The Life We Live

By B-Jah Kyat

Synopsis for “The Life We Live”
“The life we Live, a succinctly written story, puts you on the scene with Gatty, Black, JR, and B-Jah, Comin live from the Virgin Islands, strap yourself in and take a vivid ride with four adolescent thugs as they hustle, rob, and kill because of the life they live. A real good book check it out!”
-Jakari Ford, author of “It cost to be the Boss”
-Wakulla, Work Camp

“The Life We Live is the best book I read all year, B-Jah, you really did your thing, I see you goin places in the game. Everyone have to check it out! It’s a page turner that will keep you wonderin whats gonna happen next.”
-Demetrius Walker, author of “Set Tripping”
-Wakulla, Work Camp

“Menh, if it was up to me I’d say bump a Synopsis, but like Nino said –It’s bigger than B-Jah kyat. Them folks want a synopsis so a synop it is. Well, the story of “_ e Life We Life,” which is told through the eyes of B-Jah, unfolds with a deadly bank robbery; spins back in time showin the introduction of Black, JR, Gatty, and B-Jah into grimy blood stain streets of ST.Thomas, then gives you a twistin conclusion, one that leaves you wantin more. Jakari described the story as “Succinctly written,” (What ever that means) and Demetrius said it was “the best book I read all year,” But I say – Just read the book!”
-B-Jah Kyat, author of “Million Dollar Lie”
-Wakulla, Work Camp

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781479789856

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by B-Jah Kyat.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013902093

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4797-8984-9

                Softcover        978-1-4797-8983-2

                eBook             978-1-4797-8985-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/27/2018

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CONTENTS

Dedicated To

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Four years earlier (1996)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Back From The Dead (Excerpt)

Acknowledgments

Notes From The Author

DEDICATED TO

     Jahnous Browne                                                             Anell Mulrain

better known as – SHaBBa                                             also known as - Nello

B-Jah Kyat

My brothers, physically the

both of you may be gone, but as

long as I live you will never be

forgotten, So Rest in Peace and

let me handle these streets!

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Remember me smilin

Remember me laughin

Remember me happy

And full of life, and

don’t let death define

my memories!

Love;

Shabba and Anell

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CHAPTER 1

B AM! BAM! BAM!

OH SHIT, GO, GO, GO!

"DAMN-FUCK!’

Everything had happened so fast and was still movin fast but – Shit, that’s how it is when you’re bein shot at. Your mind twirls and races and your heart beats in overdrive while the bullets crack like thunder and strikes like lightnin. And crazily, this was nothing new to us. This was the life we live.

Some people refer to it as The Game, but to me it was more like a fight, one that had to be fought until death. How it all started I strongly doubt – Then again I know that don’t none of us know, and when I say us I’m not just talkin about me and my dawgs. I’m talkin about everyone livin or caught up in the street life. We may know when or how we got sucked into it, but that’s the extent of our knowledge about the history of, The Game. And though we go through it, I know that many of us wanted out but were in too deep. The only way to escape it was in a body bag with a tag-toe or behind bars with a tag- number, the two places our lives destined us to go.

Black, who was drivin, was doin his thing at the wheel tryin to get us away. Even with the bullets comin at us the way they were, he maintained full control of the car. Unlike me he wasn’t panicky or fazed by the situation. His focus stayed on the road ahead of us. He did scream things like, Shit! Fuck! Watch my mudda fuckin head every now and again, but knowin Black I’m willin to bet, not just my last dollar but my life, he had a smile or shit-eatin – grin on his face the whole time.

Babylon, as we refer to the police, was behind us tryin to get us to stop by any means—dead or alive. By the way they shootin; they were aimin more dead. In their way of lookin at it we had just pissed in the face of society, something all four of us started doin the minute we were wise enough to understand what our families were goin through; mainly our mothers, who had to work two, sometimes three jobs to make ends meet. Many times they were jobs that provided the ends but left them to be judged and degraded. Because of that, we were forced to grow up and take on certain responsibilities before our rightful time. Because of our ages, there wasn’t anything, we could legally do to gain the financial income needed- so society pushed us, and we complied. They pushed us into a life of crime and fast money, and we embraced it like a child who embraced a parent- With love.

