this. Mama won't say but she's strugglin. This means a lot."
"The fuck you mean thanks. We basically family. And that means yo Mama my mama, even if she hates me."
He laughs at the last part, and I chuckle too.
I'm about to say something else, but he cuts me off.
"Hey, man. I get. You're welcome. Now shut the fuck up with all that soap opera mushy gushy emotional shit, ya hear?"
"So," I say, steering the topic away. "You seen that OKC is the first team in NBA history to win three or more games in row by more than 35?"
"Yeah. I seen SGA's goof ass. Fuckin hate him though. And since when did the NBA start making that a valid fuckin achievement? Even in the early LeBron era, nobody was proud of small shit like that. The league's a joke now."
"True, but what other choice do they have? They already exhausted the father and son duo marketing angle."
"Don't know, but I ain't watching that pansy ass shit anymore, that's for goddamn sure. We're here."
The sudden shift in conversation throws me off, and when I look up I see that we're here already.
Oxdayle and 37th. Alright, I'll head in and get this shut over with.
"Ight, Von. I'll be right here. Don't take too long. We both gotta get back."
I nod, and head inside the makeshift tent. Inside, a small metal medical cot like the ones in the doctors office lays off to the side, and a portable sink is across from it against the tent's wall on the other side of the room.
Leaning against sink scrolling idly on her phone, is the most eye-catching white woman I'd ever seen. She's wearing a white lab coat over what looks like a green club dress.
She's around 5'7" and is curvy as fuck. She's a redhead, and her slightly wavy hair reaches past her phat ass, billowing slightly from me opening the tent flap.
Her eyes are a greenish blue, and a splash of freckles lines the space under her eyes, going from her right eyes, across the bridge of her nose, to her left eye.
She's sucking on a dum-dum sucker from the jar on the desk by the sink, and when she notices I walked in, she pulls out the blue sucker with a loud pop.
A smile appears on her face, and she looks me over from head to toe in a way that makes my face heat up, and my brain nearly short circuit.
"Well, well, well. Certainly a decent body. It looks like you could definitely be able to help me with my… vaccine."
"How old are you sweetie?"
She asks, gently guiding me to sit down on the medical cot.
"14, ma'am."
I say, trying too look everywhere but at her.
"Hmmm… definitely younger than the other guys who were here. But… maybe that's better."
"Okay, sweetie. You've had a shot before, right?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Just sit still and let me work my magic. After that, you can take your money and head back. Call the number listed on the card if you have any problems or questions after taking our experimental vaccine. You ready?"
I nod, not trusting my voice to betray me.
"Okay, sweetheart. Just relax it'll all be over in a second…"
•••••
[3rd person pov]
"Detective Salazar, this is the 63rd case of suspected murder done in this fashion in the last 56 hours, and you are telling me that you have no leads!"
Inside a middle class home that once held an ambient atmosphere, a cold and grim scene is playing out.
A short and raunchy middle aged man with a widow's peak and salt and pepper hair is clutching the bridge of his nose in evident frustration.
Next to him, is a young black man with a taper fade and neatly trimmed beard, standing around 6'3" tall, and next him is Detective Salazar, a beautiful woman of Latin descent, with bright brown eyes and long black hair.
The black man frowns and says, "With all due respect, Chief, you can't blame Alejandra for this situation. We all-"
"Coleman, don't ever let me catch you telling me what I can and can't do ever again. Is that clear?"
The black man, Coleman, frowns once more, but the Chief ignores him, speaking once more.
"This was supposed to be my golden year. My campaign for mayor is in full swing. Do you understand? DO NOT fuck this up or you'll only be wishing you had given up your badges. Figure this case out by whatever means you need. Just hurry up and FIX THIS!"
••••••
"Racist piece of shit. If it were Smith or Chris who said that he would've been completely different. He–"
"Derrick. Focus. No one knows more about that man than me. But whatever the timing, a murder is still a murder, and we've had 63 confirmed murders conducted in the exact same fashion in less than three days. We need to figure out what's going on. And fast."
"Well," Derrick asks, looking at the photos of all 63 victims one by one. "What do we know?"
Alejandra sighs. "Only enough to confirm that they're all identical in the way it happened."
"Right," Derrick says, looking intensely at the first recorded case. "Look. The victim in the first case is clutching his hand around the phone." Derrick says, trying to price together the scene in his head using the fragments of evidence captured by the forensics squad's photos.
Alejandra nods.
"Yeah. The Analysts suspect rigorous mortise, although since we don't yet know the time of his death, we can't rule out cadaveric spasms." She says, and Derrick nods.
"But... The knocked over lamp and the various other items knocked out of place suggests that the victim was most likely looking for something in his final moments."
"Yeah, except… nothing was stolen, no sign of forced entry, and no other indicators at the scene save for the unusual poison that was in his body at the time of death," Alejandra says, her hand rubbing her chin subconsciously.
"You don't think the poison or whatever killed him could've been making him hallucinate?"
"You're thinking an hallucinogen?"
"Not sure yet. But it's the best we got, right?"
"It would be, except the nerds back at the station haven't got a clue what this new drug could be. If it even is one. It could be a poison, or a natural substance. The fact that it's presently unidentifiable is a cause for major concern, but we don't do that part. We need to figure out what happened here. At this new scene. And the others."
Derrick's brow wrinkles as a new thought surfaces in his head after that information. "Wait, let's just say, hypothetically, that this new… substance, is a drug."
Alejandra's eyes widen as she realizes what her partner is implying.
"Aw, fuck."
She curses, reaching for her phone.
"Just how many people have already taken this shit Dammit, get patrol on the line! And call any hospitals in the area and give a heads up for symptoms to look out for."
Derrick sighs, falling into the rapid pace set by his partner.
"This shit went just went from 0 to 63 way too fast…"
Chapter End...