Heartbreak of a Hustler's Wife: A Novel

by Nikki Turner

  He saw Carson tense up as he began to tell the story. “Apparently your daughter’s boyfriend, Fame, robbed three different people who were all connected to me. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you sent them, but I know you didn’t,” he said with a tense smile.

  Des leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He stared at Carson as he kept on with his story.

  “With the help of your daughter, this Fame character dressed up like a broad and robbed the front man of my strip club.”

  “Really?” Des had figured that Desember was into some bullshit but had no idea it was this heavy.

  “According to my people, apparently she was only there to watch his back, but when she thought he was in trouble, she came to her man’s rescue and laid both guys down, tied ’em up and had them scared for their lives. Now that I know her pedigree, they had great reason to be.”

  Des nodded his head. He’d always wanted a son, and with the kind of stunts that Desember had pulled off, she was like the son he never had. Des knew that Carson was a heinous man and his methods of revenge were extreme, and though he wasn’t afraid—he feared no one but God—he really didn’t need a war with Carson at this point in his life. “Let me apologize for my daughter’s actions and—”

  Carson cut him off. “Don’t worry, she’s in no danger. As a favor to you, I’m sparing your daughter’s life. But that favor doesn’t extend to that pussy-ass motherfucker who stole from me.” Carson took a deep breath. “And gangsta to gangsta, you should be able to respect that.”

  “I do.” Des nodded.

  “As if getting away scot-free with my money wasn’t enough, a few days later the son of a bitch was bold enough to come to one of the places where I lay my head and look me in the eye and tell me that he didn’t care about the consequences of stealing from me.” Carson was still pissed that Fame had told him this to his face.

  “Clearly the young fella didn’t know who he was dealing with,” Des suggested. “He couldn’t have known.”

  Carson took a deep breath. “You are right, he didn’t know.”

  “Well, my man, you know everybody wasn’t sat down and given the rules of the game like we were. And it’s up to us—not just as old g’s, but true g’s—to pass the game along.” Des knew he had Carson’s attention. “I don’t know the youngin—never met him before a day in my life—but apparently he got the game fucked up. I don’t know why.”

  “He got it real fucked up,” Carson agreed with Des.

  “But can I make a suggestion?” Des asked.

  “I’ve never stopped you before.”

  “Maybe instead of killing him there are some other drastic measures that could be taken.”

  “Like what?” Carson was hell-bent on killing Fame, but respected Des enough to hear him out.

  “Like I said, I never met the lil homey, but from what you saying he seems good at what he does. So make ’im pay back the money, take him under your wing, show him the game, and he’ll be in debt to you.” Des ran it down like it was common sense. “If he has any kind of morals, he’ll reciprocate it and be loyal to you. From what little I know about my daughter, I don’t think she would be involved with anyone who didn’t have any. But again, intellect and emotions are two different things.”

  “True.”

  Des knew Carson was considering what he said, so he continued. “If the guy has any kind of principles, you got you a lil soldier who feels he owes you his life, and he’ll be loyal. You can use his skills to the best of your advantage.” Des knew that Carson was partially sold. “But the sweetest part is that you’ll find out how he was able to tap into your spots. You’ll discover who is disloyal in your army.”

  “But I tried to kill him. Nobody forgives the man who tried to kill him. This could backfire.”

  “You tried to kill him and your guy missed. It’s taboo for you to try again. There are no mistakes when it comes to divine intervention.” Des noticed that he sounded like the pastor he’d been pretending to be but he kept going. “There is a reason,” Des mentioned, “Fame is alive after your guy unloaded a clip in him. Also, he knows now that you can touch him anytime you want to, but you haven’t. You know there comes a point in this life for niggas like us who have been through the fire branded by the game that we have to give back.” Des shrugged. “It’s the law of physics: you can’t give shit to the universe and expect sugar back. You have to sometimes give sugar to keep your flow of sugar coming.”

