A Gangsta's Son by Rio Read Free Book Online Page A

I started shooting holes through the rear window, aiming at the shooters and ignoring Kisha’s frantic screams.
    I dove to the floor as they sped by. The pinging sound of bullets ripping through my car frightened me a little, but I rose as soon as they passed and stood beside the open passenger door. I was holding the gun sideways and squeezing off shots at the Lincoln until it made a left on 16 th and disappeared.
    I looked at Kisha, saw that she was okay, and then checked on Tyrone and Joe-Joe; they were good, too.
    But the same could not be said for Luke and two other TVLs.
    They were stretched out on the sidewalk, bleeding profusely from multiple gunshot wounds.

~Chapter 18~
    With eight fresh bullet holes in the side of my car, I had no choice but to show up at my father’s funeral in Kisha’s white Expedition, which wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the hot pink Hello Kitty interior. Kisha had stayed home with Tyrone and Joe-Joe; she’d been too shell-shocked to attend the funeral.
    I sat in the front pew between Momma and Treecy during the service, flicking my eyes around at what seemed like a million Gangster Disciples and fighting back tears every time I looked at the casket. Scrilla Man was sitting next to Treecy, crying with a straight face.
    Halfway through the service, Momma fell against me and started sobbing. Groaning and repeating “No” over and over again until her voice became a small whisper. I wrapped my arm around her fragile body and pulled her close, and we stayed that way until it was time to leave for the burial.
    “Walk Momma out to the limo,” I told Treecy.
    “Daddy’s gone ,” she replied weakly. “He’s really gone .”
    I nudged the two of them toward the aisle, but they were too distraught to walk alone, so I walked them to the tall oak door, opened it, and stepped out into the sunshine with them.
    The first thing I noticed was the single CPD Suburban that was slowly driving past on Roosevelt Road, sticking out like a sore thumb amid a crowd of 400 GDs, 100 TVLs, and eighty or ninety members of my father’s extended family.
    “Go and tell that old nigga I said bye,” Assata muttered, dabbing the tears from her smooth brown cheeks with a Kleenex. “I’m not strong enough to tell him myself.”
    “You’re strong enough to do anything, Ma,” I encouraged.
    She shook her head no. “Not today, Mikey. Not today,” she said, and started toward the limo with Treecy.
    I lit a cigarette and was taking my second pull when I looked over and saw Scrilla Man standing next to me.
    “We gotta find out who that girl was, lil bruh. The bitch that shot yo’ lil guy Tyrone. She gotta get murked for this shit. Let me hit that square.”
    “We’ll find her,” I said, handing him the cigarette.
    There wasn’t much conviction in my tone. I knew that we didn’t have a chance at finding the girl without knowing her name. Shit, I couldn’t even find my own damned Illinois State…
    “ID!” I blurted suddenly. “It was my mothafuckin ID!”
    Scrilla Man’s expression became quizzical. “What?” He said.
    But I was already jogging urgently toward Momma and Treecy.
    “Treecy! Momma! I stopped them just as they were about to get in the black limo. “The girl who shot Tyrone, did she have on a pink dress? Dark-skinned wit’ short hair?”
    “Yup,” said Treecy. “That’s exactly how she looked.”
    Momma nodded her head in agreement.

~Chapter 19~
    It never took much liquor to get Kisha drunk.
    The shooting had rattled her nerves severely, and now she was sitting at her kitchen table with Shay, Tyrone, and Joe-Joe. They were playing a game of Spades for shots of Ciroc, and Kisha and Shay were taking a beating.
    “I quit,” Kisha said, throwing in her hand. “I’m way too drunk for this shit. Shay, roll up another blunt. I’m about to go outside and see if that girl done made it here yet. She was s’posed to meet us on Homan before them crazy ass niggas got to