The Fix 3

by K'wan

  Down in front Li’l Monk spotted Karen’s family. Her mother and some of Karen’s other relatives were there. Karen’s mother was normally loud and brash, but sitting mere feet away from her daughter’s body had taken all the fire out of her. She sobbed uncontrollably while friends and relatives tried to no avail to console her. Sitting on the end of the bench, trying to look everywhere except at the casket, was Karen’s brother and Li’l Monk’s best friend, Charlie. He was trying to hold it together, but you could tell from the redness of his eyes and the solemn look on his face that he was going through it. Charlie and Karen had different fathers and more often than not they disrespected each other like total strangers, but Li’l Monk knew firsthand how much the siblings loved each other. Li’l Monk’s heart went out to his friend in his time of grief.

  Charlie must’ve felt Li’l Monk staring at him from the back of the funeral home, because he picked his head up and looked in his direction. Li’l Monk pounded his chest in salute, to let Charlie know he was there for him, but to his surprise Charlie turned his back and acted as if he had never seen him. Li’l Monk figured he was so deep in his grief that he didn’t notice him and left it at that.

  Li’l Monk contemplated letting the conversation he needed to have with Charlie keep until another time, but he knew that it couldn’t. Li’l Monk’s reputation and potentially his life could’ve been on the line. Ramses was specific in his instructions to Li’l Monk to go alone when he’d sent him to pay a call on an old wise guy named Mr. D, but Li’l Monk had taken Charlie with him. He was trying to help his man get back on his feet and maybe gradually integrate him into Ramses’s street crew, but that plan got derailed when a few days later Mr. D was found dead in his apartment and the contents of his safe were stolen. Since technically Charlie wasn’t supposed to be there, as far as everyone was concerned Li’l Monk was one of the last people to see him alive. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know how it must’ve looked to the Italians. All Li’l Monk had in the world was his name and his word, and he refused to see either dirtied. He knew the best way to clear himself and not wind up on a mafia kill list was to fill in the blanks of the mystery he was caught up in. This was why it was so important that he spoke to Charlie.

  Li’l Monk picked his way through the throngs of mourners, nodding and shaking hands of different people he knew from the block. It seemed like everyone came out to pay their respects to Karen, including the drug addicts. At the end of the aisle he spotted an old crack fiend who went by the name of Neighborhood. Neighborhood had traded his usual crackhead gear of outdated clothes for a suit that had probably fit him once upon a time, but was now two sizes too big. He had even combed his bush of nappy hair and made his shapeless afro look somewhat presentable. Neighborhood was normally a mess of a man who was always high on this or that, but for the first time in all the years Li’l Monk had known him he looked relatively sober.

  At the time Neighborhood was speaking with a woman who looked familiar to Li’l Monk, but he couldn’t place her right off. She was older, probably somewhere in her early fifties and well dressed. She sported some expensive pieces of jewelry on her neck and fingers, but they didn’t completely hide the unmistakable look of someone who had once danced with drugs. It wasn’t obvious to the untrained eyes, but Li’l Monk dealt with addicts day in and day out. For all intents and purposes there was nothing special about the woman, but the local fiends seemed to have a great deal of respect for her.

  After their exchange the woman said good-bye to Neighborhood and made her way toward the exit. As she passed Li’l Monk she paused and gave him a look of recognition. She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead she gave him a warm smile and continued on her way.

  A few seconds later, Neighborhood came walking up the aisle. When he saw Li’l Monk he managed to muster his signature yellowing smile, but the pain beneath was apparent. “Sup, young blood?”

  “Not too much. Here to pay my respects like everybody else. Seems like everybody in the hood showed up to see Karen off.” Li’l Monk looked around at the crowd.

  “Nothing like a funeral to bring the vultures and gossip-mongers out,” Neighborhood said in disgust.

  “Say, who was the old bird you was talking to?”

