Yolo 3: Murda Mami Read online

  Black Ink Publications

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  Yolo 3

  Murda Mami

  A Novel by

  Sa’id Salaam

  Yolo 3

  Murda Mami

  Copyright 2015 by Sa’id Salaam Yolo 3 Murda Mami

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in review.

  First Edition October 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Email: [email protected]

  Facebook: Sa’id Salaam and Free Sa’id Salaam

  Cover design and layout by: Cover Me

  Edited by: Jasmine Devonish

  Acknowledgements

  Bismillaahir Rahmanir Raheem… I write.

  Prologue

  “The Stevensons are a very nice couple. I’m sure you will love them as much as they will love you,” the social worker said hopefully. She knew that new foster homes and foster parents could be scary, but truth be told the two children in her backseat scared the shit out of her.

  Aesthetically they were gorgeous kids, but something about them just seemed odd. The little girl had a pair of pretty hazel eyes that could look right through you; right down to your very soul. She had locked her eyes on the social worker the moment she arrived and hadn’t blinked since. The social worker had been told that the little girl was playful and a bit sassy, but today she appeared to be dead serious.

  The boy’s eyes were the same shade as his sister’s and also had a faraway gaze of someone in deep thought. They never spoke aloud but moved in unison, as if they were communicating via mental telepathy, the distinct synchronization of the highly trained.

  What was even scarier was the unexplained blaze that had destroyed the last foster house that had housed the two. The fast moving fire killed both their foster parents along with two other teenaged foster kids. Only the little boy and girl made it out alive. They didn’t call for help and were found a mile away briskly walking.

  The two had been in foster care for only a short while. They had been placed there a few months earlier after the brutal murder of their mother. They looked alike, however, the slight height advantage of the boy gave the impression that he was older. But he wasn’t. Sun and Shyne were ten year old fraternal twins. Of course, the social service staff didn’t know that nor did anyone else since they hadn’t uttered a single word in front of anyone. Their bond was so tight that they became extremely violent when the staff tried to separate them, so they thought it was safer to leave them together. Ironic really because they were dangerous as fuck.

  Sun favored his murderous father in many ways. He inherited his quick wit along with his killer smile. Like his father, he was also extremely protective of his family and watched out for his mother and sister. He had become the man of the house while still a boy and took his role seriously. The death of his mother had the same effect on him that his grandfather’s death had on his father. It created a slow burning rage.

  Shyne was just as much like their mother as Sun was like their father. The little girl was pretty just like her mother. Like her mother, she was also sassy, girly, rough, tough and ready to tumble. Although Shyne was a lot like their mother, she also had some of her father’s qualities as well. She had inherited her father’s high IQ along with some of his other traits. She also was extremely protective of her family which is why she had burned their last foster home to the ground. The older teens that also lived there had tried to bully her brother, and it had cost them their lives. Their foster parents got it too for not stopping them.

  “Well, here we are,” Ms. Davis sang as she pulled into the driveway of the Stevenson’s home. She sprang from her care anxious to get the twins away from her. Every time she peeked through the rearview mirror, she saw Shyne glaring back at her. The child hadn’t even blinked.

  Sun and Shyne looked up at the modest home for a second before looking around in all directions. They were already planning their escape. The front door opened grabbing their attention.

  “Well, look at what we have here!” Mrs. Stevenson squealed with delight. The 300 plus pound white lady smiled a yellow smile and clapped her pudgy hands.

  “Mm hm,” Mr. Stevenson agreed while locking in on Shyne. He looked at her as if she was a piece of candy that he could pop in his mouth and suck all the flavor out of. He didn’t blink either, so he and Shyne engaged in a staring contest. Shyne would eventually win since he probably wouldn’t be alive much longer. Good thing he had so much fun on his last birthday because it would be his last birthday.

  “This is David and Dawn,” Ms. Davis introduced. The agency had to give them names since they refused to speak. “He’s ten and she’s nine.”

  “So tender at that age,” Mr. Stevenson moaned. A line of drool escaped his mouth and ran down his chin and onto his stained t-shirt. From a distance it looked like tie-dye but up close it was just nasty. Ms. Davis knew that she shouldn’t leave the kids with the couple, not with all the complaints and citations, but to not leave them meant putting them back in her car.

  “So, have fun!” the social worker grunted as she rushed back to her car. Her tires tossed up gravel as she tore out of the driveway.

  “Come on in, guys. Let’s take a look at your bedrooms,” Mrs. Stevenson sang as she held the door open.

  “Take a look,” her husband mimicked as he glanced down at the starter nubs on Shyne’s chest. He was stared so hard that he missed the murderous glare from her brother.

  The twins linked hands and walked inside. The pair of pedophiles high fived behind the twin’s backs once they entered. They were ecstatic that the New York foster care system had once again donated to their sick cause. However, unbeknownst to them the joke was actually on them.

  “Pink for her and blue from him,” Mrs. Stevenson said when they reached the upstairs bedroom. Sun walked into the room with his sister close behind.

