Chance broke in. “Silver, I love you more than I love myself. I always have. I knew that once you made up your mind to do something, that's it.” He slowly shook his head. “What type of man would I be if I allowed you to do something like that? I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I love you too, too much to be that selfish, so I did the only thing I knew to do— push you away.”
Tears began to fall from Silver's eyes. The ambience could not have been better as the smooth and soothing voice of Sade filtered throughout the club. Chance caressed her face and kissed her tears away as she hugged him. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, Silver.”
She laid her head on his chest and looked up at him “You know what?”
“What?”
She gestured toward the couples on the dance floor. “That's something that we never did before.”
He glanced at the crowd below. “Dance?”
“Yeah. You want to?”
Chance shrugged. “Okay.” As he stood, his cell phone slipped out of his coat pocket onto the floor, but he didn't notice as he took Silver by the hand and helped her scoot out of the booth. They walked down the stairs to the dance floor, and then he cleared his throat. “Silver … I got something to tell you.”
“What?”
“This is my first time.”
“What, at this club?”
He grimaced. “No, this will be my first time ever dancing.”
She looked at him as if he were joking. “Chance, you never danced before?”
He shook his head.
“Don't worry, baby,” Silver assured him. “I'm gonna hold you down no matter what.”
She took him by the hand, led him to the middle of the floor, then took both his hands and wrapped them around her waist. She placed her arm around his neck. As if they were part of a finely tuned instrument, everything fit perfectly— no instructions were needed. They danced through three slow jams by Sade, Luther, and Teddy. Enough said. It was time to leave.
Chance whispered in her ear, “You ready?”
Silver nodded and said, “Let me go tell Missy we're leaving.”
“Okay,” Chance said. Silver handed him her purse and went upstairs to find Missy.
Silver disappeared upstairs, and then Chance felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned and saw Hollis smiling widely, a young girl behind him loudly smacking on chewing gum.
“Fuck you doing here, nigger?” Hollis asked, giving him a pound. “I thought yo’ ass don't get down like this and party with small-timers.”
“Naw, man.” Chance grinned. “You know, nigger got to live sometime.”
Always suspicious, Hollis rubbed his chin. “Nigger, you know goddamn well you on a pussy hunt! Where the bitch at?”
The girl Hollis was with stared seductively at Chance. Hollis made it sound as if he was a Willie-ass nigga. Being the gold-digging hoe she probably was, she wasn't gonna let an opportunity like that slip by. Sticking out her bubbly chest, she continued to eye him as she spoke.
“Hollis, aren't you gonna introduce me to your friend?” She extended her hand to Chance. “Hi, they call me Slim Goody.”
Before Chance could shake her hand, Hollis slapped it away. He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. “Bitch, if I wanted to introduce you to a nigga I would've. In the meantime, only speak when you spoken to and until then, shut the fuck up!”
Caught off guard, Slim Goody shook it off like a trooper and regained her composure. Still, Chance saw the malicious glint in her eyes.
“Bitches never know when to shut the fuck up,” Hollis complained. “Anyway, nigga,” he went on with a smile, “so where is the bitch who got my brother nose wide the fuck open?”
“Come on, man,” Chance said, “stay out my business. You know I don't get down like that.”
Just then Hollis noticed Chance was holding a purse. “Oh, shit, this nigger is strung. She got you waitin’ on the sidelines holding her purse like a straight bitch!”
“Fuck you, man. Handle your business and stay the fuck out of mines!”
“Yo, come on man. You know I'm just fuckin'with you. But nigger, you better do like I do and treat all these broads like hoes, because that's all they are.” He slapped the girl on her thick ass.
Chance grew bored. “Yo, I'm about to bounce.” He gave Hollis a pound, but Hollis stopped him.
“Yo, nigga, what's up with that thing I told you about? My man Papone wants to make us a sweet deal. We can put everything on lock.”
Chance stared at Hollis, who, like a fool, continued bragging.
“Let's keep this shit gangsta, nigga. You know how I do. I already got these weak niggas shook—all we got ta do is hook up with Papone. Give me the word and I'll air these fake Harlem bitches out, the Italians and whoever else, son! I don't give a fuck. I'm ready to touch sumtin’ anyway.”
