When a simple drug bust turns into a shootout, Officer Danny Bryson s life is forever changed. He takes some time off to deal with the situation but when his money starts to run low, he is forced to return to work. Upon returning, Danny discovers that things have changed. Due to the economy, overtime is not as plentiful as it once was. With a kid on the way, Danny is now struggling just to make ends meet. In an effort to make more money, Danny, along with two fellow officers decide to start shaking down local drug dealers. Everything is sweet until they cross paths with Stacks Bronson, the Cleveland drug lord with an insatiable appetite for violence. Refusing to be extorted by dirty cops, Stacks flexes his muscle and wards off the crooked police. But when Stacks close friend and right hand man is killed in a botched shake down and the police department covers it up, Stacks snaps. Consumed with revenge, Stacks assembles an army and wages war against the entire precinct. The city isn’t big enough for Danny AND Stacks and when it all comes to a head, a surprise third-party will decide which one lives and which one meets their maker.
First Starr Baptist church was filled to capacity. Sam Thornton may have been a scandalous low life drug dealer but based on the attendance of his home going service, you would think he was the most popular man in Cleveland. Paula set in front of the church as still as a statue. For the last 20 minutes her eyes had been glued to the coffin holding the corpse of her deceased son. Other mourners mistook her lack of tears for a show of strength. But they were wrong. She simply had no more tears to give. Gut wrenching pain ripped through her heart as she continued to stare. Ever so slightly she nodded her head in approval of the charcoal gray colored pin-striped suit she’d picked out for him to wear. The mortician had done a masterful job of making Sam look like he was merely asleep. Suffice to say Sam looked better in death than he ever had in life. Out the corner of her eye Paula spotted a large big chested woman making her way down the center of the aisle. She was wearing a loud turquoise blue dress that look to be two sizes too small. Mascara-streaked tears ran down her face. She was holding the hand of a small child who looked to be no older than four. The boy’s hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. His clothes were dingy and ruffled while his shoes, which had clearly seen better days, were torn and scarred. As she approached the casket Paula noticed for the first time the woman appeared pregnant. Paula was at a loss for words. This was the first time that she’d ever laid eyes on this woman. A sudden thought ran through her mind. ‘My God, is that my grandson? Is she carrying my grandbaby?’ Paula squinted her eyes and trained them on the boy. Just as she tilted her head to get a better view, the boy turned his head in such a way that she was able to get a clearer look. She gasped. Any doubt she had disappeared. Without a DNA test she couldn’t be sure, but looking at his face told her all she needed to know. The young boy was the spitting image of Sam. Paula’s heart ached. ‘Why would Sam do this? Why would he intentionally deny me the right to see my grandkids? I can’t believe he would…’ The thought stopped as she suddenly remembered an argument she’d had with him about five years ago. It stuck out in her mind because it was the only time she’d ever seen her son shed a tear as an adult. It was also the last time she’d taken a drink. Paula recalled vividly telling her only son that she had no use for a bastard grandchild and that the only way she would except any grandchild was if the mother and father were married. Pain and guilt shot through her body. She would give anything to take those words back now. Paula’s heart sank a little lower as she watched the woman lean down and kiss Sam on his forehead. She then ushered the child forward and whispered to him. “Say goodbye to your daddy,” she said. Although it was totally inaudible to the rest of the church, Paula heard it loud and clear. The tear ducts that had dried up in her eyes found their reserves and caused pain to flow from her soul. Paula let out an ear-piercing scream as her cheeks became saturated with tears. Either the woman didn’t notice or didn’t pay her any attention because she simply grabbed the child’s hand and walk to find a seat. Paula wanted so badly to run to the woman and scoop her grandson up into her arms. he made a vow to herself that after the service she would approach the woman and make arrangements to spend time with her grand kids. She was also going to make sure that they never again wanted for anything. She was going to spoil them rotten. Nothing would be to good for them. Paula had money as would have no problem spending it on them. Trips to Cedar Point would be the norm. She would also use her considerable clout to get them enrolled into the best schools. “Don’t worry son. I’ll take care of them,” she whispered softly, staring at her son. Paula momentarily lost a breath as the funeral directors lowered Sam’s head and closed the casket. The Pastor then began the service by telling people how full of life Sam had been and how he’d known him since his pre-teen years. Of course he didn’t mention how Sam would routinely sell him cocaine to sniff. Or how Sam would sometimes rent hotel rooms in his name so that the Pastor could fulfill his sick, twisted fantasies of screwing under aged girls. By the time he’d got done singing Sam’s praises anyone who didn’t know Sam would think he was the best thing since plea bargaining. The funeral, short by most standards, ended with Paula walking up to Sam’s casket and gently kissing it just before the pall bearers carried it to the hearse. Her legs threatened to give out but Joyce being the supportive girlfriend that she was wouldn’t allow her to fall. Next came