B-Careful

by Shannon Holmes

  Netta laughed. There was something about his arrogance that she liked. Before she could put a finger on it he was taking her order.

  “I’m in the mood for some crab cakes, I could really go for that,” she announced.

  “You got it,” Tone said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Tone left the hospital and went and got Netta some crab cakes from Lexington Market. When he returned, they wolfed the meal down without saying too much more. Netta was real hungry and it showed. The food not only satisfied her hunger, but it made her very sleepy. After a long tense afternoon, she was tired.

  “Yo, I’ma see you tomorrow,” Tone promised, kissing her on the forehead. “Get some rest.”

  “Why you leavin’?” she protested, as lines of worry creased her forehead. “I’m up.”

  Immediately, Tone sat back down in an effort to calm Netta down. Before long the heaviness of her eyelids were too difficult to fight off the tiredness. Suddenly, she fell into a deep sleep. Seeing this, Tone quietly eased out of her room, leaving Netta sound asleep. Silently, he promised to be back tomorrow.

  As Tone exited the hospital, he never noticed a late model Ford Tempo lying in wait. He went about his day not knowing he was being followed.

  “There he go right there,” Bri said as soon as she spotted his car.

  “Follow him,” Sonya replied.

  “I don’t know who this nigga been in there seein’ all damn day, but obviously they pretty important to him,” Bri commented. “You think it’s a nurse or a patient? Or what?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re gonna soon find out. Believe that,” Sonya said.

  Right now everything was such a mystery, but Sonya knew the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and soon it would all make sense.

  11

  Sitting on his bed reading the Baltimore Sun newspaper in the early morning silence, Black’s mind slipped back to last week’s violent confrontation with Netta. He laughed to himself while recalling how badly he had beaten her. Although he had beat Netta like a dog, Black still fumed that she didn’t begged for her life.

  Fuckin’ bitch! he thought. Hope ya ass is dead, yo.

  In the days that followed the attack, Black’s search for Netta had turned up nothing. No one had heard anything about her. Nor had she been seen. Personally, Black thought she was dead. He took to reading the obituary section in the paper in search of her name. If Netta was indeed dead, nothing would make him happier. Netta had gotten too cute for herself while he was away. She was the talk of the town while he was in prison, her and the Pussy Pound. She was a major source of embarrassment to him. That’s why he had paid her back in the manner that he had. Black felt like she deserved it. Besides, he had his reputation to protect.

  Nobody steals from Black and lives. Nobody! he thought.

  Once upon a time ago, Black fucked with Netta heavy. Now he didn’t fuck with her at all. If she was still alive, then Netta was a target marked for termination. There would be no love lost and no love given.

  Black finished reading the newspaper, as clueless about Netta as when he began. Was she alive or was she dead? He didn’t have the slightest idea. However, it gave him something to think about.

  “You ready yo?” Stink said as he stuck his head inside Black’s downtown condo bedroom.

  “Gimme a second,” he told his younger brother.

  Stink stood in the doorway as he watched his brother’s chiseled physique partially disappear into the closet and retrieve the jacket to his sweat suit.

  “You hear anything about that bitch, yo?” Black asked as he put on his jacket.

  “No, I don’t know where that whore at,” he answered. “That bitch Netta just disappeared off the face of the earth. I told you yo, you should have been let me handle that hooker while you was locked up. I woulda put that bitch on a t-shirt.”

  Stink and Black may have been blood brothers, but they literally couldn’t have been more different. Black put in a lot of work on the streets, he was self-made; while Stink had rode the coattails of his brother’s success in the streets. The streets only truly acknowledged him because of who his brother was. Stink was all bark, while Black was all bite.

  “Stink, I already told you that that shit was personal,” he stated. “You know how many niggas wanted to do her in for me for free. I told them just what I told you, I’ma handle it, yo. I didn’t want that shit comin’ from nobody else but me.”

  “I know, but...” Stink protested.

  “But nuttin’ yo. That wasn’t ya beef, it was mine. And I handled it the way I wanted to handle it. Don’t question me. End of discussion,” he spat.

  Stink had pissed his brother off questioning him about Netta. Now Black had an attitude, he had no idea which version of himself he’d present to the streets today, the moneymaking hustler or the stone, cold killer who had the streets of Baltimore on edge. Whatever he decided, the streets were powerless to stop it. Black was home and he was back to reclaim his spot, the easy way or the hard way, however the streets wanted it.

  Black continued, “Grab the keys, I want you to drive.”

  “I got ‘em already, yo,” Stink announced.

  Stink was glad his brother was taking him with him to meet his dope connection. He didn’t care if he had to drive to California to meet him, just as long as he was in the presence of his brother. As it stood they were just driving a few hours away to Maryland’s eastern shore. Stink felt good about playing a major role in his brother’s drug operation. Previously, before Black went to prison, he felt his brother was too young to participate in his illegal activities. His mother would kill him if she found out that Black had corrupted his little brother. But while he was away, Stink had dove head first into the street life. Now it was only right that Black took him under his wing and showed him the ropes.

  “When we get back from down the Eastern Shore, we gone put that shit up and go see about them niggas you been hollerin’ about. Them corner boys who want some work,” Black said.