Chance stared at him. “You know what, nigger? You're a fucking idiot! You run your fucking mouth like shit is gravy.” Chance looked at Slim Goody, then back at Hollis. “All it takes is one motherfucker to run their fucking mouth to the feds, and a nigga is ass out. Nigger, I don't know what you're talking about, and even if I did, I wouldn't fuck with a stupid-ass nigger who would get me trapped off!”
Hollis tapped his fingertips on the gun he had tucked in his waistband. Chance was the only person alive who could get away with talking to Hollis like that. Hollis wasn't afraid to die, so that didn't matter to him. What mattered most to Hollis was maintaining the lifestyle that he led. He was a gangster and loved doing gangster shit, and he wouldn't give that up for anything.
Hollis merely smiled. “A'ight, nigger, you got it. I'll just handle my own shit. I was just giving a nigga an opportunity be independent from them doo-wops. I guess some niggas like being the fuckin’ help.”
Chance chucked him a sarcastic smile and walked away, though he glanced back once to see that Hollis’ smile had evaporated.
He heard Slim Goody say to Hollis, “Buy me a drink.”
Hollis slapped her on the ass.
Walking toward the bathroom, Silver saw Missy coming out quickly, as if she didn't notice her. “Yo, Missy, you don't see me?” Silver yelled as she grabbed her by the arm. Missy stared blankly in Silver's face. Silver looked at her with shock and concern. “Missy, what's the matter?” Sweating bricks, mouth twisted, Missy could barely speak. Silver backed up and looked her up and down. “What the fuck you been doing?” asked Silver.
“Um … I sniffed a lil’ bit of coke with my girlfriend inside the bathroom.”
“Not for nothing, but that shit got you looking fucked up right now. Let's go back in the bathroom to get you together.” Silver took her by the arm and led her back into the ladies’ room.
Silver waited with Missy in the bathroom until she had come down from her high and was presentable. She also knew from experience not to push or preach to Missy on the drug issue, because that would only make things worse. Addicts would slam the door on you in a minute, and so she promised herself she would wait until Missy was ready to talk. She gave Missy the once-over. “Much better,” she joked. “You think you can handle yourself now?”
“Girl, please,” Missy said. “I just glad you gonna get some dick in your ass tonight, ‘cause you starting to act like an old woman.”
“Who said I was sleeping with him tonight?”
“Bitch, you ain't had no dick in four years. Don't even try it, ‘cause you been creaming on yourself since I mentioned Chance's name.”
Silver knew she was right. “Anyway, hoe, I'm gonna go. You sure you're all right?”
“Girl, get ya ass on out of here before one of those scandalous-ass bitches try to steal your man.”
“All right, but I'm gonna call you to make sure you got home okay.”
“Sure, whatever you like.”
Silver found Chance, who already had their coats in his arms. “You ready?”
Hollis was sitting at the bar, fingering the pantyless Slim Goody, when he noticed Chance leaving with
a good-looking woman. He stared at them and tried to remember where he had seen the light-skinned girl before. He shrugged it off and got back to exploring the girl's insides.
As Silver and Chance left the club, a well-dressed but grim-faced couple entered the club, a black male and a white female. It was obvious to everyone in the club that these were New York's finest. Hollis spotted them immediately, as they were showing their badges to the bouncer. Hollis turned and smiled at Slim Goody. “Come on, luv, let's dance.” He pulled her off the bar stool.
Hollis pulled her closer into his arms while keeping his eyes on the detectives as they scanned the club. He looked down at her. “Yo, ma, I want you to hold something for me.” She glanced up at him. “I hope it's some cold cash.” Hollis watched the cops show a picture around. “Naw, baby … you close, though. I want you to hold some cold steel.” He discreetly showed her his nine-millimeter Desert Eagle. She looked at the weapon as if it were a poisonous snake, shook her head, and backed away.