  Carson grabbed the check off the table and peeled off a few bills to take care of it. “You definitely paid for the meal with your food for thought, so I’ll pay for the food.”

  “I appreciate it, man. I gotta get back to my war zone before something else erupts,” Des said, getting up from the table.

  “So one favor deserves the next: I spared Desember and now you have to be the mediator between this Fame and me.”

  “Give me some time.” Des chuckled as he wondered what in the hell else didn’t he know about his daughter.

  The Bombshell

  Des walked away from the meeting with Carson feeling optimistic and was thinking that he couldn’t wait to get home to see his daughters, but mainly his wife. He made a mental note that he had to start sending Yarni flowers, but more, he had to stop taking their quality time together for granted. His thoughts prompted him to call Yarni as he walked to his car.

  When she answered, he started singing, “I Just Called to Say I Love You,” by Stevie Wonder.

  He could feel her smile through the phone, and knew she was about to join in with him, when she received another call and said it was probably the news she had been waiting on. “Hold on real quick, baby, let me see why Layla is calling after hours. Give me one second to make sure she is all right.”

  Layla asked if Yarni was sitting down. After Yarni assured her that she was, her assistant dropped a bombshell on her: she had the name of the person who received the call from Roxanne’s cell phone.

  Yarni was dumbfounded by what she heard and wondered why she hadn’t put two and two together herself. She couldn’t click back over to the other line fast enough to tell Des what she’d discovered.

  “Babe,” she said to Des, “you ain’t gonna believe this shit.”

  “You ain’t gonna believe this either,” he said into his Bluetooth. “I’m surrounded by the Feds!”

  That was the last thing she heard him say before the phone went dead.

  The Feds

  It didn’t matter if they were from the DEA, FBI, ATF or IRS; Des hated all the alphabet boys with a passion. In his opinion they were arrogant and overrated. They loved to throw around the fact that they had a ninety percent plus conviction rate, but failed to mention that they wouldn’t know jackshit if it wasn’t for cowardly, cheese-eating rats telling on anybody to save their own ass.

  “You’ve done quite well for yourself, Mr. Desmond Taylor,” said Barnes, the agent who appeared to be in charge. He was tall and gaunt, wearing a cheap gray suit and loafers with rubber soles that squeaked. Des counted six Feds. He recognized four of them—they’d been inside of his gym when he was working out.

  “Shit!” Des cursed, disappointed in himself for not penning the spooks earlier. “If you don’t mind taking that bullshit off of my phone, I’d like to call my lawyer,” Des politely stated. They used some kind of device to shut off the connection to Des’s cell phone.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Taylor, or can I call you Des?” Agent Barnes asked. “This isn’t that type of confrontation. You are not under arrest and we are not here to take you away.”

  Des remained silent, deciding to listen rather than talk.

  “We’ve had you under investigation for the last eighteen months. And I can tell you one thing,” the Fed said as if he was an admirer of Des, “you are one smooth customer. That bogus church you are running is perfectly legal and was an ingenious idea for washing your dirty money. Nothing new, but brilliant all the same.” He nodded as if he was congr
atulating Des, but Des wasn’t falling for it.

  He told the agent straight-up, “If it’s all right with you, I can do without the smoke being blown up my ass. If you got something to say, go ahead and say it.”

  “As I was saying,” Agent Barnes continued, unfazed by the interruption, “you’re good at what you do. We know you are still dirty but no one is willing to finger you—at least not on the stand. But it’s only a matter of time. Unless …”

  “I guess that’s my cue,” Des said. “Okay, I’ll play along. Unless what?”

  Agent Barnes beamed a wide, arrogant smile. “During our surveillance of you we discovered that Detective Columbo of the RPD has gone completely rogue: murder, drugs, prostitution, extortion—we want him off the street, but we don’t have enough physical evidence to get a conviction.”

