Falling for My Side Dude

by Racquel Williams

  I was knocked off my square for a quick second and, before I could regroup, I heard a voice. “Nigga, drop the gun and put your hands up.”

  I felt a gun pressed against my head. I tried to weigh my options. Did I want to drop my gun, or did I want to risk it and just turn around and shoot this nigga?

  “Pussy hole bwoy, I say drop the bumboclaat gun,” he said in a raw Jamaican accent.

  “Not before you do, my nigga!” I heard Abraham’s voice echo.

  “Go suck you bomboclaat muma,” he said to no one in particular.

  I heard two thumps, and then he fell to the ground. Abraham shot him in the head twice. He lay on the ground with half of his face gone. Blood was splattered everywhere from the high-power rifle.

  “Yo, give me that gun and get out of here.”

  “What? These niggas ran up in here.”

  “I know that, but I need to call in my cleaning crew, and I don’t need you around any of this. Now, you need to go on. Go get you a room and lie low. I’ve got to get this place cleaned up.”

  “A’ight,” I said reluctantly.

  He handed me a stack of bills, and I grabbed the keys and ran out the back door. None of this made sense. Why would the nigga want me dead? We were not really cool, but the nigga showed respect. I dragged my memory back to the day when I killed his little brother and mother. I thought they were the only ones in the apartment, but now it had me wondering if he was there. I checked the house, so how did I miss him? And now, he retaliated and killed my family.

  “Oh, God, no.” I hit the steering wheel, which jerked the car. Why did I not think about this before? Tears fell from my eyes as I had to admit that my kids were dead because of some shit that I did. What’s crazy is that my little nigga got killed for nothing. He wasn’t even the fucking rat. I remember how pleading his eyes were when he begged for his life.

  A car horn honked! I looked up and realized I was out of my lane and almost hit another car. I pulled over to the side of the street. It was dangerous for me to keep driving. I needed a second to regroup! I pulled up my kids’ pictures in my phone. I rubbed my hand over the screen of my phone. “Daddy is so sorry; I swear I’m sorry.” I hugged my phone as if it were my babies.

  “God, I need them back. Please, God. I will trade my life, God. Here take me,” I yelled out.

  I started questioning if there was a God. I had no understanding why He would keep me here and let my babies die. They never hurt anyone; they were innocent.

  I finally mustered up some energy to pull off. I needed to find a room. I decided to stop at the liquor store and buy a bottle of Cîroc Coconut, and then I grabbed a few blunts. I was about to get fucked up. It would’ve been nice if I had a bitch to join me but, nah, I was good on that right now.

  * * *

  I must’ve slept three days straight. I noticed I missed several calls from that bitch, Malaya! I had no idea what that ho wanted. The last time I saw her, she told me to get a new lawyer. Now, she was blowing a nigga up. I bet her ass was missing a nigga and wanted to get her back beat out. Any other time, I would be willing to tear that pussy up, but not this time. I was done with that bitch, professionally and personally.

  It’s funny how things become clear when I was high as hell. My entire life was built on loyalty and riding for niggas. I done killed for my niggas and broke bread with these same niggas. But, in the end, not one of these niggas rode for me or held me down. Here I was, sitting in a cold world, all by myself. Who the fuck could I run to now that I was down and out? No-fucking-body at all! I was done feeling sorry for myself. There wasn’t much left for me here. Friday was the day that my kids would be laid to rest, and then after that, it was whatever. I wasn’t even worried about beating my case anymore. This might sound fucked up, but for once Javon was going do something that benefited just him.

  I woke up bright and early. I had a plan that had to be executed the right way. I searched through e’erything to find that detective’s card, but I couldn’t find it. I must’ve left it at Abraham’s crib. I got dressed and decided to go to his house. I hadn’t seen him since the day of the incident.

  He opened the door, and I walked in. “I thought I told you to lie down and not come around.”

  “I know, but I left a paper in the room; plus, I needed to check on you, make sure you good.”

