Читать книгу Cut Throat Mafia - Derrick Johnson - Страница 4

BEAVER FALLS, PA. is where Damon Johnson was born and raised. It’s a small city north of Pittsburgh with a population of about fifty thousand residents. It’s a black town full of violence just like you would find in any city but on a smaller level. It’s been a long time since Damon has been back home because he was overseas doing time for a crime he never committed.

Damon did ten years in Hannover, Germany for the murder of a young girl, which he never did. He was in the U.S. Army training for a special unit team that did killings with anything you could think of. He could kill a nigga with an ashtray, that’s how good he was. He never liked to use guns because he felt you couldn’t get up close and personal with the one you had to kill. Plus his fingers kept getting stuck in the trigger of the guns he chose to be comfortable with. So, he chose to use all types of different knives.

DJ stood at 6’7'' and weighed in at 320 with no fat in sight. He worked out while he was in the Army and during his time in the walls. No one in prison tried bothering the giant American because of the look he carried with him. He had that look that made people just ignore him and go about their business and that’s the way Damon liked it.

When he got out of the joint he was driven straight to the airport and flown back to the states. Germany didn’t want to have anything to do with him, so he was kicked out and told to go back to the United States. When he got back there he found out that the military had turned their backs on him, which he figured out once he got sentenced for a crime he never committed. He took the money he had gotten from his release and his military issued knives and got on the bus from Pittsburgh to his hometown of Beaver Falls. He had a daughter who would be fifteen now and he was really happy to get the chance to see her. He wrote to her all the time but he would never receive any mail back from her. He knew it was her mother who was the cause of that because that’s the type of bitch she was. Damon hasn’t smiled in over ten years but a smile came across his face as he got closer to the place he called home.

Once DJ got off the bus on 7^th Avenue, he just looked around at the changes the town took. There was young nigga’s on all the corners and cars flying pass with loud music, while the kids' clothes hung halfway off their narrow asses. But DJ still continued to walk down the street looking at all the things he remembered and all the things he didn’t.

DJ had on some tight ass sweatpants and a top that showed off the many muscles he packed with him, while people he walked past just starred. DJ never got the chance to buy some clothes and really didn’t care what he had looked like. To be honest DJ thought he looked just fine, Shit! It was in style when he left and maybe he was just a little bit behind. The young girls liked it because it left nothing to the imagination, while the young nigga’s made a joke of him.

DJ walked past a bar that had a motel on top of it and decided to get a room in there. DJ knew he wouldn’t be staying at the house that he once called his, so it would be best for him to get the room right now. It was a drug infested hole that was territory to the young drug dealers in the area. DJ went to enter the motel but was stopped by three young thugs who felt they had something to prove. “Yo! Hold up playa. Where do you think you’re going? Nobody cares how big you are and how tight that damn suit is you got on.” The other nigga’s thought it was funny and was laughing at the statement.

DJ looked at the little boy and had already knew what to do to shut the young boy up, but changed his mind. The young boy didn’t know what he was getting into, plus he meant no threat at all. DJ looked down on the little boy and said, “I just want to rent a room and find my daughter. I don’t want no problems from you, little man.”

The young nigga felt disrespected by that statement and said, “Little man! Who the fuck you think, you’re talking to like that, nigga?” The young boy broke the bottle of wine he was drinking up against the building and showed it to DJ.

DJ stepped down the stairs he was once on and made his way to the parking lot by the building. DJ was walking backwards trying to move out of the way of the little boy and his little weapon. “Look! I told you I don’t want any trouble and if you don’t put that bottle down you’ll pay in the end. I’ll promise you that.”

The little thug looked around to the crowd of people and cracked a little smile. “Nigga, you got to be kidding and you must not know who you fucken with.” The crowd of nigga’s followed the excitement, while blowing on blunts and talking shit.

DJ never let his bad side win and decided not to kill the young boy because he was someone’s child, but he would teach the boy a lesson and set the standards straight right now. “Don’t fuck with me.”

The youngster went to jab at DJ and he stepped to the side to avoid getting cut. “Old man you’re kinda fast to be so old.” The young boy was tossing the broken bottle around in both of his hands, which was a move he’d seen in some old gangster movie. He jabbed at DJ again and this time DJ stepped to the side taking a step forward at the same time, snatching the young nigga by the throat. The young boy was caught by surprise when his hand was smashed into the side of the young kids face. “Oh shit! Somebody get this old strong nigga off me” but the other kids were in shock by how fast this shit happened and the quickness of the old man.

While holding the young kids whole head in his hands, DJ said, “I don’t want no trouble from none of you young nigga’s. I just want to be left alone and find my daughter. I promise the next mothafucka that steps to me like this will get worse.” He let go of the youngster and walked towards the motel. The young nigga stood there holding his wounded head as the crowd opened up to let DJ through.

DJ paid for the room that had seen better days like twenty years ago, but he had to work with what he had. He took a shower and put the same tight ass sweat suit back on, which he also felt was too tight and made note to buy something else more lose. He made it back outside where the young nigga’s were at slanging dope and drinking in the parking lot. He hoped he didn’t have to go through it with the young cats again because of their ego problems.