The crackin sound of the AK spittin from the front passenger side, and screams of the gunman painted an old war movie scene to my mind. Turnin onto the highway, headin east, we flew up Waterfront, which was the only four- lane road on St. Thomas – The U.S Virgin Islands St. Thomas where the streets are red and green—Bloody and Grimy. We were pushin a black 95 four- door Caprice, stolen no doubt. JR had splacked it earlier in the day specifically for the lick. BahBeeLand ahead! BahBee- Danm! Dem mudda fuckas look like dey settin up a road block! JR said tappin’ Black and pointin. Black had already peeped the play and hollered back, Yeah I see dem mudda fuckas, I should juss run chew dat shit and show dem who dey fuck dey dealin wid. We dem muh-Before he could finish sayin what he was sayin a bullet came out of nowhere and grazed his face, causin him to holler out, Shit! Wha dey fuck! He wiped blood from his face with his trigger finger, licked it off and started laughin before continuin with, OK, so dey don’t nuh who dey fuckin wid so I have to show dem! I heard the seriousness in his voice. Then there was JR’s encouragin comments. Not that Black needed to be pushed or persuaded into doin anything crazy and violent, but I still went to hopin that he was talkin shit and plan to turn off before we got to the road block. With Black, there was never any tellin what to expect. The only thing we knew for sure was that he was crazy; real messed up in the head. In some aspects, all four of us were. Them more than me, but all of us had to be crazy to go through half the things we went through.

Me and JR were crouched down as low as we could get between the front and back seat. A duffle bag full of money was on the floor between my legs, and an identical one also filled with dead presidents was up front with Gatty. Every now and then, me and Gatty would make eye contact and he would smile or holler out joyously like it was a game he was enjoyin. Me, I hated gun play. Especially when it involved me bein shot at. I wasn’t as quick as the others to bust my gun, but I always preferred bein the one doin the shootin over bein busted at.

Gatty wasn’t the only one bustin back his gun. Me and JR was also doin the same, but we were on some strategic type shit, or so I told myself, and JR followed my lead. He would stick his head up and bust his K once, and then it would be my turn.

The lick had called for big guns, but a shoot out wasn’t foreseen. Growin up in the streets like I did, I learned that there was no such thing as a foolproof plan. I also learned that precaution is a must because slippers don’t count. It was my turn to come up bustin, and I was about to do so when Gatty hollered out, AHH Bee-Bitch, I’m hit. AHH fuck, fuck! Hearin that caused me to think back on how things got out of hand.

One last time- Everybody nuh deer position right? Well I nuh ar you nuh so I don’t have to tell ar you dat deer ain’t nuh room for nuh mudda fuckin mistakes or fuck ups. Ar you wanted dis play, now we here so leh handle our business, and like I said, nuh mudda fuckin gun play unless you really have to-And somebody watchin you funny ain nuh reason to shoot dem!

I had never ever spoken to them like that before we made a move, but for some unknown reason I felt like I had to. I also wanted to say more, but I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t that I was havin any doubts that we couldn’t pull the lick off, because I was cock sure about the play. I was confident that it would be the easiest lick we would ever hit. There was a lot of plannin and preparin involve. Even it bein a Tuesday afternoon was calculated.

Gettin out the car, I looked towards the camera mounted on the side of the buildin facin our direction. I wanted to be seen. Show time bitch, I mouthed softly while takin in my surroundings.

The location was in the open, but what made it so good was the fact that it was right next to the highway with the closest police station fifteen minutes west and twenty minutes east. Bein that it was minutes before closin hour, traffic in and out of the bank was slow.

On the sidewalk, we caught a few known stares bein that the three of us were all wearin black trench coats in the middle of the summer outside of a bank. But like I said, this was St. Thomas and there was an unwritten law governed by the streets, with death bein the penalty. The law permits people to mind their own business so I was unfazed by the stares. Right then, I only had one thing on my mind, gettin money.

There was to be three armed guards workin, but the main one, the one workin the camera room, was apart of play so she was one less we had to worry about. Walkin through the door I swifty stepped to the right pullin my gun catchin the guard closest to the door by surprise. Her eyes widen as she froze when she saw me. She tried to mumble something about kids, but I silenced her with a finger to my lips and a wink. I made her get down on her stomach cuffin her hands behind her back. It felt like everything had slowed down and shit was movin in slow-mo. It wasn’t until JR had the other guard down and cuff that anyone realized what was goin on. Like I figured when I was puttin the plan together, the tellers were caught up tryin to finish off the last of the customers so they could close. Also, the customers were too busy tryin to take care of their last bit of business for the day so they could get home to their families. If only I had known or they knew that some of them weren’t goin to make it.

Everybody geh dung on dee mudda fuckin floor Gatty hollered out with his gun brandished. A few screams were heard, and people started hittin the floor.

Geh dey fuck dung! JR yelled, kickin some dude in the head. He had either moved too slow, or it was just JR’s way of lettin everyone know that we meant business. Especially since the no-shot rule had been put in effect.