  “Ha-ha, I’m good. One thing I know to do is defend what’s mine. These young niggas don’t want no beef with this old fool.” He chuckled.

  “I see,” I said and walked toward the room.

  I closed the door and started going through my bag that I had my clothes in. I didn’t see the card. I was starting to get frustrated. I threw all the clothes back in the bag, grabbed my two pairs of sneakers, and was about to walk out the room when I noticed the card on the ground. I picked it up, put it in my pocket, and walked out.

  “Ay, I need to holla at you.”

  I dropped the bag and stood there. “What’s good?”

  “I ’ont want you to take this the wrong way, but I’ma need you to get your own place. I’m too old for drama and to spend the rest of my life in prison. That’s why I’m solo, ’cause I don’t do the streets. I’m going to give you money to get back on your feet, and I want you to know I love you. Even though we ain’t got no father-and-son relationship, I love you, and I got your back, but it’s best if we just stay apart while you have open cases and shit.”

  “Damn, I was just about to tell you that I’m about to bounce, but I see how it is, Dad. You couldn’t wait to kick a nigga out.”

  “Get out your feelings, young’un. You’re a street nigga, so you should feel where I’m coming from. I can’t take no heat ’round here. Here goes ten stacks. Take it and start over.” He handed me some money.

  “You think that what I want is money? Nigga, I had money, and trust and believe when this shit is over, I’ma bounce back. You’re throwing money at me like I’m a bitch. Nah, old head, you keep that. I’m good, my G.”

  I walked off before any more words were spoken. This was a nigga I’d loved since I was a little boy. Ain’t nothing changed, but I was hurt that he would try to pay me to stay out of his life. It wasn’t new, though; even the bitch who birthed me didn’t stick around.

  I threw the bag into the trunk. I knew this was my last time seeing him. I took one last look at the house before pulling off.

  This wasn’t what I wanted to do, but a nigga was drowning, and there was no way out. It was either this bitch or me and, the way I saw it, the bitch had to wear it. I dialed the detective’s number that was on the card.

  “Hello,” he answered, breathing all heavy in the phone.

  I thought about hanging up, but I quickly decided to go ahead with my plan. “This is Javon. I don’t know if you remember me.”

  “Oh, yes. Javon Sanders, right? What can I do for you, Mr. Sanders?”

  “Well, when I saw you at the hospital, you said you would be interested in making a deal with me.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Will your lawyer be with you?”

  “Nah, I need to do this by myself.”

  “Okay, sure. Well, can you meet today?”

  “Yeah, I’m on my way to my hotel room. You can meet me there.”

  “Okay, great. My partner will accompany me if you don’t mind.”

  “Yeah, he’s cool.”

  I gave him the address and hung up. Make no misunderstanding, I didn’t trust these niggas. I thought long and hard about this move that I was making, and as fucked up as it may have seemed to everybody else, it was needed. My children were gone, and I needed to get far away from here. Being locked up would only stunt my growth and tear a nigga down.

  I was going to smoke, but I decided to do it after these niggas left. I sat waiting on them to show up. I got everything straight in my head. At the end of the day, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Malaya

  I spoke to my mother this morning. No matte
r how I was feeling, she always found the right words to soothe my soul. I could never get enough of my mother’s love. I loved New York, but I was happy to make this move to Maryland. I was tired of being up here by myself, plus my girls would love it out there in Maryland. Mama gave me the number for the real estate agent she used. I was going to miss Dana and Isiah, but it was time for a change.

  It was hard getting the other house sold because of Trent’s murder. A lot of people remembered it because it was all over the news. Hopefully, a family would look past that, and buy it. It was a beautiful home; all it needed was a great family.

  I was off today, so I decided to do some cleaning. I heard my phone ringing, and I ran upstairs to grab it. It was Isiah, so I answered. “Hey, babe,” I said jokingly.

  “Hey, Malaya.” He wasn’t his usual flamboyant self.

  “What’s the matter, Isiah?”

