Street Fame

by Elliott, K.

  “Tommy, what are you going to do? Are you going to get on the treadmill with me or not?”

  “I’m going. What do you think; I’m a punk or something?”

  “Cool. I like your spirit. Tommy, you are okay with me.”

  Alicia got on the treadmill and Tommy got on the one behind her. She set her speed to where she would run her miles at twelve-minute intervals. Tommy set his speed for eighteen-minute miles. He held on to the rail as he walked fast, then he began a light trot.

  Alicia was wide open, iPod attached to her arm. She was free. Nobody could stop her.

  *****

  Night had fallen. Alicia and Tommy talked in the gym parking lot. He stood in front of her while she leaned up against her Toyota Camry. He looked into her eyes and, for the first time, noticed that they were hazel. “You have the most amazing eyes.”

  She smiled then said, “Thanks.”

  “So, Ms. Jane Fonda, are we going out or what?”

  She frowned. “I hope you don’t think that’s a compliment, comparing me to a white girl.”

  Tommy grabbed her hands. They were soft, and he loved them. “I didn’t mean anything by that; I’m just saying, you all in shape and shit.”

  Alicia turned around. “Jane wishes she had a back like mine.” “Now ain’t that the truth.”

  She giggled.

  “What are you laughing at?” Tommy asked.

  “Just thinking about you running on that treadmill. You was bent

  all over, cramping.”

  “Yeah, all that water I drank fucked me up.”

  She frowned. “Tommy, can you stop cursing so much?” Tommy put his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s just

  that all the niggas that I’m around … all we do is curse. I mean, there are certain people you just have to curse around to get your point across. You know what I mean?”

  “I guess.” He put his hand in hers again. “So are we going out again or what?”

  She pulled a towel from her gym bag and wiped her face. She didn’t answer him.

  “Okay, Alicia. You have me damn near kill myself by getting on that fucking treadmill, and now we can’t go out?”

  “Tommy, you’re cursing again.”

  “Sorry.”

  She looked at him then started laughing again. “Tommy, I’ll go out with you. You don’t have to look so mad.”

  “No bullshit—I mean …”

  “Yes, of course I will. You went out of your way to please me. I like that a lot about you.”

  Tommy hadn’t anticipated her going out with him on a date. He figured a girl like Alicia was way out of his league—and she was. She was cute; he wasn’t. She was in shape; he definitely was not that. He didn’t know where he would take her. He thought about asking her to go fishing but quickly dismissed the thought. She was too cute for that.

  “So, Tommy, when and where are we going?”

  “I don’t know. What would you like to do?”

  She frowned. “Come on, Tommy. You’re supposed to know those types of things. Women like men who has everything all planned out. Women like men to take control. Come on, Tommy, be a man.”

  “Well, I don’t know. Let me surprise you.”

  She smiled then wiped her face again. “I like surprises.”

  “Let’s go out Friday.”

  “Friday is good.”

  ***** Mark Pratt pretended that the crumpled paper was a basketball and that he was shooting a three-pointer.

  Ken Clarkson blocked Mark’s game-winning three-pointer. “Get that outta here.” He was happy to have blocked the shot because he knew he could only do that in the office. On the basketball court, he’d never beat Mark, never block his shot, never steal the ball from him, and never dunk on him. All of which Mark had done to him at will.

  Ken continued his little celebration.

  Then the phone rang. “Agent Pratt speaking.”

  “How’s it going, Pratt? This is Agent Donahue of the Miami Division. I got news for you. We busted your boy Manny Gomez.”

  “Oh yeah? How did that happen? I was thinking he was Mr. Untouchable.”

  “A guy who’d grown up with his family just got a conscience. He knew that he was under investigation along with Gomez. He was scared. Came in and began talking, then he called an attorney and asked for immunity. We wired him up and sent him to make a buy from Gomez. We then raided the house and seized a hundred kilos of pure Colombian coke.”

