by Anna J.
“Watch. The Mecca we know will be back. Did you hear about Tah Gunz?” Ruby asked as she drove her Benz through Manhattan traffic after a day of shopping for clothes with Karmen.
“Yeah, they say he in a wheelchair. That’s messed up that Tamika got caught in the middle of that,” Karmen replied, knowing that Ruby had never seen Tah face-to-face and couldn’t wait to get her hands on him.
“Good for his ass,” she growled, “and that little bitch Tamika had it coming too.”
Looking over at Ruby, Karmen saw the same facial expression on her face that Mecca had had when she looked at her and her aunt. What was it?
“I have to make a stop uptown before we head back to Brooklyn,” Ruby said, snapping Karmen out of her thoughts, but another quickly came to bother her. Now that Mecca could talk, would those cops question her about her alibi the night Kaheem got killed? All Karmen could do was hope Mecca didn’t remember, or was she still the same Mecca before she got shot?
Thirteen years ago Alejandro Torres was a thirty-five-year-old Dominican with a medium build. At the time, he was a middleman on the Harlem drug scene. Now forty-eight and weighing close to three hundred pounds, he was an ex-convict fresh off a five-year bid for the sale of a kilo of cocaine to an undercover narcotics cop. His once curly black hair was now gray and cut short. His youthful appearance had gone, leaving a man with a deeply lined face who looked older than forty-eight years.
His Bronx parole officer had explained the conditions of his parole when he was released. The one rule that made him a loner on the streets was not to associate with known criminals or convicted felons. All his associates were criminals, and most were convicted felons. So on any given day, you could spot Alejandro in his everyday attire of Sergio Tacchini sweats suits, either playing dominoes in front of a bodega in the South Bronx or sitting on a park bench, feeding pigeons and ducks in a Central Park pond.
Today, though, Alejandro was in Central Park, lighting a cigar before he began feeding the pigeons. Suddenly a whole flock descended in front of the bench. He looked up from lighting his cigar and saw a black woman throwing down pieces of bread. The shades on her face hid her eyes, but he could tell she was a pretty dark brown lady from her profile.
“For a minute, I thought they were gonna come snatch the bread crumbs out of my hand,” Alejandro said.
The woman simply smiled. Her sweat suit couldn’t hide her firm, pointed breasts or her shapely body. During those five years in jail, Alejandro had collected a lot of porno magazines, and his favorites were the ones that featured thick black women. This stranger reminded him of one of those fantasies.
“I like the ducks better. They don’t fly in crowds like these guys,” Alejandro continued, trying to strike up a conversation with the woman.
“And they definitely don’t bite the hands that feed them. Right, Al?” the woman said after looking at her Jacob watch. Her tone had a bite to it, which caught him off guard.
Alejandro stared at the woman quizzically, wondering how she knew his name. Since she had called him Al, she had to have known him for many years. Yet the woman didn’t look familiar to him. It was the large shades that covered most of her face.
“If you’re the police, there is no reason for you to be following me. I’ve been clean since I’ve been home. I’m done with the streets.”
The woman took note of how well he spoke English now and laughed before pulling out a handgun with a silencer. Then she removed her shades. Alejandro thought he was looking at a ghost.
“I thought you had a ...”
“Life sentence?” The woman completed the sentence for him.
Alejandro sighed, then proceeded to finish feeding the pigeons. He accepted the fact that she was there for one reason. Revenge. He realized that she must have gotten her sentence thrown out on appeal. Trying to show a brave face, he spoke to her with a surrendering tone.
“Ruby, so many years have gone by. I’m out of the game now. Why don’t you let bygones be bygones?”
“I was straight up with you, but you tried to have me killed, like I would rat you out one day. I will never be a rat,” Ruby answered.
“How did you find me?”
“I know people in high places,” Ruby replied.
Alejandro had no idea that his parole officer, a black woman he sometimes flirted with, was the sister of Daphne’s older sister, who had a different mother. In 1998 she became a parole officer after marrying a corrections officer who encouraged her to get into law enforcement. One thing she didn’t want to be was a cop, so she chose parole so that she could help criminals stay out of jail by helping them attain employment and stay out of trouble. She was known to parolees as “the people’s PO.”
