“Just calm down ... You have to calm down. Think clearly ... You have to get yourself out of this,” she coached. At this point she couldn’t worry about the team. She had to do what she had to do to make sure that she was out of harm’s way. She hoped that Gucci would stand tall and figured that she hadn’t cracked yet because Raegan or her own name hadn’t been mentioned in any press.
As Chanel lifted her head and stared into her reflection she felt unsure. For the first time since she was a teenage girl she didn’t know what to do. Overwhelmed with indecision and fearful of being caught she let her tears burst through her normally controlled façade. She quickly gained her composure when a woman came out of one of the stalls.
“Is everything okay, baby?” the mature, well-aged black woman asked, her long Southern drawl sounding genuinely concerned. The woman stared curiously at Chanel’s reflection in the mirror.
Chanel wiped her face. “Everything’s fine.”
The old woman didn’t budge as she peered at Chanel. Chanel fidgeted as she stared back inconspicuously, noticing as a hint of recognition glimmered in the woman’s eyes.
“Aren’t you that girl?” the woman asked as she snapped her fingers while trying to jog her memory. “You’re the one with the banks on the news!” the woman shouted as she suddenly grabbed her clutch a bit tighter.
Chanel shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“I’m old but my eyes still work. Those disguises was something terrible. You wasn’t hardly covering nothing! How do you think I noticed you? You’re in some kind of trouble, girl,” the woman said. Chanel could hear the criticism in her voice.
“I told you I don’t know what you’re talking about ... mind your business,” she said.
“See that’s the problem with you narrow-tailed little girls. Don’t know how to respect your elders. You’re still wet behind the ears. I was going to ask you if you needed help, but since you want to get fly with the lip ...”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Chanel said as she stormed past the lady. “People are starting to recognize me,” she mumbled while walking with her head down. As she passed a set of TVs in the rest stop lobby a picture of her and her girls flashed across the screen. We didn’t get all of the cameras, she thought. Her mouth dropped in horror as she lifted the collar of her shirt to conceal herself as best as she could while reading the headline ...
One suspect in custody. The others still at large.
Her world shattered when she thought of her friends. She knew that Gucci was the weakest of them all and she felt an extreme sadness sweep over her just thinking of what Gucci could be going through. Although the greedy side of her had deceived her girls, she still loved them. They were family and she had silently prayed that they would all meet down South to sail away to freedom together. Now it was clear that it wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t know if she would ever see any of them again and it put a painful hole in her chest knowing that they didn’t even get to say good-bye.
Chanel lowered her head in hopes that no one else would point her out and hurried to the pay phones. She couldn’t keep driving the car she was in, but she couldn’t sit still, either. Chanel needed assistance and there was only one person she knew of who could help her. Faugner. It had been years but time didn’t matter. He would come to her aid, especially considering the circumstances. Her heart fluttered at just the thought of him. He’ll help me, she thought. He has to.
754-989-6000.
She had committed the number to memory without ever trying to but when she heard the operator’s voice blare through the phone ...
“This number has been changed.”
Her jaw hit the floor, her ego crushed into a thousand pieces. She had never thought he would disconnect the lines of communication with her, not after all that they had been to one another. She had to go to him. He may have changed his number, but she knew where to find him. As she hung up the phone she saw the old woman walking out of the rest stop. Chanel didn’t have a choice but to seek her help. She hurried after her.
“Hey! Lady!” Chanel called.
The old woman stopped and spun on her heels inquisitively as Chanel caught up to her. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you in there. I’m in a bind. I could really use a ride.”
“I’m not riding with you, child. You’re a wanted woman. Now you are welcome to Ms. May’s car if you like,” the woman offered.
“Really?” Chanel asked, taken aback by the woman’s kindness. “You’re going to let me take your car?”
“Who said anything about take?” the woman laughed as she scooted close to Chanel’s ear. “I know you’ve got some of that good ol’ bank money left. You can buy it; all you’ve got to do is drop me home, and you can be on your way. No questions asked.”
“Buy it?” Chanel exclaimed as she realized that she was being hustled by the old lady. “I can buy one from a car lot!”
“Yep, sure could. You could carry yourself right on in there and put your name, number, and address right on down on the sales contract ... but you won’t and we both know why... .”
Chanel ice grilled the conniving old bat. She wasn’t dealing with a rookie. This old bird is something else, Chanel thought in frustration.
“Five thousand dollars,” Chanel offered.
“Fifteen thousand dollars,” the lady countered.
“What?” Chanel shot back. “You done lost your damn mind!”
“Well good luck getting wherever you’re going,” the lady said as she sauntered off toward the parking lot without a care in the world.
Chanel wanted to slap fire from the old woman for beating her so bad. She knew that she was getting got, but at the moment she had to accept it. “Ten thousand dollars and not a dime more. And you can find your own way home!”
There was no way that Ms. May was turning that down. That was six months worth of social security checks for her. The deal was as good as done.
“Deal,” the lady answered.
She led Chanel to a 1995 Buick and Chanel could have kicked herself. The old car was in good condition, but a complete downgrade from her normal vehicle flow. She was used to pushing foreign whips, but she held her tongue because beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She reached in her bag and handed the woman two wads of cash worth $5,000 each.
