Death Around the Corner by C. Murder, C. Murder

Product Details

• Read a Sample Chapter

Read a Sample Chapter

Death around the corner

Kensington Publishing Corp.

Chapter One

"Daquan, for the last time, I'll take you to the fair! Now shut the hell up, boy!"

Daquan stared at the TV screen, wide-eyed with excitement and anticipation after hearing his mother's confirmation. Never mind her tone, or the fact that his last birthday, he never got the big wheel she promised; still, she was Mommy, and her words filled him with happiness.

The World's Fair of '84 was the biggest thing he had seen in his life. The commercial showed all the happy faces, shiny gadgets, fun rides, and delicious food, things he'd never experienced in his five-year-old world. All he knew was the Magnolia Projects. One of the roughest, most drug-infested housing projects in New Orleans, Magnolia was a world in and of itself. Despite its squalid conditions, there were plenty of other kids and large, grassy areas to play every game imaginable. The surrounding recreational parks had basketball hoops for the older cats, but at his age, Thomas Lafont Elementary was Daquan's very own amusement park, complete with monkey bars and seesaws and located right in the heart of the 'Nolia. Many a day he had gotten his ass tore up for going to Lafont without Macy's permission. Daquan wasn't a bad child, just a poor one, which meant he had to make do with whatever he had. And when it came to fun, Lafont was all he had. But now thatthe World's Fair was coming, it was like an early Christmas, and Daquan couldn't wait.

"Yeahh, yeahh," he squealed like a mini Lil Jon. "I'm goin' to the fair!"

He hopped down off of the clean but worn down plastic-covered couch and crossed the living room, entering the kitchen. "I hope my daddy can come with us," he said to himself, as he opened the refrigerator looking for Kool-Aid. "He works too much," he added as an afterthought.

His father Daryl worked at Gambino's Bakery, sometimes pulling a double shift just to keep the bills paid in their one-bedroom apartment. He wouldn't let Macy work because he was raised believing it was the man's responsibility to provide for his family. But in the era of Reaganomics, it was becoming next to impossible to do that alone. Still, he did the best he could, and Daquan loved him for it.

Daquan balanced the half-full pitcher of Kool-Aid between his chin and hands as he carried it to the table. He looked in the refrigerator and could basically figure out what his next meal would be. Inside was a pot of leftover red beans and rice, a hard block of commodity cheese, a box of corn flakes, and a box of powdered milk, so he knew it would be red beans and rice, unless his daddy brought home some eggs so Macy could make his favorite, scrambled eggs and rice.

He looked around for a clean glass or a mayo jar to drink from, but he couldn't find one. So he ran to his parents' bedroom door and yelled, "Macy! I need a glass."

"Boy, if you don't get away from my damn door!"

Daquan stepped back from the door. He knew she wasn't in the room alone. Teddy, his father's cousin, was in there, like he was almost every day at this time. He often wondered what they did in there. But since Teddy and Daryl weren't only cousins, they were also friends, Daquan didn't see anything wrong in his five-year-old mind. He forgot about the Kool-Aid and walked away from the door, ready to take a nap and dream about the upcoming fair.

Inside the bedroom, Teddy remained jittery since Daquan had come to the door.

"Macy, you know I don't like coming to your house, bringing you this stuff," he told her, sliding his works into a small leather pouch.

He was a petty hustler, homely looking and stupid, but Macy depended on him to keep the monkey off her back. As her heroin habit grew, it got harder and harder to hide from Daryl that she was getting high again. Besides, money was tight, and right about now the only thing tighter was her pussy, which she had recently started offering Teddy in return for the dope.

"Teddy, stop bitchin'! The boy don't know nothin'. He ain't but five," she replied, feeling the china white slowly coat her mind with that serene nothingness. I'm feelin' good, and this clown blowin' my high, she thought, eyelids at half-staff.

Still worried, he asked, "Why can't we meet somewhere else? Shit, Daquan might say the wrong thing. Man, look ..." His voice trailed off.

Macy knew how to shut him up. She began to undress, revealing a petite but curvaceous frame. She watched Teddy's eyes fill with lust at her chocolate femininity.

"Daryl don't get home till eight and it ain't but four," she said. "Now, do you want some pussy or not? 'Cause I know a lot of nigguhs who would love to be in your shoes."

He watched her slowly massage her face and breasts, something she did routinely after getting hit with her fix, and it never failed to turn Teddy on. She laid back on the bed and spread her long, dark legs invitingly. She was feeling good and she wanted to pay Teddy before her high went down and the reality of her betrayal came raining down on her.

