Paid In Blood

Prologue

Robin James sat at the small kitchen table in her roach infested domain with her two young sons next to her. The sun had gone down and their last candle had just about burned out. She looked from one boy to the other and said, Look here, ya’lls’ daddies is gone. Yours is dead, she said to Rason, the oldest, and yours is in jail, she told Carmelo. Both boys looked on in silence, not understanding where their mother was going with this bullshit conversation. The Newport dangled loosely from her lips as she spoke, I can’t live like this no more, ya’ll gonna have to help out around here. We ain’t got no lights, no food, no phone, no nothing! She smacked the table causing the brothers to jump. I got this friend who gonna give ya’ll some work.

What kind of work, Robin? Carmelo asked. He was only twelve but smart and as suspicious as he could be.

Why do it matter, Penny? Robin said she need our help so we gon’ do whateva she want us to do. Rason spoke up before his mother could. Only fourteen, but the fucked up streets of New York had forced him to grow up much too quick. Despite Robin’s flaws as a mother, Rason was still loyal to her. She would not even allow them to call her momma because she didn’t like feeling old. Hell she was only twenty-nine.

Stop callin’ me that shit, nigga! Carmelo warned referring to his brother’s use of his nickname. Carmelo’s father had given him the nickname ‘Penny’ because his eye color resembled polished pennies. I wasn’t even talkin’ to you, Ray wit’ your black ass. Let her talk. Why you always taking up for her anyway? He pointed to his mother who sat there expressionless which made him even more pissed off.

Who the fuck you talkin’ to like that? Rason jumped up in his brothers face ready to fight. He hated to be called black. Carmelo was a pretty boy being mixed with Dominican and Black. However, Rason was just plain black and he hated the way people overlooked him because of his dark skin and went mad over his younger brother. As fine as he looked, he still felt self-conscious about his skin color. Luckily, no one could see the green he hid behind his dark brown eyes. So he thought.

Carmelo laughed. He knew Rason wasn’t gonna do shit. Carmelo was a beast when it came to fighting and everybody knew it. He swore up and down to anyone who would listen that he was destined to be the next Mike Tyson, even better.

When Rason finally sits his ass down, Robin spoke. Well, if you must know, Bootsie need some help movin’ his dope and he said he gon’ pay ya’ll real good. If you ain’t gon’ do this for your momma, then you might as well pack yo shit and get the fuck out my house. I can’t afford to feed myself let alone two growin’ boys! She yelled. Bootsie was with Carmelo’s father the night he caught the murder rap that landed him life in prison.

Both boys remained silent. They knew what needed to be done. Robin had spoken and meant every word. Carmelo knocked the chair over as he got up from the table, pissed off. Didn’t she care that he had dreams. That he did not want to meet the same fate as his father. What type of mother chose a life of crime for her kids? But what could he do? Shit, I bet I ain’t gon’ hustle backwards and I’m gettin’ the fuck up out here soon as I get my money up. I can’t stand Robin ass anyway, he thought as he stormed out the door letting it slam behind him. There was no turning back. The James brothers were officially drug dealers with their mothers blessing.

CHAPTER ONE

At the tender age of sixteen, Carmelo James had more money stacked then most small business owners. By day, he presented himself as the perfect student, excelling in all of his classes, but by night he became the NYPD’s worst nightmare. Winter in his hood was always harsh, but that didn’t mean shit to Carmelo. He would just layer up on his gear, post up on the corner and hustle until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes he wished Robin would holler out the window for him to come inside as most mothers did when the streetlights came on, but that shit never happened. Robin would sit at the dining room table all night talking shit, drinking Hennessey, smoking blunts and playing spades with her friends. Occasionally when Carmelo would pass by she would ask, What time you be back?

Carmelo would look at her, his eyes full of disgust and hiss, Like you give a fuck! He yelled before strolling out and slamming the door behind him. Sometimes Carmelo would go off for days at a time. But Robin didn’t give a fuck as long as he brought money back home when he came. He would stay over his best friend Guardian’s house because his parents always treated him as if he was a part of their family.