  “I just spoke to the DA. They want me to take you in for questioning.”

  “What the hell do you mean? About what?”

  “They want to question you about Trent’s death. They supposedly have a break in the case.”

  “That’s ludicrous. If they had a break, why do they need me to come in? I swear to God I’m going to sue the entire department for harassment. When do they want us in there?”

  “By three p.m.”

  “All righty.”

  I hung the phone up and threw it on the ground. I was fucking sick of these motherfuckers. What the fuck did they want from me? I done told their asses over and over, I ain’t had shit to do with my husband’s death. Why couldn’t they just fucking believe me? My nerves were shot. I thought of not going in, but I knew that would just have damn near every cop in this city looking for me. My kids were at school, so I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.

  I picked out a pair of jeans and a nice collared shirt. I then took a quick shower. I didn’t like the way I was feeling, but I was a boss bitch. I could handle any- and everything that came my way. I applied some lip gloss and grabbed my purse.

  I parked in the rear and walked to the front. I spotted Isiah sitting in the front. I walked over to him.

  “Hey, love,” he greeted me and gave me a tight hug.

  “Thank you so much. I needed that.”

  “I’m your lawyer, but I’m more your friend. Let’s go in here.” He held my hand, and we walked in.

  “Yes, Attorney Shawrtz and Attorney Ipswich. We have a meeting with the DA.”

  “Sure. Follow me to our interview room.”

  We walked in and sat down. Funny, this was the same room Javon and I were in days ago. Speaking of Javon, I hadn’t heard from him since the day of the interview. I tried calling him but got no response.

  “Hello,” Devon said as he walked in with the two detectives who kept harassing me. “Mrs. Ipswich, I asked your attorney to bring you in as a courtesy. As a colleague, I think it’s best this way. All right, this is what we have. We have an indictment for you.”

  “An indictment?”

  “Hold on, Mrs. Ipswich, let me handle this.”

  “Yes. We took the evidence to a grand jury, and she was indicted today.”

  He handed a copy of the indictment to Isiah. “Indicted on one count of criminal solicitation of capital murder. Two counts of hindering apprehension.”

  My head started to spin, and my chest tightened. Was I hearing this right? They were charging me with criminal solicitation? Shouldn’t they have been charging me with murder instead? I was confused; too much was happening too fast.

  “Who did I solicit to get killed? I thought I was here to get questioned about Trent’s death.”

  “You are. Hello, wife!”

  I was frozen! How? How? I couldn’t get any words out. My tongue felt heavy as I tried to find the words that I wanted to use. I stood up, but my knees buckled underneath me. The walls around me started closing in. I knew then I was dying. I needed to die because someone was playing a horrible joke on me. One that I didn’t think was funny at all.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Ipswich?”

  “Huh?” I looked around, and all focus was on me.

  “Hello, Malaya,” Trent said, confirming any doubts that I had about him being dead.

  “How? You’re dead. I saw you lying there in blood. I buried you. I watched them put . . .” I couldn’t finish my sentence because I didn’t actually see them put him in the ground. I left before they got to that point.

  “Detective, please explain. If this is a joke, it’s not funny at all,” Isiah stood up and demanded.

  “Well, I can explain,” the district attorney I’d been fucking said.

  So, this nigga was in on this terrible joke. I shot him a look that could cut his soul out.

  “Well, Mr. Ipswich is not dead, as you can see. We got word that Mrs. Ipswich here was looking for someone to kill her husband. So, the detectives and the district attorney’s office came up with a plan.”

  “A fucking plan. I never wanted Trent dead. We had our problems, but we were working on it. Tell them, Trent. Tell them.” I got up and tried to walk to my husband.

  “Sit down, Mrs. Ipswich. Mr. Ipswich here was shocked when we told him of your plans. He thought we were trying to set you up. So, this was all our doing.”

  I saw blood on him. I had blood on my clothes. None of this shit made sense.

  “My client knew nothing about this, and these are serious allegations. I will be filing court papers first thing in the morning. Y’all have no evidence that my client knew anything about this.”

