Hostile Takeover

by Roy Glenn

  “Mike, Bobby. What’s up?”

  “What’s up, J.R.?”

  His name was Jasper Robinson. He ran a club called J.R.’s and like Roscoe, he ran his gambling operation in the basement. He was into numbers, bookmaking and had a few other things going. I wanted a piece of his action, but him and André were old friends, and we had sort of a mutual respect for one another, so we left him alone.

  “Where you been hiding?” I asked.

  “I had some things going on,” J.R. said. “So I had to lay low for more than a minute. But I’m back now.”

  “Sometimes you gotta go back to the crossroads, get yourself together,” Bobby said as the bartender brought us our drinks.

  “Sure you right, Bobby,” J.R. said, and all three of us raised our glasses and drank to that.

  “It was good seeing you two. You should drop by the club; let me buy you a drink.”

  “We’ll do that,” I said. We shook hands and me and Bobby headed for the gambling room.

  On the way there, I looked around to see if I saw Roscoe anywhere, but I didn’t see him. I asked one of the dancers if she had seen him and she told me that Roscoe was in his office.

  “You go ahead, Bobby.”

  “Where you going?”

  “To the office. I need to holla at Roscoe for a minute.”

  “I’ll be up there in a minute, but right now I see something I wanna get next to,” Bobby said, and we separated.

  I made my way through the crowd, looking at the women and my money along the way. When I got close to Roscoe’s office, I could hear a woman screaming; “Stop!”

  I tried the doorknob, but naturally, it was locked. I started to mind my business and walk away, but the woman started screaming; “Help! Somebody help me!”

  I took a step back and put my shoulder to the door. Roscoe had a woman pinned to his desk while he fucked her. She was beating him in the chest, trying to make him stop. Her clothes were torn and her face was badly beaten.

  “What the fuck!” he shouted when he saw me.

  “Help me, please! He’s raping me!” she screamed.

  I rushed to the desk and pulled him off her.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Black?” Roscoe yelled.

  I punched him in the face and he went down.

  When I did, the woman hopped up from the desk and got a gun out of Roscoe’s drawer.

  “Mutha Fucka!” She screamed pointed the gun and emptied the clip in Roscoe.

  Chapter Twelve

  Even though the clip was empty, she was still squeezing the trigger. I reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

  “It’s okay. It’s over now,” I said, and eased the gun out of her shaking hand. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  She had definitely seen to that. I held her in my arms and she started to cry harder.

  “I told him no. I told him that I was just here to dance, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” she cried.

  “It’s gonna be okay. I got you now,” I said, and held her tighter.

  “What the fuck?”

  I turned around and saw that Bobby was standing in the doorway. After he looked in the hallway, Bobby closed the door and locked it.

  “What happened?”

  “That mutha fucka raped me!” the woman yelled through her tears.

  Bobby looked at me. “So you killed him?”

  I shook my head and pointed at her. “She did,” I said and looked down at Roscoe’s body.

  She was shaking like a leaf now, but her hands weren’t shaking when she shot him, because she didn’t miss a single shot. Every bullet hit center mass.

  “Get her outta here, Bobby.”

  “Where you want me to take her?”

  I thought for a second. “You remember Carmelita?”

  “No, which one was she?”

  “You used to drop me off there all the time.”

  Bobby just looked at me. “Which one was she?”

  “You remember, Carmelita Carty. She’s a Dominican chick, works at Montefiore as a nurse.”

  “Long hair, thick accent like she just got off the boat.”

  I thought the accent was sexy as hell. But to each, his own, I guess.

  “Yeah, I remember her now.”

  “Take her there. I’ll call her now.” I looked at the woman. “Go on and go with Bobby. He’s gonna take you to somebody that can take care of you.”

  She nodded her head and walked over to Bobby. He put his arm around her and headed for the door.

  “What’s your name, honey?” Bobby asked.

  “Chocolate.”

  “What’s your real name?”

  “Cynthia. But everybody calls me Cynt,” she said, and left with Bobby.

  I looked at Roscoe’s dead body again and shook my head. I laughed and picked up the phone.

  “Even when I don’t wanna kill them, they end up dead anyway,” I said, and locked the door.

  Then I dialed Carmelita’s number.

  “Hello,” a sleepy sounding Carmelita answered.

  “Carmelita, its Mike.”

  “Mike who?”

  “Mike Black.”

  “Mike Black? What are you calling me for … and at this hour of the morning?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Carmelita, I really am, but I need a favor.”

  She sucked her teeth. “You need a favor? Nigga please. I don’t hear from you in over a year, and you call me in the middle of the night and want a favor. You got a lot of fucking nerve.”

  “I’m sorry, and if I could have thought of anybody else, I wouldn’t have bothered you.”

  She sucked her teeth again. It was kinda her trademark.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “What do you want Mike?”

  “A woman’s been raped and badly beaten and for reasons I can’t go into over the phone, I can’t take her to a hospital.”

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Bring her on Mike, but you owe me.”

  “Thank you, Carmelita. Bobby’s on his way to you now.”

  “Bobby?” She sucked her teeth. “You know I can’t stand Bobby. Always asking can he fuck me.”