“Nice doing business with you,” the lady smirked.
Chanel rolled her eyes before getting in the car and driving off. She hit the highway, headed to Florida where she could find Faugner. He was the only one who could clean up the mess that she had created.
Chapter Twenty-six
Nahvid welcomed Reason into his home, shaking hands with his man. The dim chandelier of his massive foyer hid the blatant emotion that had taken over his face. His heart was heavy and his mood serious as he stood tall ... firm ... in front of his right hand.
“Did you find her?” he asked.
“Yeah, I found her,” Reason replied with hesitation.
“Where is she now?” Nahvid asked. A confusing mixture of anger, disappointment, and relief consumed him all at once; fogging his head with an emotional storm.
“I had to put her to sleep,” Reason said.
“I thought I asked you to bring her here first! There might have been an explanation ... a misunderstanding,” Nahvid said, his voice drifting off as he tried to speculate why Raegan had chosen to run away from instead of toward the escape he had offered her.
“I tried to do things peacefully, fam. The bitch just started spraying on sight. I told her you wanted to see her. She was on some straight fuck you shit. So I had to make a snap judgment and call it curtains, nah mean?”
Nahvid flinched at the thought of Raegan’s murder but it had to be done. The robbery was something that he could have forgiven, but to lose his mother to the hands of the woman he was growing to love ... that was punishable by death. How many times could he forgive her? He offered her reprie
ve and she had spit in his face. Her word was no good and Reason had done what Nahvid knew he would have never been able to. Nahvid thought that he would feel some type of retribution once Raegan was out of the picture, but losing her weighed heavily on his conscience. She had been a breath of fresh air when she entered his life and just as quickly as their love affair began ... it fizzled and burned. Treachery and deceit had obviously been the foundation of their love. Was he a target of Raegan’s all along? Did she simply see him as a mark? Was anything that they felt for one another truly real? Nahvid had so many questions, but knew that he would never get the answers.
“Was it painless?” Nahvid asked. It took everything in him not to show his cards. He was truly torn up over losing Raegan.
“One to the head, one to the heart,” Reason assured.
A shrill cry cut through the air and Reason raised an eyebrow as he nodded toward the living room. “You want me to handle that?”
Nahvid shook his head and breathed a sigh of grief and confusion. Raegan’s baby was still in his care and the killer in him knew what had to happen next. Baby Micah was a loose end that needed to be clipped, but his affection for Raegan was not something that was black or white. Their relationship had lived in a grey haze that was so complicated that he couldn’t bring himself to eliminate Micah.
For the first time in their twenty years of friendship, Reason recognized indecision in Nahvid. “You know what has to be done,” Reason said.
“One life was too much. No more blood needs to be shed,” Nahvid resisted. “I’ll take the kid back to his old man and let him take over from here.”
Reason’s jaw twitched because he wanted to intervene. It wasn’t smart for Nahvid to even keep the kid breathing. The kid and her bitch-ass baby’s father need to be clipped, Reason thought. He was a true killer, a stone-cold murderer and it was Nahvid who had taught him the game. Reason knew that Nahvid was making decisions based on emotion, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. Reason was the number two in command and he could see Nahvid’s gangster wavering. Raegan had become a soft spot for him and it was obvious ... a little too obvious. There was a crack in the foundation of Nahvid’s empire and Reason was about to bring the entire thing crumbling down.
“Fuck a bitch, let’s get back to getting this paper,” Reason said, trying to make light of the heavy situation.
The two slapped hands and Nahvid led his mans to the door to walk him out of the house.
Although Nahvid was papered up, his appetite for riches was insatiable. He couldn’t let his heart knock him off his hustle. He had learned long ago to keep his emotions dormant. Growing up with a fien’in’ out mother had taught him the hard way that getting caught in his feelings could ultimately cost him everything... .
Nahvid sat on the block inside his ‘85 Buick Regal watching the entire block as it went to work for him. At sixteen, he was making a name for himself, turning what once was a dead part of town into a playground for base heads. D.C. was locked down by older hustlers who had been putting in work for years. There was no room for any young boys coming up and young Nah was shunned whenever he stepped foot on someone else’s turf. They looked at him as a li’l nigga ... no competition ... but no one took the time of day to see the hunger in his eyes. He was thirsty, a hungry young wolf who was determined to get his piece of the pie. With only his bestfriend Reason at his side he knew that he had neither the manpower nor firepower needed to war over turf. So instead of out gunning the old heads over city blocks that neither side owned, he outsmarted them. He settled for scraps ... the sections of the city that no one desired. The suburbs. While the older hustlers thought they had run him off the block, he had set up shop in a less risky environment. Nahuid hustled coke. While dudes around his way were wasting time in the kitchen with baking soda boxes, Nahuid was taking his product straight to the streets. He was selling eight balls to sorority girls, accountants, and teachers. He was targeting the recreational users. The people who would never be caught dead with crack pipes, but whose runny noses and coke-eaten nostrils told the true story of their growing habits. Nahvid was selling dope in the very neighborhoods where his local police force rested their heads at night. He and Reason were slowly getting rich while flying beneath the radar.
