Partnerz in Crime

by Kareem

  “Y’all must have gotten it in real damn good after I left.”

  “Nah, we ordered pizza and watched Coming to America. Baby girl was tired. Not to mention high as hell. She went out like forty minutes into the movie, leaving me up to watch it by myself.”

  “Yeah, well, her and my wife have been real busy lately. I put my baby to sleep after about a good hour of rocking the boat,” Hammer said, laughing. “She still out right now!”

  “I bet.”

  “Look, though, my nig. Come on over, get yourself together. We riding out to Monroe. I dreamed last night that we caught up to that Fat Rat Rah and I served him his medicine.”

  “Word, yo?”

  “I woke up sweatin’, K! But that’s what I called you to tell you. We taking a trip to Monroe.”

  “A’ight. I’ll be there in about thirty.”

  “See ya, my nigga.”

  I gently laid Keisha down on the sofa and placed a light blanket over her, being that her A/C was on. I went into her bathroom, took me a long piss, washed my hands and face, then eased up out of her crib without waking her. I jumped on my bike, threw my helmet on, and burned rubber.

  Hammer was already at the table, coffee steaming, and smoking a blunt. I drank a cup of freshly brewed Maxwell House with him, then hit the shower and got dressed.

  “We driving your car or mine, Ham?” I asked him.

  “My Lex, cool?” he replied, ready to bounce. He stuck his 9 inside his pants and covered it with his shirt. I did the same.

  We rode to Monroe, which was only like a forty-five-minute drive from Charlotte. We parked not too far from the address where this Fat Rah lived, praying he’d show his head so that we could take it off! From the looks of his crib, this cat was doing the damn thing, as we say in the streets. He was living in a big-ass Southern-style plantation-type crib with the well-manicured green lawn and bushes. Parked in his driveway was a white Rolls-Royce, an old-school Boss Hog–type red convertible Eldorado with the bull horns in front, and a black Mercedes-Benz.

  We sat patiently waiting literally for hours for Fat Rah to show his head. We rode back and forth up and down this isolated area where there was a lot of land and roads. We did so, trying to go unnoticed. Then we caught a break. A long-haired blond white woman, a little on the heavy side but cute from a distance, emerged from the house. She was wearing a pink tank top, dark shades, some Daisy Duke tight shorts, and sandals. She got in the Mercedes. As far as I could tell, she was in her early fifties.

  “Let’s follow that bitch,” I told Hammer.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking too, K.” He pulled off behind her, incognito fashion. We followed her to a nearby convenience store gas station. She went inside.

  “Park behind her, Ham. I’ma hop inside the bitch’s car after hollering at her. You tail us closely. You got me?”

  “I got’chu, my nigga. You know that.”

  I got out and checked my watch simultaneously. It read ten minutes to six. The bitch exited the gas station with what looked like two packs of cigarettes and a fuckin’ lottery ticket. She went to pumping her some gas in her tank.

  “Come on, now. A pretty woman like you with those long, well-manicured red nails ain’t got no business pumpin’ her own gas. Here, let me do that for you,” I said, reaching for the pump, which she yielded to me, no problem.

  “Why, thank you, young man.” She blushed. Her accent was deep Southern. “This here a very small town, Monroe is. Everyone nearly knows each other. I’m surprised I’ve never seen a handsome fella such as yourself around here before,” she said, firing up a cigarette and looking me up and down behind her shades. “What’s your name?”

  “Rico. Everybody who knows me calls me R,” I lied to her ass. “I’m a city boy just passing through this town.”

  I put on a smile and faked like I appreciated her before hearing her say, “What city you’re from?”

  “The Queen City,” I replied, stealing a glance over at her passenger side. The latch was up, indicating it was unlocked. I knew I didn’t have much more time to be rapping with this chick, so I began calculating what to do next.

  “I got relatives in Charlotte. Over there off of Albemarle Road.”

  “Oh, okay. Then maybe if you’re ever in the Queen City, you could give me a call and maybe we can have a few drinks. Do you have a pen to write down my phone number?” I said, hanging up the gas pump. She opened her car door to retrieve a pen. I quickly checked my surroundings. No one was near us.