  “That wasn’t nobody but Queen. You’re probably too young to remember her, but your dad might know her. All the young boys wanted a shot of that old pussy, but she wouldn’t give you the time of day unless you were handling. I tried to take a crack at her back when I was clean and sober, but my money wasn’t long enough,” Neighborhood said.

  “The way the crackheads were crowding around her you’d think she was holding a bag as big as Pharaoh’s,” Li’l Monk joked.

  Neighborhood laughed. “Queen ain’t never held no bag, at least not that I know of, but she held the heart of many big-time players, including your boss. The way I hear it, Pharaoh used to worship Ms. Queen.”

  This surprised Li’l Monk. “Wait, so you mean that old lady has actually seen Pharaoh? I been working for him for months and never laid eyes on him. Some of us were debating whether Pharaoh really exists or if he was a ghost story Ramses made up to keep the heat off himself.”

  “Nah, Pharaoh is real. I’ve never had the pleasure, but I know a few who have. Queen was one of them. That old bitch was so bad back in the day that she turned some of the hardest niggas I know into love-struck basket cases, and Pharaoh wasn’t no different. Queen could’ve put herself in a position to be a major player, but she had larceny in her heart and that’s what ruined her.”

  “How you mean?” Li’l Monk asked curiously.

  “Well, like I said, Queen’s pussy was like magic. Pharaoh had it so bad for her that he’d have killed you just for looking at her. The problem was Pharaoh was married, so trying to juggle his home life and his money on the streets didn’t leave much time for Queen. A woman like that needs constant attention or she’ll stray, and that’s exactly what ended up happening. Word got out that Queen had lain down with a Trinidadian named Poppa who was also on the come up. When Pharaoh found out Queen let somebody else dip in he lost his damn mind. As far as he was concerned, wife and kids be damned. Queen still belonged to him. Her tipping made him look like a sucker, so he had to punish her and he did so in the most vile way he could think of, and that was by getting her strung out. He kept Queen around long enough to see her hit rock bottom then kicked her to the curb. It crushed Pharaoh to do it because he still loved her, but she had betrayed him and he had to save face. They say that to this day he’s never forgiven himself for what he done to her. I was around back then so I know how ugly things got for Queen. Does my heart good to see her back on her feet.”

  “That’s one wild-ass story, Neighborhood,” Li’l Monk said.

  “The streets are full of wild-ass stories, young blood. Just not all of them have happy endings.” Neighborhood looked back at Karen’s casket. “I’m trying to hold it together, but I’m fucked up, man. Real fucked up. They didn’t have to do Karen like that.”

  According to the police report, Karen had been beaten, raped, and sodomized before the killer put a bullet in her head. “I heard,” Li’l Monk said solemnly. “They got any leads on who did it?”

  “You know the police don’t give a fuck about what happens to kids in the ghetto. They ran a bullshit investigation then tossed it in a pile with the rest of the cold cases,” Neighborhood spat.

  Li’l Monk shook his head. “That’s some cruel shit.”

  “That’s the life we live, young blood. If the police ain’t killing us, we’re killing each other. Karen was just another example of that. The police might not know who did it, but I got my own ideas about who the shooter might’ve been.”

  “What you talking about?” Li’l Monk asked

  “Dig, you know they found Karen in Pennsylvania, right?”

  “Yeah, and I never could understand what she was doing out there. Karen never struck me as a chick who
would ever venture out of the hood,” Li’l Monk said.

  “She wasn’t. Word is that she was down there trying to get her life together, but I call bullshit. Karen was about as concerned with getting her life together as I am,” Neighborhood said.

  “Then what was she doing out there?”

  “Running,” Neighborhood informed him. He lowered his voice so that only Li’l Monk could hear what he was about to say. “Word is that Karen knew who killed Ramses’s man Boo and dropped a dime.”

  This surprised Li’l Monk. “To who, the police?”

  “Worse; she told Ramses. Why do you think Ramses went all out to try to have Chucky killed?”

  “I thought because he was a traitorous snake and an undercover smoker,” Li’l Monk said.

