“He said you were dead."
Yolanda wiped her tears. Approaching, she chimed in. "We need to sit down and think."
Angel eyed her aggressively. "What does any of this have to do with you?"
“I’m not sure.” Yolanda relayed the gist of why she was half-naked inside their apartment. Overwhelmed, she spoke about witnessing Honey's murder and the ski-masked, shotgun-wielding intruders.
KT hugged her. "We gonna make this right for... I put that on everything I love. I swear, we gonna make this right... for everyone."
Angel hugged Yolanda as well. "Sorry about your friend."
KT, awash by a sudden realization, slung their ruined middle sectional sofa section aside. He detached the floorboard. Retrieving two cash cluttered bookbags, he still had his life savings.
Yolanda broke the brief silence. "How would this Pierre clown know where to hit me? Why would he even come after me? And suppose he was here messing with you, Angel. In that case, he definitely couldn't have been inside my place murdering Honey and stealing my money. Not to mention, I don't know anyone who goes by Pierre, but one of those fuckers wearing masks looked familiar. I just can’t place it. Not yet anyway."
“Pierre was here. I'll never forget that bastard." Angel spat disgustedly. "Murdering somebody isn't like him in the least."
KT asked. "What type of dude is he?"
“He always has flunkies do his dirty work. He one of those who throw a rock and hide his hand types. That's why this doesn't make any sense." Angel eyed her fiancé intensely. "Where were you? I kept calling, but your phone kept going to voice mail."
KT held up his dead phone. "I was making a couple of drops when the battery went dead. Forgot my damn charger." He fabricated. "Either I was dropping work off or in the stash spot getting ready to. I took somebody something out, Ingleside. That's when I saw what Yolanda was going through."
“Pierre took my phone and said he'll be in touch. He swore you were somewhere chasing pussy."
Mentally, Yolanda connected the dots from what was just relayed to what KT said led to his rescuing her. "Say this, Pierre isn't the one who murdered Honey or set it up. Who would want me out of the way?"
"Who else but Insane Gangsta Crip. The OG-loc know how we rock. They body me; first, that'll spark a war against you.” KT surmised. “With all yo connections and resources, they wouldn't know who to shoot at. But bodying you first, that'll leave Dynamo and me against that whole Crip sect. Hitting you first makes sense."
Yolanda disagreed. "Ski-Beau, a businessman. His beef with you and Dynamo never involved me. He understood I would never pick sides. At least that’s what I made sure he believed."
"This whole time, yo ass has been supplying the muthafuckas who tried to body Dynamo and me!"
“My business with IGC involves boosting and credit fraud. Ski-Beau sends his loc bitches to scope out targets. My bitches create the diversion, and the best bitches on both sides do the boosting. We split the proceeds 55/45 because the fence my connect." Yolanda explained. "Because of our business relationship, I was able to get him and Meatball to attend the house party. Despite the pipeline I was giving up, I did it so you could handle your business. To this day, he doesn't suspect my involvement in that drive-by."
Angel asked. "What if something happened to Dynamo?"
“I thought the same thing." KT returned. "But it’s not like we can go back out Ingleside to check on him. Fam doesn't do phones, so we gotta wait to hear from him."
“So he just out there on his own?”
“What else can I do? If he was out Ingleside when Yolanda got hit, he in the wind until the dust settles. If he wasn’t out there, he safe. At least for now... I hope.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s a hermit. I don’t even know where he lives. I know where he posts up. Other than that, Dynamo hit me on his own time. Especially since he’s been trapping doe-low.”
Yolanda chimed in. "Check your voice mail to see if he called."
KT replaced his dead phone battery. Checking his voice mail, he said. "Nothing."
“By now, he has to know something happened. That Pierre guy doesn't seem to know who Dynamo is. So, why hasn’t he checked on you?"
KT watching Angel head upstairs, plop down on the ruined sectional sofa arm. Defeated, he sighed dejectedly. "I can deal with the break-in. I can even handle this Pierre cat using Terri to try and lay me down... but he went after Angel. He went after my fiancée. What type of sick shit is that?"