  “No, you guys have your own rooms,” she corrected and took Shyne by her hand. She led her into the pink room and sat her down. “I’ll get dinner!”

  As soon as the squeaky stairs announced her reaching the bottom, Shyne got up and crossed the hall. She joined her brother in the blue room and finally spoke.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked. Usually she was the brains to his brawn but the roles were interchangeable.

  “Same plan, find our father,” he stated plainly. “Mr. is going to be a problem.”

  “Nah, just give me some matches,” Shyne giggled. She was a lovely little lunatic, just like her mama.

  Chapter 1

  “Aaagh! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Fuck, shit!” Killa shouted as Yolo’s cab drove away from the hospital. He had had a clean shot at her, but couldn’t take it. As bad as he wanted to kill her for killing his son and kitty he just couldn’t pull the trigger. He was so worked up that he had to kill somebody so he scanned the streets with his scope. A group of skin heads marching up the street spread that killer smile across his face.

  “White power!” Killa giggled as he lined his scope up with the confederate flag on one of their t-shirts. The large silencer at the end of the barrel muffled the shot. It was silent, but deadly when it slammed into the man lifting him off his feet.

  “Shit!” his comrade shouted when he landed with a big hole though him. Killa took aim again and shot the next skin head right in his s
kin head. The rest had seen enough and took off running in different directions.

  Killa hummed the music from Benny Hill as he chased them with his scope. One by one he gunned them all down. It’s been said that the only good racist is a dead racist, so these guys were now great.

  A purse snatcher snatched an elderly white woman’s purse of her shoulder. The lady fell to the sidewalk and was drug a few feet before losing her grip. No worries because Killa had him in his sights. The bullet entered the base of his skull and nearly took his head completely off his neck.

  “Bitch ass,” the woman spat as she pulled her purse from his dead hands. She waved her wrinkled old hand in thanks before walking off.

  “Whew! I feel much, much better now,” Killa sighed when he got that off his chest. Nothing relaxed him as much as killing someone who really, really needed killing. The thought sparked an idea that sent him on his way smiling and nodding.

  *****

  “I knew you loved me,” Yolo sang smugly to herself when her cab pulled away. She had no doubt that he was there staring at her through a rifle scope. She didn’t see him but she definitely felt him. They were two of a kind, soulmates, even if they couldn’t be together.

  She too had had plenty of opportunities to kill him over the course of the last few months. Many nights she had sat up in bed staring down at him watching him sleep. Quite a few nights she took naked pictures of him too, but he didn’t need to know all that. “You love me, and I love you!”

  “Huh?” the driver asked via rearview mirror. The dangerous glare she shot translated to ‘I’m not talking to you so drive the car before I kill you and drive it myself’. He obviously understood and kept driving. Yolo turned back to the babies seated on each side of her.

  “No one’s gonna cook you guys,” she vowed getting smiles out of them. They stared up at her listening intently as they rode to the airport.

  Yolo guessed Killa would also be at LAX and she was right. She planned to highjack a plane, kidnap Killa, and take him to some deserted island so that they could be a family, but had no such luck. Killa was in the airport, but he was in the international part of it so their paths didn’t cross. Good thing too, because high jacking a plane is a bit much; especially with a child carrier in each hand.

  The babies were wide awake for most of the flight back to New York. They finally conked out shortly before landing. Yolo learned from the best and already had a car parked in the long term parking section. Just like Killa had taught her. She had a car in several cities for emergency use. All with ID, cash and of course guns. She was pleased that the twins were still sound asleep when she reached her first destination, that way they couldn’t see the tears.

  “Awe man!” Yolo pouted and poked out her lip when she pulled to a stop in front of the wreckage that was once nurse Marquita’s home.

  All that remained was charred bricks and sad memories. The only mother she had ever known had died at the hands of the Black Mob. She and Killa had crisscrossed the country killing any and every one remotely associated with them, but the pain still remained. Tears warmed her face as her body shook from the sobs.

  The tears began to dry as sorrow turned to anger. Yolo felt the urge to kill someone. Murder always made her feel better when she felt down. Killa taught her that the world was filled with really horrible people who really deserved really horrible deaths. There were rapists, child molesters, racist cops, book publishers, basketball wives and those awful Atlanta housewives. A smile spread on her face from the thought.

  “Hello kiddos,” Yolo sang when she found her twins wide awake when she returned. She noticed they were synced up, eating, sleeping and shitting at the same time. It made sense since they had spent first few months of their lives holding hands in an incubator.

  “Let’s go home,” she suggested and put the car in gear. The destination was Wyandanch, New York. Yolo had purchased the house she lived in with She-Ra a few years back. She had it totally renovated and updated except for the tub in the master bedroom. It was where she learned how to cut up bodies and held sentimental memories. She had also left the dead girl under the basement. It would have been a lot of work to dig up the concrete and lay more so she left it. Instead she built a playroom for the kids.

  “Honies, we’re home!”