  “While you’re bent over inside your car looking for something to write with, how about you hop over to the other side and don’t make a sound,” I told her, drawing my gun.

  “Huh?” She looked back and saw my burner aimed at her, and the charming, nice guy look that covered my face was now gone.

  I hopped inside behind her and took control of the wheel. “Just do what I tell you and everything will be fine.”

  “Sir, you’re not gonna rape and kill me, are you?” she asked nervously. “I can give you money if that’s what you need. Just, please don’t hurt me.”

  I checked the rearview as I began driving off. But while doing so, the bitch tried to open the door and bail. I reached and grabbed her ass by the collar, stopping the car. “Shut that door now, or I’ma blow your brains out and leave you laid out on the concrete pavement!” I aimed my gun at her face.

  “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll do as you say.” She shut the door.

  “Try that shit again, you dead!” I pulled off.

  I drove to a nearby abandoned school building and parked in the lot. I got out, quickly walked over to the passenger side, and opened the door. “Get out the car and come with me,” I told her, grabbing her by the arm. I escorted her over to Hammer’s Lex.

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but I gotta pee.”

  “What?” I said, opening the passenger side of Hammer’s car.

  “I got to pee.”

  “Get’cha shorts and panties down and make it quick!” She pulled her shorts and panties down with one single motion, squatted and pissed. I got the impression she was hoping someone would come along and see us with her, so she could perhaps scream out for help.

  “A’ight, bitch, you been squatting long enough. Get inside the car.” She pulled her shorts and panties up and got inside with a push from me. I got in behind her.

  “Well, well, well, Blondie. Looks like today is your lucky day. You get to hang out with my partner and me. Do you know this guy here?” Hammer said, showing her the eight-by-ten picture of Fat Rah he showed me in Bojangles.

  “Yes, that’s Donald.”

  “Who?” Hammer looked at her like she was crazy. “Who the hell is Donald?” he asked her.

  “The man on the picture there.”

  “This man is Fat Raheem.”

  “That was his name before the government changed it. The government changed his name to Donald Lee Lawrence.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s at the House.”

  “That big house we saw you leave from before you stopped at that store to get gas?”

  “No. The House is one of his gambling spots.” As she made that clear, her phone went off.

  “Who is that?” I asked her, giving her permission to check it.

  “Him. It’s Donald.”

  “Get your composure and see what he wants.” I wanted her to answer her phone because I figured that her husband might be one of those cats who, if he called his wife and she didn’t answer, he’d figure something’s wrong. She put the phone to her ear and spoke with him nice and calmly. A minute later she disconnected.

  “What’s up? What he want?”

  “He needs for me to give a guy something who is on his way to our house.”

  “Something like what?”

  “Four kilos of coke and two pounds of marijuana.”

  “When?” Hammer asked.

 
“In about an hour.”

  “Why can’t he deliver it?” I nodded at Hammer asking her that. He was thinking exactly what I was thinking. What man would have only his woman delivering big weight like that? She had to have bodyguards at that house, I figured. But, then again, if she had bodyguards, I wouldn’t have been able to get close to her.

  “He doesn’t deliver it because, at certain times of day, he be running his gambling house. So at those times, he’ll have me taking care of drug deals. He only deals with a select group of people. So it’s no big thing.”

  “We’re going to your house. You’re going to make that transaction. But the money going to us after you do. And whatever other money is in that house of y’all’s, we’ll be needing that, too.”

  “Look, I swear to God, y’all can have the money, the drugs, and whatever else. Just please don’t kill me.”

  “Is anybody else at that house of y’all’s?”

  “No. We live alone. My husband doesn’t trust others like that. Not to stay with us.”

  “Well, Blondie, like I said, we’re going back to your house, but first let me tell you why we’re here.”

  “I think I already know why from seeing that picture you showed. That picture is of Donald some years ago. It had to come from someone who knew him in the past. This has something to do with him snitching for the government. Am I right?”