Yolanda returned the hug. "Don't put too much emphasis on what he did. It’s done, and she's safe. Concentrate on the next move because right now, that's all we have."
Angel came back downstairs and gave Yolanda a change of clothes. "These should fit you."
Yolanda quickly dressed.
Someone began knocking at the front door. KT peering through the peephole, frantically gestured towards the two cash-filled bookbags. Once Angel stashed both back inside the secret wall compartment, he reattached the floorboard. The sectional sofa back in place, he KT opened the front door.
Detective Swanson rushed inside, followed by four uniformed police officers. He afforded the ruined apartment a glance then stepped to his primary target. "Let’s go." Once the officers led Yolanda from the apartment, Detective Swanson eyed KT. "I'll be back for you."
Angel closed the front door. Taking a seat alongside her disheartened fiancé, she grabbed his hands. Her forehead against his, she said. "All this can be replaced. But if I ever lose you, I lose me."
KT kissed her. "Ma, I love you so much."
Angel looked away. Her chin led back towards his; she wept. "He grabbed me... down there and made me kiss him. I swear, I didn’t have a choice. He had a gun to me."
KT’s blood boiling, he didn’t notice his tears. Yet, he spoke with an air of serenity. "Beautiful... I need to know everything you know about Pierre."
The chain reaction of evil...hate begetting hate,
wars producing more wars.
-Martin Luther King Jr. 1963
CHAPTER 27
The first casualty when war comes is truth
-Hiram Johnson 1866-1945
Trice Terrace
Ingleside Apartments, Norfolk
8:08 am the following morning
For the last twenty minutes, Yolanda stood outside of her crime scene taped-off residence. She decided to walk into the Ingleside Apartments. Onto Trice Terrace, Yolanda made her way into the appropriate courtyard. Approaching her destination, she tensed from the front door swinging open. Taken aback by the emerging figure, Yolanda blasted. "What the hell!"
KT holding the screen door open, ushered her inside Candace’s apartment. The walls were barren. Yolanda, befuddled by the empty apartment, asked. "He never did get in contact with you, did he?"
KT shook his head. "Candance being in the wind, don't add up. This where ace was damn near living. So, if something happened, it happened to both of em."
Yolanda went into the kitchen and looked inside the refrigerator. Chuckling at a mangled box of cornmeal, she quipped. "Coke-head bitch even took all the grub. If they had to leave in a hurry, there would be food left behind. This looks like it was planned."
"I'm trying to think if Candace ever said anything about finding another place. Cause I know fam was looking to upgrade. So, they could’ve just moved."
“Question is... why we now just finding out?” Yolanda led KT back outside. She relayed the gist of her nine-hour police interrogation.
She confessed to having an intimate relationship with the murdered homeowner, Dana ‘Honey’ Wales. Ballistic evidence of buckshot pellets and 380 caliber shell casings recovered from inside the residence turned crime scene. More importantly, the single thumbprint recovered from a matching, unfired 380 caliber round.
Yolanda didn’t confirm the make of the dark sedan she was alleged to have climbed into. She also refuted allegations of a man firing rounds at several masked gunmen in her def
ense. However, Yolanda did admit to firing rounds at the four or five home invaders in self-defense. In doing so, she confessed to killing the masked shotgunner found inside the residence turned crime scene alongside the dismembered Honey.
Detective Swanson requested the 380-caliber handgun. Yolanda denied any knowledge of its whereabouts. As such, she was charged with obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, and possession of marijuana. Courtesy of the half-smoked blunt authorities recovered from the dinner table. She was given a summons for all the misdemeanor charges. Once the investigation was complete, Norfolk's Commonwealth's Attorney would make a final determination on whether to submit additional charges. Likely to include first or second-degree murder and related firearm charges.
KT, standing on the Trice Terrace sidewalk, asked. "How the fuck did Swanson even know where I stayed? Or that you would be there."
“Never came up. But let’s assume he always knew. That means he knows more than we think. So, we need to be careful." Yolanda warned him.
“What about the cat you bodied?"
"Detective Swanson identified him as Herman Philips."