  “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “If you take the stand and say that Chris Weathers, also known as Cook’em-up, told you that Columbo paid him and supplied him with the weaponry to try to kill you, then rob your church and shoot your homeboy Tony, we may be convinced to turn a blind eye to you as long as you stay away from the violent stuff.”

  This was almost too much information to digest at one time, Des thought. He could stick it to a cop that had been a pain in the ass since he made his first “big eight” sale, and get a free pass from the Feds. All he had to do was flush everything he stood for down the toilet.

  He looked at the agent and he could read that Barnes was sure he had Des cornered.

  “Agent Barnes,” the Fed was all ears, “that’s a mighty compelling offer,” he said.

  “Isn’t it? I think it is the deal of a lifetime.” Agent Barnes obviously figured he had Des exactly where he wanted him.

  Des nodded with a smile. “For a chump. And Joyce Taylor didn’t raise no chumps or snitches. Pig or rat, snitching is snitching.”

  Agent Barnes shook his head. “There won’t be another offer.”

  Des knew that they would come after him even more than before, but what could he do? He had his rules and they had theirs.

  “Good,” he said. “Then I guess this lil ambush meeting is over?”

  Agent Barnes replied, “For now.”

  A Girl’s Gotta Do

  After calling Des’s attorney right away to give him a heads-up, Yarni’s mind began to run wild as she drove down the highway replaying her brief conversation with Des and the confrontation with Cook’em-up in her head and as she thought about the reality of the situation.

  She wanted to call Bambi, but at that moment everyone was suspect. Even her trust for her sister was in question, because Bambi was married to Lynx, and Cook’em-up was Lynx’s right-hand man, Bambi and Lynx were broke, and Yarni knew that Lynx had asked Des for a drug connect, but Des had put it on the back burner. She wondered if Lynx and Cook’em-up were in cahoots together. And if Bambi knew anything. For as long as Yarni knew her, Bambi hadn’t dated anyone other than Lynx, and they did have a child together. Yes, Yarni and Bambi had the same father, but what did that mean really? They hadn’t grown up together, and had only found out they were sisters a few years ago. Their relationship was more like best friends than sisters, and she hated that she had to raise the question of who Bambi would be more loyal to: her husband or her sister.

  Yarni’s thoughts were interrupted by Tupac’s “Dear Momma” ring tone. It was her mother. Even though she was caught up in her own drama, she needed to make sure that Gloria was okay and that she wasn’t a target of any of this ongoing madness too. That was the last thing her mother needed. Though tears rolled down her face, Yarni tried to keep her pain out of her voice so her mother wouldn’t notice. “Hey, Ma, what’s up?”

  “Oh nothing much,” her mother said, sounding as if she was in high spirits.

  “Aren’t we in a good mood today.”

  “Yes, I am. I have a quick question for you. Do you know of or could you find me a good divorce attorney here in Florida?”

  “Mom, why don’t you wait until you are finished with your radiation? Is Sam still showing his butt?”

  “No, he isn’t. Actually, he’s been on his best behavior around here, waiting on me hand and foot. But it’s just the thought that he’d cheat on me, period, while I have cancer. That put the nail in the coffin.

  “You know I’m on all kinds of meds and they have side effects. And God forbid I wake up one day and have a flashback and kill his ass. So I’m going to be the bigger person and get this no-good son of a bitch out of my life the easy way so I don’t have to give him a first-class ticket to Hell.”

  Yarni admired how strong her mother was even as she fought cancer, and knew that’s the type of person her mother had raised her to be. “Mommy, you make me so proud.”

  “You think just because I’m sick I’m going to let a man treat me any kind of way? I don’t need him to feel any pity on me. Please, chile, under the most harsh circumstances and through the most intense heartache and pain, I always taught you that a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And guess what? I’m going to do what I have to do.”

