Her hand was shaking as she placed two tic-tac-sized chunks of black tar heroin onto a silver spoon. She squirted a minute amount of water on top of it and then flicked a lighter across the spoon’s bottom to dissolve the combination. When it was ready, she rolled a wad of cotton into a small ball and dropped it into the drug, watching as it puffed up like a sponge.
She carefully pushed the tip of a syringe into the center of the cotton and pulled the plunger back slowly until all of the substance was sucked into it, the cotton filtering out any trash. She cast her gaze back toward them, smiling ever so slightly as recognition washed over her.
She’d already tied off her arm with a rubber strap, a good vein protruding against her warm caramel flesh. The rest of her journey would be all uphill, Shanell mused as she inserted the needle into the length of her vein, insuring that it was where it needed to be.
Seconds later there was a surge of euphoria and she suddenly felt like all was well in the world again. It was a cheap but effective high. Minutes passed and her mouth was dry, her skin flush with heat. Her limbs felts heavy and her thoughts were finally clouded. Soon she was on the nod, alternating between a state of wakefulness and drowsiness. She was grateful for it, welcoming the deep sleep that she knew would soon consume her.
As she slowly drifted into a world of her own making, Shanell suddenly thought of the man standing there in her dreams, a wealth of sadness seeping from his eyes. She wished she’d had an opportunity to tell him something that could have taken that sadness from him. A story that would have soothed his heartache. And then just like that she couldn’t think of anything else, all of her senses flying like the blackbird in one of her favorite songs.
Cilla was exhausted but she didn’t complain. She’d been struggling to keep up for the last few hours as Malcolm and Romeo had hurried from one spot to another. At every stop there was someone who knew Malcolm or whom he knew, yet no one had seen his ex-wife or had any knowledge of where she might be. Until the last stop.
The building looked condemned, an empty shell of a space that held nothing good for anyone. The man at the door had recognized Malcolm, posturing slightly as he barred them from entering. They had only been permitted inside when Malcolm had palmed a twenty-dollar bill into his hand and Romeo threatened him.
Shanell sat on a dirty sofa in a drug fueled stupor. An older version of her twin daughters, it wasn’t too difficult to understand Malcolm’s attraction to the woman. Her hair was disheveled and it was clear that she hadn’t had a bath in days. Dirt caked her fingernails and the thin sundress she wore was tattered. But even in her disarray her good looks shone through.
Cilla struggled not to cry, her emotions suddenly on sensory overload. Two steps ahead of her Malcolm came to an abrupt stop, his gaze like a laser focusing on his ex-wife. He called the woman’s name and she shushed him. He called it a second time and she held up her hand, giving him her palm. Annoyance painted her expression as she struggled to get her hit. Behind him Cilla and Romeo could only stand and watch, all of them feeling like they’d been dropped dead center into a bad movie.
Cilla felt Malcolm cringe as he stood staring and she hung back, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on a private moment between the two of them. Romeo sensed her rising anxiety and he pressed a gentle hand against her back as they waited to follow Malcolm’s lead. Once again the two men exchanged a look and Cilla couldn’t help but sense them having a silent conversation that she wasn’t privy to.
“Shanell!” Malcolm called out her name. “Shanell! Wake up!”
With a groggy stare Shanell lifted her head from the coffee table, struggling to focus. A wide smile suddenly pulled at her mouth as she jumped to her feet, throwing her arms around Malcolm’s neck.
“Malcolm!” Despite the gruff, cracking tone, excitement rang in her voice. “I missed you!”
Malcolm grabbed her arms and pulled them back down to her sides. She fell back into her seat laughing foolishly. “Have a drink with me,” she said, gesturing for an imaginary bartender.
Malcolm took the seat beside the woman. Romeo and Cilla remained standing. Shanell looked from one to the other, her eyes squinting. She swiped her hand across her face, brushing snot from her nose onto the back of her hand. She wiped her hand onto her dress. “You don’t want a drink?” she whined, pushing her lips into a pout.
“No, Shanell. I need to talk to you.”
She blew a gust of air past her lips. “What now? Don’t you spoil my good time ’cause I’m having a really good time.”
Frustration painted Malcolm’s face. “Did you know about Candy Man taking Cleo to a party the last time the girls were with you?”
Shanell rolled her eyes. “I don’t owe Candy nothin’! I settled my debt!”
“Did you give him our daughter for payment?” Malcolm spat, venom punctuating each word.
A look of confusion washed over her expression. “I . . . no . . . I . . .” She suddenly got angry. “Why are you bothering me? Leave me alone!” she exclaimed, her voice rising.
The man in the corner suddenly stopped rocking, tilting his head in their direction.
Romeo shook his head. He pressed a large hand to his friend’s forearm. “Malcolm, we should go. You’re not going to get any answers here.”
Shanell shifted her eyes. Her smile returned bright and full. “Rome! Hey, Rome!” She leaned in his direction. “You want to buy me a drink?”
“Not today, Shanell.”
The woman sucked her teeth, her eyes rolling toward the back of her head. “Tch!” She suddenly caught sight of Cilla, her gaze narrowing considerably as she looked her up and down. “Who are you?”