By the time other hustlers had gotten wind of the money that was being made, Nahuid had already locked down the block. He had a crew of young, reckless niggas with nothing to lose and the world to gain. They were ruthless and ruled the neighborhoods with an iron fist, or rather their iron clips. Women, children, old ladies in church hats ... anybody affiliated with the enemy could be a potential victim. Nahvid and his crew knew no limits so everybody was at risk. Nahvid had only been forced to make a few examples before the message was clear. He was the new king on the throne and whoever wasn’t a part of his movement was moving shit. By the time he was twenty-one he had taken over the inner city and everybody was on payroll. Money was flowing like expensive champagne and everybody ate. Nahvid was getting paid. He was smart though and once the initial introduction to fast money was old news Nahvid made investments. He grew bored with fly cars and nice jewels. He quickly graduated to purchasing businesses and properties. Once he met Odom, the sky was the limit. His thirst for legitimacy grew and he was schooled on how to convert drug money into bank money. He never left the streets alone, but he became untouchable because he had the best cleaner around. His paper was clean and he had tax records to prove it. The only eyesore in his picture perfect life was his drug-addicted mother, Nita. No matter how many rehab programs Nahvid enrolled her in or how much he spent to get her clean, Nita never let go of her pipe dreams. Crack cocaine was her drug of choice and it was the one thing she loved more than her son.
Nahvid was flawless in the way he ran D.C. He made no mistakes, but when he let his emotions influence his decisions his entire empire almost came tumbling down. When Nita’s addiction began to take over her looks, Nahvid felt obligated to intervene. He moved her into his home without reservation and took a break from the streets to tend to her health. Under his watchful eye she stayed for weeks, fien’in; hurling, defecating on herself ... as her body purged the poison from itself. She begged Nahvid, even cursed his ass out when he wouldn’t feed the monkey on her back, but he never obliged her.
“Fuck you, Nahvid ... fuck you!” she would shout.
“Fuck you too,” he would reply as he kept her barricaded inside his home. He made sure that she had every comfort ... every luxury as he weaned her naturally without any help from any man-made drug. Nahvid hired a private doctor to visit twice a week and his mother gave the poor white man hell every time. She spit, kicked, even bit the doctor because getting clean was not her decision. She was being forced to kick the habit and although she knew it was for her own good, Nita just didn’t appreciate her choices being taken away.
“Your big-head ass need to remember that I’m your parent, not the other way around,”she spat.
Throughout the entire process Nahvid ignored her insults and waited for his mother’s true essence to reemerge. It took weeks and through it all he began to lose touch with the streets. He had put Reason in charge and although things ran smoothly, he didn’t want the hood to get used to seeing a new king in rule, no matter how temporary Reason’s reign was. Nahvid knew that once a man felt power and led the pack, he would never want to come in second again so when it was time to re-up Nahvid knew that he couldn’t send Reason to meet his connect.
“You know you can trust me, fam. You’ve been focusing on your moms and I respect your love for family. You set up the meeting with your mans and I’ll take care of the exchange this time,”Reason stated.
“Some seeds you gotta water yourself, nah mean?” Nahvid responded.
Against his better judgment he left his mother alone for the first time in weeks. He was quick with his connect, even rude one would say, but his cocaine supplier was all knowing and all seeing. He already knew Nahvid’s current circumstance. He shook his hand
and wished him well, sending the young hustler on his way as soon as possible. Nahvid met up with Reason and hit him off with the product.
“Yo, stay and have a drink with me, fam. You been MIA. Let your hair down for the night,”Reason said.
“Nah, I’m good. Got to take care of something,” Nahvid replied. “I’ma catch up with you though. I got to shake.”
The two locked hands before Nahvid headed home.
The scene that presented itself when Nahvid entered his secluded home sent him into a blind rage.
He had cooked coke enough times to recognize the disgusting smell of crack vapors in the air.
Nahvid could feel his temperature rising as he made his way to his mother’s room. His home was his refuge from the world. The fact that very few people knew where he rested at night was what allowed him to sleep. Nita knew the rules and had blatantly disrespected them. He could hear the voices of his mother mixed with the baritone of a man invading his ears. He stepped into her doorway just as her luscious, full lips wrapped themselves around the glass dick. The man held the pipe up for her as his beady eyes watched as the smoke seduced him.
“You gonna give me some of that pussy, Nita?” the man asked. “Put them lips on my dick like you do that pipe?” Nita was ass naked, riding his dick while she simultaneously inhaled the drug.
Before Nahvid could stop himself he pounced on the man. “You bitch-ass nigga brought this garbage into my house? You want her to suck what?” His rage roared from his throat as he beat the man mercilessly.
“Nah, baby, wait! Baby! Stop!” his mother screamed.
Nahvid’s fist slammed so hard into the man’s face that he knew he had broken his own hand, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop himself. Not even the sight of the unconscious bloody figure beneath him made him stop the beating. It wasn’t until he felt hands forcefully pulling him off of the man did his senses snap back into place.
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