Shit, most of these goddamn niggers got some type of fucking record somewhere anyway, thought Detective Patterson. If she had a record then the department would have her prints on file, which would save him a lot of time in trying to determine who she was.
After fingerprinting her right hand, Detective Patterson contemplated taking some pictures of the woman’s face to also possibly aid him in identifying who she was. But he immediately dismissed the idea. The whore’s face was so badly disfigured and swollen, any picture he took of her right then wouldn’t even come close to resembling what she normally looked like. So instead he headed back to the department, and hoped that he’d have some luck with the prints.
Once back at the department, Detective Patterson turned the prints into forensics, and was told that it would be about thirty minutes to an hour before they had anything for him. That was a lot less time than it took back when he had first started on the force. Due to the new technology of having every criminal’s prints in a statewide database, it made it possible for a tedious process that would have taken weeks twenty years ago to now be completed within an hour.
Detective Patterson took the opportunity to grab himself a much needed cup of coffee to help wake him up. It looked like it was going to be a long Monday, so he made his coffee cowboy style, which was straight black. He walked down the hall and lit up one of his Marlboros, ignoring the NO SMOKING signs that were posted throughout the hallway.
Twenty minutes later, he got a call from the forensics department. “Patterson, those prints you gave us a little while ago? We’ve got a match. Her name is Tameka Davis, 20 years of age. She was arrested on July the 4th outside of a night club for disorderly conduct and resisting arrest.”
“You got an address and telephone number on her?”
“Yeah, hold on a sec,” said the forensic specialist, as he scanned the computer for the additional information. “We’ve got a number, but no address in the system.”
“Alright, let me get the number.”
The specialist recited the seven digits, and Patterson jotted down the pertinent information in his spiral notepad. He wrote the number, along with the girl’s name, and what she’d been arrested for. Unfortunately that’s all he had for the time being.
Back in his office, Patterson dialed the number he’d been given. After several rings, somebody finally answered.
“Hello,” said a tired, disoriented female’s voice.
“Uh, yes ma’am, I’m trying to get in contact with a Ms. Davis?” said Patterson in his rough, gravely voice.
“Look, it’s too early in the goddamn morning for you people to be calling my house with this bullshit harassing me! I told y’all muh’fuckas when I get the money…”
“Look, Ms. Davis,” said Patterson, cutting her off in the middle of her tirade. “I’m not a bill collector.” Goddamn, people think everybody calling their house is a bill collector, thought Patterson. “My name is Detective Daniel Patterson, from the Greenville County Sheriff’s Department. Do you have a daughter by the name of Tameka?”
Gloria immediately sensed that something was amiss. She sat up in her bed and gripped the phone tightly. “Yeah, my daughter’s name is Tameka, why? What’s wrong? Is she in some type of trouble? Is she alright?”
Patterson hesitated for a second, trying to get his words together.
In the silence Gloria began to panic. “Officer, is my daughter alright?!”
Patterson cleared his throat. “Ms. Davis, your daughter is alive, but she’s been beaten up pretty badly, and she sustained severe head trauma. At approximately 6:30 A.M. we received a call from a Greenville County garbage man, who said that he’d discovered a body in a dumpster that was on his route. An ambulance was dispatched to the scene along with some officers to investigate. Once it was determined that she was still alive, your daughter was transported to Memorial Hospital, where she was treated, and is currently being held in ICU.” Patterson relayed all of this information without any type of compassion or regards for the effect his words might have on Gloria.
“How do you know it’s my Tameka,” asked Gloria, hoping that maybe this had happened to somebody else’s daughter, and not hers.
The detective told her how he had fingerprinted Meka, and that the computer showed that she’d been arrested back on the 4th of July. He explained that based on that arrest, he was able to ascertain her identity and phone number.
Gloria’s worse fears were confirmed. She knew it was her baby girl because she was the one who bailed Meka out the morning after that incident at the club back in July.
Not wanting to hear anymore secondhand information, Gloria abruptly hung up the phone on the detective while he was still talking. She hurriedly threw on some clothes. Without even bothering to brush her teeth or wash her face, she ran outside to Meka’s Chrysler 300c, jumped in, and screeched off towards the hospital.
Chapter 17
Ant D awoke Monday morning with a thick, brown skinned PYT’s juicy lips wrapped around his dick, slowly sucking him off. After Jeezy performed at the club the night before, he left with those two freaks from Spartanburg who’d been upstairs at the table with him. They had jumped into the Vette and broke out. Since it was only a two-seater, one of the girls had to sit in the other’s lap while he drunkenly swerved in and out of lanes on his way downtown to the Marriott.
He’d had every intention on fucking the shit out of both of them as soon as they got to the room, but his body had plans of its own. As soon as he walked through the door, he fell face first onto the bed and passed out. The combination of liquor, coke, and exotic weed he’d been consuming all night finally caught up with him and left him incapacitated.
