The Streets Watching, Ashon Thadon [inspirational books txt] 📗

“This will be over in two minutes.”

In a car full with three of the most ruthless people to be born on the East Coast, that statement meant a lot of things. All three men were brothers that went under one name: Street. They were a family made up of 7 brothers and 5 sisters. Their parents were both in the military and taught them the art to surviving very young. If you cross the path of any of the Street clan, two minutes was all you have left.

The most dangerous brother of the family was one of the passengers of the car. Larenz Street, known as L-Train because his punches felt like you got hit by a train, was the third oldest boy and the fourth installment in the Street unit. Like his older brothers, he used the military to get a college education and also to gain access to the most sophisticated weaponry this side of the Atlantic Ocean. While everybody in the family knew how to use guns, only one of the brothers that were born after him and himself loved guns. They had weapons stashed in warehouses, underground cellars, even police stations. In fact, the second oldest brother and the two of the brothers below Larenz were in law enforcement.

Larenz was the troublemaker out of the bunch and had been chastised many times by his parents for acting out. In fact, he got so use to getting spanked that by the age of nine, his father had to literally fight him to at least act appropriate. If Larenz had a problem with someone or if that person messes with his family, from his sisters to his cousins to his nieces, that person had better learn to be a hermit. Because if Larenz found you, where ever you were at, that was where they would be identifying the body at.

Amard Street, the driver of the vehicle was not as troublesome as his older brother Larenz but was just as bad. Amard was the fifth oldest and the fifth installment. Larenz and him were born about 18 months apart so they were thick as thieves. Out of all the brothers, Larenz and him had the strongest bond. If Larenz had a problem, Amard had a problem. Amard was Drama spelled backwards because wherever he went that was what he caused. Even in the womb, he was fighting with his mother. His nickname was short and sweet and said everything about him: Problem.

The brother in the back seat was the second born of the Street household named William. All the family members called him Wolf because he could attack at any time. He wasn’t outright violent as the two members in the car but if you caught him on the wrong day, it was trouble. It didn’t help the fact that he was a cop as well. He would bust drug dealers, find their stash and make them smoke their own product. He had turned one of the major drug dealers on his corner into a fiend.

“This nigga is really stupid,” Larenz was saying from the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer. “He thinks he can get away with it. I feel so sorry for him.”

As the Explorer turned another block, a couple of people on the street knew that there was going to be trouble. Everybody on the block knew about that Ford Explorer and the occupants in it. It was commonly known as the “Street Sweeper.” If you saw that car with the license plates, Strtswpr, you knew to go the other direction.

“Do what you gots to do,” William said cleaning the semi-automatic he had in his hands. “I check the scanners. You got a ten minute window. But I knew them boys so you cool.”

Larenz nodded his head in agreement. It was good to have a police officer in your corner, in case things got out of hand. His older sister, Latrice, was a lawyer and another one was a certified nurse. It was plenty of times having those two assets helped the Street family out.

Larenz pulled out his trusted Smith & Wesson .45 handgun and admired the polish. He took care of his guns almost as good as his younger brother, Amard.

“This is going to be fun,” Larenz giving the slide handle of his gun a quick kiss before snapping back the lever. It snapped back in place.

“In and out, two minutes,” He repeated and looked at his watch.

“There he go,” Amard said pointing at one of the four men standing in front of a bodega.

The one Larenz was after was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of Air Jordans one of his brothers had said they wanted for his birthday.

Larenz pressed the stopwatch function on his watch to begin timing and hopped out the car. Larenz walked straight to the guy in the hoodie, raised his hand with the pistol in it and smacked the guy dead in the mouth. The guy fell hard on the concrete from the blow. The other boys that were surrounding the man were about to reach under their garments when they heard a whistle and turned around. William and Amard were standing by the hood of the Explorer looking at them and shaking their heads. The goons knew they were no match for the Street team so they backed off and let Larenz continue his business.

Larenz hit the guy again with the butt of his firearm letting more blood spray out from the fellow’s mouth.

“I hear you talking shit, Alonzo,” Larenz said as he began kicking Alonzo in the stomach.

Larenz lifted Alonzo’s head a little bit and hit him again. Larenz could see Alonzo gasping for air, covering his face with one hand and trying to reach for something with his other. Larenz beat him to the punch.

“You got something for me, huh?” Larenz kicked him in the face with his boots making Alonzo head snap back.

Larenz lifted his hoodie jacket and pulled out the .38 special Alonzo had tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

“This was for me,” Larenz said tucking his .45 in his waistband and using the .38 now to pistol whip Alonzo. “This is my present. Thanks.”