  Chapter 8

  The U.S. Marshals brought Manny Gomez into an interrogation room. When they took the cuffs off him, he lunged at Agent Donahue, reaching for his throat.

  Manny was quickly restrained and shoved into a corner. His head hit the cement wall. He bounced up and spat at a Marshal.

  The big man grabbed Manny by his head and tossed him back to the floor.

  “Fuck you. Fuck all you bastards!” Manny said.

  “So, Manny, I take it that you don’t want to help yourself out of this jam,” Donahue said.

  “Fuck you, you stinking pig. Haven’t you done enough? You’ve ruined my life.”

  “Manny, you ruined your own life.”

  “Who the hell are the two new goons?” Manny asked as he looked at Mark and Ken.

  “These are my fellow officers from North Carolina. They are here to ask you a few questions.”

  Manny’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Do you know Tommy Dupree?”

  “Yes ... Maybe ... Depends.”

  “Are you his supplier?”

  “No, George Bush is his supplier, and he’s mine too.” Manny remained on the floor, looking up.

  Donahue walked over.

  Manny spat on him then bit his shin.

  Donahue grabbed Manny’s neck and choked him.

  The two Marshals broke up the fight.

  “Fuck you. I’ll never do your job for you.”

  “Manny, you’re gonna die in jail.”

  “I don’t give a fuck, as long as my family is taken care of. And guess what, buddy, my son is fifteen years old and he can spend a million dollars a year until he turns seventy five. Can you say that about your kids?”

  “No, but I can go home to my kids,” Donahue bragged.

  Manny laughed a loud, wicked laugh. “You guys are really fucking annoying. I try to give you valuable information about your president, but you don’t want to follow up on it. But if I say something about Tommy, a great guy who has nothing, you’ll put him away for years. See what a corrupt system we have here?”

  “Manny you’re a really charming guy,” Mark Pratt said.

  “And you really are a slave of the system, man. Don’t you understand what they are doing to Blacks and Latinos?”

  “Manny, I’ve heard it all. I’m not in the mood for the Black-andLatino shit.”

  “Fuck you. You’re a pig, just like the rest of them. Take me back to my cell.”

  “Stand him up,” Donahue said.

  The U.S. Marshals stood Manny up. He and Donahue made eye contact. They stared at each other for a long time. “Okay, Manny, I’m going to give you one more chance. Tell me who is your supplier and who are you supplying?”

  “George Bush is my supplier, and I’m supplying DEA Agent Donahue and his two friends.”

  “Get this disgusting bastard out of my face,” Donahue said. “He’ll come around soon enough.”

  ***** When Alicia opened the door to her apartment, she was wearing a form-fitting dress.

  Tommy’s eyes were immediately drawn to her thighs.

  When she saw him staring, she blushed a little.

  “I feel like I’m dressed too casual.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Jeans and boots. You looking like you about to walk down the red carpet or something.”

  She laughed. “Well, a fashionista has to look her best.”

  “A fashionista? What the hell is that?”

  She giggled. “Tommy, you’re funny. Co
me on inside.”

  Tommy walked in and sat on her couch. “You don’t mind if I sit down, do you?”

  “You’re already sitting; what are you talking about?”

  “I guess I am,” Tommy said, his eyes moving back to her thighs.

  “Tommy, you’re looking at me like I’m a pork chop or something.”

  “I ... just didn’t expect you to be looking like this, that’s all.”

  “Well, Tommy, when you saw me the first time, I was dressed down. Then it was the gym; I don’t get dressed up for the gym,” she said. She walked past him with a slow, seductive walk.

  “So where are we going? I got us some appointments for massages.”

  “Come on, Tommy. It’s seven at night, and I don’t want to go for massages. Let’s go to dinner.”

  “Where?”

  “The Palm.”

  “The Palm ... sounds expensive.”

  “Yeah, it is kind of pricey, but I can pay for my own meal.” She winked.

