“The power to get ’im caged behind yo’ girlfriend dropping. It’s one thing to get caught with yo’ hand in the cookie jar, Nee. Topps is sharp. He knows you been skimming from him for years now.”
“That’s bullshit…I don’t steal from my own…”
“Nee, please. It’s me, Slick. You can cut all that false jaw-jacking. Yo’ hand in his cookie jar is one thing, but now we talkin’ about murder.”
She squirmed along the bed. Neema tried to play it off, but he had her full attention because she was scared. Scared to leave and scared to stay. “Hell, Slick, you act like it’s the first time my man dropped somebody. Thought y’all been bragging about popping punks since kindergarten.”
Slick sniffed. “Check this tho’. You ever seen ’im pop a nigga with yo’ own eyes?”
Neema thought about it. She’d seen a few brutal beatings, fingers cut off, and a tongue sliced in half. Once even, she witnessed a fallen soldier take a bullet to the spine. Topps had pulled the trigger. The soldier didn’t die, but she was sure he’d never walk again. But now the writing was on the wall. She’d witnessed a murder. Accident or no accident. Kaykay wasn’t coming back. Tears threatened her eyes. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Now you listen to me, Nee. That little friend of yours was getting around. She was kicking it with Rocco, better known as ‘Bulldog Roc.’ I’m sure you’ve heard of ’im.”
“One of Topps’ old rivals?” Her heart raced. That explained why Topps was riding the girl so hard behind some coke. “So it wasn’t about the stupid coke after all.”
“You hear me now? Bulldog Roc is an old gangsta that went into retirement some years back. That’s the same nigga that popped his father for sleeping with his bitch over twenty years ago. I didn’t wanna say nothin’ when I was at yo’ place, but I recognized her then.”
“I am so tired of all of this.” Again, thoughts of Kaykay dying almost brought tears to her eyes, but the blunt she’d smoked earlier was helping her to cope. A couple of glasses of wine would make it even better. “Swear to God, I can’t do this no more. I can’t.”
“This is on the real, Nee. That nigga Rocco is known for being crazy. He’ll have some of his old cronies out sniffing around to find out what happened to his girl. That’s a fact.”
“It was an accident though.”
“Yeah, try telling that shit to an enemy. But yeah, accidents do happen. They happen all the time.”
Neema looked away, thoughts clicking a mile a minute. “Maybe I need to cut my losses and move the hell away.”
Slick shook his head. “Good idea and bad idea.”
“I gotta do something, Slick. I just want out.”
“Look, fo’ sho you need to get yo’ kids and run like crazy, but you need to move yo’ moms away, too. Maybe even that sister of yours.”
“My sister?” She shot him a look of disbelief. “What about my sister?”
“My boy Topps is an obsessed man, Nee. He’s been keeping tabs on you like a mutha. He knows where your moms lives, and that prissy little sister of yours. What’s her name? Mia? Myra? Living in Victorville, right? Married to a guy named Glen, a doctor. Three kids. He thinks her twins are too cute.”
“Ohmygawd.” Neema felt sick to her stomach. It was worse than she thought. Topps wasn’t just checking and keeping tabs on her because she sometimes transported his product; he was stalking her family.
“Running could be a dangerous thing right now. Go along with the program for a while. And if you gotta do the wifey thing, do it. Once Rocco gets word that Topps had somethin’ to do with his girl’s drop, he’ll be gunning for ’im. And you don’t wanna be around when that happens.”
“Nobody knows about it but me, him, and you.”
“And the cleaning crew. Enough money can make anybody talk. And that fool they call Zoot, hell, I wouldn’t trust him around his own mama. That nigga’s mind is whacked.”
She rubbed her hands along her tired face. “I gotta go.”
Slick grabbed her hand again. “Look here, shortie. I like you. I like you a lot. All I’m saying is, I don’t wanna see you get hurt behind all this, but I see it coming.” He wanted to warn her about the cell phone that Topps had given her, but Neema could be a hot-head at times. He could see her storming over and confronting Topps about the tracking device. That would blow his position. “Stay put for now, go along with his plan, but don’t be car riding with ’im too much. I’ll keep my ears open for you.”
