Thicker Than Water

by Takerra, Allen

  He knew it was probably best for him to do it himself, but the way his name and face was so hot at the moment, he needed to stay far away from any of the spots. He also figured that Chris wasn’t dumb or bold enough to fuck up twice. He felt that since Ree had invested so much trust in him and expected him to act as a leader, this was something that he really didn’t need to know. It could be controlled. He wouldn’t let Chris know that though, not yet.

  Chauncey took another sip from his beer.

  “Let me explain something to you. You gonna go get that fucking money, tonight. You gonna bring it to the other location, alone. Then you are gonna take the keys for both houses, and bring them to me in the morning. You will no longer have access to any safe house in this organization.” Chris looked confused but didn’t speak, and when he finally did it was just a weak “I don’t understand.”

  Chauncey clarified. “Nigga, you have been officially demoted.”

  Chris wrinkled his forehead in disbelief; he was hurt, upset, and regretful at the same time.

  “Yo, Chaunc man . . . you my nigga. How you gonna play a nigga like this? I gotta eat too,” Chris pleaded, more in a whispering beg than anything.

  “Play you?” Chauncey asked. “Play you!” he repeated a little angrier.

  He noticed a small audience of two females at the bar and lowered his voice.

  “Nigga, you lucky I don’t really play you. You talking ’bout eating, nigga, for the shit you did you shouldn’t even be breathing. Go get that fucking money and bring me my muhfucking keys when you through.”

  Chris stood still, trying to prolong the conversation, hoping that this was Chauncey’s anger speaking. He’d expected this to remain a secret between Chaunc, E, and himself. He figured it was just a fuck-up that his man, his friend, would excuse. But Chauncey continued to make shot after shot on the pool table and ignored Chris as if he was just a total stranger.

  As Chris stared at him with narrowed eyes, it was as if it wasn’t even his man anymore, he was just another nigga. Shit had definitely changed, he could feel it in the air, and there was no going back. Chris walked out slowly and sniffed lightly to hold back tears that he could feel forming.

  After Chauncey left the pool hall, he felt bad. He felt really, really bad. Chris was his nigga, and it was evident that their relationship had taken a turn for the worse. This business had a way of turning friends into enemies and enemies into friends—that’s just the way it worked.

  Chauncey had never imagined having to do Chris like that, but then again he never imagined Chris blatantly disobeying his orders over some pussy. And Chauncey wasn’t dumb, he knew Chris, and he knew it was all over pussy. He slid down low in the driver’s seat of his 750 and lit up a cigarette. The taste immediately repulsed him. He threw it out the window and sat back with his face in his hands. It was definitely time for a change. He wasn’t feeling the way he was living. The business, the bitches, the lifestyle, he needed to tone it all down.

  The more he tried to justify everything and convince himself that this was the life he was born to lead, that he was a natural-born hustler, a voice in the back of his head kept telling him otherwise. And that voice was Sasha. He tried to ignore her, telling him to just leave it all alone, and move with her back to Atlanta. She had told him on so many occasions about the booming real estate down there, about how he could buy so many houses and fix them up to sell. Or even how he could buy developments and rent out the spaces, and Chauncey had more than enough money saved up, not to mention that Sasha and her family were wealthy themselves, he knew they would be straight. Her father adored him and had properly invested some of Chauncey’s money into some stocks that he himself was involved in. Everything made sense.

  He toyed with the ideas for a little while longer, also thinking of Ree’s offer to give him sole control over his own empire. He didn’t know what to do. He reached in his pocket to get his keys and felt something that he had almost forgotten was there. He held it in his right hand and knew at that moment what he had to do.

