by Teri Woods
Letoya leaned back in her seat and thought about what they were asking of her. The money was illegal proceeds from the sale of narcotics. And it did belong to a dead drug dealer. And nobody would really miss it, because nobody even knew that it existed. Nobody except for this drug dealer’s mother, or his widow, and neither one of them deserved to keep that money. They couldn’t go to the police and say hey, the police stole my illegal drug money, could they? And she and her brother detectives did lay it on the line each and every day for nothing. Hell, her lights came close to getting cut off last month! They could take that money and pay off their bills, and use the rest of it to help get things done. They could use it as flash money, or buy money, without having to go to the department and fill out ten thousand request forms. That money could actually be used for some good.
“Letoya, are you in?” Dickie Davis asked.
Letoya Ellington looked at her partner’s face and realized how badly he wanted her to be down with him. She knew that Dickie desperately needed that money. He was the only child of a pair of rapidly aging parents, who had little money and rapidly escalating medical expenses. She couldn’t let her partner down.
“Of course, I’m with you guys,” she declared.
The group leaned in closer around the table and began to speak in hushed tones.
“This doesn’t leave this table, agreed?” Ratzinger declared.
“Agreed,” Detective Cleaver said.
“Agreed.” Dickie Davis nodded.
“Affirmative,” Letoya agreed.
“We lean on the broad, and on the mother, and we find that cash,” Ratzinger whispered. “We get the cash, we threaten whoever had it with prosecution and a long jail term, and we hush them up. We split the cash four ways, and we never speak of it again. And remember, nobody puts the cash in a bank, and nobody splurges on anything crazy. We don’t need Internal Affairs all over our asses. Is that clear?”
“Clear.” Dickie Davis nodded.
“I’m Internal Affairs,” Detective Cleaver told them. “I’ll cover our asses from that end and keep my eyes and ears open.”
“Agreed,” Letoya told them.
“One question,” Dickie Davis said.
“What’s that?” Lieutenant Ratzinger asked.
“What if the mother or the girlfriend or whoever doesn’t want to keep silent after we snatch the money?” Dickie asked.
“Then we silence them,” Cleaver told them. “Are we all in agreement on that? We do this, we go all the way if necessary. Is that clear? We are all in, all the way!”
Detective Davis nodded. He had never shot anyone before. In fact, he had never even fired his gun, not even in the line of duty. And now they were potentially talking about murdering someone for money. He wondered if he had gotten in over his head.
“All in,” Letoya declared.
Lieutenant Ratzinger nodded. “We go all the way, guys. We have to lay somebody down, we do it. No turning back. It’s payday for the good guys.”
“Payday, for the good guys,” Dickie Davis repeated, lifting his glass into the air.
“Payday,” Letoya said, lifting her glass.
“It’s about fucking time,” Detective Cleaver declared, lifting his glass. He would kill for thousands, he thought to himself. For millions, he would bury every fucking nigger in Richard Allen and then bulldoze that motherfucker personally.
HOME SWEET HOME
Gena stepped into the freshly painted apartment and inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of new construction. She didn’t know whether it was the smell of new carpet, the smell of the fresh paint, or the smell of the fresh lumber hiding behind the walls. Whatever it was, it was a smell that she adored.
Gena walked further into the apartment and spun around, taking in the apartment’s many features. The small brass chandelier over the dining area, the massive brick fireplace in the corner of the family room, the nice light eucalyptus-colored wood cabinets in the large kitchen, the sparkling granite countertops, the white-painted crown molding and baseboards throughout the apartment, and the view of downtown were all of the things that her mind was trying to rapidly absorb. Yes, this was definitely it. After days and days of morning sickness and thinking that she merely had some type of stomach virus, Gena had gone to the doctor and learned that she was pregnant. She was excited, or happy, rather, scared and unsure of what to do. She decided to get a three-bedroom instead of a one-bedroom, so if she needed extra space, she’d be prepared.
“The apartment has twenty-two hundred square feet. The master bedroom and the two secondary bedrooms are all upstairs,” the leasing agent told her. “The master has its own bathroom, and the two secondary bedrooms share a bathroom. There is also a half bathroom here on the first floor. The apartment comes with all stainless-steel appliances, including a built-in dishwasher and refrigerator. Of course you have your fireplace, and your bar, and you also have your own utility room.”
“Gena, girl, this place is banging,” Tracey told her.
“You have a nice dining area, and plenty of built-in shelves as well as closet space,” the leasing agent announced. “And security here is first rate. The complex is completely gated, and there is a guard at the entrance, so everyone checks in before being allowed to enter onto the premises—but you know all that already from your tour of the one-bedrooms.”
“Oh, girl, they got security at the gate!” Tracey laughed. “That’ll keep all the bustas out.”
“There is an on-site indoor gym, an indoor and an outdoor swimming pool, two basketball courts, a playground for children, a sand volleyball court, covered parking spaces for the residents, and residents’ clubhouse, complete with seating, a big-screen television, video games, card tables, air hockey table, pool tables, and the works,” the leasing agent told them. “And there is residents’ night on Fridays, when the residents of the complex get together and watch newly released movies in the gathering center.”