  Tommy felt a little insulted. Who in the hell did she think he was? He had money, and he could afford any restaurant in Charlotte. He pulled out a big wad of cash. “You’ll never pay for your own meal when you’re with me.”

  Her eyes stretched. “Tommy! Rule number one: If you’re going to be a drug dealer … at least be smart about it.”

  ***** “Give me an apple martini,” Alicia told the young waitress. “Hennessey, straight,” Tommy ordered.

  The waitress disappeared. Two minutes later, she returned with

  the drinks, and took their orders. Tommy ordered the New York strip, and Alicia had the broiled salmon.

  He made eye contact with her. He knew she was special. For starters, he could get an erection just by looking at her. Also … Well … that was more than enough. He could look at her forever. She was a good girl, and he longed to have a woman like her.

  He began to think about the other side of his life—the street life. He thought about the next trip to Miami. He thought about the adrenaline rush he got from counting money. He had plenty, but he didn’t have happiness. But he was happy for the moment.

  “Tommy, what are you thinking about?”

  He cut his steak in small portions, thinking about how he should answer her question. He sure as hell didn’t want her to know that he was thinking about the streets. He finally looked up at her and smiled. “I was just thinking about us.”

  Alicia smiled. “What about us?”

  “I think we have chemistry.”

  “We do. But, Tommy, I told you I can’t see us being more than friends unless you stop hustling.”

  “Why are you so set against dating hustlers?”

  “Actually, Tommy, my father sold drugs for many years, and it afforded me many things like ballet lessons, private schools, expensive cars, and more.”

  Tommy was amazed. He never imagined Alicia being from a family involved with crime or anything remotely illegal. He thought her father might have been some big-time executive or attorney, someone who couldn’t possibly understand the plight of the poor and underprivileged. “Just out of curiosity, what made your dad stop hustling?”

  “His best friend got caught. The feds gave him life and charged him as a kingpin. My mom begged him to stop because she didn’t want to lose him to the system.”

  “So his best friend didn’t rat him out?”

  “No. They were like brothers. Daddy still takes good care of him. He sends him money, visits him once a month, and takes care of his wife and kids.”

  “What a story.” Tommy sipped his Hennessey.

  “Tommy, what’s even more amazing … Daddy hasn’t sold drugs in eight years, but he’s made close to ten million dollars in the last three years.”

  Tommy’s eyebrows rose. “Doing what?”

  “Real estate investing. He’s invested in commercial real estate.”

  “I wish I could do something like that.”

  “Tommy...” Alicia lowered her voice. “Take a look around. What do you see?”

  Tommy scanned the restaurant. He shrugged. “People, I guess.”

  “Tommy, most of these people in here have money. And guess what … a lot of them didn’t get it honestly.”

  “You know I always think that anyway, Alicia. I just thought that was my twisted mind.”

  Alicia sipped her martini. “Let me tell you something. Everybody that has money didn’t get it being honest. Most people steal somehow or another.”

  Tommy couldn’t believe they shared an ideology. She appeared to be so naive. “How do you think these people got their money?”

  “That, I don’t know. Drugs, maybe, or some kind of white-collar crime ... My understanding is that very few get it honestly.”

  “Your point is…?” Tommy said, then leaned closer, placing his forearms on the table. “I thought you were against hustling.”

  “My point is…make your money and get out.”

  “Like your daddy did?”

  “Exactly.”

  Her smiled was innocent. Her eyes seemed to being saying she had ideas that could take him to the top—unlike Nia, who could never tell him anything. Nia was against him selling drugs most of the time, but when it came to her wants, they had to be fulfilled at all cost.

  “I don’t know real estate.”

  “Tommy, you can learn anything, and you can do anything you put your mind to. You think my daddy knew the real estate game?”

  Tommy was silent for a moment, absorbing it all. He knew he was very capable of learning, but the drug money came so easy.