The money was great, but many times Carmelo longed to be a normal teenager. Carmelo was no fool or stranger to the game. He knew that with more money came more problems, so he made it his business to stay on point at all times. Before the sun came up, Carmelo was on his grind. While most so-called ballers and kids his age slept, he was on his grind, making business connects and stacking his paper.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had seen more shit then niggas five times his age. While the little dudes at school were playing touch and feel with the girls, he was fucking grown ass women. That was just one of the perks that came along with being a baller. That wasn’t the only perk for Carmelo. Despite the fact that he hated hustling, especially the thought of going to jail, he definitely didn’t mind the fact that he had the freshest gear in the hood, the hottest chicks on his dick and most importantly, he no longer had to live in the projects. Not all of the ups in Carmelo’s life came without a price. Because we all know that in order to have ups, some downs are bound to come.

Over the years, Carmelo often thought about his first street altercation, Yo son, pay the fuck up! He barked at the big dude who had lost the bet. Black was a stocky Jamaican cat with a nappy bush. Most people feared him, but Carmelo was not most people.

Here, lil' nigga, Black growled, pushing Carmelo hard in the chest with the money. Carmelo counted the money, Fuck is this? He hissed, mugging Black like he was crazy. Black flashed a gold tooth smile. He thought his reputation as a ruthless killer would scare the boy enough to take the short money and go on about his business. But this little angry nigga that stood before him had the heart of a soldier and was determined not to back down.

Cat got your ma’fuckin’ tongue?

Nigga...where…the...fuck...is…the...rest…of...my...money? Carmelo let the words roll off his tongue for emphasis. Onlookers laughed at the young boy with the unusual colored eyes and long ponytail. Carmelo was standing toe to toe with a known killer and didn’t even flinch. Fuck this nigga, I got guns too, Carmelo thought to himself as he kept his eyes locked on his enemy.

Black chuckled, this little nigga got a lot of heart. Too bad I’m a have to lay his ass down, he thought. With his face fixed in a scowl, Black barked, Look pretty boy, play time is over so I suggest you take the L and roll out before I put something real hot in your chest. Now maybe you ain’t heard me, but I said five hundred not fifteen. He lied.

Carmelo looked across the street and spotted Rason creeping towards the dice game with a blunt dangling between his lips. A’ight son. Have it your way. Carmelo smiled knowing what was about to go down. Black’s dumb ass didn’t even see it coming.

Noticing the angry scowl on his little brothers face when he walked up, Rason asked, What’s up, Mel?

Carmelo nodded his head towards Black, This black mafucka tryin’ to cheat me out my money, he said.

Before Black could react, Rason had his 9mm pressed to the back of his head, Nigga, why the fuck my lil brotha can’t get paid? he barked.

Black could have shit himself for leaving his heat in the car. But Black was a creature of habit. Normally cats would just back down from him so he wouldn’t even have to pull his burner. But not these two thugs!

Come on, Killa, I was just jokin’ wit him, Black tried to cop, reaching in his pocket and passing Carmelo a huge wad of bills. Way more money then what he had even owed him.

Rason drew in a long breath and let it hiss out slowly, Thanks for the dough son, but yo time is up. Before anybody could blink, Ray’s deranged ass had put two bullets in Blacks head. Black fell to his knees shacking violently before his lights went out for good.

"This be why they call me Killa Ray, ‘cause I be on the scene to save the day. So don’t snitch about my drama or I’m comin’ for your momma," Ray sang as he faded into the darkness as if nothing had ever happened. He didn’t need to stick around and everybody got the message. When the police finally showed up ain’t nobody see or hear shit because if they did, Ray would slaughter their entire family.

Carmelo wasn’t as off the hook as Rason when it came to taking somebody’s life, but he would if he had to because he refused to let the cruddy streets of New York devour him. When he got home that night, he handed Rason all the money. Money was not the issue because Carmelo had more of that then he knew what to do with; it was the principle of the situation. The saying kill or be killed was true and Carmelo had no intention on dying anytime soon. Robin and Bootsie had hipped Carmelo to the game, but it wasn’t long before he had taken it over.

