Page 233 of 4 Corinthians

"Alright."

Nine hung up and continued to watch Logan. I couldn't read his expression, but I could see the anger in his eyes. We stood there waiting until Gentle pulled up. He parked his car next to his brother’s and got out as soon as he saw Logan; a slow but malicious smile spread across his face.

"Is this for me?" He asked, looking around.

"Yes," Uri answered him. "Do what you need to do. Ask the questions, get what you need, then kill him."

"Nah," Gentle said, then shook his head. "It ain't that type of party." He looked around until his eyes landed on Cross' axe. "Can I borrow that sister-in-law?" Cross didn't hesitate to hand him her axe. "Thank you." He approached us, then nodded for Uri to step aside. "I don’t need the words or the bullshit explanation. He did what he did. He deserves to die." He looked at me. "You want his head, right?"

"Yes."

Gentle nodded, then stepped around Logan. He had the same empty look in his eyes that Nine did. There was no love lost. Just a man finally slaying his demons. He lifted the axe over his head and chopped off Logan's left leg.

"Ahhh," Logan screamed as he jerked awake.

"Shut the fuck up!" Gentle said as he slammed the blunt end of the handle into his forehead, knocking him out cold. "You didn't give a fuck when I yelled and screamed as a kid until I passed out!" He flipped the axe in his hand and chopped off his other leg.

Logan jerked awake again, but this time Gentle didn't hit him. He let Logan reach for his legs only to realize they were gone. Gentle kicked him in the shoulder, making Logan fall back. Logan tried to crawl away.

"Please," he cried as he dragged his body across the driveway. "Please."

"Please is a weak nigga word, remember, Logan?" Gentle taunted as he walked beside him. "What would you tell me when I said that?" He smirked. "Oh yeah. Please makes you a bitch. Grown men don’t beg!" He lifted the axe over his head and slammed it down on Logan's right arm. He moved to the other arm and did the same thing. Then, he flipped Logan over to his back and stared down at him. "You begged, Logan. That makes you weak, and what do we do to niggas that are weak?" He stared down at him. "We show them no mercy." Gentle lifted the axe one last time, but this time when he brought it down, he cut off Logan's head.

"Come on, big bro," Nine said, coming to stand next to Gentle. He took the axe from him and handed it to his wife. "Come on."

"I hope he's in therapy," Krude said, shaking his head. "And if he ain't, he needs to be because that ain't right." He looked over at us. "You two niggas, too." He mugged us with a look of disgust. "Four, you over smiling and shit like a proud parent and Corinthians you rubbing that damn head like it’s a cat or something in your arms."

I looked down at the head in my arms and realized I was twirling the ends of the wig between my fingers. "Oh, sorry," I said, then stopped. "I was just enjoying the show."

Krude narrowed his eyes at me. "You make a therapy appointment?" He asked, and I nodded. "For when?"

"Therapy is always on Tuesdays."

***

Uri parked his car in his parents' driveway and stared at the house. Seeing this house now, all these years later, felt different. It didn't look as big, as scary, as dangerous as it did when I was a kid. The overly large bushes and trees looked little, brittle to a degree. The windows were dirty, the brick walls looked like they were seconds away from crumbling.

"You good?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he answered. "You?"

I waited to see if I felt anything other than relief. I didn't. "Yeah," I answered with a soft laugh. "I'm good."

Uri nodded, then got out of the car, rounded it, and came to open my door. My cousins and sister waited at the end of the driveway. They weren't needed for this. This was for Uri, and it was ending.

Hand in hand we walked up the porch and opened the door. Nine, like always, was a step ahead of us, so the door was unlocked. The smell of baked chicken, green beans, and bread filled my nose.

"She didn’t cook when I was a kid," Uri said. I wasn't surprised. What he told me about his mama never screamed motherly. Uri always said she wasn't like him. He directed us through the living room, then the dining room, and eventually we reached the kitchen. His mama sat at the island, dressed in a suit, hair bone straight, makeup perfect. The first thing that struck me, after the thought of how beautiful she was, was how young she looked.

"I made dinner," she finally said. Her voice was soft yet firm. Her tone and demeanor felt more like a random Wednesday dinner with us instead of why we were really here.

"I've seen you before," I said, ignoring her statement about food.

"A few times," she replied with a nod. "Each time was purely selfish."

"Selfish?" I repeated.

"Have a seat, Corinthians, you too, Uri," she pointed to the empty seats across from her.