by Eric Pete
“Yeah, let’s just say it was time for a change.”
“You know they say it’s a thin line between being a cop or being a criminal.”
“You should know, Lance,” she chuckled. “C’mon. Let me show you my bedroom.”
As she led me to the bedroom, I thought back to other times this same scenario played out but under completely different circumstances. Of course, Renika and I were a lot younger then. My mother was still alive, God rest her soul, and I still hadn’t straightened up. Renika’s Aunt Faye used to live in the Ninth Ward on a street named Desire. On the same block as her Aunt Faye was my house, Akhet’s, and Mrs. Dumas’. To keep out of trouble, her parents had Renika spend summers with her aunt. But instead she found a thug as horny and wild as she sought. I used to sneak in during the day when her Aunt Faye wasn’t home, or sometimes at night while she was sound asleep, and fuck Renika’s blossoming pubescent body until my dick hurt. We were really lucky she didn’t wind up pregnant with the lack of care we showed. When Renika graduated, moved off to college at USL in Lafayette, and pledged her sorority, I didn’t see her as often. If I were home and not locked up, I might catch a glimpse of her as she grew into a woman and I’d hit it as I had in the past. When I started putting my life on the right track and got my own place, all contact with her ceased. It wasn’t until years later when Valerie, as my girlfriend, introduced me to her best friend . . . Renika. Small world.
As sparse and unemotional as my room looked, Renika’s was quite different. Red and white pillows were tossed all over the black satin bed sheets; scarves hung from the iron canopy overhead. The smell of sweet, scented candles and soaps clouded my senses. Small intimate lamps gave off an amber glow and cast strange shadows on the ceiling. Above her bed was a freshly hung painting of bronze lovers in the grip of passion.
“What do you think?” She fell back, arms extended, onto her bed, proud of her retreat from the world.
“Da-yum. Vaughn’s a lucky man.” I was commenting on her bedroom, but my wandering eyes spoke louder. The way her round hips casually glided across the sheets, the way her toes curled then released, the slow gentle arching of her back—this was all familiar to me, but never for me to partake of again.
My comment unsettled Renika. “When’s the last time you talked to my girl?” she asked, sitting up and adjusting her top.
“Today.” I didn’t feel I owed her more information than that. My bitter feelings seeping back in.
“You went to Bobby’s party, right?” She stood back up and smoothed out the wrinkles on her bed before leading me back to the safe zone of the living room.
“Of course. He’ll always be a part of my life. You know that.”
“Yeah. I do. I just don’t talk about you as much with Valerie since . . .”
“Hey, I understand.” All of our relationships were less complex before that.
“You’ve got a big heart, Lance. I never meant to tell Valerie about us. That was all a big mistake.”
“Right.” Then why in the fuck did you? “Well, I’ve gotta run.”
“Thank you so much for your help.” Renika placed her arms around me and planted a light kiss on my cheek before she began walking me out. “I’m sure I’ll be bugging you again, neighbor.”
Just then, the lock on her door turned as keys were heard. The front door opened. A large hand swallowed the doorknob. An equally large forearm followed. A man about an inch taller than Akhet walked slowly, cautiously in.
“I thought I heard voices,” he said. I had seen eyes like his before. They analyzed me, then turned to Renika, freezing her in her tracks. Her demeanor changed abruptly.
“Baby!” she screamed before running and hurling herself into his damp arms. Vaughn’s T-shirt was drenched in sweat. Beads on his forehead were still visible. He scooped her up and sucked on those luscious lips like he was trying to deflate them or something, never taking his eyes off me. Although a grown man now, I was sure not to make any sudden moves in front of the cop. I still felt uneasy around their kind.
“Vaughn, man,” he said, extending his massive hand.
“Lance, bruh.”
“Alright, alright. You’re Valerie’s man, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Something like that.”
He just laughed. “Neek told me about that. You gotta tell that girl what time it is, man.” The way he said “man” was almost a sneer.
“Baby, you went work out?”
“Yeah.” He let his gym bag drop to the floor. “Whatcha got cooked?”
