by Foye, K'wan
“Yeah, well, just staying out of it would’ve been the smart thing to do. A lot of people from the neighborhood are feeling some type of way about you jumping in.”
Frankie looked at Bess as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Shorty, you sound silly. Porsha is like my sister. Ain’t no way I was gonna see her go out like no sucker. I don’t know how y’all bitches do it down here, but in Harlem, we look out for our own.”
“Well, this ain’t Harlem; it’s Brooklyn,” Bess reminded her.
“I wouldn’t give a fuck if it was the moon. That rule is universal with me,” Frankie shot back. “And as far as muthafuckas on this block feeling some type of way for me defending my girl, anybody who wants it knows where to find me.” Frankie stepped over the girls and went up the stairs into her building.
Frankie was stomping her way up the stairs when Dena opened her apartment door and stepped out. “I heard you yelling. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is good. I just had to G-check these bitches real quick,” Frankie said in a huff.
“Them hoes still tripping over what happened the other day?” Dena asked.
“You know they are. Bess out there talking about people on this block are feeling some type of way about me getting in the middle—like I give a fuck. She’s lucky I didn’t decide to bust her ass that day, and Harlem could’ve had a two for one out here.”
“That Bess is something else.” Dena shook her head. “Not for nothing, you might wanna keep an eye on her ass, Frankie. Bess ain’t the toughest bitch in this hood, but she’s the sneakiest.”
“That bum bitch don’t want no parts of me. If Bess ever try to get outta pocket, I’m gonna molly-wop that broad all up and down Jefferson,” Frankie said confidently.
“Well, just be on point. It would make me feel better. You know I would have to wild out if somebody tried to do something to my Frankie Angels.” She reached out to touch Frankie’s face, but Frankie pulled away.
“Chill out,” Frankie said, looking around to make sure no one had seen.
“Stop being so jumpy, Frankie. Ain’t nobody out here but us.” Dena took a step forward, and Frankie backed up. “What’s good with you?”
“Ain’t nothing, Dena. I’m just tired and aggravated,” Frankie lied. The truth was that Dena was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. She’d initially enjoyed her carefree romps with Dena, but lately, she had been very clingy, and it turned Frankie off. Women with her were more of a vice than a choice, and Dena was starting to crowd her.
“I can dig that. Well, look, why don’t I run to the store and get us some heroes. We can chill at your crib, relax, and watch a movie,” Dena suggested.
“I’m not really feeling up to it. I’m just gonna go in the crib and crash,” Frankie said, continuing to her apartment.
“Okay, so let’s hook up later tonight then,” Dena called after her.
“I wish I could, but I’ve already made plans. But I’m gonna call you,” Frankie promised and closed the door.
“I’ll bet you did,” Dena murmured under her breath, thinking of the truck she’d seen Frankie getting out of a few minutes prior. Dena was feeling in a way about how Frankie had brushed her off. The more she thought on it, she realized that Frankie’s attitude toward her always changed when she’d seen or spoken to Cutty, which had been a lot lately. Dena knew that she and Frankie had agreed that they wouldn’t make their fling complicated with feelings, but Dena had no control over her heart. In Frankie, she found the best of both worlds—a BFF and a lover, and the thought of losing that closeness to someone else panicked her, and she feared something bad was about to befall their relationship.
PART IV
LOVE & GUNPLAY
FORTY
ANIMAL SAT BEHIND THE WHEEL OF HIS trusty rental car, steaming a blunt and listening to the night sounds. Ashanti rode shotgun. He was flicking the safety of the black Mac11 on and off, deep in his own thoughts. The sound of the safety being clicked over and over again irritated Animal, but he let him be. They were about to ride into a tense situation, and everybody seemed to be on edge, except Alonzo.
Animal watched him curiously through the rearview mirror as he moved with almost mechanical precision, loading the big .45, then placed it to the side and began loading his .357. He’d offered Alonzo one of the machine guns stashed in the trunk, but he had declined, opting for his revolvers. His reasoning was that he never had to worry about them jamming on him in a tight situation. Animal had expected Alonzo to show signs of nervousness considering they were about to bet a losing hand, but he was the picture of calm. He was almost like a soldier who had seen several tours of duty but was always ready to sign up for one more. The more time Animal spent around Alonzo, the more comfortable he became with the idea of him riding along.