“Naw, Hollis, I ain't fucking with you like that.” He grabbed her tightly by her waist and mashed the weapon into her ribs. “Bitch, if you don't slow your fuckin’ roll, I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ spleen out!” He watched the detectives get closer, looking from face to face. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Now, police is right behind you, and I'm not getting caught dirty. If you fuck this up, I'm gonna have your crackhead momma and that baldheaded-ass daughter of yours come the fuck up missing. Now spread your fuckin’ legs— wide!
Goodie stared wide-eyed up into Hollis’ grim expression and had the good sense to realize his threat wasn't an idle one. She obeyed. Gun in hand, Hollis began working his hands up beneath the hem of her minidress, searching for her vaginal cavity with his fingers. Suddenly, her eyes widened as he viciously shoved the weapon deep up inside her pussy, causing her to squirm in pain. He smiled as he pushed and probed. “You better stop moving, bitch, before this motherfucker pop off inside your ass and you won't be able to have no more them nappy-headed lil’ kids!” Just as he finished, the two detectives spotted Hollis and pushed Slim out of the way.
“Pierre Charles Joudan, you are under arrest for the murders of Jorge and Marisol Jimenez,” the female detective said, flashing her badge.
“I never heard of them,” Hollis said in a bored tone.
The black detective threw him up against the bar and handcuffed him.
“Well, maybe you heard the name Awilda Jimenez? She was only three months old when she was shot, you sick bastard!” He pulled Hollis roughly off the bar. “Say good night to your friend.”
Hollis smiled at Slim Goody, but his glare was ice cold. “Yo, baby, keep that kitten tight, a'ight?”
“Let's go,” the female detective said.
They escorted Hollis out of the club, leaving Slim Goody sobbing silently.
Chapter 22
THE SIN OF ALL SINS
Chance and Silver checked into the Hotel Gondolier in the Poconos for the weekend. The hotel included a heart-shaped bed, blue waterfalls, and a Jacuzzi inside their room. Giggling as they cuddled, Silver searched for the bedside lamp, but Chance tickled her every time she reached for the light switch.
“Stop, Chance,” she protested. “I got to call and make sure Missy got home all right.” She turned on the lamp and waited until her eyes adjusted to the light, then picked up the phone and dialed Missy's number. While she waited for Missy to answer, she affectionately rubbed Chance's chest. After the tenth ring, Silver glanced down at her watch. It was 8:34 a.m. Missy should have been home by now. She hung up the phone and turned to Chance. “I wonder where she could be this time of morning.”
After making love all night, Silver and Chance had talked and caught up on missed time. She told him about getting accepted at New York University Medical School, and how costly it would be, and how she planned to work three jobs if she had to. After she told him about everything going on in her life, she asked about his. Never inclined to speak about his business, Chance remained silent. Silver, still adamant about drugs, told him he was dealing in death and destruction, and how she honestly doubted if she could be with someone who pushed it.
“Silver, I don't sell it to no one. I'm just a messenger boy.”
“You cannot minimize what you do, Chance, nor can you sugarcoat it. No matter how you slice it, it's the same thing. It's death, baby. Why don't you just walk away from it while you still can? It's only a matter of time before something bad happens.”
Chance turned away. “Silver, it's not that simple to just walk away. They don't get down like that.”
“Who are they, Chance? You told me before that you don't even know who it is that supplies you.”
“Silver, it's just something that you would never understand. We talking about the mob, a.k.a. the motherfuckin’ Mafia!” Rising from the bed, Chance walked over to the window.
Sensing his pain, Silver got up too and went over to him. “Then why don't we just pack up and leave New York?” She rubbed his bare shoulders and smiled. “Atlanta is beautiful all year round. And besides, I be damned if I let my man get away from me again!” Chance looked down at her, and she had to smile. She loved him to death.
“I fuckin’ love you, girl!”
“I love you too, boy, but … I just won't be able to take it if something happens to you, Chance.”
At the federal court building in lower Manhattan, three large court officers led Hollis out of the holding pen to be arraigned. Twelve hours earlier, he had stood in a lineup and been positively identified from behind a two-way mirror for the murder and execution of the Jimenez family one year earlier. It appeared that the young kid who had been with Hollis at the time had spilled his guts to the police when he got arrested on his third felony drug charge and was facing twenty-five years to life. He had made a deal.