  Neighborhood laughed. “Chucky been a snake and a closet addict for years; that ain’t nothing new. It was only a matter of time before Ramses or someone else laid a claim on his life, but when he killed Boo that sped up the clock.”

  “But Chucky has been MIA for months. I hear he’s hiding out down South somewhere,” Li’l Monk said.

  “Don’t go believing everything you hear. All Chucky knows is New York, so even if he did go into hiding he didn’t go too far from the city. I got a feeling he’s been somewhere lying in the cut and waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “To settle old scores.” Neighborhood glanced back at the casket. “Chucky is a creep and a piece of shit, but he knows how to hold a grudge. Ain’t no way he’d have vanished without settling up with anybody he feels crossed him, especially Karen.”

  “Neighborhood, I know Chucky is a killer, but even he ain’t cold-blooded enough to do Karen like that. She was tortured and that ain’t his MO.”

  “One thing being around your daddy all these years should’ve taught you is that drug addicts are unpredictable. When you’re strung out on that shit you ain’t yourself no more. Look at me. I was a made man once upon a time. If you had told me twenty years ago that I’d be willing to do anything short of sucking a cock for a blast I’d have laughed at you, but the fact that I’m standing here broken and strung out says that anything is possible.”

  Li’l Monk thought on what Neighborhood was saying. “So you really think Chucky killed Karen?”

  “I’d be willing to bet my next high on it,” Neighborhood said seriously. He looked up and spotted one of the corner boys in the doorway of the funeral. Just seeing him brought on the cravings. “Well, I’ve paid my respects and now I gotta go get my head right. You stay safe out there, Li’l Monk. And watch your ass. These streets don’t love nobody, not even good-hearted li’l niggas like you.” He gave Li’l Monk dap and continued up the aisle.

  Li’l Monk stood there watching Neighborhood amble up to the corner boy and whisper something in his ear. The corner boy nodded and dipped into his pants pocket to serve Neighborhood right there in the doorway of the funeral home. “No fucking respect,” Li’l Monk grumbled before continuing down the aisle.

  Charlie was standing now. He was talking to one of his uncles about something that didn’t seem to interest him. Every so often he would cast a nervous glance in Li’l Monk’s direction. He looked almost skittish, as if Li’l Monk was the Grim Reaper coming to call his number. If Li’l Monk wasn’t sure before, he was sure then that something was off about Charlie.

  Li’l Monk had almost reached the front of the funeral home when a woman popped up seemingly out of nowhere. She was moving so fast that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and collided with Li’l Monk. When she looked up and he saw who it was, Li’l Monk’s mind went black and for a moment. Charlie and everything else in the world became afterthoughts.

  CHAPTER 3

  Persia lay on the queen-sized bed looking up at the cracked ceiling. The bare mattress was so worn and beaten up that it had lumps in it the size of golf balls. They were uncomfortable, but tolerable compared to the loose springs. Several times when she’d moved the coils bit into her soft skin. It was best just to lie still and pretend she wasn’t there.

  On the nightstand a cheap dollar store candle burned. It was meant to set the mood but fell horribly short. Next to the candle was a pack of Newports and an ashtray with a half-smoked cigarette in it. Persia’s eyes stayed fixed on the pack of cigarettes, or, more accurately, what was wedged under the pack. There was a small Baggie full of white powder. Persia tried to tear her eyes away, but couldn’t. It was as if she could smell the cocaine through the plastic and it caused a familiar drip in the back of her throat.

  Without even realizing it, her hand moved to the nightstand. She traced a line along the edge of the chipped wooden nightstand. Her fingers stopped just short of the cocaine. She could’ve sworn she could taste it on the back of her tongue. The familiar beast called addiction reared its head and began scratching at the walls of Persia’s insides. She wanted it so bad. She needed it. Persia closed her fingers along the edge of the Baggie and was sliding it from under the cigarette pack, but then her eyes landed on the tennis bracelet on her arm. Her mother had given it to her when she made six months clean. Persia abruptly withdrew her hand and rolled over on her side, crying.