CRACK! That’s how it sounded off when one of the tellers picked up on the back of Gatty’s K in the face knockin her out. From on the top of the counter, he went to shoutin at two tellers to put money in the bag he had given them. On the other end, JR had two tellers dumpin money in his bag as he made threats I knew he would carry out without thinkin twice.

We had grown to be friends with violence bein one of our main addictive habits. While Gatty and JR did their part, I also did mine. I had everyone else in the room covered, swingin my K from side to side hopin I wouldn’t have to use it. Money was the only reason I was there, and money was the only thing I wanted to leave with. My watch had beeped lettin me know that we were in the bank for two minutes and had one more to go to meet the three minute time frame I had given us to be in the out by.

CHAPTER 2

O ne-One more minute. Ar you tighten dung, we gah one more minute! I called out. About thirty seconds after I said that, I heard a BOOM-BOOM sound followed by the glass door to the bank bein shattered. Lookin in that direction, the first thing I saw was a man in a police uniform layin on the floor bloody and not movin. My eyes then focused on the other figure; it was Black. He was standin in the shattered door way holdin two four-fives in his hands. He also had a big Kool-Aid smile on his face. I was about to say something, but those few seconds of distraction almost cost me my life. BLAP! BLAP! BLAP! I felt the impact before I heard the shots, and while I was bein knocked off my feet, my trigger finger squeezed involuntarily, causin my K to spit. RRRAAAHH.

Screams of both fright and pain echoed throughout the bank. Just before my head hit the floor and knocked me unconscious, I heard a few more BLAP, BLAPs from the gun that shot me. I also heard BOOM BOOMs from the four-five and RRRAAAHHs from the K causin more screams and hollers. I don’t know how long I was out, but it couldn’t have been for more than a few seconds. When I raised my head and tired to get up, the first thing that registered in my mind was the wailin sound of the alarm. I then noticed people runnin hectically towards the door. Hands gripped me under both arms, and somebody said, Mehn B-jah, geh up! Geh right! Leh guh! Time to ride out! Back on my feet my whole chest ached, and I felt woozy. Black held me up. He also had my gun in his hand as he led me to the door. We passed a few people on the floor, some moanin in pain while others lay not movin. Then I saw the answer to my unasked question: who the fuck shot me?

Doin a quick disoriented analysis, I saw a dude who was more than likely an undercover or off duty police officer. He was one of those not movin. He had so many holes in him, he looked worst than a stopsign in the ghetto. A few inches from his out stretched hand was a police issued 9mm. Seein the gun, I thought about how my vest had did its job, and because of that I would live until it was my time. Leh ride! Leh ride! Gatty! JR! Ar you tighten dey fuck up! Leh ride! Black kept shoutin. Mixed with the wailin sound of the alarm were sirens so we knew the police had to be real close. My chest still hurtin, I got my footin back steady and snatched my gun from Black. Runnin out the bank to the waitin car, it was Black, me then JR and Gatty in the back.

There was an empty police car behind our ride, and I figured it belonged to the police that had came flyin through the glass after Black shot him when he tried to enter the bank. One of the wailin police cars was pullin up when we ran out. Runnin to the back door of our ride, I turned and busted at it. RRRAAAHH! RRRAAH! Openin the car door, I jumped in head first. JR threw the bag of money in, let his K spit, then jumped in behind me. Gatty got in the front passenger side, and Black ran around the back of the car to the driver’s side bustin his gun as he did so. With the door already open and the car’s engine runnin, he jumped in and the car burned tires as we took off. The shots started comin back, and the chase was on.

Just like with me, Gatty’s vest stopped the bullet from penetratin, but his K dropped out the window. And by his posture and my experience with gettin shot while wearin a bulletproof vest I knew that he was in pain. There wasn’t time to worry about him though; my mind was on the roadblock and Black’s intentions. The thought, was what made the roadblock seem like something major. But it consisted of nothing but two police cars facin each other in the middle of the road. There was also a few polices on the far side with their guns aimed at us. When we were about a hundred yards away and gainin, it hit me, the realization. Black was really goin to try to run through it. A hundred yards became seventy-five. Seventy- five became fifty yards. Our last chance to turn away was then, but fifty yards went to thirty, thirty yards to ten. Bullets came at us from all directions; everyone braced themselves for the collision.

AAHHHH! Black shouted. I thought he was hit so I gripped the seat tighter. I didn’t see when we got through the road block, but I felt a lil jerk. It wasn’t until I opened my eyes that I realized they were closed. With my eyes open, I regained the awareness that we were still goin, movin at the same speed as if nothing happened.

But something did happen. I wasn’vt aware of it until a short while later. Right then though, I looked back just in time to see the police cars that were