***
After John went and made his money that night once he’d gotten done with Sparkle, he headed home. On his way, he called his mother and asked why she didn’t say anything about Isaac spending the day with her. She laughed, saying that she didn’t have to tell him anything and that she was going to enjoy as much time as she could with her grandson.
John couldn’t deny that his mind was racing with questions after leaving Sparkle’s place. For the first time in a long time, he really didn’t have any self-doubt about what he’d done. Even though he didn’t get to smash Sparkle like he’d wanted to, because he had to go and make enough money to pay his rent for several months, there was still something strangely romantic about her giving him oral sex in the kitchen doorway. John cracked a smile as he thought about the various arguments he’d had with the mother of his child over the years. Was he right for trying to start something with Sparkle? Was this all part of her game and her reasoning to come and stay with him when she has friends and family—plenty—up in Dayton? His mind and viewpoints on things had changed so much not only with Judge’s killing, but also with Sparkle coming to stay with him. The club incident got him to thinking about having the calm, normal life with a baby-mama and kid.
John pulled up in front of his place and immediately felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that he couldn’t explain, but he just was not ready to park in front of his own place. He looked up at it, seeing the house look so dark and menacing. He rolled around the block once more, feeling the hairs rise up on the back of his neck. He parked further down the street and looked down at his house. As he sat there in the dark, looking at his place intently, he noticed something he never thought he’d see in his life: somebody looking out of the curtain in his front room. Since Camron was still getting himself together from the beating and his boy Judge was dead and in the ground, there simply was nobody who could be in his house.
“This some shit that nigga Race is doin’,” John said. He looked around, trying to think of what he could do. When it came to dealing with Race, especially after what went down at Blue Lights, he just couldn’t take any chances. For all he knew, Race could have several guys in the house, waiting to do something terrible to him. “Let me call this nigga Mel real quick.” John was sure his neighbor, who was always home and always watching, might have seen something going on at his place.
“Hello?” Mel answered.
“Yeah, Mel, it’s John,” John said. “I ain’t wake you up or disturb nothin’, did I?”
“Naw, man,” Mel said. “I’m just at home chillin’ and shit like you.”
His face scrunched up as he tried to make sense of what was being said. “What you mean, Mel?” he asked. “You at home chillin’ like me? I ain’t at home.”
“You not?” Mel asked. Judging by the tone in his voice, he was genuinely surprised. “For real?”
“Naw, man,” John asked. “That’s why I’m hittin’ you up, actually. So, it’s funny you mention it. Man, I’m parked down the street and I was wonderin’ if maybe you saw some funny shit goin’ down at my place or somethin’.”
“Man, all this time I thought you were there,” Mel asked. “Swear I did. I mean, ain’t no lights on over there or nothin’, but that still ain’t mean you wasn’t there. I been sittin’ here, chillin’, up in my bedroom, and I saw who I thought was you goin’ in the back door and shit earlier. I ain’t think nothin’ of it ‘cause it was dark and shit.”
John nodded as he talked on the phone to Mel, looking down the block at his own house. Now he knew for sure what was going on: Race was trying to strike again. Luckily, John had seen him, so he had the advantage. Thoughts of Sparkle and Isaac raced through his mind, as he was happy that neither of them were there to possibly become a victim of some sort at the hands of Race.
CHAPTER 12
“Damn, nigga,” Race said to Drew on the phone. “Is you fuckin’ serious? That nigga ain’t there? How long it been since y’all pulled up over there and got inside?”
“Man,” Drew said, hating that he had to call Race with disappointing news. “We got here maybe a hour ago or somethin’ like that. And ain’t no sign of him, man. What the fuck you want us to do, man? I mean, we can’t just sit here all night long or nothin’ like that? For all I know, this nigga don’t even stay here no more. I mean, he gotta know that you gon’ be comin’ back after him.”
