Mecca's Return

by Anna J.

  “Yeah, that’s one of mine.”

  “She was questioned about the murder of her boyfriend and his brother due to suspicion that she was involved. I interviewed the detective working on that case, and he said after talking to her, he felt she knew more than she was letting on. What I’m saying is, all these murders someway, somehow, could be the result of dealing with Davidson and her niece.”

  Though not overly excited anymore over the lead Levy had given him, Caldwell tapped his pencil on the table a few times before responding. “What’s the intel on her niece?” he asked.

  “From what I heard, she ran Davidson’s organization while Davidson did time. Now she’s out of the game. I guess the coma was a wake-up call that she answered when she woke up.”

  Caldwell thanked Levy and promised to follow up and share intel relating to Ruby and Mecca. Hanging up the phone, he tapped his pencil against the desk, in deep thought. He leaned back in his chair and thought out loud. “If it was a robbery homicide, why would Davidson rob her own store and have the workers killed?”

  Shaking his head, he rose from his seat and put the tan cotton blazer on over his stark white dress shirt. “Police work,” he mumbled. Checking his police-issue Glock .40, he made a mental note to find Ruby Davidson for an interview.

  More and more, his thoughts drifted back to the pretty Spanish girls murdered in cold blood. He felt a sadness for their family and friends. So young they were, with their whole lives ahead of them. He had nieces their age, who were full of life and promise. Their lives were cut too short for material things that could easily be replaced. Now all that was left of them was memories and faces painted on the metal gate of the store, saying, IN LOVING MEMORY OF KARMEN, MARIA, AND TINA.

  “I’m not a baby. I’m a grown woman who can figure things out.” Tashy avoided eye contact with Simone after she turned on the light to face her mother.

  “Please, Mom, don’t lie to me. I’m tired of living a lie.”

  Tashy looked over at her daughter, the spitting image of her, with traces of her father in her complexion, and sighed.

  “It’s true. Please don’t be disappointed in me, Simone. I just don’t want to embarrass you. I want to be the perfect mother and make up for all the lost time.”

  Simone’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not disappointed in you, Mom. I’m proud that you’re my mom. I’m so happy that you told me the truth. It’s okay with me, because I understand.”

  “Oh, Simone, come here, honey.” Tashy cried as she embraced her daughter.

  Afterward she wiped the tears off of her daughter’s face and asked, “Why did you say you were tired of living a lie? What did you have to lie about?”

  “I have a girlfriend, too.” Simone shook her head, looking down at her hands.

  Tashy’s eyebrows rose. “Get out of here! You kidding, right?”

  Simone gave her the “do I look like I’m kidding” look.

  “Your grandfather know?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I wound up going to school out on corny Long Island, living in a corny neighborhood, surrounded by corny people, and having to lie to my friends about liking boys and playing girlfriend to this corny guy Scooter practically made me date.”

  Simone called her grandfather by his nickname at his request. He thought “grandpa” made him feel too old. Facing her daughter, Tashy folded her legs under her and sat upright in the lotus position. Simone did the same. Feeling like a teenage girl all over again, Tashy started the girl talk.

  “What’s her name? Tell me about her.”

  “Her name is Mona. She lives on Twenty-ninth and Frederick Douglas... .”

  They sat up all night, catching up on each other’s lives. Tashy listened attentively, learning what Simone’s life had been like after her incarceration. Sometimes, Tashy teared up, feeling that she had missed some of the important moments that Simone told her about. Secretly, she vowed never to miss these moments in her daughter’s life again.

  At the same time Simone couldn’t be happier. She felt free from the burdens that she carried, talking to her mother. Scooter had sheltered her and locked her away from the real world. He had plans for her to be married to the son of a football star, whom she was currently dating, to live in a big house and produce great-grandkids he could spoil like he did her. She never talked to any of her friends like she did to Mona and now to her mother, and it felt good. Scooter had forbidden her to go to Harlem to see Mona, and she knew that he had lots of people on watch for her. All she could do was call Mona on her cell phone and talk for hours. Otherwise, she dug deep into her schoolwork and classes at LIU.