He stepped outside and everyone was looking at him, but no one stepped to him with the bullshit. He was happy and went walking towards the last house he knew. On his way to 2^nd Avenue, he was looking at all the familiar things to him and the shit he didn’t remember. When he got to the house, he instantly got butterflies in his stomach. What would he say to his daughter and what would his ex-wife say to him since she divorced him after his conviction? Fuck that bitch, because this was about his daughter now.

He made it to the stairs, then the porch and knocked a few times at the door. When he saw the older lady approaching the door, he knew there had to be some type of mistake.

“Yes! May I help you?” the older white lady said.

“Um! There must be some type of mistake. Does a Mrs. Johnson live here with a little girl named Daisy?” The old white lady said, “I’m sorry sir, but don’t no one by those names live here. I’ve been living here for eight years now.”

DJ was stuck for a minute and it felt like someone had punched him in the ribcage because all the air was lifted from his body. “I’m sorry for bothering you and I thank you for your help. You have a good day.”

DJ was lost for a minute, but then thought about going to Daisy’s grandmother’s house, which she stayed on Mt. Washington next to the projects. He made his way up the long hill and went past the basketball courts that he use to play on with his boys. It was now packed with a lot of cars on the grass and loud music screaming out of the speakers, which he found everywhere he went pass. The young kids were balling and he really wanted to see what skills the boys had to offer but he had to find his daughter and find her soon.

He finally made it up the hill getting closer to the projects and it was tore up more than he had remembered but what projects aint fucked up? As DJ got closer, he could see a group of people standing on the corner and some people even pushing each other and crying at the same time. As DJ approached the crowd, he saw a young man lying on the ground with a big hole in his young body. Blood was all over the pavement and even on some of the people. You could hear the sirens in the background getting louder with every step he took. He just looked and knew that times had changed in the country he left behind thirteen years ago.

He finally made it to Mrs. Flower's house and it was wild how almost everything had changed besides the house Mrs. Flowers lived in. It was exactly how he last remembered it. A well kept yard with flowers all over and the porch, which was caged in by the screen. He went to knock on the screen door and it took a while for someone to come, but it was someone he recognized and he was happy for that.

A little frail lady came to the door with a pretty smile on her face. “Yes! May I help you young man?” Once she got the chance to see the face and the body of a god she just put her hands to her mouth and said, “Oh my God.”

DJ sat behind the screen just looking at the older lady and said, “Yes! Mrs. Flowers, it’s me.”

Mrs. Flowers said, “Baby! Please forgive me. Come right in and give me a hug.” He walked in the house and gave the little lady a hug. If you were standing behind him you wouldn’t have seen the little lady at all.

Mrs. Flowers said, “Damon, you look so good and I am so happy to see you. I want you to understand that I never believed one word of that, and I’ve been waiting to write to you but a lot of things have happened since you left. Maybe you should sit down.” He went to sit down and before he could get a word out she went to talking. “DJ, you know I lost Cliff about six years ago and I’m here alone in this house now but there is more loss in my life.”

DJ said, “Mrs. Flowers, I’m sorry for your loss but could you please tell me where to find Daisy at? I long for her and I need to see her.”

Mrs. Flower’s face had fallen to sadness and she said, “Damon . . . . . . she’s dead. She was found dead at the playground on 2^nd Avenue last summer. No one knows who did it and ain't no one saying anything about it. Baby, I’m sorry.”

DJ sat there zoned out and all the feelings in his big body had vanished after he heard she was dead. Nothing else meant anything to him after that. Tears began to fall down his face and all types of shit popped in his mind, why did all this happen to him? What did he do wrong in life to make God do this to him? DJ felt he was a good man with nothing but good intentions and like a thief in the night, his whole life was just snatched from him. Now he was dealt this final blow that he knew would change his life. Death was all he had on his mind and someone was going to answer for this.

When he came back to earth Mrs. Flowers was standing there with a napkin calling his name. “Damon, baby. Damon, baby.” He grabbed the napkin and sat at the table, just wanting the tears to fall because this would be the last time he would shed them.

“I have to leave Mrs. Flowers and I promise you, I’ll find out who took my baby from me. I promise you that.”

He went to get up and leave when Mrs. Flowers told him to hold on. She came back with a tore up old Kermit the Frog doll with one of the eyes missing and gave it to him. “This was Daisy’s favorite she always said her father gave her this. She slept with it every night and you should keep it.”

He grabbed the stuffed green thing and remembered when she asked for it right before he left for the Army. He smelled the doll and it smelled of a young innocent girl. A girl he loved and would kill for.

One thing the Army taught him was to control his anger and not to let the anger control him. People who lived on emotions usually made the wrong move and it would cause them trouble in the end. DJ kissed Mrs. Flowers and thanked her as he left. He wouldn’t live out his emotions but someone would pay for his pain and loss