Race, who was standing in front of his balcony door, bit his bottom lip. He pulled his eyes off of the cityscape where he’d been gazing for several minutes. He paced around the room. “Man, just don’t worry about it right now, then,” he told Drew. “Fuck, I was hopin’ that nigga would come pullin’ up and walkin’ into his shit like ain’t shit goin’ on and I could get his ass. That fuckin’ video of what happened to me out in the parkin’ lot is out. Man, I shut my Facebook and Gram down and everythin’. I ain’t even talked to no niggas in the hood cause of that shit. If it wasn’t for that white dude you got me on with that makin’ me money and shit, I probably wouldn’t even have no shit.”
“How’s that goin’, man?” Drew asked. “I mean, I know you did that one deal with him already. But ain’t you supposed to be doin’ another?”
“Yeah,” Race said. “The dude is actually on his way over here right now to talk about this deal and make this money. How much longer you think y’all niggas can wait before bouncing? I mean, the longer the better. Shit, if there’s still shit in that house that belong to that nigga, even if he ain’t stayin’ there, then he gon’ have to come back at some point.”
“Yeah, I know,” Drew said. “Shit, when we first got in here and shit, we thought that nigga was gon’ be right back. Race, man, you can tell that this nigga was up in this house earlier and for a while. Shit, he even got a couple pairs of draws on the couch and shit.”
“Okay, well,” Race said, knowing that Doug was going to come knocking at the door at any moment, “chill there for a minute then leave. Just make sure y’all niggas real smooth with it in case some funny shit is goin’ down. Okay? I’ll hit you up in a minute to see what’s up. I know this dude Doug is about to come up in here, so I gotta be cool.”
Race ended the conversation with Drew then spent the next few minutes straightening up until there was a knock at the door. He opened the door and smiled, hugging Doug then having him come inside. Doug, who was middle-aged with a bit of an Italian look to him, shook Race’s hand then sat down on the couch.
“You want something to drink?” Race asked.
“No, actually,” Doug said, “I won’t be here as long as I thought I would. Some things changed on the way over here tonight, Race, and I felt I should just come on anyway and talk to you about them.”
Race, very concerned, sat down on a chair at the other side of the coffee table. “What you mean, Doug?” he asked. He felt his heart starting to beat a little faster; he really needed this money. There was just no way in the world he would be able to go back into some of the worst hoods of Cincy. The video of him being walked around the parking lot, on a leash, like a dog in front of Blue Lights was simply circulating too quickly. And, to make matters even worse, the video clearly showed his face and even some of his more recognizable tattoos. “Shit, I got you what you needed and shit. I even did the shit when you said, so I don’t see where there could even be a problem.”
“Yeah, well,” Doug said. There was something smug about his attitude that Race didn’t like, but he was coming with money so he could only care so much. “The game has changed. It turns out that some of the guys I do business with up in Indy and Chicago and so on wanted to go with somebody a little safer than you, if that makes sense. I convinced them that it would still be a good idea to do some stuff with you, especially down here in Cincy, but that it would only be so good for business.”
“What do you mean somebody that’s safer than me?” Race asked. “What the fuck that shit supposed to mean, Doug? I mean, I keep a low profile and shit…as much as I can. It
ain’t like I got the police on me or nothin’.”
Doug looked as if he really didn’t want to say what was on his mind, but he knew he had to explain it all to make sense. He pulled his phone out and held it out toward Race. “What is that video?”
Race’s heart sank, knowing exactly what video Doug was talking about: the video from in front of Blue Lights. He grabbed the phone, if for nothing else but to appease Doug, and looked at the video. There he was, naked as the day he was born, in front of Blue Lights. This was the first time he’d seen the video; up to this point the only details he knew of it were from people who had actually seen it themselves. He cringed as the video moved along, only handing the phone back to Doug when the leash part came.
“Okay,” Race said. “Some fucked up shit happened to a nigga and I had to do what I had to do so I could fuckin’ stay alive. I fuckin’ had to do that shit. But what the fuck do it have to do with the money that me and you is supposed to be makin’?”