“Why you spilling to me like this, Slick? Thought you and Topps were like white on rice.”
Slick let her arm go and got up from the bed. “We are.” He grinned as he headed for a shower. “But that don’t mean I have to agree with everything he does. Now do it?”
Neema admired his muscular body as he headed to the bathroom. He was a chocolate, walking, dick-thick, Wesley Snipes-looking man except for his bulging eyes and bad skin. A nice smile though. Shorter than Topps by an inch, Slick had more muscles in the right places. His high behind looked powerful, like a good time promised. She smiled at the thought. How right they would be. “Thanks for the advice.”
“No problem.”
Neema was dressed by the time Slick walked back into the room. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” said Slick, sliding back into his silver-and-dark gray Sean John walking suit.
“If Topps is tracking my every move like you say, how the hell can you be sure he don’t know that we’re here now?”
“You thinking smart. I like that. But check this, when you hit me up on my cell, my boy and I was kicking it at his place after I dropped off his money.”
“You sure?”
“Nee, you think I’d be here with you if I wasn’t sure?”
She found some comfort in his words. “Well, I’m out.” Neema grabbed up her gear, walked over and gave Slick a quick peck on the lips. “You a good friend, Slick.”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “Oh yeah, shortie, before I forget.” He picked up his jacket, reached into a side pocket and pulled out a banded wad of one hundred-dollar bills. “A little somethin’ to sweeten yo’ day.”
“Good looking out. Thanks.”
“You welcome,” he said, patting that ass as she turned and headed out.
Neema stuck the money in her tote without another thought and headed to her SUV. She got in, started her engine and waited a minute before pulling off to finally get her kids from her mother’s house. Too engrossed in her thoughts of how her mother would act once she arrived, she didn’t notice the black panel van parked across the street from the motel.
Inside the van, the blue-eyed private detective had taken three pictures of Neema: exiting the motel, opening her car door and getting in.
“Looks like a done deal,” he mumbled lowly to himself, then sat back and waited for her male companion to exit the same motel room. He didn’t have to wait long for Slick.
His client had paid him good for his service. More than any other client he’d dealt with. Click. Click. Click. “Look this way and smile for the camera.” Two more clicks. “That’s a good boy.” He smiled.
THIRTEEN
“Topps did what?!”
“He picked the kids up.”
“Mama, why would you do that?!”
Hattie Mae felt flustered. Plus, she didn’t like the way Neema was talking to her. Hell, she was practically yelling at her. To keep from saying something to hurt the girl’s feelings, she got up from her La-Z-Boy and went into her kitchen to turn on the oven. No doubt it was too late to be baking, but she’d promised to bake three cakes for her church’s fundraiser on Tuesday. Now was a good time to get started. It was bad enough that she’d almost been carted off to jail earlier with Raynita trying to steal from Walmart. Then Topps had shown up asking for the kids, and now this.
“First of all, you need to lower your voice. I don’t like no yelling in my house, Neema Jean.”
“Mama, I’m not yelling, I’m j
ust trying to figure out why you gave my kids to Topps.”
Hattie shook her head. “Could it be because he’s their father?”
“But Mama, you knew I was coming to get the kids. Didn’t he tell you that earlier?”
“I told you, Neema, he popped up at my door, said you had a migraine and that you sent him to pick up the kids. And they wanted to go with their father.” Hattie poured sugar into softened butter and turned her stand mixer on low. “Them kids missed a whole week of school fooling with you. Don’t make no sense. It was time for ’em to get back home.”
“Well, in case you don’t know, my kids make good grades. Missing one week won’t hurt ’em. B’sides, school will be out next week. End-of-the-year testing is done with.”
“Not the point, Neema.” Hattie shook her head. Neema always had an answer for everything. “Dumping those kids off the way you did, you didn’t even consider if I had doctor appointments or anything. You can’t be selfish all your life, Neema. You’re a parent now. You have responsibilities.”