The car was parked in the lot of a small restaurant which sat right next to a nondescript motel off the 1&9 in Elizabeth, NJ. For all intents and purposes, it looked like nothing more than a seedy motel where you could get your jollies on for a few dollars an hour. The only thing that betrayed its secret was the luxury cars lined up in the parking lot that night. The address to the motel had been the one Money Mike had whispered in Animal’s ear before Animal made him a eunuch. It was the location of the high-roller card game and the place where he and Shai Clark would have their day of reckoning.
“Damn, you see that bitch?” Ashanti got closer to the windshield. He was looking at a caramel-colored woman wearing a skintight black dress and thigh-high boots. She strode through the motel parking lot like she owned it.
“Yeah, she is nice,” Alonzo watched the girl too.
“That square-ass nigga she with look like he don’t even know what to do with all that ass.” Ashanti was speaking of the man walking arm in arm with the girl. He was an older cat wearing a fur that looked like the sleeves were too short.
“Probably not,” Alonzo laughed. As he continued to watch the girl, something about her walk was familiar. He couldn’t see her face because it was covered by long black hair and dark sunglasses, but her body language spoke to him. “I think I know that broad, but I can’t really tell.”
“Knowing you, you probably smashed,” Ashanti teased him.
Alonzo shrugged. “Hey, don’t hate the player.”
“You think they’re going to the card game too?” Ashanti asked Animal.
“If I had to guess, I’d say yes. Don’t look like homeboy is carrying no laundry in that bag.” Animal pointed to a second man who was trailing behind the couple. Ashanti and Alonzo were so preoccupied with the girl that they hadn’t noticed the man, but Animal did. He waited until the trio had disappeared inside the motel before giving the nod that he was ready. “Let’s do this.” He grabbed the duffel bag he had packed for the occasion and got out of the car.
“That’s what I’m talking about! No more talking. Time to make these niggaz bleed!” Ashanti said excitedly, jumping out of the car like a kid who had just arrived at an amusement park.
Alonzo simply followed in silence.
The three desperados crept across the parking lot like shadows, with Animal leading the way. He peered in the window of the office and saw that there was only one clerk, so he held one finger up to relay it to his crew. Pulling a red bandana over the lower half of his face, Animal stepped into the office. When the desk clerk heard the bell above the door jingle he looked up from the skin-magazine he had been looking at and found himself confronted with three armed men.
Ashanti stepped forward and chambered a round into the Mac11. “Night-night, nigga,” he pointed the machine gun at the frightened desk clerk.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Animal pushed the machine gun away.
Ashanti looked at him quizzically. “You said we coming in here to slump niggaz, so I was gonna slump him.”
“Go ahead and blast him and not only will you announce our arrival to every cop within a mile, but you’ll also end up on the six o’clock news, genius.” Animal point
ed at the overhead camera. He leaned over the desk and knocked the clerk out with a blow to the head from his gun. When he was sure the clerk wouldn’t get back up he turned to Ashanti. “Now, tuck that hammer until I tell you otherwise and go get the videotapes outta the back.”
“Fucking killjoy,” Ashanti mumbled on his way to the back office to search for the surveillance system. A few minutes later he came back out holding three VCR tapes, which he shoved into Animal’s chest before leaving the office.
“Damn kids.” Animal shook his head. “I hope I ain’t gotta babysit you too,” he looked at Alonzo.
Alonzo laughed at Animal’s statement and headed outside.
The three men crept up the exterior stairs to the second floor of the motel. They could hear laughter and music the closer they got to the end of the tier. From what Money Mike had told him, they rented two rooms for the event; one for the actual game and the other for the entertainment, which meant pussy and drugs. Animal stopped in front of the room that Mike had told him the players would be in and set his bag on the ground. He pulled out a railroad spike and a sledgehammer with half the shaft sawed off. He handed the railroad spike to Ashanti and took the sledgehammer.