“Girl, sounds like we done died and gone to heaven! I wish I could live here.” Tracey laughed.
Gena continued to examine the apartment. She thought about the furnishings that she was ready to have delivered and how nice they would look in the apartment.
“Girl, what are you thinking?” Tracey asked.
“About where to put my aquarium filled with sharks.” Gena smiled.
“An aquarium? Filled with sharks?” Tracey asked.
The leasing agent laughed.
“Sharks?” Tracey asked again.
Gena nodded. “The small ones. The ones that don’t get real big.”
“Let’s go look upstairs, girl!” Tracey said excitedly. “Some damn sharks! Girl, you crazy!”
Gena turned and followed her friend up the stairs into the landing area.
“This area is really large,” the leasing agent pointed out. “It would make a really nice upstairs game room. You could put a nice size television against that wall, and a sofa and love seat over here. You could do this room really nice. And there’s a phone outlet up here, and a cable outlet as well.”
Tracey made her way into the master bedroom. She screamed.
“Girl, what’s the matter?” Gena asked, rushing to see what the deal was.
“Girl, this damn bedroom is bigger than my whole damn apartment!” Tracey told her.
“Bitch, you scared the shit out of me!” Gena told her.
Tracey opened up the master closet. “Girl, this is my bedroom right here. Your closet is my bedroom.”
Gena peeked into the closet. She knew that she was going to have a lot of fun filling that closet up with shoes and clothes.
Tracey rushed to the master bathroom and threw open the double doors. “Girl, there is a Jacuzzi in here big enough for two people!”
Gena smiled. Thoughts of her and Jay snuggling up in the tub made her feel warm inside. She could imagine herself riding him in the tub, until she thought of her new passenger and a big, round, protruding stomach, and the thought of riding Jay somehow seemed
to disappear.
“Girl, I don’t know,” Tracey told her. “This place might be a little too big for you all by yourself!”
“Not really,” Gena told her.
“Girl, what are you going to do with all of this room?” Tracey asked.
“You can turn one of the bedrooms into a study,” the leasing agent suggested.
“I don’t know, it just seems so big for you, Gena. You sure you need all this space? It’s just you living by yourself, remember. Girl, I’d be scared up in this chumpy all by myself.”
“This was nothing compared to the house I lived in with Quadir. Girl, this is a little small for me.”
“You won’t be scared?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“Lonely?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“All right, then, go ahead and do the damn thing, but this place sure is big.”
“Tracey, wouldn’t this room look really nice in pink?” Gena asked.
Slowly she peered around the room. “I guess so . . .”
“I could put the crib on that wall and a dresser here and a changing table over there. What do you think?”
Tracey looked at her friend sideways. “Gena, you pregnant.”
“Am I?”
Tracey gasped. Once the initial shock wore off, she grabbed Gena and began screaming. “You! Oh, my god! Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, my god, Gena, you’re pregnant! We’re going to have a baby!”
Tracey screamed at the top of her lungs. Gena laughed and kept pushing her off.
“Congratulations,” the leasing agent said with a wide smile.
“No wonder you need this great big old place!” Tracey figured. “What did Jay say when he found out?”
“He doesn’t know yet,” Gena confessed.
“He doesn’t know!” Tracey shouted. “Oh, my god, Gena! Why haven’t you told him?”
“I just found out myself,” Gena lied, not sure why she hadn’t said a word. “Besides, I’m not really sure. I took the test, and it came out really light. And then the second one said that I was pregnant. And then the third one said that I was pregnant.”
“Then, bitch, you pregnant!” Tracey told her. “Girl, get your ass to the doctor!”
“I’ma go. I got an appointment with a Dr. Afriye Amerson,” Gena told her.
“You want me to go with you?” Tracey asked.
“You can, if you want to,” Gena said.
“So, when are you going to tell Jay?”
Gena shrugged. “Girl, I don’t know. I guess when I feel like the time is right.”
“You know he gonna be trying to move up in here with you and the baby,” Tracey told her. “See, I didn’t know that you was pregnant. But that changes everything.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Gena declared.
“How many months are you?” Tracey asked.
“Girl, I’m weeks, only a few weeks at that. I just missed my period. But I can feel it already.”
“Then how do you know it’s a girl?” Tracey asked. “You getting me all excited and you don’t even know for sure!”
“Girl, I can feel it,” Gena told her. “I think it’s a girl.”
Tracey put her hands on her hips and eyeballed Gena. She just couldn’t believe it.
“So what do you think?” the leasing agent asked, as she strolled back into the room.
Gena peered around the apartment and nodded. “I like it.”
“How are the schools around here?” Tracey asked.
The leasing agent laughed. “Well, she won’t be worried about that for a while. But just to let you know, I think the school system in this neighborhood is the best. My own son goes to school in this district.”
“How far are you going to be commuting from work?” the agent asked Gena.
Gena shook her head. “I won’t have to commute. I’m self-employed. I’ll be working out of the apartment basically.”
“Oh, really?” The agent smiled. “What do you do?”
“I’m a talent agent,” Gena lied.
“Oh, how interesting!” the agent declared. “Do you represent anyone I know?”