  “Okay yo,” Stink replied. “I got everything all set up already. They waitin’ on you.”

  By late afternoon, Black and Stink had arrived back into Baltimore. After putting a kilo of pure heroin up for safekeeping, they jumped back into the car and headed to 21st and Barclay, in East Baltimore. This was a gritty, drug-infested neighborhood with more than it’s fair share of open-air drug markets. This was exactly what Black had been looking for.

  When Black’s black Mercedes Benz pulled into the block with Stink at the wheel, it drew stares. As usual, there was a makeshift dice game going on. But upon seeing Stink driving the car, the game suddenly came to a halt. One young hustler made his way over to the vehicle.

  “Stink, what’s up yo?” he said, sticking his face halfway into the window.

  “What up Rudy,” Stink greeted as they shook hands.

  In the passenger seat, Black was his usual strong, silent self, communicating non-verbally, speaking only when he was spoken to.

  The kid continued, “And you must be Black. I heard so much about you growin’ up. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  Rudy leaned into the car and extended his hand. Black took his hand while looking him square in the eyes, and gave him a firm handshake. Black was big on giving handshakes and first impressions. He wanted to set the tone early that he wasn’t a joke.

  “Hope y’all niggas don’t hustle the same way y’all shoot dice,” Black said, releasing his grip.

  He started to say something else, but he closed his mouth. He wanted to lecture the kid on the do’s and don’ts of running a heroin operation; what his years in the game had taught him. He wanted to tell him how the drug game was changing, the strides that law enforcement was making and how they needed to take preventive measures to assure that they had a long run. However, right now wasn’t the time for all of that. These were his brother’s peoples and anything he had to say, he would tell Stink and let him relay the message to them. Everything would be done thr
ough Stink. He didn’t know these dudes well enough to trust them.

  “Nah yo, we just fuckin’ around right now. We ain’t got no work,” the kid explained.

  Stink interrupted, “Well, this ya lucky day yo.”

  Immediately the kid’s face lit up, he was excited about the prospect of working for Black.

  “I’ma come holler at you tomorrow. Early yo,” Stink promised. “Have all ya niggas out here. We bout to open this strip up, bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  Black didn’t say another word, it wasn’t his place. Instead, he did like his brother had done. He offered his goodbyes as they drove off. Black knew that they had a long night of cutting and bagging up dope. It was a necessary evil that they had to perform if they wanted to open up shop tomorrow.

  “Stink, you gonna be runnin’ shit out here,” Black told his brother. “You gotta be smart though. You gotta pay attention to everything and always be aware of your surroundings.”

  “Don’t worry, yo,” Stink said. “I got this. You gone seen how thorough I am, Black. Watch!”

  Black didn’t say another word, he chose to stay quiet as he mulled over the long night ahead of them.

  12

  The next day, Netta’s morning began with a parade of doctors and nurses visits. She was subjected to a physical examination and lots of medical terminology. Under the circumstances, Netta often felt like they were talking about her rather than talking to her. During these conversations about her physical welfare, Netta’s mind tended to drift to life outside her hospital room. She had spent most of the night mulling over the idea, so she didn’t have a hard time picturing herself leaving the hospital. Not that she’d tell her doctors that. Still, it was a thought, one that was cause for alarm in her battered condition.

  Black’s unpredictable nature would ultimately factor heavily into her decision. Her fears were beginning to get the best of her.

  By the time Tone arrived at the hospital later that morning, Netta was lost in her thoughts, seriously weighing her medical options. His presence was a welcomed distraction.

  “Yo, what’s up?” Tone announced as he entered the room.

  Almost instantly he took notice of her somber mood. Netta’s facial expression was easy to read. Her face was full of frustration. Her emotional state wouldn’t change anytime soon, since she had been contemplating the same thoughts all morning over and over again. However, Tone did his best to cheer her up.

  He continued, “Why you look so sad?”

  “I wanna go home,” she replied.

  “What the doctors say?” he asked.

  “I don’t give a damn what the doctors say!” Netta insisted. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Damn, it’s like that?” he said.

  “Yup. I’m gettin’ tired of this shit,” she announced.

  “Aiight, I guess you gotta do what you gotta do,” Tone commented. “Just keep me posted.”

  “Oh, you’ll be the first to know, Tone. Trust me on that,” Netta answered.

  Tone smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. “Anyway, I gotta surprise for you this morning. Hopefully this will cheer you up. Yo, Aja, come in,” he yelled out.

  “Who you inviting into my room yo?” Netta asked as she suddenly became self- conscious about her appearance.

  “Chill, don’t worry about it. I got you,” he said.

  “Chill my ass!” Netta snapped. “What type of games is you playin’ yo? I don’t want nobody to see me like this.”

  An innocent looking teenage female, short, dark skinned with braces, enters the room with a black knapsack on her back.

  “Who you?” Netta snapped.

  “I’m Aja,” she replied meekly.

  “Yeah, this is Aja. Aja that’s Netta. I bought her here to braid ya hair. Thank me later,” he told her.

  Tone knew better than to bring an older chick to Netta’s hospital room, out of fear they just might recognize her.

