by Roy Glenn
Once Nick came out of the room and escorted the ladies out, I took my gun and the silencer out of my pocket because I had already decided that Wilson was gonna die.
“Search the place, Nick. Find me some money.”
While Wilson ran his mouth about how he was gonna come up with the money, I stared at the blow on the table and put the silencer on my gun. I closed my eyes and I could see her face, hear her voice and it made me open my eyes. Thoughts of Vickie hurt: hurt worse than anything that I had ever experienced, and I wanted it to stop.
But I couldn’t. I just sat there in that chair, staring at the table and thinking. My friend is dead, and I feel guilty because sometimes I was so caught up in my own shit to be there for her when she needed me to be. How was it even possible that I’m actually dealing with this shit; because she isn't supposed to be dead.
It made me think that a big part of my life was gone. I had known Vickie since I was eight. And I started thinking about the little things. I remember one day, me and Vickie were waiting for the ice cream truck, so I could get an Italian Icy. That was a big thing for me back then because my mother didn’t always have money to give me for ice cream. But that day, I had money. As soon as he handed it to me, Vickie snatched it out of my hand and started running. And Vickie was fast, faster than all of us kids on the block.
She ran and hesitated, ducked and dodged, bobbed and weaved, talkin’ about, ‘slow poke Mike, never gonna catch me’, and I couldn’t. We used to laugh about that all the time, but that will never happen again. Knowing that she wouldn't be coming to The Late Night anymore to get herself into trouble that I had to get her out of, and thinking that maybe that's a good thing, but knowing that it isn't.
“I found this under the mattress,” Nick said and handed me twenty-grand.
“On the real, Black, I need that money to make this thing happen. Give me ‘til tomorrow, Black. I’ll make it worthwhile for both of you.”
I stood up, raised my gun and fired two shots to Wilson’s head.
Chapter Four
“Why the fuck you do that?” Andre shouted.
I had thought a lot about what I was going to say when he asked me that question. I couldn’t tell him that Wilson went for a gun and I had to kill him, because Wilson never carried a gun. I thought about a lot of other shit I could tell him, but nothing was coming to me until just that second.
“Because I wanted to.” It had the advantage of being the truth. I had no reason to kill Wilson, I just wanted to.
Andre sat there with that scowl on his face; then he shook his head and leaned back. “Did it make you feel any better?”
“No.”
“Go on and get out of here, Mike,” Andre said, and I stood up. “I expect you to carry the rest of Wilson’s load.”
“I know,” I said and walked out of the office knowing that since I killed Wilson, I owed Andre thirty grand and was thinking about a way to cover it. Bobby stood up.
“What he say?”
“I owe him thirty G’s.”
“You got it?”
“Not on me.” I laughed. “Pull thirty grand out your pocket so I can settle this,” I said as we got in the car.
“If I had it, I’d make you take it. He say how long you got?” Bobby asked as he started up the car.
“I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. But he wanted his money from Wilson now.”
“No reason for you to think that now don’t apply to you,” Bobby said and drove off.
“Know what I’m sayin’?”
“One thing’s working in your favor.”
“What’s that?”
“He can’t send you after you, so who’s he gonna send?”
“He could send you.”
“But I’ma be with you, so anybody else he sends will get dead quick and if he keeps sending mutha fuckas, we’ll kill his ass too.”
I looked at Bobby. “You gonna kill Andre?”
“If that’s what it takes to get him off our ass, shit yeah, that nigga gettin’ popped,” Bobby said, and I’ve known Bobby long enough to know that he was serious. I mean it ain’t like I hadn’t thought about killing Andre too.
And it would be strictly business, it wouldn’t be personal.
“Let’s focus on how we gonna get him thirty grand and fast,” I said and settled into my seat.
“What you got up for today?”
“I need to find Veneshia and them a safe place to work.”
“That’s right. You a pimp now.” Bobby laughed. “You gonna get your hair conked?”
“Fuck you, Bobby. I ain’t no fuckin’ pimp, but as of right now, we in the pussy business. So, start thinking of ways we can expand that shit and make money.”
“On it.”
“Shawna gave me a couple of places to look at. What you got up for today?”
“Finding Veneshia and them hoes a safe place to sling pussy, daddy.”
“Fuck you, Bobby,” I said and handed him the list Shawna gave me. He looked at it, handed it back and headed in the direction of the first place on the list.
On the way there, I looked at the list and thought about the areas they were in and would they be safe working those corners and the answer was no, they wouldn’t. Then a question occurred to me.
“Why do they need to be on the street at all?”
“What?”
“The hoes. If I wanted them to be safe and the streets aren’t, get them off the street.”
“I thought that was what we were doing. Finding them a safe place to take their men.”
“I was, but now what I’m talkin’ ’bout is getting them off the street and bringing the clientele to them.”
Bobby laughed. But it was that, we gonna get mad paid laugh. “You talkin’ about us running a hoe house.”
“Hoe house, brothel, bordello, call it what you want. But it ain’t like it’s a new concept.”
“We know enough niggas to keep them hoes humpin’.”
“Enough niggas with money.”
“Yeah, but will they wanna pay big money for them bum bitches Silky had?”
