by Jason Poole
“Don’t flatter yourself, buddy. A partnership is out of the question, but you better bet there will be an office here waiting for you.”
Damn, Mark sure knew how to make a nigga feel good.
I wondered what Bilal was doing. I went into Michelle’s office to use her phone to call him while she was in court.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
“Hello,” Bilal said as he picked up the phone like he was anxiously waiting for a call.
“Damn, nigga, you answering the phone on the first ring like you were waiting for my call,” I said.
“What’s up, Jay? I thought you was this nigga that owes me that bank. I’ve been paging his ass all fucking morning,” Bilal said.
“He ain’t called back yet?”
“Fuck no. I hope this nigga ain’t playin no games. Where you at anyway, Jay?”
“I’m at work.”
Bilal instantly burst into laughter at the thought of his best friend really taking this lawyer shit seriously.
“What you laughing for, Lal?” I asked, knowing he was indirectly teasing me.
“’Cause, man, I can’t believe this shit,” Bilal said, still laughing.
“Believe what shit?”
“You being a lawyer, man. For real, Jay, I’m just fuckin’ with you. Look, I gotta go meet Carlos up on Kennedy Street. Call me back later on so we can go out or something.”
“Look, Lal, I told you we can’t be doin’ it like that.”
“I know, Jay, but I’ma bring Carlos so you can meet him.”
“Okay then, Lal.”
I hung up the phone, sat back, and imagined what this nigga Los was like. I wondered if Bilal would tell him about all the work I put in. Even though he and Bilal were cool and shit, I still didn’t want no one but Bilal to know my work. You gotta keep that shit quiet to the fullest degree, ’cause that’s how niggas be getting locked up, braggin’ about the shit they did. I refused to go back to jail.
It was almost 11:30 a.m., and I had the rest of the day off. As I was wondering what I should do, I reached in my pocket and looked at Sonya’s number, I hesitated for a second then said “What the fuck?” I dialed Sonya’s work number.
Ring, Ring, Ring.
“BET Studios, may I help you?” a female voice said.
Damn, I had forgotten Sonya’s last name. “Uh, excuse me,” I said, stuttering.
“Hello,” the female voice on the other end said again.
“Yes, may I speak with Sonya?”
“Sonya who, sir?”
“Sorry, I don’t know her last name, but I—” I started to say, but the voice on the other end cut me off.
“Jovan, is that you?” Sonya said.
“Yeah, who’s this? Sonya?” I said.
“Yeah, crazy, it’s me. You call my job and you don’t remember my last name,” Sonya said, laughing.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you ever told me your last name.”
“Well, if I didn’t, it’s Duncan, and soon to be changed, ’cause these people here are getting on my last nerve.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and why didn’t you call me last night?” Sonya said with a slight attitude.
“Hold up, sweetheart. We just met yesterday and you demanding calls already? You’re real persistent, aren’t you?” I said jokingly.
“Yes, I am, and if I had your number, I woulda called and cussed your ass out.”
“You wouldn’t do that to a brotha like me, would you?”
“Try me, mister.”
We both laughed. I liked Sonya’s little act of aggressiveness. It only showed me that she was really diggin’ me.
While I was on the phone talking to Sonya, Bilal and Carlos were meeting uptown on Kennedy Street. Los was a short, chubby, light-skinned Puerto Rican, and he drove a blue four-door 600S Mercedes-Benz. As Lal pulled up in his 600S coupe, Carlos got in and immediately they began talking business.
“Los, what’s up with this nigga Petey? He’s owed us three hundred fifty thousand for like eight months now. Why you ain’t get it from him yet?” Bilal said angrily.
“’Cause every time I went around Trinidad the nigga was kinda acting funny,” Carlos said.
“Funny how?” Bilal said, his anger building up even more.
“I asked the nigga ’bout the bank and he was like, ‘Los, I do business with Bilal and Bilal only, so when Bilal come around, then he’ll get his money.’”
“Yeah, this nigga knew I had thirty years, didn’t he?”