  “When was the last time you and Mona were together?” Tashy asked.

  “It’s been two months now.”

  “Guess what? You’re coming to live with me in the city as soon as we get back.” Tashy grabbed her daughter’s hand and held it tight. Simone’s face lit up with excitement.

  “What about Scooter?”

  “What about him? You’re my daughter. He can’t tell me what to do with my child. Girl, please! And guess where my crib is at?”

  “Harlem?” Simone cooed.

  “You know it. Right on One Hundred Fortieth and Lenox.”

  “Ruby seems like a tough chick. Tell me about her. She must be somebody if Don Diva wants to do a story on her.”

  With a grin and a sigh, Tashy rolled her eyes. “Girl, I don’t know where to begin. Ruby is more than a magazine article. She’s a book.”

  Simone giggled. “What would you call the book?”

  After briefly thinking on the title, Tashy smiled. “Hell’s Diva.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When I lie down, I say, “When shall I arise, and the night be ended? And I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.”

  —Job 7:4

  Tears rolled down ten-year-old Mecca’s face as she made her way from her bedroom, down the carpeted hallway of her aunt’s Coney Island duplex. The pain in her head made her attempt to sleep fruitless.

  Making it to the closed, locked door of Ruby’s bedroom, she heard Luther Vandross’s voice and smelled the strong odor of weed coming from the other side of the door.

  “Auntie!” she squealed as she banged on the door.

  After a few more tries, the door flew open and a naked Ruby, with bloodshot eyes, stood before her. Mecca looked in at the bed, where Monique sat, leaning on the brass headboard, smoking a joint.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Ruby asked.

  “My head hurts bad.”

  Monique quickly grabbed a pink terry-cloth robe and held Mecca by the hand as they made their way up the stairs to the kitchen.

  “I’ll give you something for the headache. You want some warm milk and cookies?”

  Mecca nodded. Monique crushed an aspirin with a little water on a spoon. While the milk and cookies made Mecca forget all about the headache, Monique slipped her the spoon. Afterward, she wiped the milk off of her lips and took her to her room to tuck her in.

  She kissed Mecca on her forehead once and whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, honey?”

  Mecca smiled and nodded. Without question, Monique was one of Mecca’s favorite people in the world, only after her mother and father and, of course, Aunt Ruby. In a way, Monique reminded her of her mother. Nothing seemed to bother her. With all the things Mecca saw living in Brooklyn, she wondered how Monique could be that way.

  Sometimes, she wondered if it was seeing them making love on the couch one day that had made her that way. Then she realized that she would probably never know. Monique was probably just a happy person, because to Mecca, whatever it was they were doing on the couch, it bothered her, almost made her feel sick. Either way, Monique was happy. In the middle of the night Mecca awoke, crying, because of the throbbing pain in her head.

  “Shhh ... ,” she heard from the darkness. “Sleep comfortably, Mecca.”

  She recognized the voice of her friend and smiled, happy that he was presen
t again. She thought he didn’t care for her anymore, because he’d been gone for so long. Now he was back, and she could feel his touch on her head, which made the headache go away. Then she fell asleep. As soon as Mecca walked into the office, Lou wasted no time snorting.

  “You think ’cause you saved my life that I’m supposed to ignore what you’re up to?”

  “You welcome. I’m fine. Nice to finally have you back,” Mecca said sarcastically as she stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing Lou. Lou leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across the desk.

  “You lied to me, Mecca. Why?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lou,” she replied, confused.

  Lou shook his head. “You’re better than I thought. Pulled one over on me. Could you believe that? Me!”

  “Are you okay, Lou? Did that Doc guy give you some of his tea?”

  “Cut the crap,” he snapped. “I know you’re plotting to start a war between Daphne and your aunt. I’m no fool!”

  Mecca shook her head in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Do we have to change positions? I’ll be the one to enter your dreams and attempt to get you to see the reality of things, because you’re tripping, Lou, for real!”

