Page 33 of Don't Kross Me
“Them Zone 7 niggas over there,” Kross informed him as he nodded in the direction of their section. “You rocking with me or what?”
Noonie’s eyes trailed over to their section, and sure enough, a couple niggas from Zone 7 were turning up and having a good time. Shifting his attention back to Kross, he could tell he was going to make his move with or without him, so he shot him aquick head nod before clutching his iron in his pocket. Kross also alerted Los and Ezekiel, who were riding with him no questions asked. The energy in the club was so electrifying that people didn’t even notice that the money that was once being thrown in the air from the Paper Chase Crew came to a screeching halt.
Just as the DJ dropped the beat to “Jeezy the Snowman,” Kross, Noonie, Ezekiel and whoever else was strapped with the Paper Chase Crew pulled out their irons and started dumping toward the section across the club. Bullets ricocheted all over the club, sending all the dancers and club goers in a frenzy to either pile out the club or find cover. The music came to a screeching halt as gunshots rang in everyone’s ears.
POW! POW! POW!
Glasses and bottles of top shelf liquor from the bar were shattered and destroyed as bullets pierced them. The entire club was in disarray as people screamed at the top of their lungs, petrified that they would fall victim to one of the bullets flying.
Once the Zone 7 Disciples realized the static was coming from the other side of the club, they upped their tools and started dumping at the Paper Chase Crew. Before anyone could stop him, Kross hopped the railing that barricaded the VIP sections to get in close range of them niggas. He had sixteen in the clip, and he made use of every one of them motherfuckas. Two bodies dropped on his account as he inched closer and closer to them. He wanted to wipe them out entirely and leave their families in despair. Wasn’t nothing going to satisfy him unless they all felt the same pain he felt from them spinning on Cassie and Aniyis. He was seeing red, and that clouded his judgment enough for him to not even care to shield himself from the bullets coming from the guns the Zone 7 niggas were toting.
“We out! Let’s slide!” Ezekiel’s voice boomed through the canals of his ears as he felt a tug on his shirt. It was like his brother came to snap him out of his trance in divine timingbecause he had emptied his clip on them niggas. Together, he and Ezekiel rushed toward the back exit of the club, ducking and weaving bullets that were still spewing from the barrels of the Zone 7 crew’s guns. Noonie and Los pushed Ezekiel and Kross ahead as they ran backward, still spraying at whoever was left standing.
“K, you bleeding, bro,” Ezekiel said to him as they all ran around the building as a unit to get into their cars.
Too wrapped up in his adrenaline, Kross failed to realize that he wasn’t bullet proof. He had gotten hit. The left side of his Hellstar shirt was now dyed with his crimson red blood that was pooling out of a gunshot wound that pierced his side.
“I’m good,” he gritted as the pain hit him all in that moment.
Clutching his side, he hopped into his Maybach and brought the engine to life. Ezekiel was skeptical of leaving his brother’s side while he was bleeding, but Kross ain’t leave him with much of a choice since he set his car in Reverse and hopped the curb of the parking lot to peel off. Quickly, Ezekiel did the same in his Lambo, followed by Noonie and Los. They couldn’t risk getting jammed at the scene, so at the four-way intersection, the men all sped off, going their separate ways.
The bloodshed had finally begun.
Chapter Fifteen
Kross’ eyes shifted from the road to his rear-view mirror to ensure that there weren’t any squad cars following him. In the distance, he could hear the blaring sirens and horns blowing through the streets as police and ambulance were dispatched to the strip club. He and his guys peeled out of there fast and dissipated into the thin night’s air. He kept a steady hand on the steering wheel while he used his other hand to clench his left side. With everything moving at the speed of light, he hadn’t gotten the chance to figure out whether he had gotten shot or grazed. The excruciating pain and smoldering heat he felt in his left side had him thinking that one of them Zone 7 niggas lucked up and actually popped him.
“Fuck!” he groaned as he assessed the blood leaking out of him. He tried his best to split his attention between the road and his wound. If he drove too crazily, he would garner unwanted attention, and he didn’t need any of that. His mind ran rampant as he considered what his next move should be. Going to the hospital to seek medical attention was out of the fucking question, but he needed to get his bleeding under control, so he pivoted. Taking a sharp right turn off the interstate, he sped through Liberty City and right into Little Haiti.