“Probably.” Gena smiled and quickly changed the conversation. “So, what’s the next step here?”
“Well, your credit application was already approved for the one-bedroom, so I’ll just need an additional security deposit and your signature on the lease, and we can take care of that right now, if you like.”
“Okay, then, let’s do it,” Gena said, ready to sign her name on the dotted line as her phone began to ring. She scrambled through her bag and spoke into the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Gena, what’s going down?” Rasun asked.
“Who is this?” Gena asked, not certain who the voice on the other side of the phone belonged to. It sounded familiar, really familiar, but she couldn’t make it out.
“It’s me, Rasun.”
“Hey!” Gena said, becoming animated. “What have you been up to! Wow, it’s been a long time!”
“Yeah, I know,” Rasun told her. “Hey, I really need to talk to you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Gena asked. “What’s up?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it over the phone,” Rasun told her. “Is there any way I can meet you somewhere?”
“Yeah, sure, ” Gena answered. “When?”
“How about tomorrow?” Rasun asked. “Hey, meet me at that spot where we used to count dough.”
Gena thought about it for several moments until she remembered. It was a motel on the edge of town. Qua had taken her there before when he had gone to count up some money with the boys.
“What time?” Gena asked him.
“How about seven?” Rasun asked.
“See you tomorrow at seven,” Gena told him. She disconnected the call. Thoughts ran through her head about the strange call that she had received. She wondered what it could be that he wanted.
Rasun hung up the telephone and leaned his head against it. He didn’t want to do this. He felt as if he were betraying a friend. Quadir had been there for him when no one else had, and he hated having to set up his girl. But it was his freedom, his mother’s freedom, and his mother’s house on the line. Quadir would just have to understand, and if not, then fuck him.
Rasun lifted his head, turned, and headed for his car. He climbed inside, cranked up the stereo, and pulled off. He didn’t pay attention to the black BMW pulling off just behind him.
SNEAKY SNEAKY
Jerrell walked through the hardware store like a kid in a candy store. He turned his basket down the first aisle and grabbed a long cord of thick yellow rope. He tugged at the plastic rope, testing its strength. Once he was satisfied that it would hold, he placed it inside his basket and headed for the next item on his list.
Jerrell turned onto the aisle with the duct tape and tossed a couple of rolls into his shopping cart. He headed over to the aisle where the chains were kept. He reeled off about ten feet of thick, stainless-steel chain and had one of the store’s customer service personnel cut it for him. The chain was heavy, just what was needed for the job that he had in store for it.
In the home and garden section, Jerrell selected two large metal buckets, and two bags of quick-dry cement. He loaded his wares into the basket and headed over to the checkout counter.
“Somebody’s doing some home improvement,” the salesgirl joked as she gave him a flirtatious smile.
“You just don’t know how much this project is going to pay off,” Jerrell answered back.
“They say that the best way to increase value is by sprucing up the kitchen and bathrooms!” the salesgirl advised him.
Jerrell nodded and smiled. “Oh, yeah, this is definitely going to increase my net worth significantly.”
“Oh, well, that’s wonderful!” the salesgirl told him. She rang up his merchandise. “That’ll be eighty-seven dollars and fifty-three cents.”
Jerrell peeled off ninety dollars in cash and handed it to her. “
Keep the change.”
“Oh, sir,” she said nervously. “I can’t.”
Jerrell spied a container on the counter asking for charitable donations. “Then, give it to Jerry’s Kids.” Jerrell turned and walked out of the store with his merchandise.
Gena pulled up to the motel and spied Rasun standing just outside one of the rooms. She parked, climbed out of her vehicle, and made her way over to him. Rasun wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, as if he were a true-blue friend.
“It’s so good to see you,” Gena told him.
“You’re looking good,” Rasun replied.
“You are too,” Gena told him.
Rasun shook his head. “Not me. I’m going bald so fast, I’ll look like a bowling ball in a few more weeks.”
Gena laughed.
“Come on in, let’s talk,” Rasun told her. He turned and walked into the motel room as Gena followed close behind.
“So, what’s going on, Rasun?” Gena asked. She seated herself in one of the motel room’s accent chairs.
Rasun seated himself on the bed. “How are you doing, Gena?”
Gena nodded. “I’m good. I’m really good.”
“Do you think about him a lot?” Rasun asked.
The question made Gena frown. She found it peculiar. “I do. We’re talking about Quadir, right?”
Rasun nodded. “I think about my nigga a lot. I miss him.”
“I do too,” Gena said softly. “Rasun, what’s the matter?”
Rasun shook his head, allowing a tear to roll down his cheek. “I’m in trouble, Gena, a whole lot of trouble.”
“What is it?” Gena asked, full of concern, leaning forward in her seat.
“This bust was a bad one, Gena,” he explained. “They got a lot of stuff on us. It looks real bad.”
Gena shook her head sadly. “Rasun, I’m so sorry.”
“I got this lawyer, but he’s full of shit!” Rasun explained. “He ain’t doing shit to help me. I went to some other lawyers and I showed the paperwork that I have, the indictment and everything, and they all want an arm and a leg to defend me. I don’t have that kind of bread, Gena. I don’t . . .”