Neema turned her back so she could roll her eyes. “I said I’m sorry, Mama. Dang. I wouldn’t have left Nita and Brandon like that if you had said yes to watch ’em for a few hours. I get tired, too. Sometimes I need a break.”
“Humph,” Hattie snorted back, unconvinced. She needed to vent and Neema wasn’t getting off that easy. “Didn’t even call to check up on ’em the whole time. What kind of caring mother does that, Neema? You tell me that.” She turned her mixer off and picked up one of four eggs and cracked it. “Not enough clothes or underwear. No extra food for ’em. Nothing.”
“It won’t happen again, Mama. I’m sorry you don’t enjoy spending quality time with your own grandchildren. Most grandmothers do.” Neema knew she had it coming. Though her mother wasn’t the high-energy woman she used to be, she still enjoyed her church functions, Monday night bingo and shopping trips to the mall. Dragging two kids along had to be hard on her. “Maybe you don’t love my kids like you love Myra’s.”
“Oh hell no, you didn’t!” Hattie shot a hot glare at her. “Don’t you dare use that psychobabble with me, Miss Thang! I love all five of my grandkids the same, but when I spend quality time, it should be when I choose to do so—not because they mama ran off from ’em.” She snatched up a second egg and felt like throwing it at Neema. “Got some nerve saying that mess to me.”
“Okay. Okay. You’re upset about it. I get it, but I didn’t run off, Mama. I took a break.” Neema had been standing at the kitchen door with her arms folded over her chest for the last five minutes while her mother fussed up a storm, but she’d had her fill. “I had an important appointment. Three hours of your time; that’s all I wanted from you.”
“Then how does a few hours turn into eight days, Neema? Explain that! Then you have the nerve to come up in here questioning me on why I let Topps take ’em? Like I want that man coming to my house. I can’t stand his behind and you need to get the hell outta here with that mess!” Hattie could feel her heart rate speed up. Of her two daughters, why was it that Neema could always bring out the worst in her?
“Well, I’m back now, Mama, so get over it.” Boldly, Neema trudged over to a chair and plopped down. She looked around and blew out a deep breath. She had more important things to worry about, like how to save her own life, and how to get her mother to move away from Compton. Here goes, she thought. “This house is paid for, right?” She placed her tote bag on the table.
Hattie looked over at her like she was crazy. “Thank God. Don’t owe one cent.” Maybe a change of topic was for the best.
“You know you could probably get a good grip for this house. Maybe enough to move and pay cash for a brand-new house.”
Hattie didn’t look up from adding flour into her mixer. “If I was thinking about selling, I guess I could.”
“Maybe you need to think about it, Mama. I mean, couldn’t you stand a change of scenery? We both could leave California together.”
“Why would I want to move away now, Neema?” Hattie gave her a curious look. One thing about her youngest daughter, the girl was full of surprises and there was never a dull moment. Something was always going on with Neema. The soft purr of the mixer filled the room. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mama. Dang. You so suspicious. I’m just thinking out the box. You know, thinking about the future and what’s best for the kids.”
Batter done, Hattie clicked the mixer off. “What’s best for the kids, huh?”
“Never mind, Mama. I gotta go.” Neema stood, fumbled through her bag and pulled out the wad of money Slick had given her. One hundred, two hundred, three, four, five hundred. She laid the crisp bills on the table. “This should be enough to cover the kids’ expense. I’ll be talking with Nita about that little stunt she pulled at Walmart. You won’t have to worry about seeing the kids for a while.”
“If that’s drug money from Topps, I don’t want it.” Hattie found her little performance amusing at times. Neema had been a drama queen since she learned to talk. She simply didn’t get it. Doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Always thinking about herself and treating others with little respect or with no regard for good morals. Neema being Neema.
“I swear, it’s not Topps’ money.” Well, it wasn’t, it was Slick’s money.
“You don’t work, so where did the money come from?” She resisted the urge to ask about the new furniture the kids had informed her about.
