by K'wan
It didn’t take Slick long to figure out what had happened. Moving like a man possessed, he began throwing clothes and cash into a laundry bag. He had no idea if his stalkers knew where he was hiding, but if they’d tracked Rel down, they probably did. Grabbing his gun, he headed for the front door. He would call to check on Groovy later, but right then he had to get the fuck outta the projects.
Just as he was about to touch the doorknob, someone knocked. Rel was dead and Groovy had a key, so whoever it was couldn’t have meant him any good. Being that he was only on the second floor, he thought about jumping out the window, but that wouldn’t have gone well for him if someone was covering the front of the building. Slick knew he only had one option. Dropping the laundry bag, he aimed his gun at the front door and emptied the clip.
* * *
Jah and Spooky walked fast, but didn’t run up Eighth Avenue. Over Jah’s shoulder, he held a laundry bag containing over two hundred thousand dollars in small bills, and the guns they had used to murder the St. Nick hustlers. Rel wasn’t shit in life, but he did turn out to be useful for something in the end.
When he tossed Rel off the roof, he and Spooky headed downstairs to finish Slick. Spooky suggested they do it another time, as the police were surely on the way, but Jah wouldn’t hear it. He was determined not to let another night go by with debts still to be paid.
The initial knock on the door was met by gunfire, as Jah suggested it might. Slick was so scared that he emptied the whole clip and didn’t kill anything but the apartment door. While he was preoccupied, Jah made his way around the back of the building and climbed the few feet to the bathroom window. Slick never even saw it coming when the youngster clocked him in the back of the head with his pistol, knocking him unconscious.
When Slick woke up, he was ass-naked and tied to his bed. Jah questioned him about the rape, but Slick insisted he didn’t know what Jah was talking about, which he didn’t. He continued to try and tell them that they were about to kill an innocent man, but Jah didn’t give a shit. Whether he took part in the rape or not wouldn’t have saved his life. His innocence in the rape didn’t change the fact that he had tried to murder Jah and he had to go. They didn’t toy with him like they did Rel, but his death was just as painful, if not more so, as it took him a few minutes to die even after Jah had blown his shithole out.
Jah felt weary after the hit. He had shot plenty of cats in his day, but it was never like this. The times he had killed before had been about survival or a dollar, but the murders of Slick and his crew were about something else. Jah had killed those men because he hated them. When he squeezed that trigger, he poured every bit of hate and selfloathing he could muster into the deed. Now that they were dead, the hate was gone, leaving a feeling of accomplishment and closure.
“How much you think we made off with?” Spooky asked.
“I don’t know, and we damn sure ain’t gonna stop to count it right now. We gotta get low,” Jah told him. “Check it, take this,” he said and handed Spooky the bag. “Stash the guns and we’ll dump them when the heat dies down.”
“You’re finally giving up that old forty-cal?”
“I’m giving up a lot of shit, Spook,” Jah said with a seriousness that Spooky wasn’t used to hearing from him. “Man, I’ve put in so much work this summer that I feel like I’ve been holding a nine to five.”
“Go ahead with that stupid shit.” Spooky waved him off and flagged a cab. “I know you ain’t talking about getting out after all the muthafuckas we just dropped?”
Jah laughed. “Spook, you’re my ace boon from the womb to the tomb. I’d never leave you high and dry. I’m still down for my nigga and always will be, I’m just thinking that with all the heat that’s gonna come down on the streets, it might not be the smartest thing in the world for me to be running around acting all crazy. I’m just saying I might not wanna be so visible for a while.”
“I feel you, but if we lay up, what are we gonna do?” Spooky asked seriously.
Jah placed his hand on Spooky’s shoulder. “We ain’t rich, but we ain’t broke, either. My dude, we got money in the stash and on the streets. We’re running around out here putting in work because we enjoy it. You’re always telling me about your auntie in D.C. that’s got your daughter. Why don’t you go down and visit her?”