Hollis fumed as he paced the floor, nervously waiting to appear before the judge for his arraignment. Hollis had used his one phone call to try to reach Chance on his cell phone, but he'd never answered. Hollis had been locked down for almost thirty hours now and was pissed that he had to use a public defender to represent him. As he was escorted before the judge with his lawyer beside him, the copper double doors suddenly opened and a well-dressed man in an expensive Armani pinstriped blue suit walked confidently toward Hollis’ lawyer. After a brief discussion, Hollis'public defender handed his paperwork over to the newcomer.
The bailiff barked, “Court is now in session, the Honorable Patrice Roper is residing. Come to order.” The judge swaggered toward the bench and quickly reviewed the files in front of her while the bailiff continued. “Calendar 427, docket number 3 in the case of Pierre Charles Joudan, charged in violation of U.S. Title 18-848, three counts of capital murder.”
“How does your client plead?” the judge asked.
“Not guilty, your Honor!” Hollis’ new lawyer informed her.
Not impressed, the judge made a notation. “For the record, attorneys please state your names and affiliation.”
“Christina Richburg, assistant district attorney for the Southern District.”
With a confident smile, Hollis’ new lawyer said, “I am Albert Ginsberg of Ginsberg and Taft, 216 Park Avenue.”
Noting that information as well, the judge spoke again. “Any request for bail?”
The district attorney spoke up. “The government requests that Mr. Joudan be held without bail because of the severity of the crime.”
Ginsberg quickly countered, “Your Honor, due to the fact that the people's case is based on a murder over a year old, plus the fact that their information was given by a convicted felon, who happens to be incarcerated as we speak, we ask that Mr. Joudan be released on his own recognizance.”
The DA was ready. “Your Honor, the fact that Mr. Joudan is not a naturalized citizen makes him a flight risk. Mr. Joudan has been arrested a number of times in connection with a notorious Harlem-based extortion, kidnapping, and murder ring called the Young Guns.”
“Your Honor,” said Ginsberg, “I object, and request that the district attorney's last statement be stricken from the record. My client has never been convicted of any crime, yet Ms. Rich-burg is attempting to prejudice my client in front of your Honor.”
The judge turned to the DA. “Ms. Richburg, this is an arraignment. We need hear only the government's position for bail, nothing more. Strike Ms. Richburg's statement from the record.”
Ginsberg smiled. “Thank you, your Honor. Mr. Joudan has been gainfully employed for the last two years as a youth coordinator at San Clemente Church in the Bronx.” He turned and gestured toward an old priest who was at the moment being helped to his feet by Ginsberg's assistant. “Father Diaz is here to support Mr. Joudan morally and spiritually.”
Hollis inwardly smiled as he watched the two men.
“Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Thank you, your Honor,” Ginsberg said. He turned to shake Hollis’ hand before Hollis was led away by three burly officers.
Silver and Chance had a wonderful weekend together. Chance told Silver that she would no longer stay with Missy; she was to stay with him. Silver was amazed as well as flattered by his assertiveness. He said he could no longer be apart from her, ever again.
When they got back to New York on Sunday they found a parking space directly in front of Missy's apartment building and went upstairs so he could help her pack her things. Inside, the apartment was silent. Silver called out for Missy, but there was no answer.
“Now, where is that girl this time of morning? She never stays home.” Silver and Chance walked into her bedroom to begin packing Silver's clothes. When they finished, Silver wrote a note to let Missy know that she would be staying with Chance. “I guess I'll see her when I see her.” She carried her bags to the front door. “Let me just put this note on her bed.”
He nodded, and Silver walked into Missy's room and over to her bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. As she turned around, she saw the closet door move slightly. Frightened, she yelled for Chance. In an instant, he ran into the room with his gun in his right hand. He looked at Silver, who pointed to the closet. “I think somebody's in the closet,” she said. He pulled her aside and edged slowly toward the door. She watched him cautiously place one hand on the doorknob and point the gun at the closet. Chance looked at her and gestured for her to back away, then yanked the closet door open. He looked for a moment at what was inside, then lowered his gun.
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