  For the millionth time she wondered how she found herself in such a predicament. Persia had been born into privilege and like most kids born wanting for nothing she took what she had for granted until she hit rock bottom. The time she spent battling her cocaine and crack addictions was one of the darkest periods of her life. Persia had foolishly put her trust in a man who she thought would be her salvation; but he ended up being her undoing. She rued the day that the chocolate devil walked into her life. There were times during her struggle when she had sunk so low that she felt like she would die. Every time that crack pipe touched her lips it was like an out-of-body experience. It was like she was sitting on the sidelines watching herself load up and blast off into the stratosphere. The man she loved had truly dragged her to the bottom of the barrel and it was a long and hard fight to climb out.

  After months of rededicating herself to life and extensive counseling, Persia was able to start pulling it together. Things were good at home, she was about to graduate high school and go off to college, and she had even managed to garner the attention of a young man who wanted to change her life. Persia had it made; then her past caught up with her and this was what had her sprawled out on a dirty mattress thinking about relapsing.

  The bedroom door opening sent a cool breeze across Persia’s back. She didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. It was the same person who had been coming in and out of the room for the last few hours. Persia imagined that if she closed her eyes super tight she would be invisible and he wouldn’t see her. When she felt his weight behind her on the bed she knew she’d have no such luck. He leaned over and tried to kiss Persia on the mouth, but she moved so that his lips landed on her cheek. There was a time when she looked forward to his kisses, but now the smell of stale cigarettes and malt liquor repulsed her. As he ran his ashen hands between her legs and slipped his chipped fingernails inside her, Persia had to resist the urge to vomit. She couldn’t believe that once upon a time she had loved this man.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” Chucky asked, noticing Persia stiffened at his touch.

  Persia kept her face pointed at the wall when she replied. “Nothing, I’m just a little sore. It’s been a long time and I’m not used to something that big anymore,” she said, stroking his ego.

  “Yeah.” Chucky sat up on his knees. “I’ll bet that football nigga ain’t hung like this.” He slapped his half-hard penis against her thigh.

  “I wouldn’t know. I told you we haven’t slept together,” Persia said. She and Vaughn were still in the beginning stages of their relationship and had only been on one date, two if you counted the night they’d run into each other at the gala.

  “Bullshit,” Chucky said angrily. “You expect me to believe a hot in the ass dog bitch like you got a millionaire chasing her and ain’t fuc
ked him yet? You either a liar or a dummy, and you ain’t never been dumb, Persia.”

  The fact that she had let Chucky touch her again after all he’d done to her contradicted his accusation, but she let him rant.

  “It’s probably that superstar dick you taking that’s keeping your pussy from getting wet from me anymore.” Chucky unexpectedly jammed his fingers inside Persia, making her sit bolt upright.

  “Chucky, you already blackmailed me into coming here and fucking your creep ass; haven’t I been humiliated enough?” Persia snapped.

  Chucky grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the headboard. “First of all, you little slut, watch your mouth when you talking to me. You think you somebody because you’re clean now, but never forget I know you for the lowlife base head you are. Or have you forgotten all the good times we had?” He leaned in to kiss her, but Persia turned her head. “Yeah, that’s what it is. You need to be properly motivated to get that thang wet for ol’ Chucky.” He reached over and picked up the Baggie with the cocaine in it. Chucky held it in front of her face and plucked the bag. “Is that what you need, Princess P? A little liftoff to get you in the mood?” He sprinkled a bit of powder on the flap of skin between his index finger and thumb. Chucky let his hand linger under Persia’s nose.

  “Stop it, Chucky. I told you I don’t fuck around anymore.” Persia tried to turn her face away, but Chucky was holding her in place.

  “Li’l bitch, them few months of sobriety you got under your belt ain’t enough to quiet that monkey pounding on your back.” He tried to force his hand to her nose, but she continued to struggle.

  “Chucky, I told you I don’t want to!” Persia shoved him.

  Chucky’s eyes flashed with anger. “Oh, you a big shot now so you’re too good to take a bump with me?”