Spooky thought on it for a minute. “I do miss my baby girl.”
“You should, being that you ain’t seen her in months.” Jah playfully mushed Spooky. “Take a few weeks to relax and get some out-of-town pussy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Spooky agreed. “What are you gonna do?”
Jah winked and started walking in the other direction. “Help a young lady I know get back on her feet.”
“I always knew you was a sucker for love!” Spooky joked, as he got in the cab and pulled off.
* * *
The first uniformed officer that entered Slick’s apartment lost his lunch at the sight that awaited him. Slick was on his stomach with his arms and legs duct taped to the bedposts. His back had been sliced repeatedly with a kitchen knife and there was a gaping hole where his asshole used to be. From what they could tell, Slick had been tortured before he died. Later that night, the coroner would deduce that the cause of death was someone sticking a high-powered handgun up Slick’s ass and pulling the trigger.
39
Rhonda sat on her love seat, smoking a blunt and watching videos. Though most of the mess from the party had been cleaned up, the floor was still sticky and the house reeked of sin. After the police had carted Paul away, Rhonda resumed the party to celebrate. P.J. had spent the night at Sheila’s, so she had no restrictions on how hard she went. She took Von in the bedroom and fucked him for an hour and a half as a reward for him standing up for her.
During their romp, she went on and on about how much of a G Von was and how he was killing the pussy, but it was all a prerehearsed script. What was really on her mind was how Paul had wigged out. When she had met him, Paul was a pure street nigga. He was like an older version of Jah, yet far more poised. His lawless attitude was one of the main things that attracted her to him. Those were the good old days, but since Paul had come home from jail, he was on a totally different page.
She had heard stories about cats going to jail and getting scared straight, but she didn’t believe that about Paul. When she had asked him about it, he simply said, “Parenthood ages you ten years.” He tried to sound all philosophical about it, but Rhonda didn’t believe that shit. She had three kids and still felt like she was twenty-one. No, it wasn’t the birth of P.J. that had changed Paul, it was his new bitch.
When Rhonda first started hearing stories about her baby’s father having a new shorty, she already made up her mind that she didn’t like her. She was nice to P.J. and seemed to have her shit together, but she reminded Rhonda too much of Kelly to even consider understanding her. To Rhonda, the greatest threat that Marlene posed was the fact that she had been able to manipulate Paul’s heart. She did it under the guise of trying to help him grow up, but Rhonda felt that she was really just a controlling bitch.
“You gonna pass that or let it burn?” Rhonda asked, nodding at the blunt in Reese’s hand, which sported a head of ash almost as long as the blunt itself.
“Shit,” Reese yelped as the heat nicked her finger. “I was so caught up in this article that I wasn’t even paying attention,” she said, holding up the Daily News piece on violence in Harlem.
“This is some sad shit,” Rhonda said, shaking the newspaper. “They found that nigga Rel, butt-ass with his whole skull caved in. First that silly muthafucka Pain, and now Rel’s old rapist ass. Yo, this is the only summer I’ve ever seen where every greaseball muthafucka is getting what they deserve.”
“Rhonda, that’s some fucked-up shit to say.” Reese gave her a disgusted look. “I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, not even Pain.”
“Bitch, then you must be stupid. Them niggaz not only put you on front st
reet, but Pain tried to tear your head off. If it had been me, I’d be glad to see his ass rotting in the ground.”
“Well, it ain’t you, Rhonda,” Reese shot back. “Yeah, Pain and Jay were both assholes and I’d have loved to see them get whipped out, but dying? Nah, I can’t bring myself to wish that on anyone. Rhonda, you’re my girl, but you ain’t got no shame.”
“I know you ain’t talking about shame?” Rhonda raised her eyebrow. “I wasn’t the one who let Don B.’s crew run through me. The crazy shit is that I’m not mad at you because you let them niggaz do you like a freak. I’m mad at the fact that you ain’t even have the good sense to get some paper out of it. That not only makes you a freak, but a dummy, too.”