  Lou rose from behind the desk and walked up to her. Though she took a nervous step back, Lou was face-to-face with her and grabbed her cheeks with his large, warm hands.

  “Lou!”

  “Shhh ...” He cut her off, and then he softly kissed her forehead.

  In a flash, the office and Lou disappeared, and Mecca stared at a vision of herself getting out of her Range Rover at Sutter and Hendrix in Sutter Gardens at night. Looking both ways, she entered the hallway of a building, with her face and head covered by a large black and gray North Face hood.

  “What’s up, Ma?” Breeze mumbled, standing in the hall, with his tan Woolrich hood over his head.

  “Wassup, nigga? What’s poppin’?” Mecca blew into her hands, warming them.

  Breeze pulled out a brown paper bag that was stuffed and handed it to her. “That’s from the Jamaican restaurant. I got the loot from the Brownsville spot in my crib. I ain’t wanna be out here with all that change on me,” he replied.

  Mecca looked in the bag and fingered the thick wad of cash. It was her half of the money Breeze passed off for putting him onto robbing Daphne’s restaurant and Ruby’s spot in Brownsville run by Mo Blood. Breeze and Mecca were the best of friends from when Mecca and Shamel were an item. Breeze and Shamel had been friends since they were kids, and when Shamel introduced him to Mecca, he immediately dug her style. To him, they were the perfect match. Mecca was a classy hood chick who had more heart and drive than most dudes Breeze knew. So, he didn’t hesitate to act when she came to him, asking him to rob the spots. He did wonder, Why her aunt’s spots, though?

  “She’s a snake, Breeze. I can’t go into details now, but you know me, and you know how I operate. I’m loyal to the bone, but if you cross me, it’s on,” Mecca had simply growled.

  He’d nodded. “I can dig it. You know I’ll ride with you anytime.”

  “What you doing? Let’s go get something to eat,” Mecca suggested, stuffing the brown paper bag in her coat. Breeze put his arm around her and smiled.

  “Your treat?” he asked as they walked toward her Range Rover.

  “You know, you’ve always been a stingy nigga.”

  As they drove away, they concocted the idea that Breeze would move weed for Ruby and devised another scheme to make her business in East New York crumble like the Brownsville one.

  “You tryin’a start a war with your aunt and homegirl?” Breeze inquired as he reclined in the Range Rover’s plush leather seat. “I thought you liked Shorty?”

  “I do. She good people. Plus, there’s no way my aunt will come out on top if they go to war. Daphne’s connected to the Shower Posse. My aunt has no army.”

  Breeze shook his head. “You’d be a hell of a chess player.”

  What Mecca didn’t realize was that Ruby would partner up with Tashy, and Tashy’s connections through her father were just as dangerous and powerful, if not more so, as the Shower Posse’s. Sometimes, things didn’t always go according to plan.

  Mecca drove, smiling to herself. Revenge was definitely sweet. She thought of the pictures she had of Ruby conversing with Mo Blood outside a building in Brownsville Houses. When she gave them to Daphne and explained that those were the guys who shot her and robbed the restaurant, Daphne would realize why Mecca held something against her aunt and why Daphne should also. Wicked.

  Mecca was awakened by a blond, bulimic stewardess with a nasal voice. “You’ll have to fasten your seat belt. The plane is about to land.”

  Excited about her trip to Italy to spend a weekend with Miguel, who had returned overseas to start a new season with his basketball team, Mecca half smiled and fastened her seat belt.

  The thought of seeing him made her horny and moist. When her thoughts drifted back to the dream in which Lou showed her the plot on her aunt, she shrugged and smiled. Deal with it, Lou.

  A week after they returned from Vegas, Tashy could see why Simone was infatuated with Mona. She was New York sexy. Her eyes were big, brown, and full of life. She had a smooth bronze complexion that complemented her catwalk-lean body on long, toned legs. She walked with a confidence that oozed seduction, which many women just did not have. She was charismatic, street-smart, and worldly. These were the things that Tashy noticed the day she met her.