Cilla tried to force a smile onto her face, the slight bend to her lips looking more like a grimace. “I’m Cilla.”
Shanell looked from Cilla to Romeo and back. “This ain’t your wife!”
Malcolm took a deep breath. “Cilla is my friend.”
Shanell’s gaze narrowed even more but she didn’t say anything. She cut her eyes back at Malcolm. “What do you want?”
“Where’s Candy Man?”
“You wanna buy? I can take you to him. Candy Man’s got good candy! We can get some good stuff, Malcolm. It’ll have us feeling real good!” The woman’s excitement seemed to return with a vengeance.
Malcolm nodded. “Yeah! Where can we find him?”
“He’s down at Hollins. Hollins, that’s where he’s at,” she said, referring to the marketplace on Arlington Avenue.
“What about Nikko? Where’s your boy at?”
“Nikko?” She looked confused again.
“Yeah, where’s Nikko. I need to holler at him.”
She shook her head. “I need some money, Malcolm. Can you lend me some money?”
Malcolm rose from his seat, Cilla and Romeo following his lead. He shook his head. “No. I don’t have any money, Shanell.”
And then he turned, heading toward the exit. Behind him Shanell called his name.
He turned around, meeting the look she was giving him. “What, Shanell?”
She screamed. “Keep that Cilla bitch away from my babies, you hear me! I don’t want her nowhere near my girls!”
With a shake of his head, Malcolm slipped his arm around Cilla’s waist. Together they exited the building as quickly as they’d entered.
Minutes later they found themselves at the two-story marketplace in southwest Baltimore. A typical row-front neighborhood bordered the old shopping center that housed an assortment of vendors hawking everything from fresh meat, seafood, and produce to baked goods, crafts, and clothing.
Nothing about the neighborhood was what Cilla was expecting. Children played along the sidewalk. Families sat out on stoops. Music sounded from someone’s home. Corner storefronts boasted designer coffee and African artifacts. Cilla had expected dingy and dank, someplace that invoked fright and alarm, but there was nothing there that gave her that feeling.
Romeo pulled the car into a parking spot not
far from the market entrance. Outside the front door a few men and boys were gathered in conversation. A woman pushing a stroller while her toddler clung to her pant leg hurried by, rushing to catch the MTA bus sitting at the corner. Cilla was content to sit and people watch until Malcolm reached into the front glove compartment and pulled out a gun. He pulled back the slide and looked down the chamber, checking to see that it was loaded.
“Why do you have that?” she suddenly questioned.
When he didn’t answer immediately she asked again. “Malcolm?”
“Cilla, please!” he snapped.
Romeo tossed her a look.
“But you have a gun!” she snapped back, shifting to the edge of her seat.
“I also have a Maryland state conceal and carry license to own this gun,” he said.
Cilla was suddenly on edge. “You don’t need a gun, Malcolm. This isn’t what I was expecting.”
Malcolm and Romeo exchanged a look.
“It’s just in case,” Romeo said as he turned to meet Cilla’s anxious stare. He tried to reassure her. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with. These men aren’t necessarily on the up and up.”
She looked into the rearview mirror to see Malcolm staring back at her. He tucked the weapon into the waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt to cover it. She heaved a nervous sigh.
Malcolm suddenly jumped. “That’s him,” he said, his eyes focused on a Bill Cosby look-alike.
Before Cilla or Romeo could respond Malcolm was out the car and gone. Romeo jumped out behind him. He pointed a finger at Cilla. “Call your FBI friend and get some help. Tell him where we are. Tell him if he hurries he’ll find Candy Man here or at Johns Hopkins Hospital if he takes too long.”
“But he’s in Raleigh!” Cilla quipped, her eyes wide.
“Call someone!” Romeo yelled. “And now!”
Shaking, Cilla’s gaze followed Malcolm and Romeo into the building. When the door closed behind them she dialed 911.
Ray “Candy Man” Bynum was waiting for an order at Chuckie’s Chicken when Malcolm caught up to him. With one hand he spun the man around, his gun aimed at his head. Candy Man was caught off guard, his eyes wide with fear.
“Hey, hey, hey, now! We ain’t got no problems here!” the man sputtered, his hands up, palms forward.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Malcolm snarled.
Recognition suddenly swept over the old man.
“You . . . you . . . you kin to Miss Maxine, right? What you got me hemmed up for, man? I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”
Malcolm shook his head. “No, but you did something to my daughter. Maxine’s granddaughter. You remember her? Shanell’s baby girl?”
Something like real fear suddenly crossed the man’s face. “’Dem twins! I know dem girls. I ain’t touched neither one of dem girls!”
“But you know who did and you know who took pictures, don’t you?”
Candy shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know nothin’! I swear! I just drove her to meet her mama’s boyfriend. I didn’t do nothin’ else.”
Malcolm cocked the gun. Behind him Romeo called his name. The smell of warm urine suddenly punctuated the air, a puddle of moisture pooling at Candy Man’s feet.
“Where can I find Nikko?” Malcolm snapped.
Candy Man was suddenly a blubbering mass of doughy flesh. He was visibly shaking, the gun pressing against his temple feeling very final.