At the sight of her naked wetness, Teddy's heart began to beat a rhythm through his erection. He knew this was wrong. She was Daryl's wife. Daryl was his cousin. But he had never had a woman so beautiful, and if it wasn't for her addiction, he never would again.

"You are beautiful, baby-I just can't get enough of you," he whispered as he mounted Macy and entered her. "Girl, you got some good pussy. This the best I done had yet ... But how come you never let me kiss them pretty lips, or change positions?"

She eyed him coldly. "Just fuck me, and when you cum, don't make a lot of noise. My baby in the other room."

Her mind wandered away from the man on top of her to the man she had betrayed. The guilt of knowing how much Daryl loved her made her hate herself for being so weak. Macy was ashamed of her need for the drug that had taken so much from her, and always threatened to take more. At her lowest moments, she contemplated suicide. The thought of taking her own life had begun eight years ago, after losing her daughter, Diana, at birth. Macy knew it was because of her drug use during pregnancy, and she vowed to Daryl and herself that she'd stay clean-a promise she couldn't keep. Whenever Macy got high and thought of Diana, the tears would flow constantly and uncontrollably like clockwork.

"Girl, why you always cryin' while we fuckin'?" Teddy asked between humps, but received no answer. "Ain't it good to you, baby?"

His words fell on deaf ears because Macy was in her own world. A world where happiness would never come, where she convicted herself a murderer of her own flesh and blood, and betrayed her only love.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a slight noise coming from the living room. Was that the door? she asked herself, quickly glancing at the clock. She held her breath, listening intently, until she mentally dismissed the sound as either the TV or Daquan.

* * *

Daryl looked at the stitches in his hand and chuckled to himself lightly as he got off the bus in front of the 'Nolia.

He had been at work washing dishes when he accidentally cut his hand on a knife.

"Hell of a way to get the day off," he said to himself.

The cut wasn't serious, but it did require stitches. He was sent to Charity Hospital and then allowed to go home for the rest of the day. A little family time was a welcome idea, being that he worked so hard.

Every morning he was up at four in order to make the twohour bus ride to Metairie, some thirty miles west of New Orleans, where Gambino's Bakery was located. In a car, it would only take thirty minutes, but that was a luxury Daryl could not afford.

Regardless, he wasn't fazed or frustrated by his current situation, because at age twenty-five, he already had a plan. He wanted to own his own bakery one day, then build and expand. He had already learned the proper functioning of the business, so he told himself that with hard work and patience, he knew he'd achieve his dream.

Daryl grew up hard. He had even done three years as a juvenile at Scotland Correctional Institute in Eastern Louisiana. But he vowed to himself that he'd get his family out of the 'Nolia and into a better quality of life. Daryl had already seen what ghetto life had done to his young wife, but he stuck by her, in hopes that love could conquer all.

He slid his hand into his pocket and winced from the pain of the still-tender cut, which was nothing compared to the pain he'd soon face inside his own home. He opened the door, entered, and then quietly closed it behind him. This was the sound Macy heard that put her senses on alert. Cartoons played quietly on the TV as Daquan lay on the couch in a peaceful sleep. Daryl sat down next to Daquan and gently kissed his slumbering son on the forehead. He admired his features, focusing on the thick eyebrows they both shared. The boy had Macy's nose and a mixture of his caramel complexion and Macy's Hershey hue.

His contemplative mood was suddenly interrupted by noises coming from the bedroom. There was a thud, and his instincts intensified his hearing, turning the noises into a man's voice and then the unthinkable ...

The sexual sounds of a man being pleased.

Before his mind had fully grasped the situation, his body reacted and took the initiative to rush the door.

Locked.

With all of his six-foot, two-hundred-twenty-pound frame, he coiled his leg and aimed for the right side of the doorknob, kicking the flimsy door off of its top hinge. He didn't want to believe his eyes. He wished he didn't have to witness something like this, but what he saw could not be denied. Teddy leaped from between Macy's legs and stared at Daryl with total fear in his eyes.

"D-Daryl, man, look," Teddy stuttered.

But all Daryl could say was, "I got cut." The rage inside was building like a runaway locomotive. "You fuckin' bitch, I got cut," he screamed at his wife. He was the only one who knew the full significance of the statement.

Macy was frantic, screaming apologies while Teddy tried to cover his shamed nakedness.

"You dirty bitch, I bled for you," Daryl hissed.

Macy looked into her husband's eyes and saw a look she'd never seen before. It was like only a shell was there, his soul totally void. He moved in a zombie-like state as he turned his gaze to the doorless closet space a few feet away. Macy saw him, sensed his intentions, and yelled, "No, no, no, Daryl ... I'm sorry ... I swear I'm sorry!" But it was too late.