While Ant was unconscious, the two girls began taking off his clothes until he was lying on the bed completely naked. Then they took turns kissing and licking all over his body, in an attempt to wake him up. Seeing that he was completely out of it, the two girls discussed whether or not to rob Ant, but they decided against it. Instead they spent the rest of the night and early morning kissing, licking, and sucking on each other until they came, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The hot, wet sensation of the girl’s mouth working up and down and back and forth on his dick was enough to finally bring Ant D out of his slumber. He opened his eyes and glanced at the brown skinned freak that was on her knees between his legs with her thick lips locked around his meat. He couldn’t remember her name, but her head game was sick enough to give Karrine “Superhead” Steffans a run for her money.
When she noticed that he was awake and looking at her, she took his erect penis out of her mouth and kissed the head affectionately. She acted like there was absolutely nothing on the earth she’d rather be doing than sucking on his dick.
Her homegirl, who was lying beside Ant D completely naked, pulled her legs back and began rubbing on her own pussy while she watched her friend give him head. The first girl took Ant’s cock all the way down her throat, until her nose was buried in his pubic hairs. All the while she kept her eyes locked on his. She gagged and pulled her mouth off of Ant’s dick, and left slobber and spit all over it. She spit on his dick again, and used that lubrication to work his rock hard shaft back and forth with her hand.
After a few minutes of the freak giving him head, Ant couldn’t hold back any longer. He closed his eyes, curled his toes, and violently let go inside of the girl’s steaming, waiting mouth, while gripping her head with both hands. She swallowed every single drop of his cum like it was her favorite flavored milkshake.
Just then, the new Lil’ Scrappy ring tone went off on Ant’s phone. “I got money in the bank – shawty, what you thank? I got money in the bank, shawty, what you thank?”
Ant D leaned over the side of the bed in order to retrieve his phone out of his jeans. Once he got it out, he flipped it open and said, “Yeah?”
“Anthony?!!” The shrill sound of his mama’s voice calling him by his full birth name got Ant D’s attention immediately.
The only time she ever called him Anthony was when shit was seriously wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, bracing himself for whatever was coming.
“Yeah mama, what’s up?”
“They got Meka! Somebody tried to kill Meka! The police done called. They found her in the trash,” screamed Gloria incoherently. She kept talking, but she was speaking so fast and loud that Ant only caught bits and pieces of what she said.
“Hold up, mama, hold up! Slow down. I can’t understand what you sayin’ with you talkin’ all fast like that. Calm down so I can understand you.”
Gloria took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as she could, given the circumstances. She said, “Somebody tried to kill Meka. A detective called me a few hours ago. They found her in a…in a…dumpster.” Gloria broke down sobbing.
“Where they got her at now, mama?”
“Greenville Memorial.”
Ant pressed the end button on his phone, jumped up from the bed, and began getting dressed.
“What’s wrong, baby,” asked the girl who’d just finished swallowing his unborn children. She was sitting at the foot of the bed, naked, watching him get dressed.
Ant didn’t even bother to answer her question. He didn’t even hear her. Something had happened to Meka. He continued to get dressed, a million questions racing through his mind. After getting his last Nike on, he ran out of the hotel room down to his flip flop Corvette. He jumped in, put the key in the ignition, and left melted Pirelli rubber on the asphalt as he flew out of the parking lot on his way to the hospital.
“I don’t believe that sorry ass nigga just left us in this room like this!” said one of the girls back at the hotel room.
“See, I told you we should’a went ahead and robbed that nigga while he was knocked the fuck out. Damn!”
Doing about 60 mph in a school zone, Ant D shifted into fourth gear and stepped on the gas, accelerating to 90 mph. He pulled his phone out and dialed Mike’s number. He hadn’t seen Mike since he left the club the night before, so there was no telling where he was at.
Mike answered on the fifth ring. “Hello,” he said groggily.
“Man, a muh’fucka done tried to kill Meka. She in the hospital.”
Mike, who was still in bed at his apartment, knew from the sound of his homey’s voice that he wasn’t joking. Besides, that wasn’t the type of shit Ant would joke about anyway.
“What hospital she in?”
“Memorial.”
“I’m on my way,” said Mike, and flipped his phone shut. He rolled out of bed and started getting dressed. Before he left the apartment, Mike went to the closet in his bedroom and grabbed the AR-15, which he kept fully loaded against the back wall. He placed it in a gym bag, threw some clothes on top of it, and then headed outside to his Escalade.
Once inside the truck, Mike placed the gym bag on the floor of the passenger side. Wondering exactly what the fuck had transpired, he pulled out of his apartment complex and headed to Greenville Memorial Hospital.
Chapter 18
As soon as Ant walked through the automatic glass doors of Greenville Memorial and into the waiting area, Gloria jumped up from her seat, ran to him and began crying uncontrollably. While clinging to her son, she said, “They tried to kill my baby! Somebody tried to kill my baby girl!” Gloria placed her head on his shoulder and sobbed.
Ant D had been off the porch for a long time, and he had taken quite a few lives himself, so he refused to start that crying shit. He hadn’t shed a tear since he was thirteen, and he damn sure wasn’t about to start now. He needed to keep his emotions in check as much as possible in order to figure out what his next move was going to be. But he could understand his mama breaking down like that. She was after all a civilian in the war that took place daily in the inner city streets. And a war was exactly what was about to pop off behind that shit. He hugged his mother, and spoke in her ear. “Mama, you gotta calm down. We gotta be strong for Meka.”