“Mama, I earned it. Okay? Dang. You always drilling in my business.”
Hattie turned her attention back to her cake batter. “Somebody need to be in it.”
Neema shoulder-strapped her bag. “So how long ago did Topps come for the kids?”
“About an hour ago.”
She had been getting her nut busted about then. The delicious thought tingled between her legs. “Did he seem upset?”
“No, Neema. He didn’t. Should he be?”
“No. I mean, not really. I’m just asking, Mama. Jeepers.” She watched her mother pour batter into a Bundt pan. “Next time, Mama, please check with me before you hand my kids over to someone else.”
“And next time, you need to leave a damn contact number so someone can check with you about your kids. Hell, if you don’t trust Topps to pick up his own kids, you should have said so before you abandoned them.”
“Mama, I didn’t abandon…never mind. I have to go.” Neema tossed the bills on the table and headed out.
“Let me say this before you leave.” Hattie closed her oven door and dried her hand on a towel. “I’m praying for you, Neema. Praying that you come to your senses, find a good man, get married and get back in school. You have a smart head on you, so use it.”
“Topps is a good man, Mama, and college wasn’t for me.” She wished her mother would stop throwing college up in her face. Right out of high school, Neema had thought she wanted to be a registered nurse. But wanting to be one and sticking out two to three years to make it happen was easier said than done. She gave the nursing program a good five months before realizing that running product for Topps paid a hell of a lot more than sticking needles in the asses of sick people. “He wants to marry me.”
“He’s a ‘good man?’ Is that why you here interrogating me about why I let him take his own kids, cause he’s a ‘good man?’Neema, all I’m saying is that this fast living is going to catch up with you. That’s why I keep praying.”
“You praying?” A sneer found her face, and Neema folded her arms across her chest. “Well, while you at it, Mama, maybe you can ask God why He never answered none of my prayers when I was younger. I used to pray, too. Prayed for Daddy to stop being so mean and stop hitting you. Prayed for Daddy to stop drinking so much. Where was God then?”
“And you say that to say what, Neema?”
“That God don’t give a shit about me, Mama. And you either. That’s what I’m saying.”
“Neema, you be careful what you say.”
“I’m talking trut
h. As far as I’m concerned, there ain’t no God!”
“Neema!”
“That’s how I feel, Mama. You need to hear the truth. All prayer don’t work.”
“That’s not what His word says.”
“The Bible? Get real. It’s a book written by some stupid white men to keep stupid black people in control. That’s what the Bible is, Mama. And that’s the truth.”
Hattie’s mouth sagged open. For a second or two, the room felt like it was spinning and she would surely pass out.
“See? I knew you couldn’t handle the truth.” Neema waited for Hattie’s rebuttal but none came. “Got it? Good! I’m out. Thanks for watching my kids for me.”
FOURTEEN
Forty-five minutes later, Neema pulled her vehicle into Topps’ driveway. She cut the engine and sat for a while, dreading to go inside. More mess was coming and she knew it. It was always that way with Topps. Questions of her whereabouts. Who did she see? What did she do? More drilling. Intimidation. Shouting. Drama. And she might have to take a wash-up, two showers and a bath before she could get some peace and quiet. She was exhausted already. How did she let her life get so out of control? All she wanted was to collect her kids and get back to her own place for a little peace of mind.
“This nigga bet not give me a hard time. I swear to God I’ll drop a dime…” She got out, and made her way to the door with her keys in hand. Before she could knock, the big, wooden door swung open, swishing air around her. Topps stood in the doorway with a glass of wine in his hand.
“Yo’, where you been, Nee?”
“I stopped to get something to eat.” Neema stepped in, closing the door behind her.
“You and who?”
“Me, myself, and I. Then I stopped over a girlfriend’s house for a minute.”
“What girlfriend?”
“Dena. You don’t know her.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Look, you could have called and told me that you would slide by Mama’s to get the kids. I told you that’s where I was headed.”
Love Trumps Game Page 9