“Nothing yet,” she said in a demure, apologetic manner. “Lance was helping me with the washer. It won’t take long, baby. I’ve got some seasoned pork chops in the fridge.”
“Do that. Slap them motherfuckers in the oven. I’m going shower up,” he said as he slapped “Neek” on her ass. “Nice to meet ya. I’ll be seein’ ya around, neighbor. Thanks for helping my woman with that shit. We appreciate it.”
“Yeah. See you around, bruh. Renika.” I nodded at Vaughn, then looked at Renika who was really looking like she wanted me to go now. I took my leave. Weird, really weird, I thought to myself as I stepped out into the chill of the night air. None of my concern though. I had a day of work waiting for me on Tuesday.
9
After leaving a great dinner at Houston’s on Saint Charles in Uptown, we took North Rampart, which would turn into Saint Claude where poetry at Jessica’s awaited us. To our right was the edge of the French Quarter and to our left was Armstrong Park.
“Remember when Bobby was first born? When the three of us would come out here and just walk around all day?”
“You mean when you had that cheap ass stroller and I had to carry Bobby the whole time because the wheels kept sticking?”
Valerie laughed because she knew it was true. I just laughed along with her and enjoyed the moment we were having. I loved everything about this woman—her inner and outer beauty, her strength and spirituality. Y’know, life has a way of giving you those snapshot moments that you remember the rest of your life, no matter how insignificant or trivial they may seem at the time. This was one of those times.
We had to circle the block several times before finding an open spot near the nightclub. Funny, I thought, New Orleans being a town where everybody has a car, but nowhere to park them all. As we walked hand in hand, I stopped to admire her.
“What?” Her brown hair blew across her face in the gusty breeze. I grabbed her by the lapels of her quarter-length leather jacket and pulled her close to me. “Something . . . wrong?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” I brought my lips deep into hers and kissed.
Once we made it past the long line, the glistening hardwood floors and intimate, candlelit tables greeted us. On the outside, the shotgun style building somebody used to call home gave no clues as to its exquisite interior save for the frosted glass double doors we entered through. The owner walked up and greeted us with a smile. Jessica’s, his shining jewel in the Historic District, had been named for his wife. As I understood it, she hadn’t lived to see his dream come true.
Akhet wasn’t hard to spot at his table near the stage as he was in his “AK” mode. Platinum jewelry accented the dark denim Girbaud jacket and jeans he wore with his white T-shirt. A group of ladies in their late teens to early twenties from Xavier were getting his autograph while at the same time trying to hand him their digits. Knowing my boy, he would be calling on a few of them.
“About time y’all made it,” he said, leaning away from his admirers to view us. “Show’s about to start and I was about to give your seats to my friends here.” His comments made two of the more attractive ones light up at the possibility. Their hopes were dashed though once we took our seats, leaving them to sashay back to their table.
“Why are you messing with those little girls, Akhet?”
“Val, I don’t know what you are lookin’ at, but those are women,” he said, kissing his fingertips like he had just seen a work of art.
“Did you see the high yella one with the crazy eyes, Lance?”
I just laughed until Valerie bumped me under the table with her leg.
“Oh. Never mind,” he said stupidly, seeing my sudden movement. He knew what he was doing. I rolled my eyes at him at first, then cut him a wink because I did notice which girl he was referring to. Shit, I’m not blind.
“I didn’t know you were into poetry,” Valerie said to Akhet to break up boy’s time.
“Whatcha think I do? Honestly, this stuff gives me a chance to hear folks with more talent than me. I mean, I turned to rap to get my hustle on, but those people that are about to go up on stage have pure love.”
“You’re saying you don’t love what you do?” Valerie asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Nah, it’s not like that, ya dig. I love rappin’ ’n shit. I just don’t love some of the business that goes along with it.”
Before Akhet could explain himself or Valerie could dig any deeper, the lights in the place dimmed and the soft music was turned down. The owner, who had taken the mike, welcomed everybody to a night of poetry like no other. When I glanced back, I noticed Jessica’s was now standing room only.
