Changed Man

by Roy Glenn

  “Thank you.”

  “It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you both,” Kasim began. “Naturally, Mr. Thompson spoke about both of you, but I never expected us to meet. Which is why I am curious to know why you are here?”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of this,” I said and eased into my professional voice; something that my mother stressed the importance of. “Or maybe you do, but Mr. Thompson is dead.” I watched his reaction.

  “No, I was not aware of that.” It told me nothing. “May I ask how he died?”

  “He was murdered.”

  “I see,” Kasim said and then his reaction told me that he was suddenly nervous about me and Bobby being there.

  “I was only recently made aware of the business that he had with you, and that there may have been some issues that needed to be resolved.”

  Kasim sat back in his chair and smiled. “I understand your concern, and now, I understand your presence here.” He laughed. “Mr. Thompson said that if there was ever an issue, as you called it, that you and Mr. Ray would come calling. Yes, there were some minor issues with our arrangement early on. But I assure you, Mr. Black, Mr. Thompson resolved those issues to my satisfaction and we parted ways quite amicably in fact.”

  “I see.”

  “Were you interested in entering into a similar arrangement?”

  “No. That is not my type of business. I’m just here hunting,” I said thinking that I might as well call it what it is. “For information.” I added to be polite.

  Kasim laughed. “I understand and naturally respect that.”

  “I was informed that you were a man who would.”

  “From what Mr. Thompson tells me, you’re the man I needed to be talking to all along.”

  “That depends on what you had in mind.”

  “I have many friends and business associates that enjoy gambling. I was speaking with Mr. Thompson about the possibility of setting something up. But he told me that he needed to talk to you.”

  “I can definitely be of assistance with that. In fact, I can also provide security and entertainment as well.”

  “Excellent. Many of my associates also have a taste for the company of black women,” Kasim said.

  “I am sure that we can come to some sort of understanding and set that in motion for you,” I said.

  We stayed there with Kasim, hammered out the details and made some arrangements before we left and caught the train back uptown. But we were no closer to finding out who had Whitey killed and why.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  When we got back uptown and got in Bobby’s car, we rode around to a few places, talking to people about Vance and what his connection was to Whitey.

  It was after two in the morning when Bobby parked in our spot in the alley across the street from The Late Night. We had been hanging out at Cynt’s, so it had been a couple of days since we’d been there. In addition to the regulars that come there just to be seen standing outside, there was a line to get in both The Late Night and The Blue Room.

  Me and Bobby waded through the crowd, saying what’s up and shaking hands with the fellows and got hugs and kisses from the ladies until we got inside. The first person I saw was Detective Kirkland, in my spot, and he was coming straight at me. “Mike Black,” he yelled over the music.

  “Detective.”

  “And you must be Bobby Ray.”

  “I am. And you must be Detective Kirkland.”

  “Kirk will do,” he said and turned to me. “Where you been, Black? I’ve been looking but hadn’t seen you around for a while.”

  “I’ve been traveling, Detective. I needed to get away, so I spent some time in the islands.”

  “Had to get away, huh?” the detective nodded. “Is there someplace where we can talk, and I don’t have to yell?”

  “We can talk in my office,” I said and led the way. And with that, I knew that he wasn’t there to arrest me. Cops only wanna talk when they don’t have anything solid to go on.

  “I’m gonna run to the bathroom and join you two in a minute,” Bobby said.

  “Don’t get lost,” the detective told him.

  On the way to the office, I saw Freeze, made eye contact with him and he started making his way through the crowd to get to me.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “Let’s hope,” I said and discreetly handed him my guns.

  I continued walking toward the office and when I passed the bar, I saw Detective Sanchez. He was Narcotics, a nice guy as far as cops are concerned, but he was a no-nonsense cop. If both him and Kirk were here, it wasn’t good for me.

  “Black,” Sanchez said and fell in behind us.

  When we got in the office, I took off my coat and sat down on the couch. Sanchez sat down next to me, while Kirk chose to stand in front of me. I looked at him, tried to get the measure of the man that stood before me. The fact that he had hooked up with Sanchez spoke volumes.

  “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  “I wanted to welcome you back to the city,” Kirk began.

  “Thank you.”

  It said that he was coming for me and I had to be ready for him. One thing I know about good cops, and this guy was apparently one of them, they got every day, all day to get you if they want you, and Kirk seemed to want me bad.

  “Where’d you go?” Sanchez asked.

  “Spent some time in the islands.”

  “Did you go to Puerto Rico?” Sanchez asked.

  “Didn’t make it there.”

  “You should go sometime. It’s a beautiful island.”

  “I will, next time I travel.”

  “You know, Black, before you left on your trip, there were a string of drug related murders.” Kirk paused and looked at me like I was supposed to have a reaction to the fact that a bunch of niggas were dead. I mean, it wasn’t like it was news to me. When I said nothing, Sanchez jumped in. He reached in his pocket and took out some pictures.

  “Wilson Goode.” He laid the crime scene photo on the coffee table in front of me. “Billy Ronin, Ed Davis,” Sanchez said as he laid each photo on the table. “Dexter Corey, Lamar Butler, Marlo Collinwood and Jesse Hall.”