Daryl dug through the piled-up clothes and found the shoebox containing the .38 his father had given him. In an instant, the gun was in his hand. Teddy had no room to get out, so when he saw the gun, all he could do was back into the corner.

"Daryl, I swear to God, man-please, just listen," Teddy pleaded. But Daryl's heart couldn't be reached, nor could his mind comprehend.

Teddy released his bowels as Daryl pointed the gun at him-then, without hesitation, began to fire ... and fire ... and fire, until the revolver was spent and Teddy's chest was riddled. His body jerked violently as each hollow tip impacted on his flesh. Teddy's torso seemed to inflate to twice its size, like a balloon filling with air, then quickly deflated to normal size. His body slid down the wall, lifeless, staring at nothing.

Daryl was snapped out of his trance by Macy's screams and Daquan's crying. His son had witnessed it all from the doorway.

"Daddy, please stop! Please, I'm scared."

At the sound of his son's voice, Daryl dropped the gun and turned to the crying child.

"Come here, Daddy," Daquan sobbed. "Pick me up."

Daryl picked up Daquan, cradling him in his arms, and walked into the living room. Never once did he look at Macy or acknowledge her whimpers.

"Daryl ..." she kept repeating. "Daryl, I'm sorry."

He sat on the couch with Daquan on his lap. He knew he was on borrowed time.

There would be no running for Daryl. No hiding. He was a man raised to be a man, and had done nothing that any other man in his position wouldn't do. Now, all that was left were these last few words he had for his son, from the deepness of his heart.

"Baby boy, you know your daddy loves you. I'm sorry about everything you saw. Daddy didn't mean to scare you. I love you. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

They were both crying now. Daquan's tears were the tears of a child losing his world, and Daryl's the tears of a man being destroyed.

"I love you, too, Daddy," Daquan answered.

"Now, they're gonna take me away for a long time, so I need you to be a little man and do the right thing."

"Nooo, Daddy! We can go away. We can run."

Daryl silenced his son. "No, a man never runs, you hear me? A man never runs."

These were words Daquan would never forget. Daryl hugged his son tightly and continued, making the most of the little time they had left. "I'll always be here for you. I'll write you letters and talk to you on the phone. You can even come see me, okay?"

It seemed to Daquan's young mind that the police were kicking in the door the very next moment. They rushed in, slamming his father to the ground.

"Get off my daddy!" Daquan yelled with all the manliness he could muster.

"Calm down, Daquan, I'm okay," Daryl assured him, facedown on the floor.

But it wasn't okay to Daquan.

Macy, shameful and shaken, called Daryl's mother to come get Daquan. He would never see Macy again. The boy sat alone outside, amongst throngs of nosy neighbors and flashing police lights. All he could think about was how the cops took his daddy away, and a new emotion sprang into his young heart.

Hate.

It was making him see everything in a different light.

"Daquan!"

Daquan looked around and felt relieved to see Grandma Mama coming toward him with a young girl beside her. She was lanky and pretty with a caramel hue, her hair in pigtails. He had never seen the girl before, but she still looked familiar to him. Grandma Mama scooped him up in her arms, kissed him, and asked, "Are you okay, baby?"

All he could do was sob into her shoulder as she cried on his. She had lost a son, but gained a grandson to raise.

Daquan looked around for the little girl, but she was gone.

"Grandma Mama, who was that girl?"

"What girl, baby?"

He started to answer, but his attention was drawn to a policeman walking by. Daquan eyed him coldly as Grandma Mama toted the boy away from the place he had always called home. Away from a father being taken away and a mother who was running away. Theirs was a family forever scattered by the winds of change.

Chapter Two

Then I jump up and chase the car. I'm runnin' 'cause I wanna see where they are takin' my daddy. But my legs are hurtin', and I fall ... I fall real hard and when I get up, the car is gone and all the people are gone. It's just me ... I put my head down on my knee so nobody could see me cry. I feel somebody touch my shoulder and I look up and it's the girl. The girl with Grandma Mama. She is reaching out her hand to me ... "Daquan, Daquan, time to get up, baby," he heard Grandma Mama say, bringing him out of the dream.

Daquan looked around the tiny bedroom, feeling the morning sun on his face. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.

"I'm up, Grandma Mama."

"Good," she replied, kissing him on the forehead, 'cause Mama made you a big ol' breakfast. Go on and wash your face."

Daquan slid off the edge of the bed in his Incredible Hulk Underoos and ran off to the bathroom. He tried the knob but it was locked.

"I'm in here," said a woman's voice from inside.

Daquan began to hop around, doing the pee dance. "I gotta go," he urged her.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Death around the corner by Corey Miller Copyright © 2007 by C-Murder. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---