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do wit’ you boy.” She smiled, thinking this was so sweet and thoughtful. “But thank you. I didn’t know how much longer I could have kept wearing this damn scarf on my head.”

  Tone was glad Netta was receptive to his idea, that she didn’t take offense to him bringing someone to her hospital room to braid her hair. He knew if Netta was anything like most black women, then she was funny about her hair. Anyone couldn’t just do a black woman’s hair. But under the circumstances, she had to roll with the punches because her hair was a mess and any style that the girl provided would be an upgrade from the way her hair looked now.

  Netta climbed out her bed, and sat down in a nearby chair while her hairstylist positioned herself in back of her. She placed her knapsack on the table and began removing all the things she needed, a comb, a brush, a mirror, some hair gel and a few packs of 32-inch virgin Remy weave. Gently, she parted Netta’s hair straight down the middle. Aja had to be very careful doing this since Netta still had bumps and bruises from the beating. This caused her to be tender headed. From time to time, Netta winced and grimaced, even though Aja was being as gentle as possible and moving at a slower pace.

  The painful twinge that throbbed in Netta’s head turned into a full-blown pain. She ignored it. She had to. Netta decided to grin and bear it. She wanted her hair done in the worst way.

  “Yo, I’ll be back,” Tone suddenly announced, he felt awkward standing there watching the process. “Anybody need anything while I’m gone? Soda? Juice? Bag of chips? Somethin’ to eat?”

  Aja remained quiet. She shook her head as she continued doing Netta’s hair.

  “You could bring me a bag of chips,” Netta suggested. “That’ll hold me over til later. Aja you want somethin’ baby?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied. “I ate before I got here.”

  “Aiight, I’ll be right back,” Tone said, exiting the room.

  While the two females busied themselves with the hair braiding, Tone had more things on his agenda than just going to get refreshments. He also went and got the television and the phone turned on in the room. He paid for it a week in advance, even though he was unsure of how long Netta was going to stay. However long she planned to be there, Tone wanted her to at least be comfortable.

  Sonya sat patiently in the car as she watched Bri approaching. She hoped her friend had some information on the person Tone was going to visit.

  “Busted!” Bri announced, jumping into the driver’s seat. “Got his azz!”

  “Who is he up there seein’?” Sonya asked.

  “Some bitch named Shanetta Jackson,” Bri replied. “You know her? Does that name ring a bell? Huh?”

  “No,” Sonya said somberly.

  Sonya was barely able to look her friend in the eye, not because she was embarrassed, but because she was so mad.

  “How you find out?” she wondered.

  Bri answered, “I went right up to the security guard at the visitation desk a few seconds after Tone and that young girl got on the elevator. I told him my boyfriend just went upstairs, but I didn’t know what room he went to. The security guard gave me the name and room number.”

  She sighed. “Let’s go before I go up there and do somethin’ I regret. Like gettin’ arrested.”

  Bri did as she was told without saying another word. This was Sonya’s situation, so if she wanted to deal with it in this manner, then she had every right to. Bri didn’t want to influence her one way or another. She wouldn’t make any awkward attempts at small talk. Tone’s cheating was the elephant in the room. Bri had done her job, now she was just there for support.

  In Sonya’s mind it was a good time to be alone. She just wanted to go home and bury her head underneath the covers and cry her eyes out.

  The young girl worked quickly and Netta’s braids were done by lunchtime. Netta picked up the mirror and examined herself. Finally, she looked presentable. Putting braids in her hair was always a good idea, but depending on who did them and how they were styled, the end result co
uld be a different story. Fortunately Netta liked her braids. She thought the young girl did a real good job.

  “Thank you, Aja. You really took care of me,” Netta complimented her.

  “You welcome,” the young girl replied.

  Now Netta felt dignified. This was a step in the right direction to getting back to normal. That’s all she craved, a little normalcy after her world had been turned upside down.

  Suddenly, the nurse walked into the room just as Netta was admiring herself. It was time for Netta to take her pain medication.

  “Well, well, good morning ladies,” she spoke as she handed Netta a small cup filled with two pills. “Looks like you have been busy this morning, Shanetta,” Nurse McNeil said. “I like the braids, they really fit you.”

  “Thanks, Nurse McNeil,” Netta remarked while dumping the contents of the cup into her mouth.

  “Here you go,” the nurse said, handing her a cup of water.

  Netta washed the medication down and then handed her back the cup.

  “Do you mind if I take this lunch tray away,” the nurse asked.

  “Be my guest,” she replied as she waved her hand at the bland food. “I wasn’t plannin’ on eatin’ that.”

  “I see,” Nurse McNeil stated, grabbing the tray and exiting the room.

  Simultaneously, as the nurse exited the room, Tone entered. They greeted each other while headed in the opposite direction.

  “That’s more like it,” Tone said, admiring her braids.

  “You tellin’ me,” Netta replied sarcastically. “I feel like a new woman.”

  “Well lemme take Aja home and I’ll be right back,” Tone mentioned.

  By the time she had packed up her things to leave, Netta thanked Aja a million times as she walked out the door. Acting as her escort, Tone drove her back to East Baltimore.