  “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

  “Yeah, Mike, you owe me for this one.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Her voice softened. “I’m going to hold you to that. Bye, Mike,” she said, and hung up the phone. My next call was to The Late Night.

  “Late Night.”

  “Vickie?”

  “Yo, Mike, what’s up?” Vickie slurred. She sounded fucked up. “I’m sorry I rolled out on you without saying goodbye, but you were sleeping so peacefully.”

  “It’s cool. What are you doing answering the phone? Where’s Sylvia?”

  “She said she had a date, so I said I’d answer the phone for her.”

  “Is Nick or Jamaica there?”

  “I haven’t seen them.”

  “Shit.” Now it was me that wanted to suck my teeth. “Is The Kid there?”

  “He’s right here.”

  “Put him on.”

  “Hold on,” she said, and put Freeze on the phone.

  “Yo, Black, what’s up?”

  “Is Nick or Jamaica there?”

  “Nope. Nick was here, but he rolled out about an hour ago. Why, what’s up?”

  “Is Wanda there?”

  “She’s not here either.”

  “Fuck. How fucked up is Vickie?”

  “I heard that, Mike and I am not fucked up,” I heard Vickie yell.

  I hated to do it, but I didn’t have much choice. “I need her to drive you to Roscoe’s right now. I’m in the office.”

  “Understood,” Freeze said, and hung up.

  Since I didn’t want to close the spot or wait until it closed, I looked around Roscoe’s office for something to wrap the body in so we coul
d get it out of there and dispose of it. There was an imported Persian rug on the floor that Roscoe probably paid a lot of money for. But since he wouldn’t be needing it any more, I wrapped his body in it.

  It was a half an hour later when I heard a knock at the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me and The Kid,” Vickie said. “Open the door.”

  “Shit,” I said softly, and immediately regretted not telling Freeze to come to the office by himself. Like I said, Vickie didn’t have any part in what we did, and I liked to keep it that way. The last thing I wanted was for Vickie to see this. I unlocked the door and was glad that I didn’t wait for Freeze to wrap up the body.

  “See I’m not that fucked up,” Vickie said as she walked in the office. “So what was so important …” she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the body. By this time, blood had seeped through the rug. She looked away. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.” Vickie covered her mouth. “I’m gonna be sick,” she said, and rushed out of the office.

  “Great.” I shook my head. “Go after her and get her keys.”

  “I got them.” Freeze held up the keys. “She didn’t want me to tell you, but she was too blasted to drive.”

  “You drove?”

  “Had to.”

  “How’d you do?” I asked, since he’s never been behind the wheel before.

  “We didn’t hit nothing.” The Kid laughed a little. “Came close a couple of times, but we made it.”

  “Come on, let’s get this done.”

  We were able to get Roscoe’s body out of the spot and into Vickie’s trunk without anybody seeing us, and then I went back inside to find Vickie. I found her at the bar. If she wasn’t fucked up when she got there, she was now.

  “Can you walk?”

  She nodded. “I’m okay, Mike,” she said, but she wasn’t.

  I helped her get off the stool and walked her to the car. I drove her to my apartment and the ride seemed to do her some good, because she was able to walk in under her own power. When she got in my apartment, Vickie went in my room and started taking off her clothes.

  “Mike,” she said, while she undressed. “Promise me, Mike, you gotta promise me that you’ll never make me do anything like that ever again.”

  “I’m sorry, Vickie. You know I would have never asked you to do that if anybody else was there.”

  “I know. You couldn’t trust anybody else, Mike. I get that. But I ain’t like you and Bobby or even Wanda.”

  “I know. That’s why I try to keep all that shit away from you.”

  “I feel so dirty. I’m going to take a shower,” she said while standing in front of me naked. “Will you stay with me until I get out of the shower?”

  “Okay. I’ll be right here.”

  I had a dead body in her trunk, but it was more important to make sure that she was going to be all right. Once she finished in the shower, I put her to bed and then I went to dispose of the body.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Freeze and I took care of the body, we got rid of the clothes we had on, then I dropped him off and went home. Vickie was asleep when I got there, so I took a shower. I gave serious thought to letting her have the bed and sleeping on the couch. But since I knew for a fact that neither of us was going to take it there, I got in bed with her. As soon as I got under the covers, Vickie rolled over and snuggled up against me.

  “Did you handle your business?”

  “What business?”

  “You know—” Vickie paused. “Oh … nevermind.”

  “Go back to sleep, Vickie,” I said, and hoped that she would still be there when I woke up.

  I really wanted to talk to her about what was going on with her. The last few times I saw her, she’s been blasted, and from what Wanda tells me, Vickie being fucked up on that Tanqueray Gin, cocaine and weed was an everyday thing. I know I drink more than my share of Rémy and blaze a gang of weed, but I don’t fuck with that cocaine at all. I’ve seen firsthand what that shit will do to you, and I wanted no parts of that. But I did keep some around sometimes because hoes will do all kinds of freaky shit for it.

  Naturally, when I woke up around noon, Vickie was gone. I rolled over, took my tray out of the nightstand, twisted up a bob, blazed and went back to sleep.