“Fuck you, bitch!” Reese snapped. “All you do is sit around and criticize people. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you had a perfect life, but I do know you, so we know that’s far from the case. While you’re busy putting everyone else’s life under the microscope, why don’t you try taking a look at yours?”
“What about my life? Ain’t shit wrong with my life,” Rhonda insisted.
“Ain’t shit right with your life,” Reese countered. “Your days consist of smoking weed and talking on the phone. The only time you get out of bed before twelve is on check day.”
“Reese, don’t come up in here acting like you get up and go to work every morning. I might only have a state income, but at least I got my own crib. Can’t nobody come in here and tell me shit. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same.”
“And so what if I live with my mother, I ain’t got no kids. Let me ask you a serious question. Have you ever thought about how the way you move affects your kids?” Rhonda gave no answer. “You run around yelling about how Alisha is too fast, but where do you think she gets it from?”
Rhonda waved her off. “Please, what I do ain’t got nothing to do with her little ass being grown. That little bitch just needs a slap in her mouth.”
“Look at how many slaps in the mouth Rita gave you, and you still ended up pregnant before we were out of high school,” Reese pointed out. “Rhonda, those kids need more than a slap in the mouth. They need to know that it’s not normal behavior to sit around and wait on the mailman to bring them a check. Instead of trying to beat niggaz in the head and trying to figure out how to get Paul back, you need to take a more active roll in what’s going on in your kids’ lives.” By the look on Rhonda’s face, Reese could tell she hit a sore spot. She hadn’t meant to come across so harsh, but it needed to be said.
Rhonda thought about blacking out and punching Reese in the face, but if she did that then she would know she had struck a nerve. She looked at Reese coolly and said, “You know what? I might get a check from the state, and yeah, my kids might even be a little rotten, but dammit, I got my self-respect. You’d never catch me letting a bunch of dirty-dick niggaz like Don B. and his crew taking turns stretching my pussy out and walk away empty-handed. Instead of trying to preach to me, you need to be down at the clinic making sure your ass is all right.”
Rhonda’s words hit Reese like a physical blow. Her mind had almost blocked out what had happened at the hotel, but Rhonda had reopened the wound. No one knew that she had been burned, but the statement hit too close to home. Of all the girls she hung out with, Rhonda was the best at getting under her skin.
“Rhonda, you’re crazy foul,” Reese said, getting up and heading for the door.
“That’s right, bitch, run away like you always do,” Rhonda called after her. “One day you’re gonna come across a problem that you can’t run away from and then what’re you gonna do?”
Reese ignored Rhonda and held back the tears that were trying to fall. Rhonda was speaking out of anger, but her words were ringing very true. Things were coming up left and right that were complicating the hell out of her life. Since she’d been a little girl, she always ran from her problems or acted as if they didn’t exist. At some point in her life, she would have to take a stand. The fact that she was now pregnant and had no idea who the father was told her it would come sooner than later.
* * *
After three days of bologna sandwiches and being elbow to elbow with the same sex, Paul was finally a free man. When he had gone before the judge, she’d informed him that he was being charged with assault, disorderly conduct, and trespassing. Paul tried to explain that he had only tried to defend himself, but the female judge automatically sided with Rhonda. He felt sick when she set his bail at twenty-five thousand dollars. He was barely making ends meet and had no way to raise that kind of bread. Even putting up the ten percent for bond seemed like an impossible task. He had come to grips with the fact that he might be sitting up for a while when one of the guards informed him that he had posted bail. He knew he hadn’t called anyone to tell them he was locked up, so he figured it had to be a mistake, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. He took the blessing and was quietly processed out.
When he walked out of the Tombs, the early morning sun nearly blinded him. He had only been behind the wall for a few days, but his now light-sensitive eyes made it feel like far longer. He smelled like a cabdriver and was in dire need of a shave, but when he walked out of the Tombs and took a whiff of the stale New York air, none of it mattered.