  “Trent, say something. Please tell them I couldn’t do this to you. This is me, your wife, Malaya. Tell them,” I begged, but he stood there looking at me with a disgusted kind of look plastered across his face.

  That’s when it really hit me; this nigga didn’t give a damn about what I was saying. He was on their side. He knew about this and pretended the entire time.

  “Mrs. Ipswich, you’re under arrest for the soliciting the murder of Trent Ipswich and hindering apprehension. You have the right to—”

  “I know my fucking rights. I just hope you all know y’all rights! Because I will be coming for each one of you and your bosses.”

  “Take her out of here.”

  “Isiah, get me out of here immediately.”

  “I’m on it.”

  A detective led me out of the office. There was a crowd of officers standing there, whispering and shaking their heads. I hung my head down as he led me away.

  I was led off like a common criminal, me, a woman with great pride. How could they do this to me? I was sure that they didn’t have anything on me because I never talked to anyone about this outside of Javon. There was no way he went to them and told them what happened; or did he?

  I was searched and fingerprinted. I was tearing up inside, but I held my composure. I’d learned never to let people see me sweat. These were serious charges, which most times no bond was granted for, but I wasn’t a criminal, so I was sure I would be bonded out.

  I was able to go in front of the judge over live video. I could see the strange look on the judge’s face when he read my name and saw my face. I wasn’t in the mood to entertain him, so I sat there quietly, listening to him as he read my charges. He gave me bond in the amount of $300,000.

  “I’m about to get on it asap,” Isiah said.

  “All right.”

  “Babe, hold your head up. You will be out of that hell hole real soon.”

  I appreciated his support because he was the only one in my corner right now.

  I was placed in a dingy, pissy-smelling cell along with two bitches who looked like they were coming down off crack binges. I wasn’t going to sit down, not for one second, on that bench. All kinds of thoughts were running through my head, but I tried to remain positive.

  The guard came around passing out sandwiches, which I didn’t want. “Miss, can you get the sandwich and give it to me ’cause I’m hungryyyyy,” this dirty-looking bitch with little to no tee
th touched my shoulder and said.

  “Don’t touch me!” I said angrily.

  “Damn, bitch, all I was trying to do was get the sandwich.”

  “Well, this bitch doesn’t give a damn if you eat or not.” I moved away from her. There wasn’t that much space, but it gave that bitch and me a great little distance. See, bitches see me all dressed up, so they let these looks fool them.

  I was getting antsy. I wondered what was taking so long. I needed to be bonded out before the bus came to take the prisoners to the county jail. I had no intentions of bringing my black ass there.

  “Malaya Ipswich,” I heard a guard holler before she walked to the cell and opened it. I could’ve run over that bitch with the way I rushed out of the cell. It was about time they got me the hell up out of there.

  * * *

  Javon

  After making my statement to the detectives, I was asked to come to the station to be briefed by the district attorney. It was one thing to talk to these niggas in the hotel room, but it was a whole different ballgame when I was asked to walk up in a police station. These niggas didn’t give a fuck about my life as long as they got what they wanted.

  I thought about saying nah, but I was already in too deep, and I was afraid that if I backed out, my charges wouldn’t be dropped. The decision wasn’t hard to make since the bitch left me for dead. She knew I had a case and still chose to walk away from me.

  I searched for a parking space, all the way in the back of the station. I couldn’t risk being seen by any niggas who knew me. I planned on hitting the streets when this shit was over, so keeping my name clean was everything. I walked in and gave the secretary my name. I took a seat, but I wasn’t feeling comfortable. Every time I came close to a police station I got nervous.

  “Mr. Sanders, come on with me. I’m happy you could make it.”

  I nodded my head to show recognition. I didn’t trust this nigga and his friendly ways. I knew this was how they operated when they wanted information out of a person. I played along with them, but I kept them at a good distance. We walked into a room where the DA and another nigga was. I’d never met him nor did I know who he was.