  “And let’s not forget about Butler Griffin,” Kirk threw in.

  “Who’s that?”

  “A pimp named Silky,” Kirk informed.

  “Okay … and Butler Griffin,” Sanchez said.

  “Then you left the country and the murders suddenly stopped.”

  “Now you’re back,” Sanchez added.

  “What does any of this have to do with me?” I asked.

  “It means that you killed them, Black. All of them.”

  “Me? I didn’t have anything to do with any of that.”

  “Come off it, Black. All of those men are connected to Andre Harmon. You’re Andre’s enforcer,” Sanchez said, as Bobby came in with Wanda. Kirk’s eyes bucked open at the sight of her.

  “I miss anything?” Bobby asked.

  “Nothing much. The detectives just accused me of being a mass murderer,” I said.

  “That’s terrible,” Wanda said and sat down on the couch next to me. “Did they present you with any evidence?”

  I pointed to the pictures on the table. “Nothing but those.”

  Wanda leaned forward and glanced at the pictures.

  “Oh.” Wanda sat back and looked at Kirk, whose tongue was all but hanging out. “So, I imagine that you gentlemen were about to either tell him what evidence you have, or arrest him for the crimes you’ve accused him of committing?”

  “And you are?” Kirk asked.

  “A concerned citizen,” Wanda began. “Concerned that you have accused a man of a crime and you have no evidence.” She paused. “Much less a warrant for his arrest and yet here you are harassing him.”

  “Are you his lawyer?” Kirk asked.

  “Like I said, Detective Kirkland, I’m just a concerned citizen,” Wanda said defiantly, and I was so fuckin’ proud of my
girl.

  Kirk and Sanchez looked at each other.

  Wanda stood up. “If there’s nothing else, Detectives.”

  Sanchez stood up. When he did, Bobby went to the door and opened it. Sanchez smiled, shook his head and started for the door, but not Kirk. He stood there looking at me.

  “See you around, Black,” Kirk said.

  “I’m sure you will, Detective,” I said and stood up. We looked each other in the eye.

  “Damn right you will,” Kirk said and then he left the office.

  “Thank you, Wanda,” I said the second the door was closed.

  “You’re welcome,” she said and sat down.

  Wanda looked at the pictures on the coffee table. She shook her head and looked at me.

  She mouthed the words; did you?

  I nodded my head.

  Wanda shook her head and then rested it in the palms of her hands.

  “I’m about to get outta here,” I said.

  “Where you goin’?” Bobby asked.

  “Cynt’s.”

  “Who Cynt?”

  “She’s the one who’s been running Roscoe’s.”

  Wanda leaned close to me. “She the one that killed him?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  “And you have her running the spot now?” Wanda asked.

  “She just kinda took over,” Bobby said. “I mean, she stepped up and did what needed to be done.”

  “I see that I need to go with you so I can meet this woman you two have got running a spot for us,” Wanda said as she followed me and Bobby out of the office.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  As we were passing the bar, I felt somebody grab my arm. I turned to see that it was Michaella. It wasn’t until that second that I realized it had been days since I’d seen her. I nodded at Bobby. He looked at Wanda. She was staring Michaella down. Bobby grabbed her arm.

  “Come on, Wanda. I’ll take you to Cynt’s,” Bobby said, and they walked away.

  “Hello, Michaella.”

  She was beautiful as ever, but she looked a little upset and of course, I understood why. I’d been so caught up in finding out who had Whitey killed that I hadn’t had time for her. But that was a choice, and I knew it because when I did have time, I chose to fuck Anya and Lo-Lo. So even if her smile said that she was happy to see me, I knew that Michaella was probably mad as hell that she had only seen me once since I’d been back.

  “Where have you been, Mike?” she asked with her hands on her hips and her pouty lips pushed out.

  I stepped a little closer to her. “I’m sorry, Michaella. I’ve had a lot of things going on that I had to deal with.”

  “I understand that, Mike. You know that I do, but I have to say that my feelings are hurt that I haven’t seen you. You were gone for so long and now you’re back, and I’ve only seen you once.”

  “I’m sorry, Michaella.”

  “I’m not looking for an apology, Mike. I really think that if I hadn’t come to pick you up when you got back, that I wouldn’t have seen you at all.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, even though it probably was.

  If Bobby and Wanda had picked me up, we would have ended up at The Late Night. If Michaella just happened to be there, yeah, I would have seen her. But otherwise, me and Bobby would have ended up at Cynt’s and I would have fucked Lo-Lo and Anya that night.

  I stepped a little closer and got in her ear. “You know we have a lot going on. Bobby told you that.”

  “I know, but—”

  “But here’s the thing, you’re here now.”

  “Yes. But, do you want me to be?”

  Why do women waste time on hypotheticals?

  “Yes, I do want you.” I bit her earlobe. “And that’s all that matters is that you are here with me now.”

  “It is, but I had to chase you down to be with you.”