Daphne had convinced her sister to give her Alejandro’s information by telling her that Alejandro was a friend of Donovan’s whom she was trying to get in contact with. Daphne lied and told her that he gave Donovan a good deal on his first car, and she wanted to see if he was still in the car business. Her sister was reluctant because she could lose her job by divulging such sensitive information. Besides all that, it was against the law.
“You’re about to visit that high place,” Ruby said to him just before squeezing the trigger, sending bullets into Alejandro’s chest.
He fell from the bench in a bloody heap, causing the pigeons to scatter from his sudden movement. She slipped away as the birds flew over her head, and no one in the area witnessed anything. Ruby walked out of the park to where Karmen was sitting, waiting for her in the Benz. When she reached the car, she smiled.
“Nothing like a walk in the park to get your blood flowing,” Ruby said with a smile as they pulled off. She was cool with the way everything went, and was even happier to learn that Mecca was getting discharged from the hospital the next day.
Mecca found it hilarious that Lou was dressed in plaid pants, white patent leather shoes, and a bright yellow sweater.
“Church?” Mecca asked, surprised.
“Why are you surprised that I said church?” Lou paused from tapping a golf ball into a paper cup to stare at Mecca’s back while she stared at a painting of herself as teenager, wearing big gold door-knocker earrings, a small rope chain around her neck, and a green Gap sweat suit.
“Because you’re like a demon or something. The devil, right?” Mecca turned her head, looking at him with a grin.
“If I’m the devil, then what are you, Mecca?”
“I believe in God,” she answered.
“And I don’t?” Lou asked. “The devil does evil deeds, as you were taught. So what do you call selling drugs, killing other humans, stealing, extorting, and all the other commandments that you violated?”
Mecca sucked her teeth and waved Lou off. “Heard it all before, Lou. It’s overrated now. I’m not the churchgoing type, anyway. I can pray at home.”
“Prayer means nothing if after you pray, you go out and do the evil deeds again that you asked forgiveness for. Are you that shallow, Mecca?”
Mecca ignored Lou and looked back at the painting of herself in her teens. Then her dream switched from Lou’s office to her and her former best friend, Dawn, hanging out at the Albee Square Mall in downtown Brooklyn. They were dressed stylishly eighties as they roamed the crowded mall. Then Mecca came in eye contact with a girl who, she’d noticed, had been staring at her since she and Dawn entered the mall. For some reason, every time they would cross paths during their two hours in the mall, the hazel-eyed girl would glare at her as if she knew her.
“Why is that bitch down your throat?” Dawn asked, noticing the girl staring at Mecca.
Mecca knew it couldn’t be jealousy. The girl was dressed twice as nice. She saw the girl’s jewelry and knew she couldn’t compete with this strange girl, and she had to admit the girl was pretty. So what was her problem? Oddly, the girl would then turn away and walk off with an older girl that looked like her sister or mother.
When she and Dawn left the mall, they spotted the girl. Mecca coul
dn’t tell if the girl was her age or older, but if she guessed, the girl was older. Again, the strange girl glared at Mecca as she and the other woman entered a burgundy Jeep Wrangler. Mecca couldn’t read the look, so she simply watched the girl take off a Louis Vuitton coat, place it in the Jeep’s backseat, get in, and take one more look at her as the driver pulled off.
“Girl, I know you ain’t get another chick’s man to like you like that bitch we had to cut,” Dawn blurted.
“Can’t help it if I’m beautiful. It ain’t my fault.” Mecca grinned.
A week later Mecca was watching TV in the Coney Island apartment she lived in with her aunt. A woman’s face flashed across the screen while the news reporter was talking about a large drug bust in Bed-Stuy. She was sure the woman’s face was that of the girl she’d seen at the mall. It just had to be her. Those piercing eyes, she recognized. By the time Mecca turned the TV up, the report of the bust was over. Then his face appeared on the screen. It was the guy with the leather trench coat and neat Afro. He smiled.