“I know, baby, I know,” said Gloria. She wiped her tears, and attempted to regain her composure.
“What room they got her in? You done seen her yet?”
“Yeah, I just came out of her room right before you got here. They got her in ICU, in room number 215.”
Just then, Mike walked into the waiting area with a scowl on his face. He greeted Gloria and Ant, his adopted family. “What’s poppin’?” asked Mike.
“We finna go upstairs and see her now. They got her in ICU,” replied Ant D.
The three of them took off towards the elevator. Once they got in, Gloria pressed 2. ICU was located on the second floor. Once off the elevator, they walked pass a series of rooms before coming to number 215. A tall, balding, bespectacled, Caucasian man wearing a white lab coat was at the door writing on some type of chart. The man turned around as they approached. “Hello, my name’s Dr. Baker. Can I help you?”
Ant D spoke up. “Yeah, we here to see Tameka Davis. Are you her doctor?”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” said Dr. Baker in his nasal voice. “I was just making my rounds, checking her vital signs, and making sure that her condition hasn’t worsened.”
“Exactly what is her condition?” asked Mike.
“Well to be frank with you, somebody beat the crap out of her. She has severe bruising and swelling all over her face and body. A few broken ribs, and some missing teeth… And whoever the animals were that did this… also raped her. We tested her for STDs and HIV. Fortunately, everything came back negative. And as serious as all of that sounds, those are the least of our concerns right now. Due to severe trauma of the head, she remains comatose.”
“Comatose? What the hell is that?” asked Ant.
“She’s in a coma. And we have no way of knowing for certain if she’ll even come out of it. And if she does, she may not be able to function normally.”
“What do you mean function normally?”
“I mean even if she regains consciousness, there is a possibility…that she may never fully recover.”
Gloria struggled to keep the tears fighting to come out of her eyes from sliding down her face. “Can we see her,” asked Ant.
“Sure, but if y’all don’t mind, only one at a time. And only for a few minutes,” replied Dr. Baker, as he went back to writing on Meka’s chart.
Ant D went into the room first. He’d seen worse, and in fact had done worse to people. But seeing his twin sister, one of the only people he actually loved, lying up in that bed with tubes running through her body was enough to break even a cold hearted nigga like him down. He and Meka had been through so much together over the years. He told himself that he wasn’t going to cry, and he was doing a good job until he walked over to her bed and saw what the fuck them niggas had done to her. His sister’s face was beautiful, but they had her looking like Emitt Till up in that muh’fucka. Her face and head were so swollen that if not for the birthmark on her lower neck, he wouldn’t have believed he looking at his own twin sister. A single tear escaped from his right eye and slowly trickled down his cheek. He grabbed Meka’s hand and spoke to her, not knowing for sure if she could hear him. Deep inside, he had a feeling that she could.
There were some things he had to get off his chest. “Meka, what it is, baby girl? I really don’t know what to say other than this. Yo’ ass better not die on me, I know that shit. We done been through too much together, ya heard? I need for you to be a soldier, and pull through for me, so we can get them niggas that did this shit to you.”
After a few seconds of intense silence, Ant said, “I…I know I don’t ever tell you this shit but…I love you, Meka. Anyway, I’ma get at you later, sis. Alright?”
As Ant D turned and walked out of the room, he said to himself, “I swear somebody’s gonna die behind this bullshit.”
Chapter 19
Mike walked into the hospital room next. He sadly looked at the girl who over the past five years had become the sister he’d never had. Looking at Meka laid up in the bed like that w
ith a ventilator breathing for her put Mike in a zone. He stood there trying to keep his emotions under control, and reflected back on his life, and the first time he’d met Meka….
Ever since the day Tracy Dillinger had given birth to Mike, he’d constantly been on the move, from one foster home to another. Tracy’s parents had been too ashamed of the circumstances behind Mike’s birth to take him in.
Tracy’s father and Mike’s grandfather, John Dillinger, was a pastor with one of the largest churches in the upstate of South Carolina. He had a strong flock of followers that were willing to follow the articulate, charismatic, young Black preacher to the end of the earth, if he led them there. But what would his congregation and the community have thought about him if they had found out that his own daughter had had unprotected sex with a man twice her age? What kind of man could lead a church, but couldn’t keep his own daughter from getting pregnant before the age of 16?
So when Tracy became pregnant and told her mother, who was director of the choir, and also the Sunday school teacher, it was immediately decided that the pregnancy would remain a secret, and never be discussed outside of the house.
An abortion was out of the question though. For Pastor D, as his flock so affectionately called him, was a deeply religious man with the belief that abortion was an abomination; murder of an innocent life. So while he was very deeply concerned with his appearance in the community, he was even more concerned with his appearance before God. Therefore he wasn’t willing to be an accomplice to murder, no matter how small and seemingly insignificant the life. No, Tracy would have the baby, give it up for adoption, and then the whole family would move on and learn from that terrible mistake.
ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) Page 11