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Papa Inferno

Recommendation: Until the end of time by Tupac ft RL

I never claimed to be the perfect man. Shit, I never wanted to be the perfect man.

There was never a need to walk around pretending that I wasn’t a monster, when I was, in fact, a monster.

I’ve done some unspeakable shit, and my brother, Des, held all my secrets like a bone keeper.

Shit that I’ve done was going to the grave and I would ask for forgiveness when I got up there with the big guy.

I’ve always been a simple man, never needing too much.

As long as I had my family, there wasn’t much that I needed. When I formed Inferno Gods, I knew this was bigger than me, and this would become something that I would eventually step down from and hand over to my sons. This was more than niggas on bikes, we were family and took care of each other.

When Quasim stepped into my spot, he formed his own crew like I had done years prior.

Picking loyal men that would go to war behind him without a second thought.

As I watched my son come into his own, I watched him strategically pick men who would later become family.

I sat back and watched my son reign, offering advice when he needed, never stepping on his toes.

Quasim was the eldest son, so it was only right for him to step into the role.

Meer had that same leader quality, too. It was rare to have two sons that both could embody that role, and ride with an iron fist. When it came to my brother, he was the weaker link.

Always looking to latch onto someone instead of being his own man.

Growing up, he always wanted to be like me, which was normal for the younger brother.

Quameer wanted to do everything that Quasim did.

He always followed his brother because he thought he was the coolest muthafucka that graced this earth, and I thought he was, too.

Sim always been chill, never rattled. I remember when he was a baby, he never cried much, and Mina had an easy pregnancy.

Quasim had perfect damn posture since a child, never slouching and always carrying himself like he was the future King Inferno. It made sense why his little brother wanted to be just like him, and I loved that shit because I always wanted my boys to be close.

Hold each other down and be best friends because I never had that with my own brother. Red didn’t look up to me, he wanted to be me. There was a big difference between being inspired and trying to rip the skin off the person you were inspired by and replicate everything that they do.

Niggas needed to ride their own wave, be their own person – you ain’t hear that from me, though.

Everything I did, he would try to do, and if he couldn’t do what I was doing, then the nigga would try and do it bigger and better. He was in constant competition with me, and because he was younger, our moms always babied him.

She was the reason he was a weaker man and could never stand on his own.

When I told him that New York wasn’t big enough for the both of us, he never put up a fight.

Left with his tail tucked between his legs and held this hate for years.

He hated me because I had the woman, children, and life that he wanted.

The day Mina climbed out the back of the dollar van on Franklin avenue in Brooklyn, I had to bite the inside of my cheek as I watched her.

Her hair was big with bouncy ass curls, and that shit had my dick hard, and I hadn’t even heard her voice or knew who she was.

I remained in front of the store while my brother’s thirsty ass was waving her down to say hi.

Mina looked over and smiled at him, then her eyes wandered toward me.

I never broke eye contact with her and winked while I twirled the toothpick to the other side of my mouth.

Red took his ass across the street, and they were talking.

I could tell from her body language that she wasn’t feeling him and was only being nice.

From that day, I had been locked on Mina’s fine ass and eventually made her mine while putting a baby in her. Then I doubled it and put another one in her a few years later. Commitment always scared me, but not with her.

We built a beautiful life and raised two beautiful boys together. They were now grown men with wives of their own and families that they were building, continuing the Inferno blood line.

My boys.

I never pretended to be the perfect father.

If it wasn’t for Madalena, I wouldn’t have been able to be in the streets.

She wasn’t only Mina’s mother; she was mine, too, and always treated me as such.

I loved my mother, but she had always favored my brother more because she didn’t hate his father.

She hated mine, so I was always just like him or raising hell just like Owen Inferno.

Madalena loved me the moment that her daughter introduced her to me.

I’d never forget her sitting on the porch with a spliff hanging from her lip and her hand on her wide hip. Her kinky curly hair was in a fro, and she wore a pair of square rose colored sunglasses while cussing out some man that kept trying to plead his case to her.

The minute she saw her daughter come onto the porch, her eyes softened, and she kissed her and spoke to her in a language I never heard before. It surprised me when Mina replied back in the same language, then she turned to introduce us.

Madalena looked me up and down and told me that I was trouble. I already figured she wouldn’t approve, then she smiled and told me that I was that good trouble. Madalena never got in the middle of me and Mina and our shit.

I don’t know how many times I had to put a nigga on his neck for even looking at her.

Each time, I would show up to sit in her kitchen while she smoked and told me about myself.

She never painted her daughter out to be an angel, but she let it be known that her daughter was a Queen, and I would come correct.

I think the main reason that Blaze was a damn pot head was because of his grandmother. She was the person that introduced him to his first spliff and warned him about smoking with everybody.

As I sat on this floor between both operating rooms holding each of my sons, I could only hold onto my cross and pray. I never asked God for much, and this was one of those times when I needed my guy to come through for me.

I needed him to bless our family and keep both my boys here with me. Take me but leave them here with their wives and children. I couldn’t think about burying one of them because my heart became sore.

“Papa,” I looked up from my hands and saw Des standing there.

He got down on the floor beside me and leaned his head against the wall. “Red called the hit… he didn’t succeed the first time, but he made sure that he got the second chance to do it.”

I continued to look down at my hands as my body became hot. “You certain?”

“Doubt burns… we don’t.” He replied, his eyes still closed.

My chest felt tight as I looked between each room. “Des, I can’t lose either of my boys.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me when he heard my voice crack.

I felt his arm and he pulled me onto him.

“You not losing either of them… Quasim and Quameer Inferno are fucking strong. Neither of them are leaving this earth… it’s not their time.

If anything, we need to sit in the silence because the minute Sim rises, there won’t be any peace. ”

Des and his mushy ass was always so quick to give you a hug or comfort you. Imagine watching this nigga put the steel to a nigga’s head, and then in the next second, he could comfort you and give you that brotherly love.

Tears fell from my eyes and I wiped my face. “Fuck.”

“You’re a father, Quinton. This shit ain’t easy for anybody… especially a father. I know you carry a lot of guilt about always being in the streets and leaving Mina and Gams to raise them, but you been their father. Taught them everything that they need to know.”

“I put them into this life… they should have been fucking doctors or some shit… Meer has a whole degree. Should have sat down like you and drove fucking cabs.”

Des laughed. “I sat down because Jean didn’t give me a choice…

told me she didn’t need the big homes, cars, and diamonds.

Told me she had to lose a piece of her heart because of me being in the streets, and she would have left me and took my boys with her.

She had a plane ticket in her bible, Papa.

I sit and think about all I had, and all that I had lost. Now, my sons went and snatched that shit back, and not because I forced that shit on them.

It’s in their blood, Quinton… they was going to do this with or without you. ”

I leaned my head back on the wall and sighed. “Family means everything to me, and now I have to take my own brother’s life.”

“Nigga was never family, Quinton. Always wanted to be you and was mad because he could never be you.”

“Put the word out that Sim passed.” I choked out the words, not even wanting to breathe life into those words.

“Got you.”

My phone started buzzing in my pocket again.

It had been ringing since I arrived, and I had been ignoring the shit.

Everybody knew that I was the worst when it came to being on my phone.

If you had some shit to tell me, you better had caught me when you saw me.

The only person that could get me on the phone was Mina, and now that she got her own phone, she had been obsessed with sending me emojis because she thought it was cute.

When she sent me an eggplant emoji, I was confused and figured she wanted eggplant parm and went to her favorite Italian spot in Brooklyn that she had loved. Imagine my surprise when I came home with a pan of fucking eggplant parm, and that shit meant something different.