Mecca awoke in her queen-sized bed. She looked around the spacious bedroom with all the “welcome home” balloons, cards, and flowers spread around. Just then she remembered she was at Ruby’s brownstone apartment. She got up, washed, ate a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, and dressed.
Realizing that Ruby wasn’t there, Mecca decided that she would take Lou up on his advice and go to church. At least that was what she put on the letter she placed on the refrigerator. Mecca had other plans.
Chapter Four
If you seek her as silver, and search for her as for hid- den treasures, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.
—Proverbs 2:4–5
When Ruby introduced Daphne to Mecca, Mecca’s heart skipped a beat when she saw her eyes. She could not believe how much her eyes resembled the girl’s in her dream. Those same penetrating hazel eyes. Mecca wondered what the significance of it all was. Who was she? She could not remember her when she was a teenager; she never saw that girl in her life. But those eyes! Mecca simply stared at Daphne as she smiled, a beautiful display of even white teeth. It was Daphne’s smile that made Mecca feel as if she was a kind, cool person who had an inviting personality. She found Daphne’s voice soothing and easy. Not loud and ghetto, but confident, with a swagger to her, which made Mecca begin to like her.
Over a soul food dinner that Ruby and Daphne had cooked, Daphne told Mecca all about herself. Mecca could tell she wasn’t telling everything, but Mecca respected that. You never put all your cards on the table. Always be mysterious; keep people guessing and off balance. That was what she had learned from her life in the game. When people had you figured out, then they began to plot and scheme how to remove you. When you were mysterious, they didn’t know how to plot on you.
Yet Mecca liked the fact that Daphne was loyal and a hustler. Qualities she wished everyone around her could have. Still, she would never put her full trust in anyone again. At the same time, Daphne grew fond of Mecca. She reminded her of herself. She could tell that she listened more than she talked, and she also noticed that Mecca was very observant. Mecca wouldn’t open up to her, and like Mecca, Daphne respected her for that. She knew you had to feel a person out, measure them to see what they were fit for. A lot of people put on acts like they were fit for the game, but when things got bad, people put their tail between their legs like scared dogs.
Daphne was a good reader of people, but she couldn’t read the look in Mecca’s eyes. Especially when she looked at her aunt Ruby and Karmen. She had not known Mecca long enough to read the gaze, but her instinct told her something was not right. Still, the women bonded. They had the same taste in style. Daphne put micro braids in Mecca’s hair so her real hair could grow quickly. The scar from her operations was barely visible and was covered by the braids.
One afternoon, as they drove through Manhattan after they ate at a downtown restaurant, the three women silently stared at Ground Zero, where the World Trade Center used to be. They were in their own thoughts at what they were seeing.
Thinking to herself, Mecca realized that in the few months she’d been in a coma, the world had changed quickly. Daphne simply thought about how crazy it must have been for the people who got caught in that mess. Ruby realized that was why the price of weight went so high and there were so many cops. Bin Laden got shit hot!
Daphne showed Mecca her restaurant, gave her a tour, and then drove over to Ruby’s grocery store that Karmen ran. Once in the store, she noticed the look again when Mecca saw Karmen behind the bulletproof glass Ruby had installed. Ruby knew that the stickup men would think the spot was sweet, being that it was run by young women, so she wanted Karmen and her sisters to feel secure. Also it would give Karmen time to toss the stash of weed in a secret compartment under the cash register that led to a barrel of acid in the basement. If the cops raided, there would be no evidence.
“Hey, Mecca!” Karmen said excitedly, coming from behind the bulletproof glass.
“What’s up, Karmen?” Mecca simply nodded with a forced smile.
Karmen and Ruby showed Mecca the store and how the whole operation was set up.
“Weed is really poppin’ now, Mecca. It’s like crack in the eighties,” Ruby told her.
“It’s cheaper, and you don’t get a lot of time in jail,” Karmen added.