The passenger door to a nearby silver Cadillac CTS swung open. Ski Beau, aided by his walking cane, approached. "Detectives came through asking if anyone knew a Herman Philips."
KT snapped. "Yo ass been listening the whole fucking time!"
"I heard ya call cuz name."
Yolanda interjected. "What you tell Poe-9?"
“Won't anything to tell. But I do know pimping."
KT stood so close, the ailing Insane Gangsta Crip OG-loc could his rage. "Keep thinking I'on know you sent locs to twist my cabbage. I'll twist yours right here."
“Our problems don't compare to what's going down now."
Yolanda interjected. "KT, he's right. Whatever problems anyone had before yesterday need to be settled right now... Now, Ski-Beau, obviously, you playing the card you feel can be the most profitable."
“Word on my IGC stripes, my locs looking for peace. I think Meatball death squares whatever ya think IGC did." Ski-Beau laid forth. "Put ya word on ya wanting peace between us, so we can do this business right here."
Reluctantly, KT gave his word. “Now, what this info you got?”
"Herman Philips real good folks witta dude ya might wanna know bout."
Yolanda blasted. "Stop spoon-feeding us and just spit it out!"
"Fifty stacks."
KT spat. "Fifty thousand. Who the fuck you trying to extort!"
Yolanda accepted the terms. "Ski-Beau, you'll get it when I'm sure what you say is the truth."
"Since we gotta deal, not only will I tell ya who Herman Philips politic wit. To prove I want our beef over, I'll gift wrap em for ya. That's how much I know bout cuz. That way, you get whatever info you need directly from the source."
"A name, dammit."
“Tech."
KT, utterly flabbergast suddenly remembered, Herman Philips. "They call him Herc cause he is known for strong-arm robbing dudes on some Hercules shit. Slamming dudes on their necks, knocking em out cold. He one of the types scared cats throw at bread so he won't rob em. Then he comes back and does it anyway."
Befuddled, Yolanda asked. "So, who is Tech?"
Ski-Beau replied. "He used to whip a crème Navi. And we all know who whipping one now."
Yolanda gave Ski-beau her new cellphone number. "The only thing I want to hear from you is where we need to meet to exchange gifts." She watched him struggle to climb back inside the Cadillac CTS passenger seat. Once an unfamiliar female driver drove the gang leader away, she eyed KT heatedly. "You need to either choose a side or step aside. Because I don't want to hear one word about what shouldn't happen or how it’s all a misunderstanding. Is that clear?"
KT snickered. "After all we been through, you talk to me like that. I would've never asked you to choose cause I thought I already knew who you stood beside no matter what."
"He's your__."
“And yo ass not." He angrily challenged her. "Everybody out here knows going after you, going after me. I thought that went both ways. Guess my logic was off.”
“Point made.”
“I’m with whatever you trying to do, but we need to make sure. It can’t be any doubt. Cause that bitch ass Ski-Beau been trying to drive a wedge from the very beginning.” KT laid forth. “No way we can take his word, flag or no flag. Real talk, we need to be one hundred percent sure.”
Yolanda gazed into the brilliant, early morning sun. A single twelve-gauge shotgun blast changed everything. All she held dear was devoured by death & destruction.
Though Yolanda wept, there were no tears. "It’s time I consider doing something different. A different life, in a different city... Charlotte, North Carolina, maybe. Where doesn't matter. Once this thing is taken care of, I'm taking Maxine, and Samantha, if she wants to go, and I'm leaving for good.”
“Damn, you serious about packing up the fort. What about me?" KT challenged.
“I was hoping you would bring Angel along. That way, at least you wouldn't have to cross state lines to steal Maxine from me."
They appreciated a much-needed chuckle.
KT took his psychologically overwhelmed friend into his arms and said. "This home for me. Always was, always will be."
“For what it’s worth, it has been good to us. But we took losses we'll never recoup. Guns, Kush, coke, boosting, credit cards... I got enough money stashed away working every grind in the field. Because I'ma sexy woman, guys fail to see me as a serious hustler. All they see is my looks." Yolanda lectured. "It was easy to move without stickup kids getting bright ideas. Help the shot-callers earn a little side cash. They always clear the way for me to rake in the real bread and never think they might be getting played."