  “Tommy, you can do anything. I haven’t known you but for a couple of weeks, and you appear to be a very intelligent man.”

  “Alicia, do you think your dad can teach me how to make money with real estate?”

  “I don’t know, but we can ask him. I’ll call him,” Alicia said, then dug into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

  “Daddy!” she said. Her face lit up.

  Tommy looked on with envy. He’d never known his dad—only his stepdad, who was serving a lengthy sentence.

  Alicia said, “Dad, I’m with my friend here, Tommy, and he does the same thing you used to do and he was wondering if you could help him invest his money in real estate.” She listened for a few seconds then passed Tommy the phone.

  The man on the other end of the phone said, “Tommy.”

  “Yes. I mean ... Yes, sir.”

  “Forget that sir shit. You can call me Don.”

  Tommy relaxed and laughed.

  “Tommy, I hear you are playing a dangerous game.” “I guess you can say that,” Tommy said, then looked at Alicia.

  “Tommy, I ain’t knocking your life, but you have to be prepared when the Grim Reaper comes.”

  “The Grim Reaper? What do you mean?”

  “The police. Man, I hope you ain’t that naïve.”

  “I just had never heard them referred to as the Grim Reaper.”

  “Tommy, I’m from the old school, man, but you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” At that moment Tommy thought about his stepdad. Thought about how he looked in the visitation room. Prison was a sad place, where people got old and sick. There was nothing to look forward to, and there was so much barbed wire. He knew that if he were ever locked up, he would go absolutely crazy.

  “But like I was saying, Tommy, you’re playing a serious game, a game where you could lose your life. That’s what I mean by the Grim Reaper.”

  “I got you.”

  “No, I got you. Obviously my daughter likes you, if she wants me to help you get out of your situation.”

  Tommy smiled then glanced at Alicia. He really felt love for her now.

  “So, Tommy, if you could come out to California, I can show you what I got going on, and maybe you’ll see the light.”

  “Cool. I would love to come out there. I’ve never been to Cali.” All of his teeth were exposed when he smiled. He knew at that moment he wanted Alicia
to be his wife. He’d never met anyone who believed in him.

  ***** When Tommy pulled up to Alicia’s apartment complex, the sun had gone down. The moon was full, and very few stars decorated the pitch black sky. He parked in front of her building and turned on the radio. Usher hummed in the background. “I hope you had a good time,” Tommy said.

  “Actually, I did. It doesn’t take much for me.” He turned and faced her. “I really like you.”

  She smiled but didn’t say anything.

  “I really like you.”

  “So did you have a good time?” she asked.

  “Yeah, of course I did, because I was with someone I wanted to

  be with.”

  “And who might that be?” she asked, then flung her hair over her

  shoulder.

  He didn’t answer; he just leaned toward her and gave her a small

  peck on the lip. His erection was growing.

  When he pulled away, her eyes were still closed, as if she were

  expecting a long, passionate kiss. “I want you to go fishing with me,”

  he said.

  “Fishing?”

  “Yes. It should be fun.”

  “I’ve never been fishing before. I’ll have to think about it.” “What is it to think about? I have a boat. You will love it. Trust me.” “First of all, I just got my hair done. Second, I don’t want to be

  smelling like fish.”

  “You’re such a woman.”

  “But that’s what you love, right?” Their eyes met.

  His heart began to beat fast. His erection throbbed. He leaned

  toward her and kissed her. Their lips locked and his tongue entered

  her mouth.

  He pulled away. “So, are you going to go with me or not?” She blushed, revealing deep dimples. “Only one condition.” “What’s that?”

  “If you paint my fishing pole pink.”

  “Pink? You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  “I’m a girl, remember? I likely girly things.”

  “You may be a girl, but in that gym you’re Iron Woman.” She laughed. “Yes, but still I’m a girl.”

  “I’ll think about that pink fishing pole thing.”