“Everybody remember what they’re supposed to do?” Animal asked his cohorts.
“Hell, yeah,” Ashanti leveled the railroad spike with the peephole.
“Once we cross this threshold, there ain’t no turning back. Everything changes,” Animal reminded them.
Ashanti sucked his teeth. “Blood, you know wherever you go, I go.”
“And wherever he goes, I go. Somebody has got to keep his li’l ass out of trouble,” Alonzo joked.
“That’s my brother’s keeper.” Ashanti gave Alonzo a nod. “Now you gonna keep giving speeches, or are we gonna go up in there and lay it down for Gucci?”
“Zo, you wanna do the honors?” Animal secured his grip on the sledgehammer.
“It would be my pleasure.” Alonzo stepped forward and knocked on the door.
A few seconds passed, then they heard someone come to the door. “Who is it?” a voice called from behind the door.
“Payback, muthafucka!” Animal roared and swung the sledgehammer with everything he had. The hammer made contact with the spike and someone howled in pain on the receiving end.
It was officially on.
Frankie’s legs felt like noodles while she walked through the motel parking lot, and it wasn’t because of the thigh-high boots she was wearing either. From the moment they’d set out, the whole situation felt wrong.
Cutty’s inside man and her date for the night was a slightly older man named Davis. In his heyday, he had been a big-time hustler from out of the Bronx, but now, he was just another aging street legend who tried to get in where he fit in. Before Cutty went to prison, he had fronted Davis some work, and when he got locked up, Davis figured that his debt had been wiped clean. Imagine his surprise when Cutty showed up years later and demanded his money. Davis tried to play Cutty to the left about the old debt, but Cutty was a man who was serious about his money, and to show Davis how serious he was, Cutty had paid a visit to his wife. He made it clear to Davis and his family that if he didn’t get his money he would take the debt in blood. Davis had no way of getting Cutty’s money, so Cutty offered to turn him onto the high-stakes poker game where Cutty could get what he was owed, and then some. Davis knew what he was doing was risky, but he had no choice.
When they got to the motel room where the card game was being held they were greeted by a young man who was guarding the door. Within the first five seconds of opening his mouth, the young man managed to run afoul of Frankie.
“Entertainment in the next room; only players here,” he told her.
“Excuse you?” Frankie cocked her head.
“Ain’t you one of the ‘dancers’?” he held his fingers up in air quotations.
“Nigga, you got me fucked up. I ain’t no whore!” Frankie snapped. She looked at Davis and Cutty. “I thought you said these were some classy gentlemen but apparently not when they can’t tell the difference between a whore and a boss bitch.”
“I didn’t mean no disrespect. I just thought you were one of the working girls.” The young man looked from Frankie’s tight dress to her thigh-high boots.
Davis stepped up and snaked his hand around Frankie’s waist, pulling her closer. “It’s a simple mistake, baby. No harm no foul,” he kissed her on the cheek. “Step aside, youngster,” Davis brushed the kid away. “I smell money, and I need some of it.” He led Frankie and Cutty into the motel room.
Their coats were taken, and they were shown to the table, where Davis was greeted by some of his old street chums. He got plenty of compliments for the fine young girl on his arm, which he soaked up, while palming Frankie’s ass to show just how much of the man he was.
Frankie rested her head on Davis’s shoulder and spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t feel yourself too much; this is only an act. If you grab my ass one more time, I’m gonna say fuck this lick and kill you. Are we clear on that?”
“Crystal clear, baby.” Davis wisely backed off.
“Watch that temper, Frankie Angels,” Cutty whispered. “You’re supposed to be in character, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Frankie whipped the hair of her wig and walked off.
Davis was shown to a seat at the table with the other card players, while Cutty helped himself to the bar and Frankie sat on a loveseat in the corner where several other ladies sat passing around a blunt and gossiping. They tried to make small talk with Frankie, but she only half-listened. She was too busy watching the room. Cutty had told her that the card party would be full of old heads who had no real power, but it didn’t look that way to her. She knew the look of a killer when she saw one, and she was surrounded by them. Cutty had walked her into a nest of vipers, and it was too late for her to turn back.