It was inching towards four in the morning, so the streets were quiet and desolate. He could barely remember the house he was looking for since he had only stopped by twice in all his 31 years of living, but he was hoping his senses led him in the right direction. Hastily, he hit the brakes, causing the car to jerk at the sudden stop. He set it in Park at the curb and killed the engine. With one hand still clenching his bleeding side, he hopped out of the car and approached the rickety gate that surrounded the flat single-family house. He could feel himself dragging as his strength diminished as he reached over the gate to undo the latch that held it secure. Inhaling a sharp breath, he internally encouraged himself to push through the pain to at least get to the front door.
His feet dragged along the cobblestone pathway that led to the porch. Once he reached the door, he issued a series of loud knocks against it, which prompted a few lights in the home and the porch light to come on.
“Who is it?!” Kross heard from the other side of the door. The familiar voice belonged to his uncle, Buddah, who was kin to him through his father Christian. After Christian got shot early in Kross’ childhood, he never really got the chance to connect with his side of the family. Kross was sure that him popping up on his doorstep in the wee hours of the morning was confusing as fuck.
“It’s me, Kross,” he responded through clenched teeth.
There was a moment of silence that lasted briefly before the locks of the door began to chime and it was yanked open. “The fuck you doing here at four-somethin’ in the morning, Kross?” Buddah shot his nephew an odd look. It had been years since they crossed paths, and he knew as the adult in the situation, he could have done more to keep a connection with his little brother’s son, but he didn’t. There was no bad blood between the two, just messy-ass family drama between Raquel and Christian’s families that Kross ended up getting lost within.
Growing up, Kross was always closer to his mother’s side of the family than his father’s. Christian did his part and made sure Kross knew his side of the family, but when he passed and all the drama between them and Raquel ensued, she made sure to keep Kross far the fuck away from them. It didn’t help much, and he still turned out to be everything she was running away from and wanted Christian to leave behind. Despite the lack of a close relationship, Kross always made sure to speak whenever he saw his father’s family in passing. They got to watch his rise to power in the streets from a distance, and they couldn’t help but see Christian through him.
Instead of uttering anything, Kross lifted the hem of his Hellstar shirt and showcased the bullet wound he suffered to his side. Buddha’s eyes trailed from the bloody mess and peered right into Kross’ eyes. This was déjà vu from the last time Kross came stumbling up the steps of his porch. This wasn’t his first time getting shot or even grazed. He had a few close calls, but every time, he made sure to pull through just to raise hell in the streets for whoever upped fire on him.
“Get the fuck in here.” Buddha smacked his lips, stepping aside so Kross could step inside.
Blood from the open gunshot wound trickled down Kross’ side and canvassed the oak wood floors of Buddha’s home. Once the front door shut behind them, the light in the hallway flickered on, and there stood the woman who saved Kross’ life the last time he came to their home on the brink of life and death.
“You just got out and you already in some shit?” she asked with a frown sinking into her face and her arms folded across his chest.
Nadine was Buddha’s longtime girlfriend he had been with since Kross could remember. The two were a match made in heaven and matched each other’s crazy perfectly. Nadine wasof Haitian descent and came to the States at the age of seven. She and Buddha went to the same high school, and as much as Nadine’s immigrant parents tried to keep her away from Buddha’s roughneck ass, she found him impossible to shake like a bad habit. Now in their mid-fifties, Buddha was out of the streets, and Nadine was a registered nurse. They lived a pretty peaceful life out of the way until shit landed at their doorstep, like now.
“This shit comes with the territory. Can you stop this fucking bleeding, though?” Kross mustered enough strength to grit through clenched teeth.
Nadine exchanged glances with Buddha to see whether they were on the same page and were going to help Kross out. He gave her a quick head nod, which prompted her to rush to Kross’ side to usher him to their dining room. Just like last time, Buddha stripped their dining room table of the nice tablecloth they had for decoration and began dressing it with multiple trash bags. As he did that, Nadine ridded herself of her robe and remained in her night gown before gloving up. The way they were moving so militantly and in sync with each other had Kross thinking he wasn’t the only motherfucka’ getting patched up at their crib from time to time. Nadine and Buddha were just always on the same type of timing, and it made him think about what he and Cassie had before she passed.
Nadine aided him out of his shirt and began assessing the wound. The blood was still pooling out, and she could see the anguish that began to settle in on his face.
“It’s just a graze,” she concluded after examining it.
