Page 5 of Honey's Special Roux

“You’ve got that car looking brand new.” Uncle Chance observed as he walked up the driveway.

“Thanks.”

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked as he examined my work.

“I was actually about to pull up on Uncle Merlot.”

Uncle Chance frowned. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” I asked.

“I’m not an idiot. We all know what type of business your uncle conducts. If you’re going to be in this house, you need to know we don’t tolerate that street life shit. We worked hard to get all the shit we have. I’ll be damned if I let your gangster ass activities put this family in danger.”

I remained silent as he spoke. Once his small rant was over, I let silence fill the space until I found the words to use as a response.

“Man, you think I asked to be raised by a fuckin’ crackhead or a drug dealer? You think I asked to have to kill and steal at a young ass age because the mothafuckas that made me couldn’t raise me? You think I asked for any of this shit? I’m a product of my mothafuckin environment, dawg. Ain’t much I can do at this point. I only know how to kill and steal. It’s in my blood.”

My voice betrayed me. I sounded like a bitch. If anybody knew I’d just shown that side of me, I’d be a walking target.

“Marquise, look?—”

“I really don’t care what you got to say, Unc, on some real shit. Look, I can promise you my shit ain’t gon’ ever interfere with what you got goin’ on in yo’ house. If I didn’t have social workers on my ass, I wouldn’t even be here. Soon as I turn eighteen, I’m out of this bitch for good. You got a year and a couple months. I won’t be in y’all shit, and you ain’t got to be in mine.”

Without another word, I turned and headed into the house. The next year and a half would be long and tiresome. I was going to stack my paper, though. I wanted to apply to any spot and get that shit with straight cash. I was tired of being moved from house to house, family member to family member. If Unc and nem didn’t want me, CPS would get involved again, but the next time I’d end up in a group home. I refused to let that be a part of my story.

* * *

“Are you good, nephew?” Uncle Merlot asked when I entered his home.

“I’m cool. What’s the job?”

“We got an informant of your dad’s in the backroom. I figured you’d want to be the one to handle that.”

“You could have said that from the jump. Let me see the mothafucka.”

Merlot chuckled. “Be calm. We got to get information before you kill anybody.”

“Right.”

My heart raced at the thought of catching a body tonight. It was something powerful about releasing all my emotions onto the body of a nigga who didn’t deserve to live. The idea of watching the life leave their eyes made my body quake with excitement. The power and control I felt when my bare hands squeezed the life out of a nigga was almost better than an intense nut.Almost.

“I know how hot headed you can get, Marq. Don’t lose control before we can get a location on yo’ Pops.”

“I hear you.”

“I’ll whup yo’ ass my damn self. Don’t go overboard.”

“Whatever.”

The walk to the backroom was long. The room was located underground and built with thick steel walls. The concrete flooring was cold and hard. There was only one light in the center of the room.

When my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I saw the man tied up in the middle of the room with his mouth gagged. I looked at his scared features to put a name to a face. The dark skin and dreadlocks clicked in my memory.

“I know that ain’t you, Yosohn.” I chuckled.

The man in question fought against the handcuffs as he tried to break free. The sight of him pissed me off. Nigga always had something slick to say when I used to be around Chandler’s bitch ass. With no words, I punched him in his stomach four times. My jabs were short and powerful, as if I were using a punching bag. He coughed and sputtered against the rope around his mouth. I stepped back and watched him throw up on himself.

“What the fuck?” Rell stared in disgust. I hadn’t even seen him in the room until he spoke.

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