“What the hell do you mean, Race?” Doug asked, standing up. He talked like a businessman explaining a new policy to his staff. “It has everything to do with it. Don’t you see? I’m down here, working with you ‘cause I wanted somebody that wasn’t going to draw a lot of attention. With the kinds of weapons we’re moving, I was already reluctant to even work with a black guy because of how the police would possibly give you problem. But, at least you have some people that you’re connected to that makes it better, at least. Then, today, I’m down at this property I own in the ghetto or whatever you want to call it and these kids are talking about a video, laughing their asses off. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. I was only there to see about some things that needed to be fixed. I was walking by the computer and I saw that tattoo you have on your shoulder and I couldn’t help but to stop and look and I saw that was you. Man, what the fuck happened? This shit is fucking humiliating.” He cracked a smile. “I mean, God. At least you match up with the stereotype, you know, but still.”
Race felt himself getting enraged for many reasons. First and foremost, he hoped to God and the heavens above that John would come walking through the door at his place and find Drew and some friends ready to give him exactly what he deserved. John looked into Doug’s eyes, realizing that this white man had only been using him as long as it worked in his best favor while leaving him—the one who’d actually taken the risks—out to dry. He’d planned on making some money tonight then going over to John’s place and saying a few final words to him before a bullet would take him to the grave.
“Doug, is you fuckin’ serious?” Race asked. “You gon’ fuckin’ stop fuckin’ with a nigga because of that shit?”
“Are you serious, Race?” Doug asked. “You’re probably a fucking laughing stock. If you aren’t already one, then it’s definitely coming. I mean, this shit is bad as fuck and I don’t need any more attention coming my way for some old silly shit like this. How the fuck did this shit happen to you if you’re supposed to be so big and bad? I mean, come on, dude. Whoever the fuck did this to you really embarrassed the shit out of you. Dude, if this was me, I’d have to relocate.”
Race’s nostrils flared at being talked to like a child. He balled his fists at his side, ignoring Doug. Race looked down at the floor for a long moment then back up to Doug. With a fist that felt as if it were made of metal, Race knocked Doug unconscious. The white man went flying back, into the couch then fell down to the floor where his head bumped against the edge of the coffee table. A rogue tear rolled down Race’s face; there was only so much he could take before he snapped. Having this white man talk to him this way was truly the last straw.
“Shut the fuck up talkin’ to me!” Race yelled at Doug’s unconscious body. “Shut the fuck up talkin’ to me like I’m some boy! I did what the fuck I had to do to stay alive and shit. I did what the fuck I had to do!”
Race, with his fists still balled at his side, paced around the middle of his living room. Knowing that he was going to miss out on major money because of the Blue Light incident—the worst birthday of his life—had just pushed him over the edge. His anger for John was so real now that the veins on the sides of his heads were popping out.
Moving with great fury and rage, Race pulled his phone out and called Drew. “I hope this nigga is still at that nigga’s house,” he said to himself. “If I gotta go over there my fuckin’ self and wait on that nigga, then that’s what the fuck I’mma do.”
“Yeah?” Drew answered. In the background, there was the sound of a car door hanging open. “Wassup?”
“Nigga, where you at?” Race asked, doing nothing to hide the tone. “You still at that nigga John’s place, waitin’, or what?”
“Naw,” Drew said. “We left like two minutes ago. We up at the gas station down the street from where he stay right now. About to get some gas and head home.”
“Hold up,” Race said, grabbing his car keys. “I got this feelin’ that this nigga is gon’ show back up. Wait till I tell you how he fucked over my money.”
“Fucked over your money?” Drew asked. “Nigga, what the fuck you talkin’ about? You ain’t even seen the nigga in weeks.”
“I know, Drew,” Race said. “Just wait till I get there and I’ll tell you. Go on and fill your tank up. Shit, just chill at the gas station then I can just meet y’all niggas there and we can go from there. I know one thing, though. I’m ready to kill that nigga John. And I don’t give a fuck what I gotta do to get the shit done. I want that nigga dead. Wait for me up at the gas station, nigga. Okay?”