To start the evening off, we were delighted by a first-timer from Baton Rouge who was a little nervous at first, but went off once she got into a rhythm. After the second poet, who was a runner-up for the Def Poetry competitions, stepped back from the mike, I whispered to Akhet, “Yo bruh, you need to get him on your next album.”
He just laughed. “I already hollered at him, man.”
There was an intermission while the Blessed Poet prepared to come on stage and get verbal with us. I ordered a round of drinks for our table. Valerie had a white wine, Akhet a Courvoisier, and I a beer. Suddenly there was a commotion by the front door. When one of the doors opened, I could see a purple stretch Hummer pulled up on the narrow sidewalk outside. Akhet saw it too.
“Shit,” was all he said as his eyes narrowed and he downed his Courvoisier.
In walked the small-time attorney, but big-time owner of On-Phire Records, Jason North, and his entourage. Brothers on the street knew of Jason and his shady dealings long before he became a rap mogul. I still couldn’t figure out how his rap label came out of nowhere and went to competing with the likes of No Limit and Cash Money virtually overnight. Of course, signing talent like AK was one surefire way to jump to the head of the pack.
A table was being discretely cleared opposite us as they approached. With his distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and goatee, Jason wore a gray sport coat and black turtleneck. Around his neck was a medallion identical to Akhet’s. Wearing a smaller medallion was a guy I had seen before but I didn’t know his name. As much as Jason smiled, he stayed emotionless, eyes always watching everything. A bodyguard, I assumed. The other two guys with Jason just looked to be along for the ride.
“AK! Where ya been, brother?”
“Around. Just been a little busy.”
“And who are your friends?” The large unemotional guy looked Valerie and myself over, committing our faces to memory.
“This here’s my boy, Lance, and his woman, Val.” Valerie doesn’t like being claimed as somebody’s property, but bit her tongue this once for some reason.
“We need to talk tomorrow. Phat Phat ’n All That wants to do a thing on us for their next show,” he said, referring to the local rap television program. “I figured the On-Phire family needs to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“We are,” Akhet said in a tone that told me he was under stress. “What are y’all doin’ here tonight, anyway?”
“Scouting talent, AK. Just like we did you. You remember that, right? When you were broke and your parole officer was trippin’. We took care of that problem, didn’t we?”
“Fo’ sho, fo’ sho.” Akhet’s smile was for the patrons of Jessica’s only.
“You and your friends want to join us at our table? Nothing but the best.”
“Nah,” Akhet said without a thought. “We’re having a quiet evening and catching up on old times. I’ll see you tomorrow though.”
Jason gave us a cordial smile before leaving for his seat.
Valerie muttered to me, “What was that all about, Lance?”
“Hell if I know.”
The mood at our table had suddenly changed. Akhet pretended like nothing was wrong and ordered another round of drinks for our table just as the lights dimmed again. The Blessed Poet was about to take the stage and grace us with her gifts. After the introductions, applause began to pick up for her along with the occasional whistle. Akhet kept his eyes focused on Jason, who would cut his eyes from time to time and let a broad smile creep across his face. Something was going on between those two.
“Everything alright, bruh?”
“Everything’s peachie-fuckin-keen, Negro.” He swished his drink around in his mouth this time before swallowing it in a gulp.
Cutting through his bullshit, I asked, “Tell me about it later?”
“Yeah, playboy,” he said, taking his eyes off the On-Phire Records table finally. “Not now though. I’m about fun tonight.”
For the remainder of the evening, we turned our attention to the show and forgot about his troubles. When poetry night was over, Akhet signed a few more autographs and introduced us to the Blessed Poet—or Karen, as he knew her. Both Valerie and I heaped praise on her spoken word performance as the crowd around her increased in size. Valerie saw Jason North and his entourage, the silent one leading the way, making a beeline for us and she hunched me. I took note then made eye contact with Akhet. When Jason and Company were still several feet away from Karen, Akhet whispered something to her. Karen simply nodded then turned her attention to Jason who was now all up in her grille.
“Y’all ready?” Akhet asked, his mission, whatever it was, accomplished.