“Trust me, Bob, now that Silky ain’t kickin’ their ass, they look a lot better. Besides, we got plenty of women dancing for us, half of them selling pussy anyway. Time we started getting a taste of that money too.”
We went back to the Real Estate office and Shawna gave me a list of buildings with controlled access.
“We have a little camera installed right there,” I said and pointed to a spot in the corner above the intercom. “That way they know who their letting in. We put a couple of guys in there and see how it goes.”
“You sure we wanna get into this, Mike?” Wanda asked a week later when I showed her the place I chose.
“I know we wanna make this money. Those hoes were handing Silky five grand a night or there was hell to pay.”
“Silky would kick their ass for not having his money,” Wanda said as the elevator doors opened, and we got on. “And you trust Veneshia to run it for you?”
“Last week she handed me all the money those women made since we killed Silky.”
“That was over a month ago.”
“Yeah, I think I can trust her to do right with the money,” I said and let Wanda in the apartment to show her around and tell her what me and Bobby had planned.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think we just got in the prostitution business.” Wanda laughed, but it was a nervous one. “So, let’s see how this goes.”
Wanda has always been the cautious one, and we needed that because sometimes me and Bobby can really get out of control.
“So, where you wanna go now?” Wanda asked when we got in her car.
“Ain’t you got class in the morning?”
“What’s your point?”
“That you have class in the morning,” I said as Wanda started the car.
“I know what time it is and how much sleep I need, daddy.”
“I ain’t big-ass-he
ad havin’ Ernie.” I laughed. “I run shit.”
“Whatever.” Wanda gave me the finger. “Where we goin’?”
“Roll by Whitey’s.”
“Last time I drove you there, somebody got dead.”
“Since I don’t wanna kill Whitey, you should be all right. But you never know.” I laughed. “Or you could drop me off and go home.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Wanda stopped at a red light and looked at me. “I know you’ll never let anything happen to me.”
“No, Wanda, I won’t.”
“Tell me again that it’s not my fault,” Wanda looked away and said.
“It’s not your fault,” I said easily because it wasn’t her fault, it was mine.
“It’s not your fault either,” Wanda said, and I said nothing because it was my fault. My apartment, my dope, my fault … simple as that. I killed her.
The light changed, and Wanda drove on. “What neither one of us is thinking about is that Vickie chose to do what she was doing. Neither one of us is responsible for her choices. We have to let go and let Vickie be responsible for the choices she made.”
I looked at her. “You going to law school or psychiatry school?” I asked and we both laughed.
“No, Mike, I’m going to law school, but I did talk to the grief counselor at school.”
“He tell you that shit?”
“Yes, and it’s true.”
“Yeah, well you hold on to that bit of truth if it works for you. I got my own truth.”
“What’s your truth?”
“Vickie would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. That’s my truth, Wanda. Now let that shit go,” I said louder than I needed to because that shit was making me mad. Here I was doing everything in my power to not think about Vickie and here she comes with that shit.
“Don’t yell at me!” Wanda yelled.
“I’m not yelling!” I yelled. “This is yelling!” I yelled louder.
Then Wanda yelled as loud as she could. Then I yelled and then we looked at each other and then we yelled together.
Then we both laughed.
“That felt good,” she said as we got to Whitey’s.
“You feel better?”
“Not really,” Wanda said as she parked. “It felt good to let out some of that rage.” She turned off the car and looked at me. “But no, Mike, I don’t feel any better. I still miss the fuck outta her and I’m mad at her for dying on me. And I’m mad at you, and I’m mad at myself for not doing more to help her.”
“Good. Now you know how I feel,” I said, and we got out of the car. “I feel mad at everybody all the time.”
“I need a drink,” Wanda said, and I put my arm around her.
“You can have all you want. We own the joint,” I said as we walked in Whitey’s building.
Whitey Thompson used to be Montel Lamont’s muscle. Montel was a loan shark and a gambler that ran his game out of an apartment, until I killed him. Now Whitey runs the spot for me. Whitey was always quick to remind me; this me, Whitey T, the nigga that had your back on the Mitchell Wright thing.
And he did.
One of the things that I’ve learned is that loyalty is a priceless commodity and hard to come by. I consider Whitey to be a loyal soldier to me.
So, I’m loyal to him.
We took the elevator up and knocked on the door. King, Whitey’s right-hand man opened it.
“What’s up, Black?”
Me and Wanda started to walk in, but some nigga I ain’t never seen before stepped in front of me and put his hand on my chest.
“Back off, Carter,” King said quickly.
He moved his hand and backed up off me.
“Sorry, Black. He’s new.”
“No problem,” I said and looked him in the eyes as Wanda and I passed.
“That’s Mike Black. He’s the boss,” I heard King say to the new guy as I looked around for Whitey.
Since I killed Montel, Whitey had expanded his business. He was running a number bank and had opened another gambling joint and he had a couple of women working the room at both spots.
“All that needed to happen was for Montel’s old scary ass to get out of my way,” Whitey told me one night.
“Out with the old,” I said, and Whitey leaned close to me.
“Like one day, you gonna kill Andre,” Whitey said that night and walked away.