  I had to laugh because if just showing up here and waiting was her idea of chasing me down, it was pretty lame. “I been chased down by some flat-out stalkers and so even though I didn’t like it, I can tell you that this was not being chased down,” I said, and we laughed a little together.

  I kissed her on her cheek and when I pulled away, she was smiling. “There’s a kiss to make it better.”

  “Don’t think I’m not still mad at you,” she said.

  “You might be, but I have a way that I guarantee will make peace between us.”

  “What is that?” She may have asked, but she knew.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m deep inside you.”

  Michaella sexy smile returned. “You know I like that.”

  It was so easy to end arguments with some women.

  Once we left The Late Night, Michaella drove us to her apartment kind of quickly and I knew why. My hand caressed her naked thigh as she drove and when she stopped for a red light, I glided my finger along her lips through her moist thong. I wanted to make it clear that I was planning on fucking the shit outta her fine ass as soon as her apartment door was closed.

  As we drove, there was a song playing. I liked it, liked the melodic sound of the female vocalist. And then the sax opened up with a smooth solo. “What’s the name of this song?”

  “The Girl From Ipanema,” Michaella said and glanced at me while she drove. “You’ve never heard this song before?”

  “No, but I like it. Who’s that on sax?”

  “That is Stan Getz on sax.”

  “Who?”

  “Stan Getz.” She laughed a little. “You’re not into jazz, are you?”

  “Not really,” I said as the female vocalists resumed her smooth and sexy vocal. “And who is that singing?”

  “That’s Astrud Gilberto singing. You probably never heard of her either, have you?”

  “No, but I’m gonna have to check both of them out.”

  “I have a lot of great jazz that I can expose you to … if you’re interested.”

  “I am. Very.” I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “So, see that you do,” I said, thinking that I was attracted to women like Michaella and Cortisha, but I am drawn like a moth to a flame to women like Anya and Lo-Lo.

  “I will,” she said as we arrived at her apartment building.

  We sat there looking at one another and listening to the song until it was over, but the second it was over and before I had a chance to get out to come around to open her door for her, Michaella jumped out and slammed the door. When I got out of the car, I heard her scream and I looked and saw that Michaella was being held by a man with a gun.

  His arm was wrapped around her waist and his gun was to her head. In that second, all my worst fears were realized. I’ve always feared that my shit would come back to hurt somebody I cared about.

  “Let her go!” I shouted and eased my hands in my pockets as I came closer to him.

  “Stop right there! Don’t come any closer!” he yelled.

  I ignored him and kept moving toward him slowly.

  “Are you all right, Michaella?”

  She nodded her head quickly, but I could tell that she was scared, and I was scared for her. His gun hand was shaking and that bothered me. He seemed emotional and jittery and that wasn’t good. It meant that anything could set him off, or he might kill her accidentally. Either way, Michaella would be dead and I had enough death in my world.

  “What you want?”

  “I want you and your woman to die tonight! That’s what I want!”

  “First of all, she’s not my woman.” I said calmly, and I could tell by the look in her pretty brown eyes that those words hurt her.

  He laughed and gripped the gun a little tighter. “Nice try. I see you over here all the time. That’s how I knew where you were going when I followed you out of The Late Night with her.”

  “Let me straighten you. You don’t know anything about me because if you did, you would know what a mistake you’re making right now, and you would apologize to the lady and walk away.” I kept coming around the
car. “But you don’t know nothing. All you ever see is me getting pussy and you wanna be like me.” I laughed and stepped up on the sidewalk. Now that I was closer, I could see that he was young; in his late teens, maybe early twenties. “So, go ahead and kill her. She’s pussy, just like the rest of them.”

  He hesitated a little, but that was a good thing. It meant that I was getting to him. I was going hard at him, but it was hurting Michaella. The look in her eyes said that hurt was quickly replacing her fear.

  “You mutha fuckas are all the same. Don’t care about your women. You should be trying to protect her. That’s what men do for their women, they protect them! Not use them up and then throw them away like they’re trash!”

  I took a step and pointed at him. “Protect her … like you’re doing?”

  He started to lower the gun, and I thought that I would have a chance to get the gun away from him and save Michaella, but he put it back to her head.

  “Mike Black. You think you’re special, but you’re just like the rest of them. You don’t care about nothing or nobody.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

  “Get the fuck out of here! All these bodies dropping around here got Vicious Black’s name written all over them just like my father.”

  “Your father? Who the fuck is your father?”

  “Montel Lamont! And you killed him because he didn’t mean shit to you?”

  “I didn’t kill your father.”

  “You lie!” he shouted.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I was there!” He pressed the barrel harder against Michaella’s temple and I watched the tears roll down her cheek. “You and Whitey threw him off the roof! Then the two of you stood over his body like he wasn’t shit! That’s what really happened, mutha fucka! That’s why I had Whitey killed, and that’s why you’re next.”

  “Look, kid. I didn’t kill Montel.”

  “You killed my father!”

  This shit was getting me nowhere. Even though I knew I could argue the finer points about how Montel died, fact was, I did kill him. What was important was that I needed to get Michaella away from him. I knew that I wasn’t gonna be able to talk him down, so I had to get him to let her go and then I would kill him.