By the time Carmelo turned eighteen, he felt like he had been a grown man all of his life. With a father who had been in jail most of his life, and a mother who didn't give a fuck, Carmelo was literally raised by the streets. For being such a handsome boy, Carmelo had never experienced any type of love. He despised the kind of woman that Robin was and that seemed to be the only type of women that he ever attracted. She thought she was strong, but in reality, she was filled with insecurity. The only two things that seemed to make Robin feel secure was her illegal money and a no good man to spend it with. Carmelo might not have been sure about the kind of woman he wanted, but he damn sure knew what kind he didn’t want...one like his mother.

CHAPTER TWO

Robin thought she was gonna be set for life when she met Big Ray. He was ten years her senior and a well established drug dealer originally from the west coast. For all intense purposes, he was her sugar daddy. Despite the fact that he had a wife, he still laced Robin with all of the expensive shit that came along with being a hustler's mistress. With a condo in Manhattan, a cute little sports car, and a bun in the oven, Robin thought she had her shit together. Never once did she consider how Big Ray's wife would react to her playing house with her husband. Big Ray had always gone on and on about how useless his wife was, not being able to give him the son he always wanted, so naturally Robin wanting to have one up on her, did what any self-respecting gold-digger would do. She stopped taking her birth control so she could give Big Ray the one thing his wife couldn’t…a baby. In all of her scheming to trap Big Ray, Robin would soon come to realize that sleeping on Big Ray’s wife would be a fatal mistake.

As Robin lay with her legs gapped open, screaming at the top of her lungs for God to release the little bastard from her womb, Big Ray's wife busted into the delivery room and shot him once in the head, killing him instantly. That was right before she turned the gun on herself, and blew her own brains out. Since Robin did not have the foresight to plan for a rainy day, she was now assed out and forced to return to the very place she had despised. The Projects! And even worse, with another mouth to feed.

Always looking for a come up, Robin started fucking with Santana Sanchez shortly after returning to the projects. Santana was a Dominican dude from Spanish Harlem, who much like Big Ray, was knee deep in the drug game. Of course, Robin being the young and beautiful black woman she was, Santana had fallen real hard and real fast for her. So fast, that he looked past her gold digging and scandalous ways and only saw what he thought was true love. Santana was blinded by Robin’s smooth golden bronze skin tone, her coke bottle figure and dark brown eyes.

Announcing that she was pregnant with Santana's child was the icing on the cake for him. He quickly packed Robin and Rason up and moved them out to Jersey to be with him. Robin was once again content with the six bedroom mini mansion, luxury vehicles and fifty thousand dollar shopping sprees that she had become accustomed to. That is until Santana informed her of their need to down grade their lavish lifestyle. With the birth of his son and his desire to want to go legit, he no longer wished to be a part of his family business.

Robin was not willing to give up the lavish lifestyle that she had acquired, so she started sneaking around with Santana's cousin and right hand man, Juan Bootsie Sanchez. Now, Robin had no true interest in Bootsie since he was not nearly as connected as her Santana. However, she knew that in order to pull off her plan, she would need his loyalty to her, not Santana.

Together Robin and Bootsie, conspired to frame Santana for drug trafficking and murder, and steal all of his riches and expand off his empire. Unlike her romance with Big Ray, this time Robin would not be denied her piece of the pie. So she thought.

Robin and Bootsie's plan had worked; Santana was ultimately convicted of all charges, and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Never expecting to need a plan B, Robin thought she was on easy street. No one had suspected her of being involved and she had all of Santana's riches. That is until Santana's family caught wind of Robin's relationship with Bootsie.

Santana believed in death before dishonor, but his uncle had begged him to spare his only son’s life. Santana obliged, but not without consequences. Bootsie was ousted from the family cartel and in addition to that, upon the orders of Santana, he was beaten within inches of his life and injected with raw heroin that would have him strung out on and off again for years. All of Bootsie’s attempts to stay clean seemed to be in vain. He just could not shake that demon. However, Robin was a different story all together.

Santana knew how much Robin loathed the projects, so there was no better revenge for her than to return her to the place that she had so desperately tried to escape. He would not take the mother of his only son from him, but he would see to it, that she and Bootsie did not live off his blood, sweat and tears. He saw to it that Robin received monthly payments from his family to take care of his son, but you would have never known it by the way she had disgraced his name. Robin would tell anyone who would listen that Santana put her and her sons out in the streets. Never once did Robin admit her own wrong doings. She even went as far as to change Carmelo’s last name from Sanchez to James. Robin would not even allow Carmelo to visit Santana’s side of the family. Finally Robin resided herself to the fact she was not getting out of the projects anytime soon, so she began grooming her sons to do what no man had been able to do for her in the past. Support the ghetto fabulous lifestyle she longed to live.