  Chauncey walked up the outside stairs to Sasha’s apartment and used his keys to open the door. Automatically he was greeted by the smell of fried chicken and cornbread. The house was dimly lit by the overhead dining room light and a single Yankee Candle burning some sweet scent. Chauncey opened the oven and saw that the cornbread wasn’t quite done; he closed it back and rubbed his hands together anticipating the food. He heard the sound of the shower running and thought of hopping in with her but then thought of something more exciting. He went into his pocket, and felt again for the third time. He then walked into the bedroom seeing that Sasha had laid out her towel on the edge of the bed, and then gave a smirk and walked back out the door.

  Sasha jumped out of the shower at the sound of the ringing phone, ringing for a third time in a row. Who is this that keeps calling? I am in the shower. She grabbed the phone and smiled at the sight of Chauncey’s number, and sang sweetly into the phone. He still gave her butterflies after all this time.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey kid, what you doing?” he asked, already knowing.

  “I just got out the shower, what’s up, baby? You hungry? I cooked.”

  He played along.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m hungry, but uh can you let me in ’cause I don’t know where the fuck my keys at?”

  “Yeah, babe,” she said, as she walked into the bedroom to grab her towel, still holding the cordless in her hand.

  She reached for her towel, grabbing it quickly, and knocking something onto the floor. She looked down at what had landed at her feet and reached down slowly, dropping the phone, completely forgetting about Chauncey.

  She gasped lightly and put her hand over her mouth as she picked up the tiny box that lay open with a flawless six-carat princess-cut diamond. Being her mother’s daughter, she gently lifted the ring out of its holder and examined its beauty. It was covered with diamonds, even entirely around the thick platinum band, causing the ring to total a gorgeous eight and a quarter carats. It was the most beautiful thing Sasha had ever seen. She heard Chauncey’s voice through the phone and snapped back into reality.

  “Hello. Hellooooo,” he repeated.

  “Oh my God, Chauncey,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. He smiled to himself, feeling and knowing he was doing the right thing, Sasha was the one.

  There was a long silence before either one spoke, both thinking of how they were willing to sacrifice for the other, and how they were willing to give up their lives and start a new one together.

  “So, what you think, kid? Me and you, forever. How ’bout it?” She was crying so hard that she was shaking. She had never, never, ever had felt this way.

  “Yes,” she whispered. She repeated again, more audibly. “Yes. Chauncey, yes!”

  He cheesed a big grin and playfully punched the air as if he had achieved the greatest conquest in history. He thanked Allah for her and for giving him another chance with Sash. He begged for forgiveness for the hundredth and last time about what he had done to her and vowed that he would do anything to keep their relationship solid and do right by her. And then he spoke again.

  “All right, now come open the door.”

  After they made love for the second time, Tatum’s phone vibrated on Ree’s plush carpet in his bedroom.

  “Don’t get it,” he instructed, kissing her lightly on her neck then making his way down to her breasts.

  She moaned lightly and licked her lips in anticipation of round three. So far Ree was the only man who had ever left Tatum dry-mouthed, body shaking, head-in-the-clouds satisfied while still craving more. He continued talking to her in his oh-so-sexy voice while making his way down her midriff. Tatum began trembling, wondering if she could take his tongue down there again.

  “You don’t know how good it feels to have you here,” he said slowly, pausing between words with light moist kisses. “In my house.” Kiss. “In my bed.” More kisses. “You know, not talking to you those days
really had me . . .” He paused. Tatum sat up a little.

  “Had you what?” she asked, anxious to hear his feelings about her. She wanted to hear that not talking to her those days had him sick, the way she was sick. He looked up at her and laughed smoothly before answering.

  “Aw, man. It had me . . . it had me kinda sick,” he admitted. She smiled.

  “Me too.”

  He leaned over to her and grabbed her face lightly while she played with one of his dreads.

  “Don’t ever do that shit again,” he added.

  They kissed some more, ready to get back into their rhythm and feast on each other’s bodies, when Tatum’s phone rang for the third time.

  She reached down onto the floor against Ree’s protest and wondered why Sasha was calling so much.

  “Hello,” she drawled.