  Chapter 2

  “Honey, I’m home!” Killa cheered when he got off the plane in South America. The smile faded away when he didn’t see his grandmother and rest of the family. Sincerity was the only one standing there and she had that ‘You got some ‘splaining to do’ look on her face.

  “Well?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. She squinted and leaned in to spot any lies. She knew him well enough to spot his telltale signs of telling a tale. He was his own lie detector. First he would ‘Huh?’ as if he didn’t understand. Then he’d scratch his head, shift his feet, and hit you with a totally irrelevant ‘You know what I’m saying’.

  “Well what? It’s over, case closed. Last time I saw Yolo it was through a rifle scope,” he said. The lie detector said he was telling the truth, but she wasn’t finished.

  “And, did you fuck her?” she wanted to know.

  “Huh?” Killa asked shuffling his feet and scratching his head. “You know what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, I do. You fucked her again! I can’t believe you!”

  “Okay, see what had happen was. Okay, um… technically it was rape. She tied me down while I was sleeping and…”

  “Wait!” Sincerity shouted pausing the story. “So you and her were sleeping together, in the same bed?”

  “Nah, yeah cuz… Huh? I mean I was mad tired. You know we was killing the whole Black Mob. Murdering in Memphis, killing in Cali, deadin’ ‘em in Dallas, offing ‘em in…”

  “Killa!” she shouted to get him back on point. “What I wanna know is how that little… girl, tied your big ass up and raped you!”

  “Like I said, I was sleeping. I woke up with my arms and feet bound to the bed and her on top of me,” he explained.

  “I ain’t heard shit about a condom! I just hope you ain’t get that bitch pregnant… again!”

  “Huh?”

  “I can’t stand you!” she snarled and marched off towards the car. Killa was treated to her ass, an ass that was shifting angrily under her skirt. He enjoyed the show knowing it would be as close to her ass as he would be getting for some time to come. The ride to the house was made in total silence, but it got loud once they arrived.

  “Xavier!” Grandma Diedra shouted and threw her arms wide for a hug. A ‘grandma’s hug’ can kill. Killa took one last breath and braced himself for the violence to come.

  “Ugh!” Killa grunted when his grandmother slammed into him and began to squeeze. She was just like an anaconda coiling around its prey. Cameisha winced in pain, happy it was him instead of her. He was two seconds away from passing out when she released her grip.

  “How are you? Are you hungry? Have you been eating?” she fussed dragging him towards the kitchen. The rest of the family followed them to continue the welcome home.

  “Unc, Look-it!” Meisha cheered holding up her new son.

  “Uh oh! Dope boy and dope girl have a baby! Hope it’s not dope baby cuz you know who will write a book about it!” Killa cracked up.

  “If he does, it’ll be dope!” Sincerity spoke up on behalf of her favorite author.

  “Actually we named him, Cameron Forrest,” Meisha said proudly. The mention of Cam’s name always paused time for a split second.

  “Nice!” Killa nodded in agreement. Trigga still couldn’t see, so he smiled in the direction of his voice. His hearing took up the slack for his lost eyesight and he correctly extended his hand to be shook. “Cute kid.”

  “Thanks,” the dope couple thanked in chorus.

  “Sit down and tell us all about your adventures!” Diedra eagerly requested. For all of her prim and proper sophistication, she absolutely loved that gangsta shit.

&n
bsp; “Don’t forget to tell you how she raped you at the end,” Sincerity tossed in for good measure.

  “Rape! Girl ain’t nobody raped that man,” Cameisha shouted and laughed. “Told you he was gon’ hit that.”

  “Just hope you didn’t get her pregnant again,” Grandma huffed. “Which reminds me, where are the babies?”

  “Huh? With family,” Killa said in a tone that meant nothing else was coming. They all knew the tone and left it alone. He went on entertaining the family with tales of murder and mayhem.

  Grandma got a real kick out of Yolo nailing a perfidious pastor to his pulpit. Killa left out the part about letting her keep all that money. They were all already set for life, but Sincerity would have still had something to say about it. After dinner, Trigga led him out to the back deck to show off his new hobby.

  “Nice!” Killa exclaimed at the foot long buds of colorful sticky weed. He damn near got high just from smelling it.

  “Got it down to a science,” he said proudly as he lit up a joint. By the end of the weed, Killa was just as blind as Trigga. He felt his way inside and plopped onto his bed.

  “Mm hm,” Sincerity said snarling down at him. “I got you.”

  *****

  “What the…” Killa grumbled when he awoke the next afternoon. The first thing he noticed was his hands and ankles were securely tied to the bed posts. Next he realized that he was still high from Trigga’s strong ass weed. Finally, he noticed that Sincerity was wearing nothing but a sideways grin. He gave his restraints a few tugs before accepting his fate. Yup, he was about to get raped… again.

  “Bet this is what a fly feels like when it’s trapped in a spider’s web,” Sincerity mused. When she took his clothes off last night and saw that good dick, she decided that she would take some. Why should she deprive herself just because he fucked up? He would get some pussy but it would be under her terms.