Larenz knelt down beside Alonzo who was now covered in blood and his face half busted in and whispered in his ear.

“The only reason you are not dead is because I own you now,” Larenz said. “You are my bitch. You don’t make a move unless I tell you. You don’t breathe unless I give you permission. Do you understand?”

Alonzo with both of his eyes almost shut closed and his mouth busted just stared at Larenz.

“I’m only going to ask once,” Larenz preparing to raise his hand again.

Alonzo slowly nodded and spitted more blood unto the pavement.

Larenz smiled and got up. He looked at the thugs that were still standing there.

“As of now, this piece of shit, Alonzo Tate, is my bitch,” Larenz announced. “If anyone of y’all so much as talk to this dude, drink, smoke or as so much as piss next to this nigga, y’all become bitches by association. Is that understood? I control that motherfucker’s every move from here on out.”

The hooligans looked at each other and then the brothers and walked away.

“Two minutes and a half,” Amard said smiling as he got in the vehicle.

“Shit, I owe you lunch,” Larenz laughed. “I got you.”

Larenz bent down and went into Alonzo’s pocket and took out his wallet and pulled out the money from it. He threw the wallet back in Alonzo’s face and stood up.

“Yo, what size shoe Ashon wears?” Larenz yelled at his brothers in the car.

“Ten, nigga,” William said from the backseat window. “Get your silly ass in the car.”

Larenz looked at the size tag on the inside of the tongue of Alonzo’s sneaker.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Larenz said smiling. “Bingo. You are good for something after all.”

On the wall painted on the corner two blocks away from the Street Family House lays a mural. The mural is made to look like a tablet with the four commandments to survive in that neighborhood.

The words on the tablet is in big red letters. It reads: Street Laws. Don’t Compete with the Street. Don’t have Beef with the Street. Don’t Tell On the Street. Don’t Cheat on the Street.

Anybody that lived on that block, that area, or even the side of town obeyed those laws like they were sent down from Moses himself. It was also known that although the Street brothers were treacherous, the sisters were just as bad. If they even suspected the man they was with of cheating or doing anything extra, he might find his balls glued to his thigh, rat poison in his food or drink, or a good old fashion pistol whipping. The sisters were not to be played with. They all were beautiful in their own way. And even though they came from the same gene pool, they all varied in shape, skin tone, and other body features. Together the Street family were the perfect people to have as a friend but even worse to have as an enemy.

“Yeah, that nigga must be crazy,” the third sister with the chinky eyes, Latoya, was saying to her little sister, Natasha, the skinniest sister out the bunch.

The two sisters were out on the stoop of their house sipping lemonade and doing what they do best: gossip. Latoya was petite but had a backside that Jennifer Lopez would beg to have. She never understood why her waist was so small but her butt was big. Her sister, Natasha, on the other hand was a little smaller but had no ass and barely enough titties to fill a shirt. What guys liked most about her was her voice. It was so soft and sexy that most guys got off just talking to her.

Latoya, aka LaLa, was what men would bag up and call wifey but she had one problem: her mouth. She would cut a brother down to size real fast and if you couldn’t come back at her, she would chew you up. If you did not come correct when you approached her, be prepared to get your feelings hurt. She liked the thug type guys with a little gentleman in them. Her Mocha brown skin, chinky eyes, and firm backside were what brought all the boys in the yard. Her father couldn’t count how many boys his sons and him had to run off because of her. Out of all his girls, Latoya and Natasha was the most troublesome.

Latoya could have been moved out of her parents’ house. So many suitors had tried to convince her to move in with them. Latoya refused. As much as she loved going and spending their money, she was not ready to get tied to no man. Besides she had more fun watching her brothers beat a guy up if he got out of line.

Natasha, aka Nay-Nay, had a seductive voice but stayed quiet. She was told many times she should be a phone sex operator. However, her body was shaped more like a small boy. She had a small waist and a cute face but with a small bra size and a mini rear end, she basically wore wife beaters and jeans making her look like a project chick. But her voice always made men surprised. And like her sister, LaLa, no man was worthy enough yet for her to settle with. Let alone meet their father.

“So why he beat Alonzo again?” Natasha asked her older sister taking another sip of the homemade lemonade she had made earlier.

“Something about the guy was talking about him,” Latoya informed her. “If you ask me, Renz be taking things to the extreme.”

“Isn’t that guy Alonzo supposed to be big time?” Natasha