  “I’m engaged! I’m engaged, Tay! Chauncey proposed to me!” Tatum smiled happily, oh so ecstatic for her girl, and mouthed the news to Ree who smiled lightly. But he was really thinking of what Chauncey’s plans were.

  “Well tell me how it happened! I’m so happy for you, Sash!” After the whole run-down, and the oohs and aahs, a quick overview of wedding colors, dates, times, and guest lists, the girls hung up and Sasha went to call Kim and Neli and tell them the good news.

  When Neli heard the news of Sasha and Chauncey’s engagement, she threw up. She literally threw up. She felt so defeated, so useless, and she felt like she had been used. Chauncey never cared about me. He used me for what he wanted and then still got to go back to live his perfect life, with his perfect girl. Well, not if I can help it. I have to sit up here and look at them together all the time, let alone go to a dreadful wedding and see the man I love marry my friend, oh hell no! What about me? I’m left alone while they are off living this happy life with all their money....

  She thought for a minute, long and hard, as a sneaky grin came across her face. Their money . . . yes money! Huh, I got something for his ass. She picked up her phone and made a long distance call to Los Angeles with a plan in mind that was sure to make Chauncey pay for what he did.

  “Yo,” a young Hispanic man answered.

  “Hey Bennie,” Neli greeted, trying to sound cheerful over her sadness.

  “Penelope. What’s up, mami? How’s life on the east side of things?” he asked.

  “Listen, Bennie, I got a big, huge proposition for you. It’s a lot of money involved and it’s dumb easy. I just need you and some of ya homies to take a plane out to Newark Airport and I’ll pick you up and go over the details.” Neli’s heart raced hoping that Bennie would be fair game. He always was down for whatever grimy, sneaky shit could get them paid, and plus Bennie owed her. Neli had helped him set up some niggas in Cali a little before she left.

  “Cool, Penelope. Just tell me when and me and the crew will be on the next flight out. You know I’m down if it’s money involved. It just better be official, not like the last one. When you want us out there?”

  “No, no, this one is really official. I seen it myself. But I need you guys tonight,” she said hastily.

  “Tonight?” he questioned skeptically.

  “Tonight,” she repeated with a grin.

  Chapter 13

  Betrayal

  Kim was onstage on a dead Sunday evening grinding on the pole to an old R. Kelly track when she noticed Tatum’s brother, Chris, alone, drinking himself into oblivion.

  She strutted over to him in her six-inch white platforms and white fishnet jumpsuit, to try to cheer him up and find out what the deal was. He never came into her spot. She squatted so that she was face to face with him and was about to make a joke about giving him a dance until she noticed that he seemed upset.

  “Hey, what’s up? What you doing in here?”

  He looked up and noticed that it was Kim; he stood up a little to lean into her but toppled over and fell onto the floor. He was drunk out of his head. The huge bouncer went to pick him up to throw him out but Kim stopped him.

  “Wait, Shorty, I know him, gimme a minute.”

  He backed off as Kim came off the stage and helped Chris up off the floor.

  “You got twenty more minutes, Kim!” the club owner screamed. She ignored him and led Chris outside to get some air. On her way out the few men who frequented the joint tugged at Kim and grabbed her, wondering how much Chris was giving for a personal.

  Once outside, Chris doubled over and hurled all over the sidewalk while Kim looked on with her face twisted in disgust. People walking by looked at the scantily clad stripper and drunk patron on a Sunday evening as if it were a show.

  “Mind ya fucking business!” Kim screamed, at everyone, and no one. She turned back to Chris.

  “What’s going on with you? Did something happen with you and Neli?”

  He just looked at her and then dropped down, sitting in his own vomit. Ewww, Kim thought to herself.

  He finally began to speak.

  “Yo, that was my man, Kim. Chaunc was my man. I fucked up, I fucked up. I fucked up, but it ain’t no more love. No more love.”