  Later that night, I went to The Late Night to catch up with Bobby. When I got there, Freeze was there and he said that Bobby was there and he said that he’d be back.

  “What about Nick or Jamaica?”

  “Hadn’t seen either of them,” Freeze told me.

  I had sent them to see if they could run down Bodie Ringling. He had been going around telling everybody that he ain’t paying me shit. And I was good with that … for the time being anyway.

  I really didn’t want to go to war with Bodie, but I was starting to think that it was inevitable. Problem wasn’t just the muscle he could throw at me; it was how many mutha fuckas would fall in behind him. I also had to consider what it would do to André’s business.

  “I want you to do something for me.”

  “What you need?”

  “Hit the streets. If we gotta go to the mattresses, I need to know where people stand.”

  “I’m on it, Black,” Freeze said, and left The Late Night.

  One thing I gotta say about The Kid, he’s a loyal soldier. I tell him to do something and it gets done, no questions asked. I could use a bunch more like him, and if we were going to war with Bodie, I was going to need them.

  I was on my way to the office, when I saw somebody standing at the bar that I definitely wanted to see, so I began making my way over there to her. On the way to the bar, I saw Hector Villanueva. He was a drug dealer that brought product from André when he couldn’t find it any place else.

  “What’s up, Black?” Hector said.

  “What’s up?”

  “You seen André? I was supposed to meet him here.”

  “Haven’t seen him,” I said, knowing full well Andre’ never planned to meet him here because he doesn’t like Hector, and I kept going to the bar.

  When I got there, she smiled and waved when she saw me. “Hi, Mike.”

  “Hello.”

  “Surprised to see me?”

  “Yes, I am,” I said as Sammy brought me a shot of Rémy Martin. “Surprised that you’re here and I’m happy about it.”

  “I did say that I wanted to see you again, so here I am.”

  “Here you are.” Other than her being fine as hell and I wanted to fuck her again, the fact that she wouldn't tell me her name was what interested me. “But what I want to know is, since you’re here, do you plan on telling me your name?”

  She laughed.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I said, and stepped a little closer to her. “But I gotta call you something.”

  “I tell you what, you can call me whatever you want,” she said, and took a step closer to me.

  “Whatever I want, huh?”

  She looked up into my eyes. “So what do you want to call me?”

  “Suppose I wanted to call you mine? Would you tell me your name then?”

  “Do you want me to be yours?”

  “I did say suppose, didn’t I?” I said, and I noticed that Bobby had come in with Nick and Jamaica.

  “See there.”

  “What?” I laughed. “Answer the question.”

  She took a second or two before she answered. “If I were yours, and you were mine, yeah, I guess I would have to tell you what my name is. But that’s not the case here is it?”

  I laughed.

  “I think that you’re more of a mine tonight and we’ll see about tomorrow kind of guy. Am I right?”

  “All I can say is be mine now and we’ll talk about tomorrow in the morning.”

  “Over breakfast?”

  “I make a mean omelet.”

  “You can cook?” she laughed. “Mike Black, master chef … I don’t believe it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You ju
st don’t look like the ‘slave over a hot stove’ type, that’s all,” she said. I was about to say something clever, when Bobby walked up.

  “What’s up, anonymous,” he said to her, and then looked at me. “I hate to interrupt—”

  “Then why are you?”

  “Because we have company,” he said, and pointed toward the door. Bodie Ringling had come in my joint with five of his men.

  “The mountain comes to Muhammad,” I said, and Bobby walked away to get ready. This was our house and we were ready for shit like this.

  I looked at her. “I hate to say it, beauty.” Whatever her name was, she was a real beauty, and that body was amazing. “Beauty; that’s what I’m going to call you until you decide to tell me your name. But, I have something that I have to take care of.”

  “I understand. Handle what you gotta handle.”

  “I think you should go now.” I made eye contact with Jap, one of the guys who worked security. “We’ll take up the matter of you and I another time.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you driving?”

  “I took a cab here,”

  “What you need, Black?” Jap asked.

  “See this beautiful woman out and get her a cab. Make sure that nothing happens to her. And then you get back in here,” I said, and looked at Bodie. When he saw me, he and his set started making their way toward us. “Go now.”

  I watched her swing her hips out of The Late Night and then I looked back to Bodie, thinking of how bad his timing was. I glanced at Sammy, he nodded his head and went and stood where he keeps the pump just in case shit got wild.

  I looked around the club to see where everybody was. I don’t know if Bodie and them noticed it, but we already had them surrounded.

  When Bodie stepped up, he didn’t say anything. The nigga just stood there, mean muggin’ like I was supposed to be intimidated by that weak shit. Since I wasn’t, I picked up my glass, leaned against the bar and took a sip.

  “You come to give me my money?”

  Bodie laughed. “No, nigga, I came to tell you to your face that I wasn’t givin’ you a mutha fuckin’ cent.”

  “Then you wasted your time. Niggas been telling me that shit for days.”

  Bobby, Nick and Jamaica were behind his people. Jap was back from escorting Beauty out, and he and Kenny had moved into position.