the part of the funeral that Paula hated the most. Going to the cemetery. The ride was by far the longest ride of Paula’s life. As they entered the gates of Evergreen Resting Place, Joyce patted Paula’s leg reassuring her that everything would be okay. Paula returned the gesture, causing heat to rush up Joyce’s leg. Knowing it was the wrong time and place for her sexual cravings to be acting up, she grab Paula’s hand as removed it from her thigh giving it a gentle squeeze and masking her desires. The two of them it out if the hearse and Paula’s legs tremble as they approached the gravesite. The Pastor zipped through scriptures of the bible faster than anyone expected. His mind was on his next door neighbor’s fifteen year old daughter, who he’d caught smoking a blunt in her backyard. The deal the two of them had struck up in exchange for his silence nearly had him creaming in his pants. After the final words were spoken, Paula and the pregnant woman with the child stood on opposite sides of the casket staring at it. It struck Paula as odd that the woman never even looked at her, let alone introduced herself and her child. What Paula didn’t know was that Sam had lied and told the woman that his mother was dead. Since the woman was too heartbroken to read the obituary at the time she still believed as such. The woman left first and Paula’s eyes followed her to a blue Ford Mustang. Paula quickly pulled a pen and piece of paper from her purse and jotted down the license plate number. She was determined to be a part if her grand kid’s lives. After making sure that her child was safely secured inside the car, the woman strapped herself in and started the engine. Suddenly, about fifty feet back from where she was parked, an engine roared to life. Tires screeched as an SS Monte Carlo tore through the cemetery road and skidded to a stop right beside the Mustang. Two older men who were crossing at that particular location met an untimely demise as the Monte Carlo slammed into them and propelled them both twenty feet into the air. They landed on an unmarked gravesite, dead. Paula watched in horror as a masked gunman jumped out of the passenger’s side and sprayed the Mustang with bullets. The death tickets being spit out of the Uzi shattered the glass and easily ripped into the human flesh. The screaming woman tried in vain to undo her seat belt and sling herself onto her helpless child. The bullets seemed to go in slow motion to her as she helplessly watched slug after slug penetrate her son’s priceless body. The child never had a chance as two bullets hit him in the face and several more crashed through his frame. The woman screamed her son’s name and flung herself across him in a vain attempt to protect him. She didn’t have long to grieve however as more bullets spit from the Uzi and hit her in the back of the head. They tunneled through and opened up the front of her face like a busted watermelon. The gunman jumped back into the car yelling for the thug driving to punch the gas. The driver weaved through the grass at a frantic pace knocking over various head stones along the way.
Author C.J Hudson hails from the east side of Cleveland where he grew up surrounded by crime, violence, and drugs. Determined to not succumb to that way of living, he attended Kent State university for one year. An avid reader for the past twenty-one years, C.J was introduced to urban fiction by his future wife when she gave him Carl Weber’s Married Men. Although he enjoyed his first urban fiction novel, C.J craved to read about the type of street stories that he saw on a daily basis in the inner city. That’s when he started going to Borders and searching out Street lit books. He quickly came across K’wan’s classic novel Gangsta. He then went on a reading barrage and read everything from T-Styles to Triple Crown novels. Shortly after that C.J was laid off from his job as a machine operator. While laid off, C.J. decided to try his hand at writing. After writing his first manuscript entitled Skeletons, he wrote the manuscript that got him a publishing deal, Chedda Boyz. Since dropping his debut novel, C.J has penned eleven more novels.
Get to know CJ:
1) What do you feel is the biggest problem with the new authors coming out today?
Putting out unedited material. Now a days it seems like new authors are in such a rush that they fail to do one of the most important aspects of releasing a book.
2) what do you think about authors who write in more than one genre?
I love it. In my opinion, it shows the dexterity of a writer. It takes a special talent because not everyone can do it.
3) What do you feel is the biggest problem with Ebooks?
The fact that people can buy them, read them, and then turn around and return them. That’s some bullshit! There should be a four-hour time limit on them, meaning if you have them for more than four hours you can’t return them.
4) In your opinion, how important is advertising?
It’s very important. You could have the best book in the world but if nobody knows about it, it won’t sell.
5) Name five authors you would like to do an anthology with.
Kwan, T Styles, Treasure Blue, June Miller, and J Tremble.
6) How long does it take you to write a book?
It depends on my mood and how much I’m feeling the book. Sometimes it flows like water, and other times it flows like molasses. I think Chedda Boyz was written the fastest, about a month and a half.
7) Do you think Urban Fiction/ Street Lit will ever get the props it deserves?
Probably not. People shun what they don’t understand. A lot of people are very hypocritical when it comes to something like this. They will watch a porn movie but won’t read Next Door Nympho because they will say it contains too much sex.
Facebook handles: CjThewriterhudson & Author C.J Hudson
Twitter handle: AUTHOR C.J HUDSON
Instagram handle: AUTHORCJHUDSON
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