Paul was glad to be free, but his anger at Rhonda still lingered. Never in his life had he felt so violated by a female. For years, he had been nothing but good to Rhonda, even when she went out of her way to be a bitch. He had held her and her seeds down and as payment now he’d be running back and forth to court, fighting his new case. Of all the fights they had over the years, she had never gone to those extremes, but apparently the gloves were now off.
Rhonda was playing the role of the victim when she was wrong all the way around the board. She was not only pressing charges, but had tried to put the wolves on him. He had seen the kid Von around before, but really didn’t know who he was or what he was about. Knowing Rhonda, he was a low-class hood who Paul would have to be on point for in the future. The first thing Paul was going to do when he got back uptown was go by Spooky’s and get a hammer.
Paul had been out of the loop for three days, so there was a lot to be done. Marlene was probably going to kill him when she caught him because he hadn’t bothered to call her when he got knocked. With her being a defense attorney, she should’ve been the first person he called, but Paul chose not to play that card. The last things he needed was Marlene worrying and talking a hole in his head about Rhonda’s bullshit and his quality of life. He had gotten himself into it, and he would get himself out.
Nothing that had happened over the past few days sat well with Paul, but what he felt the worst about was missing the exhibit. Larry had gone through a lot of trouble to set the event up, and Paul hadn’t even showed. It hurt him to know that he had probably missed the opportunity to finally get his career off the ground, but what made him feel like shit was knowing that he had let Larry down. He had gone out of his way to try and help Paul out and because of his lack of selfcontrol, he flushed it down the toilet. He would apologize to his friend later, but at that moment the most important thing to him was getting the hell away from Center Street.
* * *
By the time Audrey came out of the courthouse, Paul was already gone. She had planned on approaching him when he was released, but she didn’t expect him to be processed out so quickly after she’d posted the bond. She looked up and down the street, but saw no sign of him, and being that there were multiple train stations in the area, she had no way to know exactly which way he had gone. She sighed and thought on her next possible point of intercept.
40
When Jah walked into the apartment, he was thoroughly surprised at what he saw. Yoshi was sitting at the table, chatting with Marcus and sipping herbal tea. She had taken her weave out and let her real hair breathe. It was flipped and pinned up in the back, with one side hanging down to cover the spot where Rel had hit her. Her face still bore scrapes, but the worst of her bruise
s were fading.
“Hey,” Jah said, coming into the kitchen with Billy on his heels.
“What’s up, Jah?” Yoshi got up and hugged him. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment to enjoy his scent.
“I see you’re feeling better.” He squeezed her once more before letting go.
“A little bit, even if I don’t look it,” she said and shrugged.
Jah kissed her forehead tenderly and pulled her close to him. “You’re beautiful to me, ma.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” Billy whispered to Marcus.
“I heard that.” Yoshi tossed a balled-up paper towel at Billy. “Don’t act like we’re the only ones in here hugged up.”
Marcus pinched Billy’s thigh playfully. “Funny the way things play out, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes.” Billy smiled. “And I’m glad this is one of them.”
“Can you guys excuse us for a second?” Yoshi got up and took Jah by the hand. “I need to talk to Jah for a minute,” she told them as she led him into the bedroom.
“Don’t be in there fucking on my sheets!” Marcus joked.
* * *
“What’s up? You feeling up for a quickie?” Jah joked. Yoshi’s face remained serious. “Sorry, I was just playing.”
“Jah, I know what happened,” she told him.
“Huh?”
“Billy and Marcus tried to hide the newspapers from me, but I guess they didn’t expect it to come on the TV news. I know what happened to Rel and the others.”
Jah’s heartbeat quickened, but he didn’t let his face reveal what his mind was thinking. “Yeah, I heard about what happened to them dudes. Karma is a muthafucka, ain’t it?”