  “That’s right, Mommy!” Yarni smiled. Even though her mother didn’t call her intending to give her the power that she needed at that very moment in her own life, that is just what she’d done. Her mother somehow always knew the right words to say to Yarni, exactly when she needed to hear them. Yarni was convinced that Gloria was more than her mother. She was her guardian angel.

  “I will have to do some research for you, but give me a couple of days to find you the perfect lawyer. I’ll check on you later.”

  As soon as she disconnected, the words “a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do” reverberated through her head. She was already en route to meet Des at home. She would explain everything to him in person.

  Yarni knew that all eyes were on Des, and for the sake of her family she had to take the matter into her own hands. She grabbed her cell phone, called the only two people other than her mother and Des she knew with all her heart and soul she could trust with her life: her uncle Stanka and her father. She arranged to meet with them. Her next call was to Joyce.

  “Shit is too complicated to explain. Just listen to me. Go get Desi from school and watch after her ’til you hear from me or Des.”

  Joyce didn’t like being left out of the loop but she agreed.

  Yarni filled Stanka and her father in on what Cook’em-up said and they knew that Yarni was serious. She wasn’t one to ever cry wolf. They assured her that they were on top of it.

  Yarni just hoped and prayed that it wasn’t too late.

  Gut Feeling

  When Des finally arrived home, he poured himself a stiff drink. He heard something behind him and turned around.

  “Oh Dad, it’s you,” Desember said, relieved as she held a gun by her side. It still felt strange; her calling him Dad and him answering to it.

  “Put that shit away. What the fuck you doing with a gun?” he asked.

  “Relax, I know how to use it. Fame showed me so I’ve been thoroughly trained.”

  Des was about to ask if she thought she was Ms. Rambo or something but Desember kept talking.

  “And besides, Yarni called frantic and said stuff was serious and for me to stay here and if I heard anything to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Des reached for the house phone to try to call Yarni. “How long ago has it been since you spoke with her?” Once the Feds had let him go he’d thrown his cell phone in the river.

  “About an hour.”

  Yarni answered, relieved, and told him to stay put, that shit had hit the fan and she was on her way home. When he disconnected from her, Des paced the floor.

  “Where were you, Des?” she asked.

  “Saving your life and trying to negotiate a cost for your knucklehead boyfriend’s life.”

  “What are you talking about?” Desember asked.

  “You disobeyed everybody: me, your mother, your stepmother, even your boyf
riend when you and Lava went back to North Carolina.”

  “Lava had nothing to do with it,” she said. “She was there to watch my back.”

  “Well, she didn’t do a good job because as soon as you got to the hospital, you were followed back here, and the man that was responsible for Fame’s shooting did some research and connected the dots that I was your father. The man, the one Fame robbed, happens to be a good friend of mine.”

  Desember’s face brightened up. “Well, since this person is your friend, can Fame just pay him back the money that he owes him and promise never to rob anyone else again?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Des told his daughter. “Plus it’s in him. You know he can’t stop robbing.”

  “He can. People change,” she said with a straight face. She knew Des was a smart man, and she was trying to say whatever she could to persuade her father to help keep Fame alive.

  “Look, don’t bullshit your father,” Des told her.

  “But I really think he’s learned his lesson. Please help!” she pleaded.

  Des was quiet. This was not the life that he had in mind for any daughter of his. He never wanted his daughter to be with a robber and a thief, but he knew he couldn’t control who his daughter loved. As he thought deeper from a father’s perspective, to really shield his daughter from all the heartbreaks of being a hustler’s wife, he should go kill Fame himself.

  He was torn: should he take Fame under his wing, and raise and watch over him the way he wished he would have raised Nasir? Maybe taking on Fame would fill the guilty void of how he’d turned his nephew on to his friend and Colombian drug connection Rico, which ultimately cost Nasir his life. It was definitely something to think about.

  “Dad, if you do this for me, I will be forever grateful. And I will do anything you say.” She tried to bribe him.

  “Is that right?”

  “I swear.”

  “Relax, I’m already trying to work out the details.”