CHAPTER THREE

Rason and Robin shared a very twisted mother son relationship. She groomed him from an early age to be the monster that he would become as an adult. Robin was relentless when it came to getting what she wanted and she knew Rason was fiercely loyal to her. When it came to Robin, Rason couldn't see the forest for the trees. It didn't take a brain surgeon to see Robin had played a detrimental part in creating the jealousy and hate that Rason harbored for his younger brother, Carmelo. Deep down, Robin despised Carmelo because he had a mind of his own and would not allow her to dictate his life. Carmelo was so much like Santana that it made her sick. He only did the shit for her that he wanted to do and had no problems with putting Robin in her place.

On the other hand, she could control Rason like a puppet. Her wish was his command. Nothing brought her greater joy then playing both sides against the middle. Robin didn’t give a fuck that Carmelo made his money hustling and Rason made his doing murders for hire. In fact, that’s the way she liked it. She had it all mapped out. Carmelo could buy her a house and pay all of the monthly expenses, while Rason supplied her with spending money. Life couldn’t be sweeter, so she thought.

At a very early age, Robin started sending Rason out to Vallejo for months at a time with Big Ray’s family. The Carter’s ran a sophisticated crime ring that ranged from drug dealing to murder for hire. Robin had Rason believing that it was okay to take another man’s life if the price was right. Ray, you know you the man of the house and men are the providers. So you gotta do what you gotta do, Robin would tell Rason when he would complain to her that he was fed up with the way he was living and ask to come home.

The problem was, Rason was not a man. He was a fourteen-year-old boy tricked into believing that his role in the family was that of the father, not the son. Robin had planted an evil seed in Rason as a boy and watched it manifest into adulthood. Pretty soon he became immune to killing people and it became his career. All of this because Robin’s so called pride would not allow her to accept welfare.

Now at twenty years old, Rason was a seasoned criminal. He had been on and off of Rikers Island, more times than he could count. In all of that time, the jealously that his heart housed for his younger brother had more and more time to fester. Although Rason had put in major work for notorious crime families throughout the entire country, he was yet to gain the respect and notoriety that his younger brother Carmelo possessed.

Being the resentful nigga that he was, Rason’s pride would not allow him to put in work for Carmelo. Rason would rather rob, kill and hustle for Bootsie than to rely on his little brother for a come up. Something had to give though, because Rason refused to live in Carmelo’s shadow forever.

CHAPTER FOUR

Blue Thomas ran out of school just in time to see her bus pulling off. Damn Veda ass for talking my head off. I told that bitch I had to catch the bus home, she thought. Jogging over to the pay phone with water splashing under her feet, she dropped the coins in and dialed Maria. Ring... Ring...Ring.... Finally, Blue thought. After three rings, Maria picked up. Hello she answered in her thick Spanish accent. Maria Mendes was in her mid thirties. At a time, she had been one of the most beautiful women New York City had ever seen. But so many men had run through her that she'd become used up and her nasty ass attitude didn't help.

Maria, it's Blue. Can you come pick me up?

Hell no, Maria snapped; why you don't bring your hot ass home on the bus? She fussed.

Cause I had to stay after class. Blue lied, knowing she had been fuckin' around with her best friend Veda before she headed to her weekly after school detention. Her ass stayed in trouble.

. Well, I don't got no gas, no money and I'm busy entertaining. So take your time, I gotta go.

This nasty bitch is always entertaining some dirty ass dude, Blue thought to herself. Before she hung up, Blue begged, Pleeease, Maria. You know I hate to be out after dark. It'll take me more than an hour to get home in this mess.

You shoulda thought about that then! Maria said and then slammed the telephone down.

Maria was Blue’s foster mother and she made it no secret that she only took Blue in for the money. However, Blue would be eighteen and graduating soon, which meant she had to get the fuck up out Maria's house.