Romeo called Malcolm’s name a second time, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that had gathered to watch. “We need to go,” he snapped, spying the security guard who was pointing two Baltimore police officers in their direction. Neither moved with any sense of urgency.
“I’m only going to ask you one more time,” Malcolm said.
Candy nodded. “Club . . . Club . . . Club Mercury,” he finally muttered.
With that Malcolm slammed his fist into the man’s face, sending him to the floor. He hovered over him for a brief second before he secured his gun and adjusted his jacket, then just like that he and Romeo slipped through the crowd and away. As the cops helped Candy to his feet, slapping handcuffs on him, the two men eased their way right out the market’s front door.
Cilla was standing nervously outside the car, wringing her hands anxiously. A wave of relief washed over her as the two men approached the vehicle, gesturing for her to get back inside. Romeo took the driver’s seat, pulling into traffic, tossing one last look behind them.
“Club Mercury,” Malcolm stated.
His friend shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean no. We’re not going to that club. The police will be there soon enough. We’re not going to try to beat them there.”
“I’m going to that club.”
“There’s nothing there waiting for you but trouble, Malcolm.”
“I thought you had my back?”
“I do but I’m not going to let you do anything stupid and you’re walking a very fine line.”
“I’m going to that club,” Malcolm repeated.
“Over my dead body,” Romeo quipped.
The look Malcolm gave his friend was chilling. “Whatever it takes,” he said, his tone lashing.
Romeo laughed. “Give it your best shot, bro.”
From the backseat Cilla watched the exchange as if she were watching a tennis match. A blanket of silence fell over the car, neither of them having anything else to say. Cilla was anxious to know what had happened back at the market but she didn’t ask, not sure she could handle the answer.
An hour later they were checked into the Renaissance Baltimore Harborplace Hotel. Both men walked her to her hotel room door, wishing her a good night. Malcolm had the adjoining room next door. He disappeared inside, clearly distracted. Romeo headed down the hall to his own room.
As Cilla moved into her own space she didn’t know what to think. Everything with Malcolm seemed to have gone from bad to worse and since the encounter with his ex-wife he’d become a thread shy of hostile, barely speaking to either of them. She stood at the door between their respective rooms. Her ear was pressed tight to the structure hoping to at least hear him moving inside. They needed to talk and she imagined that with his current state of mind she was going to have to initiate that conversation.
As she stood contemplating what she needed to do next there was a knock on her room door. Romeo stood on the other side, his gaze seeping with frustration.
“What’s wrong?” Cilla asked, already knowing the answer before the man spoke.
He shook his head as he stepped past her, moving to the entrance between her room and the next. She shifted her gaze toward the connecting door, pushing past the man as she rushed to open it. Undoing the latch she stepped over the threshold into the other room. Malcolm’s bag sat on the floor in the entrance, everything else in place as it had been when they’d checked in.
Romeo tossed up his hands. “He’s gone!”
It was some ungodly hour in the morning when Malcolm finally returned to his hotel room. As he entered he came to an abrupt stop, surprised to find Cilla sound asleep in his bed. The door between his hotel room and hers was wide open, every light illuminating the two spaces.
She lay in a fetal position, her body tense. Even in her sleep he could sense that he had put her through an unnecessary amount of stress. He was suddenly kicking himself for being so insensitive. He blew a deep sigh as he eased his body down onto the foot of the bed. He rested his elbows on his thighs, dropping his head into his hands.
He didn’t have any excuses for his bad behavior. He had known better. He should have done better. He’d gone on the offensive, then he’d built a wall between them, shutting her out. He’d not been at his best. He would understand it if Cilla never wanted to have anything else to do with him but he hoped she’d be able to see past his momentary indiscretion and give him another chance. Then again, he wondered if their roles were reversed if he could be as forgiving.
With the final amen he sat back on his haunches, his gaze shifting up to where Cilla lay staring at him. She met his eyes with her own concerned stare. She lifted her body upright, shifting back against the headboard. A slight smile pulled at her full lips and he could see it in her eyes that she was relieved to see him.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Hey yourself,” she whispered back.
“I’m sorry,” Malcolm said softly. “I just . . . I . . .” He blew a loud sigh. “I have no excuses.”
Cilla nodded. “I think I understand. I really do.”
“I wish I did. I just don’t know anything anymore.”
Malcolm rose off his knees, climbing into the bed. He pulled himself up till his back was against the headboard, his body resting beside hers.
“What happened, Malcolm?” she asked. “Did you find that guy at the club?”
He shook his head. “No. I waited but he never came. Then your friend called me. They actually found him down in South Carolina. He’d been picked up there last week on another charge. Your buddy Randolph didn’t give me the details but it sounded like this guy’s been doing a lot of dirt.”
“So where’ve you been all this time?”
Malcolm heaved a deep sigh. “Fighting the urge to take a drink. I sat at that bar and all I wanted was to make it all go away. I figured one drink and I’d be able to numb all this hurt.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought about my mother and my daughters and I thought about you. And I knew it wasn’t worth it.”
Playing For Keeps Page 15