Jason’s henchman had moved around the crowd and now just happened to be blocking our path out of Jessica’s. With both of them standing, I could now tell he and AK were roughly the same size. He still wasn’t talking.
“Sup, Melvin?” Akhet said with a challenge, finally giving a name to go with the ugly, scowling face and cold eyes. Melvin said nothing, but stared Akhet down. It was like two large bulls getting ready to lock horns. If I were a betting man, I would say Melvin was strapped. Just when my vibes were going off telling me things were taking a violent turn, Melvin backed down and moved aside. It was over so quick that Valerie never even saw what happened. I helped her with her jacket then held her close.
I spoke just loud enough for Akhet to hear. “Who’s that Melvin dude? I know him from somewhere.”
“You don’t want to know him. Trust me. They used to call him the ‘Boogieman of the Ninth Ward’ there,” he replied. The mention of that nickname filled my head with dozens of sordid stories I’d heard coming up. “He’s one of the reasons I jumped out the dope game.”
Outside, the three of us walked to our waiting cars. Behind us, the crowd was filtering out onto Saint Claude Avenue. Akhet looked over his shoulder once.
“What did you tell the Blessed Poet back there?”
“I told her not to trust anything Jason told her.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” Valerie said.
“Yeah. You might say that. I’ve got a whole shitload of experience.”
“Why don’t you just leave those thugs alone?”
Akhet laughed at Valerie’s question. “Shit ain’t as simple as you make it sound.”
“Not when you get tied up with folks like that,” I added, my new of knowledge of Melvin freshly ingrained in my head.
“Fuck ’em. This party ain’t stoppin’ over that mess,” Akhet said. “Where y’all wanna roll next? D-Plex? Club 360? Ambrosia? 7140? House o’ Blues? The Warehouse? The Hole?”
“Nah, bruh. This is where we jump off. Some of us work real jobs.”
“Go ahead and front in front of your girl, Lance. I know you though. Your ass would be d
own if you weren’t tryin’ to be lovey-dovey ’n shit. You still gonna help me paint Momma D’s house this weekend? “
“Yep. Saturday morning, right?” Akhet was always stepping in to help Mrs. Dumas ever since her son, Kevin, was shot dead.
“Fo’ sho, fo’ sho,” he replied, hitting his remote, which caused his Escalade to chirp and light up before starting on its own. “Later y’all,” he said, opening his car door.
As we turned to walk away, we heard a loud bang. On instinct, I tensed up and got between Valerie and where the sound had come from. As we both looked all we saw was a pissed off Akhet, his hand resting where he had just slapped the side of his ride.
“My tire. Someone cut my fuckin’ tire,” he sighed. “You know how much this shit cost?” We walked around to the side where the chrome Spreewell rim could be seen resting on the squished rubber.
“Looks like somebody took your license plate seriously and player hated on you,” I chuckled.
“Kiss my ass.”
“At least it’s only one tire. Want us to hang with you while you wait for a tow truck?”
“Nah. I got that OnStar thang on this here,” he said, pointing to a button on the overhead console inside. “I’ll have it towed to Rim City in the morning. I’m still partyin’ tonight.”
“Need a ride somewhere then?”
“Yeah, but not with y’all,” he said as he eyed the sexy Xavier coeds from Jessica’s walking our way. “I’ll be in good hands. Trust me on that.”
10
On the drive back, Valerie talked me into stopping at Starbucks even though I didn’t like coffee that cost more than a good shot of Courvoisier. To show my disapproval, I let her order for me.
“You like your latte?”
“You know me. A cup of Community New Orleans Blend would do.”
“Stop being a sourpuss, Lance. If you wanted to go with AK and his groupies, all you had to do was say so. Y’know . . . if you drop me home now, you can still catch up with them.”
“Why you gotta fuck with me like that, baby? You know you’re all I’ll ever want or need.” I took a sip of the warm, frothy drink and looked out the foggy windows onto an empty Manhattan Boulevard. My mind did wander briefly, imagining what incredible stories Akhet would have for me.