“That nigga knew. He just wasn’t try’na pay me. He thought you had thirty years and you was washed up.”
“Why you ain’t get somebody to punish his ass? You know the nigga Li’l G locked up in Maryland on three bodies, and I don’t fuck with the rest of his crew. Them niggas cruddy.”
“Yeah, I know, and I couldn’t do it myself ’cause every time I came around he had the dude Chicken Wing wit’ him, and them niggas kept touching their shit just to let me know they were strapped,” Carlos said.
“Man, I don’t believe this nigga Petey. As much as I looked out for this dude, and it ain’t like he don’t got the money, this nigga pumpin’ like shit. Did he ever put something down on that thirty?” Bilal said.
“Yeah, three hundred thou. So he owe three fifty. He gotta have that by now.”
“Yeah, his ass got it. He just thought he got away with some free money when I got locked up. I’ve been paging this nigga all morning too. C’mon. We’re going ’round Trinidad to see if this nigga out there,” Bilal said.
“Oh yeah, Lal,” Carlos said.
“What’s up?”
“You know that nigga Fat Mike got his head hit.”
“Yeah, I heard. Who did it?” Bilal said as if he didn’t know already.
“Word on the street is that the dude Li’l Dog from Southwest put it to him.”
“Li’l Dog. Yeah, I know youngin’. That’s one of Big Silk’s protégés. Good li’l dude, but he’s got a vicious gambling problem.”
Damn, Jovan really was tight, Bilal thought. He killed Fat Mike and had Los thinking somebody else did it.
As Los and Bilal pulled up on Sixteenth Street around Trinidad, Petey and Chicken Wing were sitting on their cars in front of Petey’s stash house where he kept all his bricks. Petey had a green convertible Mercedes, and Chicken Wing had a black 928S4 scarface Porsche with chrome BBS wheels.
When Los and Bilal pulled up, Petey and Chicken Wing both pulled out their straps.
Lal rolled down the window and said, “Nigga, it’s me. Put that shit up.”
First thing Petey said was, “Man, what you do to escape?”
“Naw, I ain’t escape, nigga,” Bilal said as he grilled his face at Petey.
“Then how you get out?” Petey said, looking nervous.
“I won my appeal. Look, Petey, all that shit is neither here nor there. I need to holla at you in private.”
Bilal got out of his car, and Petey and he walked a couple of steps away.
“Look, Petey, I need my money,” Bilal said, getting right to the point.
“Bilal, hold up,” Petey said as he tried to stall the conversation.
“Petey, I ain’t try’na hear no bullshit. You owe me three hundred fifty thou, and I need it like now.”
“Man, Bilal, shit’s a little fucked up for me right now.”
“Fucked up? How, nigga? You got a brand new convertible Benz that cost like seventy-five thousand, and your man got a Porsche worth ’bout sixty-five. I know you ain’t get that shit with your last.”
Carlos got out of the car and walked over to Bilal and Petey. “What’s up with you not paying my man here? He said he came ’round here like three different times,” Bilal said, pointing to Carlos.
“Man, Lal, this nigga came ’round here on some different shit, like he was pressin’ me or something.”
“How he pressin’ you for something that’s his, Petey?”
“Man, you knew Bilal had th
irty years. You just wasn’t try’na pay me,” Carlos said as he looked at Petey with eight months of built-up hatred.
“Like I said before, Carlos, I dealt with Bilal when I got them thirty bricks. I put three hundred thousand in Bilal’s hands, not yours, nigga,” Petey said, attempting to break bad with Carlos.
“Petey, who the fuck you think you talking to like that?” Carlos said.
“I’m talking to you, Carlos. You don’t even know me like that to be coming at me.”
“Nigga, you owe me three hundred fifty thousand and you sayin’ I don’t know you like that? Fuck that. Where my money at?” Carlos yelled.
“You bitch-ass nigga, you wait for Bilal to come home and try to get some heart.”
At that time, Chicken Wing got up and started walking toward Petey.