***
Drew hung up with Race and looked over at his boys, who were standing on the other side of the car. They were just climbing back into the car when he told them that Race was on his way. Each of the two guys made a serious face, as they all knew that if Race showed up to be a part of some dirty work, then the situation truly was serious.
Drew checked to see how much money he had then rushed up to the gas station door. He knew it would only be a few minutes before Race came pulling up, and that he probably wasn’t going to want to wait. He stepped into the gas station and up to the line. As he waited for the two people in front of him to be helped, he looked at the girl working behind the counter. If John was a big enough playboy to be caught in bed with Race’s chick, knowing the possible consequences, then what were the chances that he wouldn’t know this chick working up at the gas station? After all, this place was only a few blocks from where he stayed. For all Drew knew, John could have very well been a regular at this place.
When Drew stepped up to the counter and got a feel for the attendant, he got the vibe that she was the kind of girl that probably just wanted some attention from a man and she would open up. He smiled, knowing that his looks, especially now that the bruises from Blue Lights had healed, would carry him a long way with her.
“Hi, how are you?” the attendant asked, clearly having a positive attitude.
“Dang, this night is turnin’ out to be real messed up for me,” Drew said.
“Oh, yeah,” the girl said. “Why? Gas went down, so what are you mad about?” She chuckled.
“Naw, that’s not it,” Drew said, shaking his head as he handed the money over the counter. “I came over here to see my buddy, John, a good friend of mine.” He pulled his phone out and pretended to be looking at his messages. “He text me like a hour ago saying come now. And now I’m a little concerned cause, well, his car is parked outside, but his house is dark. I wondered if somethin’ happened to him or somethin’. I mean, I came from all the way on the otha side of the city to meet with him and now he ain’t there. I mean, it’s just strange. I’m thinkin’ about whether or not I should call the police ‘cause somethin’ might have happened to him.”
“No, no,” the girl said. “I know John. And he ain’t gon’ be the type of dude that wants the police called. I know he cool with this dude on his block named Mel, but I don’t know him like that. I wonder if Sparkle is still stayin’ there.”
�
��Sparkle?” Drew asked. “I forgot all about her.” He knew he had to pretend to know her, even if he’d never heard of her in life. “I don’t have her number either. I think I’mma just call the police.”
“Hold up, hold up,” the attendant said. “Don’t call the police. Trust me, he not gon’ like that. His baby-mama was stayin’ there with they son and she would come in here and we would chop it up and shit. She a real cool chick. You know?”
“Yeah, she is,” Drew said. “She keeps it all the way real.”
“Exactly,” the girl said. “That’s why I like her. Let me think…’Cause I was supposed to be goin’ out with her, but somethin’ happened and she wasn’t free or somethin’. I think it was somethin’ to do with her son, but I don’t know. Let me call her right quick and see what she doin’.”
Drew glanced out at the parking lot as the gas station attendant put the phone up to the side of her face. At first, he didn’t know what he’d do with this girl calling the mother of John’s child, but he quickly figured something out—something that would bring John out into the light so he could pay for what he’d done at Blue Lights. The video was out and circulating. And even though Drew hadn’t watched it himself, he’d heard plenty of people talk about it.
“Sparkle?” the girl said into the phone. “Girl, what you doin’? I got a question. This dude up here that is friends with John and he said that he showed up at his house ‘cause he told him to come like a hour ago or somethin’. He said that John’s car is out there but he ain’t answerin’ and his house dark. Girl, I think this shit is serious because this dude was talkin’ about callin’ the police. But I was like no, don’t do that ‘cause I know John and you know John. He ain’t gon’ be cool with no shit like that. You still stayin’ over there or what?” There was a long pause as she listened to Sparkle’s response.
The Bed You Make: An Urban Hood Drama Page 20