As I wandered around the joint, I kept an eye on Wanda as she made her way around the room. I wasn’t too worried about her being there. Just about everybody in the house knew who Wanda was and what she represented to me. I laughed as I spotted Whitey thinking, niggas know that I will kill a mutha fucka over Wanda. Especially now. But I still kept an eye on her.
“What’s up, Black?” Whitey said when I got to him.
“Money. That’s what’s up,” I said looking around the room.
“We making it up in here. Making it like a mutha fucka.”
“Other spot jumping like this?”
“I ain’t been over there yet tonight, but it should be. Gambling, liquor and pussy always make a nigga money.”
“We need to ride by there so you can show me the spot.”
“I’ma tell you like I told Sherman, that spot is a fucking gold mine. Everybody gonna get paid on that joint. If you don’t believe shit else I say, believe that.”
“You know I trust you, Whitey,” I said and looked around for Wanda. “By the way, who’s the new guy on the door?”
“Nigga’s name is Carter Garrison. Did some time with King, just got out a couple of days ago. King says the kid hits like a freight train.”
“Nigga like that is always good to have around,” I said and took another look at him. It was then that I saw Leon Copeland at the door and he was all up in the new guy’s face. He drew back like he was about to bust Leon in the chest, but King grabbed his arm and got between them.
Once King got Leon settled down, he let him in and I watched as Leon began wandering around like he was looking for somebody. I had known Leon since we were kids. We used to go to church together, if you can believe that. Now he was dealing for Andre and I was a killer.
Anyway, like I said, I had known Leon a long time, so I knew that he was mad about something and I had a feeling that I knew what he was mad about. I looked at the poker table and sure as shit, there she was.
Leon’s woman, Nicole was standing behind a baller named Go-Go that everybody knew she was fuckin’ behind Leon’s back. I guess everybody now included Leon.
“Excuse me, Whitey,” I said and moved toward the poker table. Go-Go owed Montel a lot of money; my money now. And now Whitey says he was talking like he wasn’t gonna pay. On top of that, Go-Go was the kind of mutha fucka that liked to talk a lotta shit and then pull his gun.
I didn’t need that shit. Not tonight.
I looked around for Wanda and didn’t see her anywhere.
“Shit,” I said aloud as Leon reached the table and grabbed Nicole by the arm.
“So, it’s true. You fuckin’ this nigga?” Leon asked.
Nicole jerked her arm back. “Let go of me!” she shouted.
Go-Go bounced out of his seat and tried to get between them, but Leon stiff armed him in the face and pushed Go-Go backwards. “This shit got nothing to do with you, mutha fucka. I’ll deal with you later!” Leon shouted and turned to Nicole. “Get your shit and get outta here,” Leon said and grabbed her by the arm.
Just then, Go-Go slapped the shit outta Leon.
“Get your hands off my woman!” Go-Go shouted and I thought that he was getting ready to pull his gun, but to my surprise, Leon pulled one first and hit Go-Go in the face so hard that he dropped to his knees.
“Your woman! Your woman!” Leon put the gun to Go-Go’s head. “I oughta kill you right now!”
The house got quiet and I watched the gun begin to shake a little in Leon’s hand.
He put the barrel against Go-Go’s forehead. “I oughta kill you right now for disrespec
ting me!” Leon yelled, but it wasn’t long before he moved the gun away from Go-Go’s head slowly.
“I knew you couldn’t do it. I fucked your bitch and you still can’t do it ’cause you a punk mutha fucka!” Go-Go said and that shit pissed me off.
I stepped up and put the barrel of my gun to Go-Go’s head. “But I ain’t no punk mutha fucka,” I said and pulled the trigger.
Wanda rushed up behind me. “I thought that you weren’t going to kill anybody.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t like the nigga no way.”
Chapter Five
The following morning, I woke up in bed with Michaella, thinking about Vickie. I guess it’s natural, but I can’t get her out of my mind. And I wanted to. I didn’t want to deal with all the guilt and pain I felt. I wanted to do something, anything to dull the pain. Anything to make it stop.
“I gotta go to work, Mike,” Michaella said dragging me out of thoughts of Vickie. “You need me to take you somewhere?”
I started to get out of bed. “Take me by Andre’s,” I said and followed her to the shower.
As she does every time we shower together, Michaella gets a loofah and soap, lathered herself until there was soap all over her body, and then she rubbed her body against mine. While she did, and as much as I tried not to, my mind eased back into thoughts of Vickie and the one time we had sex.
I guess we were maybe like sixteen, maybe seventeen I guess. That night, it was just me Bobby, Wanda and Vickie. The four of us had been hanging out, drinking and smoking weed and all of us were fucked up. When we got to the block, we walked Wanda home and then me and Bobby were walking Vickie home when he saw Rasheeda and he ran off to catch up with her, so it was just me and Vickie.
When we got to her house, Vickie said that she wanted to show me something. So, we very quietly snuck into her house and made it to her room without falling or breaking anything.
“Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, I promise,” I said and plopped down on her bed, because I was so fucked up. “What you got to show me?”
“I’m serious, Mike, don’t laugh, okay?”