“Hold up. Look, Los and Petey, y’all cut all that bullshit out. It’s obvious you two niggas can’t get along. Like you said, you dealt with me. Well, I’m here now, so where my dough at?” Bilal said as he peeped Chicken Wing about to pull out his strap.
“Look, Lal, come around here tomorrow. I’ll have your money then,” Petey said.
“Yeah? You know I’ve been paging you all morning. Why you ain’t call me back?” Bilal said.
“Man, I left my pager over my baby mother’s house last night.”
“Petey, I suggest you have it on you at all times from now on.”
“Yeah, okay, Lal.”
“A’ight then,” Bilal said before going back to his car with Carlos and driving off.
“Man, Lal, that nigga lying like shit. He was just looking at his pager when we pulled up,” Carlos said.
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to see how he looked when he lies. Los, how much money we got?”
“Three point five mil still, plus about one point five mil still in the streets.”
“Damn, what was you doing while I was gone?”
“I wasn’t fuckin’ with the connect, ’cause I was a little skeptical about coping with our last. You know we can’t buy no less than two hundred bricks.”
“Who where were you getting shit from then?”
“I was fuckin’ with the dudes from cross town, and they’d give me like twenty-five bricks here and there.”
“Was the number high?”
“Fuck yeah. Them niggas want all of theirs.”
“Okay, when you come by the house tonight, bring that money with you.”
“Okay, Lal.”
Jovan
Sonya and me talked for a little while, laughing and having a good time. It was around 11:45 a.m. and I didn’t have anything to do. My day at work was practically finished, so I popped the magic question.
“What you doing for lunch?”
“I dunno. My friend Germain and me might go down to Houston’s in G-Town or something. Why?”
“Who’s Germain?” I said curiously.
“Germain is a female,” Sonya said, chuckling.
“Oh, okay, ’cause for a minute . . .” I stopped before I said I thought Germain was a man.
“What was you gonna say, Jovan?”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything. I just wasn’t gonna call anymore.”
“Damn, Jovan, you wouldn’t have given me a chance to explain? Shit, I coulda had a uncle or cousin named Germain,” Sonya said.
“Well, you don’t,” I said.
“And how do you know that?”
“’Cause you woulda told me.”
“Jovan, you’re crazy,” Sonya said, laughing.
“Yeah, crazy ’bout you, Sonya,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, whatever, and why did you ask me what I was doing for lunch anyway?”
“Obviously I was gonna ask to take you out to lunch.”
“Well, Mr. Jovan Price the Lawyer, it’s still not too late to ask me.”
“So you’re not going to lunch with your friend?” I said, glad that she was willing to change her plans to have lunch with me.
“No, not if you’re still considering taking me to lunch,” Sonya said as she smiled at the thought of having another lovely afternoon.
“So when will you be ready to take your lunch break?” I asked.
“In like twenty minutes,” Sonya said.
“Perfect. I’ll be out front waiting.”
“No, Jovan, just come on in to the front desk.”
“Okay.”
When I got off the phone, I began to think about where I should take Sonya for lunch. The weather was nice, my bank was right, and I was dressed for the occasion. Wherever we went it had to be outside. Maybe I would take her down to Tony & Joe’s and eat out on the deck, or Sequoias, or the Cheesecake Factory on Wisconsin Avenue. I didn’t know where, but I would think of something.
Mark came into Michelle’s office, saw me sitting there, and said, “Hey, Jovan, you’d better get your ass outta Michelle’s office. She’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“That’s all right. I’m ’bout to leave anyway.”
“You going home?”
“Naw, I’m gonna take this nice female I met yesterday out to lunch.”
“Oh, you met a new bun,” Mark said jokingly.
“Bun? Mark, you’re silly. Yeah, man, I met this girl yesterday and it already seems like I’ve known her for years.”
“Damn, that’s the sign.”
“The sign?”
“The sign of love.”
“Man, ain’t nobody say nothin’ ’bout love.”
“No, Jovan, that’s just how it was when I met my wife.”
“Yeah, which one?” I said with a sarcastic grin.