  During the time Simone was in Mona’s presence, the skin-stretching smile never left her face. Tashy knew they were truly in love and was a little envious of their relationship. Hers wasn’t an emotional, spiritual intimacy; it was pure lust. She wished Ruby felt the same way she felt about her, but Ruby was a strong, independent woman who knew how to take care of herself. She didn’t sit around looking for handouts; she was a go-getter. And she knew how to please a woman.

  Still, Tashy knew that Ruby was the type that didn’t become emotionally attached. Sure, she was a friend you could count on, but Ruby treated relationships like clothes. Wear them, and when it was time to buy new ones, put the others in the closet until you wanted to wear them again. Ruby’s only loves were money and power.

  Mona and Simone made a cute couple. While Simone was the listener, Mona was a talker. She wasn’t a boring talker; she had lots of interesting stories and gossip. Living in Harlem made it possible for her to hear stories and gossip that would put the tabloids out of business. When Tashy noticed a scar on Mona’s jawline, she inquired about it.

  “That scar makes you favor Sanaa Lathan. How you get it?”

  “I’ll take the Sanaa Lathan comparison as a compliment,” Mona replied while rubbing it. “I take it that Simone didn’t tell you, but this scar is the reason we met.”

  Tashy folded her arms on the table and raised her eyebrows, waiting to hear the story. “Simone never told me exactly how you met... .”

  Mona burst off into a fast-talking, excited narrative, which had become her trademark. It was after a house party thrown at a brownstone two blocks from Mona’s house, where a group of neighborhood girls with too much liquor and weed in their system decided to cause some trouble. They were jealous of Mona’s fashionable appearance and happy-go-lucky attitude. However, unknown to them, that was only a facade. Mona suffered internally. She was a hurt soul from losing both her parents in a fatal bus accident years ago, and she was never able to come to terms with the loss.

  But the girls weren’t aware of that, and they decided to pick a fight with her outside of the party. At the same time, Simone, who was there, after lying to Scooter that she was going into the city to buy some expensive-looking bag for her collection of books in college, partied it up. The downside to the lie was that Scooter had Wayne, Simone’s fake boyfriend, escort her to the city. When she told him about the party, he gave Simone the corny speech she expected from him.

  “Do you think it’s wise of you to disobey your grandfat
her, then try and have me condone it?”

  Simone sighed, wondering how this dude could be so lame. “Listen, Wayne,” she began. “Loosen up a little. Live your own life, not the life your parents want you to live. Get your thumb out of your ass. Now, I’m going to this party, and you’re coming, too, and if you keep your mouth shut, I might give you some tonight.”

  While they were dating, Wayne had begun to sense that she wasn’t really interested in him. He figured that with his charm, she would come around; however, six months had already passed. Now his eyes widened. “Since you put it that way, I guess we can live it up a bit.”

  Wayne actually enjoyed himself. Simone tried to dance with him, but he looked like a stiff white boy. He reminded her of the character Carlton from the show The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. After a while, she left Wayne to chat with friends she grew up with to catch up on what was going on in the old neighborhood.

  A few blunts later and loads of gossip, Simone was ready to leave. She found Wayne dancing with a round girl in tight clothes that made her look like an overstuffed suitcase. It would figure that the two people in the party no one wanted to be seen with dancing would find each other. And Simone had to be with one of them. When her friends asked who the weirdo was who’d come in with her, she quickly answered, “My father sent him to bodyguard me.”

  When they got outside, Simone spotted a crowd of girls stomping and kicking someone on the ground. She knew it was another girl they were jumping when she heard the girl cry out.

  These were the same girls that she’d noticed staring at her in the party and whispering to one another. She knew they were jealous of her clothes and real diamonds, because they looked raggedy as all hell, but she didn’t really care. Now they were jumping some helpless female. She knew they did not like her, and she didn’t really care for them, but they knew their place and would not try anything, because they knew who her father was. She walked toward the crowd.

  “Simone, that is none of your business. We have to get back to Long Island!” Wayne squeaked.