  Kim was confused but she gathered that whatever happened, it had something to do with Chauncey. Lately everything had something to do with Chauncey, and Kim was starting to think there was some real foul shit going on that she needed to get to the bottom of.

  “No more love,” he repeated, closing his eyes.

  “Okay, okay, let’s go,” she urged, picking him up. It was evident that he was in no shape to drive home. She informed the manager that she was leaving and to dock her pay and then she dressed quickly and asked Shorty to help her get him into her car. After that, she drove toward Tatum’s house.

  Chris woke up in Kim’s backseat wondering where she was taking him. He was still drunk as hell but he knew that he had something to do, he just couldn’t remember what it was. Then it hit him.

  “I gotta, I gotta get the shit and bring it to the other place,” he slurred. Kim just looked at him through her rearview.

  “You ain’t going nowhere, nigga, except home and to bed.”

  He tried to get the words out that his life was on the line, that it was beyond important for him to get to that safe house and transfer the money, but the words wouldn’t come. So he mumbled some more and slurred and after five minutes of protest, he passed out again, falling into a deep, deep sleep.

  When Chris woke up the next morning he felt like shit. He looked at his cell phone and saw that he had a missed call from Chauncey and suddenly remembered the final task that he was to carry out. He listened to his voice mail that was short and to the point: Bring me the keys.

  Chris jumped up, barely getting both legs into his pants before he was on his way to the safe house. If he could just transfer the money real quick and bring Chauncey the keys, he could manage to not fuck up again. He might also prove to Chauncey that he was capable of being a good soldier and not to give up on him yet.

  When he reached the safe house, he practically ran up the broken steps and hurriedly got the keys out to open the door. However, he didn’t need them. The door was drilled up off the hinges and hanging by a single nail. Chris nervously walked in and immediately felt sick to his stomach. All of the floorboards were flipped over, the mattress was ripped open, and the money and dope was gone. He immediately broke out into a cold sweat contemplating his next move.

  No, no fuck! What the fuck do I do? I can’t tell Chaunc, he’ll probably think I had something to do with it. He’ll probably hurt Neli too just ’cause I brought her here, crazy muthafucka. I damn sure can’t tell Ree, he’ll just fucking kill me. What the fuck am I gonna do?

  He then realized that whatever he did, it couldn’t be at that house. He headed back downstairs and jumped in his BMW, not knowing where to go, or what to do.

  Chauncey dialed Chris’s number for the tenth time that morning, wondering what the fuck was going on. An unsettling feeling in his stomach was telling him that something was wrong, but he knew a way to get rid of that. He picked up
his phone and dialed Ree’s little man Deets.

  “What up,” Deets greeted.

  “Yo Deets, you at the Rose house?” Chauncey asked, in code for the Roseville safe house.

  “Yeah,” Deets said, while biting into his Egg McMuffin.

  “How much in the bank?” Chauncey asked, anxious to hear that it was over a half a million in there and everything was fine. Maybe Chris just didn’t wanna give up his keys.

  Deets put Chauncey on hold as he checked and then came back to the phone.

  “A hundred.”

  Chauncey took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead.

  “A hundred thousand?” Chauncey asked, not believing this. Once Deets confirmed, Chauncey raced to the Forest Hill location, only to find the same scene that Chris had previously been. He balled up his fists and punched holes repeatedly in the walls and then after more calls to Chris that went unanswered, and a call to E, he made that dreadful call to Ree.

  Ree dropped Tatum off as usual, showing no signs of his rage, even kissing her good-bye and promising to call, all the while examining her block for her brother’s car.

  After that he drove straight to a small apartment in Newark that he rented to tenants but was vacant at the moment. He had asked all of the squad to meet him there. He walked up the stairs where everyone was waiting in the hallway and opened the door without a word. When everyone was situated, some seated and others standing, he began.

  “I want my fucking money, and I want my drugs. Talk.” Everyone remained quiet, so E figured he would begin.