“That’s what’s up,” Mecca responded but was really thinking how she wanted to put both their asses in a casket.
After the tour of the store, Ruby and Daphne surprised Mecca by taking her to a Queens car lot. As soon as they walked in the showroom, a tall, tanned white man in an expensive suit walked up to Daphne with a hug and a smile.
“Daphne, I was expecting you yesterday. Everything is ready. Here are the keys.” He handed the keys to Daphne, who then turned and handed them to a confused Mecca.
“On behalf of me and Ruby, welcome home!” Daphne said.
“What are you talking about, Daphne?” Mecca asked.
“Let’s show her,” Ruby chimed. They walked out into the lot and pointed to a silver, fully equipped 4.6 Range Rover.
“It’s yours, baby!” Ruby pointed to the truck. Mecca loved it, and immediately, she climbed in the driver’s seat, took in the smell of the black leather interior, and scanned the features.
“You ready to pull out?” Daphne asked from the passenger-side window.
“I think so.”
“I’ll ride with you just in case. Ruby, drive my car,” Daphne said as she threw the keys. “I’m riding with Mecca.”
At first Mecca drove slowly and cautiously. Then the feeling of familiarity set in, and she shed the nervous feeling and cruised to the sounds of Jay-Z’s The Blueprint CD. Daphne looked at Mecca’s expression and smiled. Her spirits seemed to be up, but Daphne knew there was something she had hidden deep within her soul, something she wanted to let out, but she seemed not to have anyone she could trust. That made her confused because in prison, Ruby would be elated to receive visits and letters from her niece. They seemed to have a sisterly relationship. Daphne knew that Ruby took her in after Mecca’s parents were killed and raised her like her own. So why the look of scorn? Daphne knew she would have to get to the bottom of this to learn more about her new friend Mecca.
Later that night, while Ruby and Daphne went to a WNBA game at Madison Square Garden, Daphne’s restaurant was robbed by two armed, masked men. Marley’s sister was closing the place when someone placed something hard against her back.
“What you gonna do is open the place and take us to the safe. If not, you die here,” the voice said in a skin-crawling, menacing grunt. She did as she was told. Marley’s sister, Andrea, found it kind of strange that the men knew exactly where the safe was and where they had stashed some weed. In no more than five minutes, the two robbers left with two pounds of weed and fifty grand in cash.
Still shaken from the ordeal, Andrea locked the door from the inside, sat on the floor by the cash regis
ter, and called Daphne. Sitting courtside, Daphne felt her phone vibrate on her hip.
“Hello?” she yelled.
“Da ... Da ... ,” Andrea stuttered.
Daphne covered one of her ears. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“Daphne, it’s Drea!” she managed to yell.
“Drea? What’s up?”
“I just got robbed!” she cried. Daphne did not hear her clearly and asked her again. This time, she heard every word.
“I’m on my way, Drea. Don’t go nowhere!”
“You can’t front, Lou. I’m doing good, despite the fact that they didn’t receive their karma for what they did to me,” Mecca said while they walked through a children’s ward at a hospital. Glancing in each room, Mecca saw children suffering from various ailments and injuries. They stared at Mecca as they walked by, reminding her of the hazel-eyed girl she saw in the mall.
“So, all the time your aunt did in jail, you don’t consider that a consequence of her acts?” Lou asked, checking the security guard uniform he wore.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Mecca shrugged.
“And Karmen has her own problems. Her life isn’t peaches and cream, and she is playing with fire by what she is doing right now,” Lou said as he walked into a room where a doctor was standing, holding a long needle filled with clear liquid. The sight of it simply frightened Mecca.
“What is he going to do with that?” She looked at Lou quizzically. Lou had a smile on his face.
“Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. You’re dreaming, Mecca.” The doctor approached her and took a firm hold on her arm. She tried to pull back, but she couldn’t move as Lou held her tightly from behind.
“Mecca,” he said, “trust me, it won’t hurt. Have I ever lied to you?”
“I don’t want no needle, Lou. I’m not sick!”
“It’s just a truth serum. It will be quick.”