“You know, you can be a pain in the ass sometimes,” Mark said, grinning at my comment.
“Go ’head, Mark.” We both laughed. “Look, I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell me how it goes with those briefs.”
“Okay. Oh, hey, Jovan.”
“Yeah, Mark?”
“You taking that girl out in your van?” Mark asked.
“What else I’ma drive?” I said.
“Here. Take my car. Just bring it back unscratched,” Mark said, throwing me the keys to his brand new BMW. I had one before, back in ’91, but this one was a new joint, fresh off the lot.
I went into my truck and got a few things and headed for the nearest deli. When I got to the deli, I bought a turkey and cheese sandwich on rye, a tuna fish on wheat, some potato chips, a freshly made fruit salad, two Evian waters, and a freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.
I pulled up in front of Sonya’s job, looked in the mirror to make sure my appearance was cool, and got out of my car—well, Mark’s car—and headed inside to the front desk. There was a chubby young woman at the desk. She was cute, but she was too much on the heavy side.
“Excuse me. May I help?” she asked me.
“Yes, I’m looking for a Sonya Duncan,” I said.
“Hold on a second.”
When she got on the phone to page Sonya, I got the feeling they must have known each other, because I was ear hustling and I heard the girl say, “Sonya, girl, it’s this fine-ass man down here asking for you. Yeah, girl, he looks too good in his cream outfit and jazzy shoes. Okay, I’ll tell him you’ll be right down.”
She hung up the phone, turned to me, and said, “Excuse me, sir. She’ll be right down.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Anytime,” she said while she looked me up and down with a devilish grin as if to say, “You can fuck me too.”
When Sonya came downstairs, there was another woman with her. She looked like she was whispering in Sonya’s ear.
“Hey, Jovan,” Sonya said.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“This here is my coworker and friend, Germain.”
“How you doing, Germain?” I said to her friend.
“Hello, Jovan. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Germain said, smiling.
“Oh yeah?”
From what Germain just said, it made me wonder what Sonya was saying about me. Shit, after all,
I had just met her only two days ago.
“All right, Germain, you’ve met Jovan. Time to go now. Bye,” Sonya said, grabbing my hand to leave.
“God, Sonya, you ain’t even let me say nothin’,” Germain said, looking mad.
“You said enough. Bye. We gotta go. See you later.”
“Okay, Germain. Have a good day,” I said to her.
“I will if you keep her with you and don’t bring her back,” Germain said, laughing.
“I just might do that,” I said as I looked at Sonya out of the corner of my eye, waiting to see her expression. Sonya stuck her tongue out at Germain, and Germain gave her the finger.
When we got in the car, Sonya started talking first. “Jovan, you look very nice today. You’re dressed real jazzy to be a paralegal.”
“Thank you. You look nice yourself, Sonya. More like a model than a assistant producer,” I said as my eyes pierced her whole body.
“Jovan, where are you taking me?”
“I figured since the day was nice we’d go somewhere outside and chill.”
As we were driving, I put on a Sade CD and went straight to the song “Cherish the Day.” Sonya lay back in her seat, looking good as shit. You could tell she was into the music ’cause her feet were moving and her head was bobbing as she closed her eyes.
When we pulled up to this secluded area at Rock Creek Park, Sonya opened her eyes and said, “Oh, Jovan, I haven’t been here since I was a little girl. What are we doing here?”
“Well, sweetheart, I thought it would be nice if we just had a little picnic, just you and me chilling. Is something wrong with that? You wanna go someplace else?” I asked, afraid she was not pleased with my choice.
“No, a picnic is perfect. It’s just that I’ve never been on a picnic with a man before.”
“Well, boo, you’re going on one today.”
I took the blanket and pillow outta my van, along with the food from the deli, which I had put in a basket, and found us a nice spot under a tree. I laid out everything then went back to the car to get Sonya.
“Jovan, I have on heels. How am I gonna walk on that grass?” Sonya asked me.
“Tell you what; just get out of the car.”
Sonya got out then asked, “What are you gonna do?”