When someone knocked on the door Frankie almost leaped out of her skin. She watched from the loveseat as the young man who had insulted her went to answer it. He placed his eye to the peephole and ordered the person on the other side to identify himself. The person outside the door shouted something, followed by a loud boom. The young man screamed in pain and staggered backward, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as blood spurted from his face. He dropped to the ground writhing in agony, holding his bloody face. Frankie looked up at the door and almost vomited when she saw his eyeball hanging from the end of a spike where the peephole used to be. Before anyone could process what was going on, the whole door crashed in and two men wearing red bandanas over their faces stormed the room.
FORTY-ONE
ANIMAL WAS THE FIRST ONE THROUGH THE door, Glock in one hand and sledgehammer in the other. Alonzo followed closely behind, his .357 and .45 sweeping back and forth, daring someone to move. They’d decided to leave Ashanti out on the tier to cover their backs. Of course, he complained about it, but Animal wouldn’t budge on his decision. He didn’t want Ashanti’s trigger-happy ass to ruin his moment of truth.
Animal addressed the room. “I think we all know what this is, so let’s make it as painless as possible.”
An older gentleman who had been sitting near the door leaped to his feet. “You know who the fuck you’re trying to rip off?” he snarled at Animal menacingly.
Animal swung the sledgehammer one-handed, caving in the side of the man’s face, and killing him instantly. “Anymore dumb-ass questions?” Animal asked the frightened onlookers. “Get that,” Animal nodded to Alonzo.
Alonzo moved over to the table and began scooping the money off it and stuffing it into the duffel bag Animal had used to carry his tools. He could feel the cold stares on the men they were robbing, but he ignored them and focused on collecting every last dollar. He looked over at the ladies on the couch, who were all trembling except one. The girl who they had seen in the parking lot. The way she was staring at Alonzo made him uneasy. At first he thought she was looking at his face trying to figure out
who was behind the mask, but her eyes were fixed on his guns. The light of recognition went off in both their heads at the same time. He knew Frankie well enough to know that if she was at the party, it wasn’t a social call. It seemed that they had the same agendas, but Alonzo had beat her to the punch. He gave her a knowing wink and continued collecting money.
“Gentlemen,” Animal continued, “I don’t know you, and this ain’t nothing personal. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once I get what I came for I’ll be on my way.”
“You got our money, what more you want?” a man wearing a crinkled green suit asked.
“Shai Clark,” Animal informed him.
The man in the green suit laughed. “Son, seems like you wasted a trip. We don’t know no Shai Clark, do we, fellas?” He looked around the table.
Animal sighed and shot the man in the green suit in the head. Blood splattered all over the table and the man sitting next to him. “Look, if y’all wanna keep playing with my intelligence, I got enough bullets to put this whole room to sleep. I know this is the Clark card party, so somebody bring me a Clark before I really get upset.” He pulled the other Glock from his pants and tapped the Pretty Bitches together threateningly.
No one spoke.
“That’s the way y’all wanna do it, huh?” Animal began slowly pacing around the table. “I tried to be nice.” He stopped short of an older Italian man who had been sitting at the card table. “Now it’s time to be nasty.” He pressed both guns against the back of the man’s head.
A younger Italian man with thick black hair, wearing a tracksuit, jumped up from the table. “Hey, now you’re crossing the line. If you blacks wanna kill each other in the streets, that’s one thing, but leave us out of it. We’re with Gee-Gee.”
“You’re gonna be with God if you don’t give me who I came for,” Animal assured him.
The young Italian man swallowed hard. He had been against coming to the card game, but their boss Gee-Gee had insisted they attend as a sign of respect to Shai. The young man didn’t care that Gee-Gee looked at Shai as an associate. To him and the rest of their organization, he was a nigger street punk, and he wasn’t willing to sacrifice one of their own to protect him.