KT exhaled exhaustingly. "You are serious about doing something else?"
Yolanda led him towards the Trice Terrace/Gatling Avenue intersection. "This life still be around long after we're dead and gone. A legit grind goes bottoms up. We can always come back and recoup our losses."
KT felt his pocket vibrating. He answered the phone. After a two-minute conversation, he put his cellphone away and said. "That was Maxine."
Yolanda sulked. "I'm waiting for the right time to run everything down to her." She held her Chevy Camaro driver's door open. "KT, you have always been the only man I've ever trusted without question. I'm sorry I forgot that. But as soon as I can put Honey's death in my rearview mirror, that's where everything about this life going."
∗
Motel 6
Military Hwy, Norfolk
11 am Later same morning
KT drove his Oldsmobile Ciera into the Motel 6 parking lot. At the rear of the establishment, he placed a ten-second call. His 9mm Ruger P89 on his lap, he scanned the near-empty parking lot. Certain no one was lying in wait, he pulled his vehicle alongside the walkway.
Two minutes later, the door to suite 208 slowly opened. A curvaceous, dark chocolate beauty emerged. Nervously, she scurried over to the Oldsmobile Ciera. Slithering into the passenger seat, she froze against the handgun trained on her midsection. "Please don't tell__.”
"Just get yo larceny hearted ass in." KT’s raised hand silencing her reply, he raced away from the Motel 6 establishment.
∗
Norfolk Airport Hilton Hotel
Military Highway, Norfolk
30 minutes later
KT, weaving through the late morning commuter traffic, abruptly turned into a residential neighborhood. Only to quickly get back onto the multi-laned Military Highway. Confident he wasn't being followed, he pulled into the Norfolk Airport Hilton Hotel parking garage. In complete silence, he led the unsettled woman through the hotel lobby to his suite 118.
KT ushered her inside. Pressed against the closed door, though his brain screamed for him to pry the arms from around his neck, the softness of the woman rendered his limbs non-responsive. His blood simmering, his lips were overtaken by her plump, luscious own. He was
held captive by her tongue pirouetting against his own. Her small, soft hand massaged his crotch. KT, fast approaching the nirvana enthused point of no return, shoved her aside and said. "Sit yo ass down."
Terri stepped back in front of him. "Or what?"
KT tossed his leather jacket aside and drew his handgun. "Shooting you a make too much noise. But I can make yo ass wish I had."
Terri sat on the king-size bed. She spread her legs. Her elbows pressing into the mattress, Terri focused her energy between her thighs. Relishing the way, KT couldn't help leering her pulsating crotch, she purred. "You could've come inside my motel room. Nobody was hiding."
KT, seated at the table, removed his handgun’s magazine clip. He removed the chambered round then braced a chair underneath the doorknob. He studied the larceny-hearted Terri. Her short, dark hair was styled. Her makeup hid evidence of last night's madness. KT, pulling her from the bed to her feet, squeezed her cheeks. She didn’t wince.
Starting at Terri’s neck, KT ran his hands across her shoulders. Armpits. Oblique. He palmed her breasts; caressed her back and waistline. He kneeled. Palming her buttocks, he ran his hands between her thighs, down to her calves, then said. "Sit back down."
Terri exhaled. "The way you just did that, I need to get naked."
“I didn't bring yo ass here to get some pussy."
“You want answers... then some pussy." Her smile filling the hotel suite, she kneeled. Unbuckling KT’s jeans, she freed his manhood. Her lips grazing his mushrooming helmet, she licked his scrotum. She slowly stroked his engorged, warmblood swollen shaft. Terri, taking him into her mouth, savored his throbbing masculinity stuffing her jaws.,
KT, pushing her away, spat. "After what yo ass did, you gotta be joking."
“Come on, KT, I think I owe you at least head whenever you need it. And you need it.”
"I need answers, and yo ass gonna give 'em to me. Now, why you sneak away from Maxine’s?"
“You know why."
“So yo sheisty ass went back to him?"
Terri dropped her head. She took her seat on the bed. "I have nowhere else to go.”
One Hustler's World Page 26