  “Simply put, he crossed the wrong muthafucka!”

  After Hammer told her that, he pointed to the door. “To her house, my nigga.”

  I hopped back into her Mercedes with her on the passenger side at gunpoint. Hammer tailed us closely.

  “How long you and your husband been married?” I asked Blondie.

  “Twenty years,” she answered with her face buried in her palms, crying. She’d been crying nonstop the whole way.

  “You went into witness protection with him too?”

  “Yes. They changed both our identities. Donald hated being in the program. I did too. They had us way out in Los Lunas, New Mexico, which is on the other side of Albuquerque. Donald wanted to leave mainly because he still had lots of money and drugs stashed that the Feds didn’t know about.”

  “Did you know Mr. Melvin Harris, who your husband snitched on?”

  “Of course. Everyone knew Melvin. Melvin was a sweet man. Took my husband from nothing to having everything. I told my husband not to cooperate with the government. But the Feds convinced him otherwise. They said he was looking at thirty to life. My husband said that there was no way he was going to prison, so he decided to cooperate.”

  “Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “Shame on him.”

  “Yes, and shame on me for marrying his ass!” She began crying harder.

  I pulled up at their house and parked her Benz. I got out, rushed over to her side, let her out, and at gunpoint had her escort Hammer and me inside.

  Chapter 21

  Girl, You Cold!

  Keisha

  “Keisha,” my sister yelled my name from downstairs, interrupting me doing some legal research. “C’mere. You ain’t gonna believe who just pulled up in our driveway!”

  “Who is it?” I yelled, removing my glasses and turning my ear toward the direction her voice was coming from. She had gone downstairs to do some dusting and cleaning earlier. My sister was a freak for cleanliness. My father always said that Kolanda was more like our mother, the real clean, homebody, domestic, wifely type to stick by her man. We never knew our mother. She died giving birth to us. But he said I was more like him. The type with a big heart, but the type who got upset easy and rarely forgave a fault. Both my sister and I were very loving, though, a trait our father said we inherited from both him and our mother. One thing was for sure, I definitely hated domestic work. Household chores and all that. No, I’d have rather hired someone to handle that for me. My condo stayed a mess. Every time Kolanda came over she cleaned it for me out of being a clean freak!

  “Come and see. You ain’t gonna believe it!”

  I put my glasses on my desk next to my computer and headed downstairs to see what my sister was talking about. I checked my watch on the way down. It was 8:10 p.m. I wondered why Hammer and Korey weren’t back yet from Monroe, where my sister told me they had gone. Neither one of them was answering the phone, either. But they rarely did when handling business. Oh, well.

  “Who is it, Kolanda?” I asked her again, standing before her in my sleeveless, short sundress and house slippers.

  “Girl, it’s Josh!”

  “What? Who? You’re lying.” I walked over to the window and peeked under the shade. Sure enough, his ass was walking up the drive to our front door. “I don’t wanna see him.” I turned to walk back upstairs.

  Kolanda grabbed my hand. “Girl, see what he wants. That boy didn’t come all the way over here for nothing.”

  The doorbell rang. Kolanda politely answered, with me behind her.

  “Hey, Josh,” she greeted him with a smile. She could be so phony when she wanted to because she hated the fact that that bastard cheated on me.

  “Hey, ladies,” he greeted us back, slightly smiling. He looked past Kolanda at me. “Keisha, you . . . you mind if I come in and speak with you a moment? I know it’s been awhile, but—”

  “But what? Your newfound love leaving you?” I cut in, loaded with attitude.

  “I’ma leave you two alone so y’all can talk,” Kolanda said, about to walk away.

  “You ain’t gotta go nowhere, Kolanda. What he has to say to me, he can say in front of you. Now, you got thirty seconds, Josh. What do you want?” I said, looking at my watch and setting it to alarm me after thirty seconds was up.

  He looked at me all defeated and took in a deep breath, then exhaled. “What I want is for you to know that I still love you. And that I made a mistake.”

  “Oh, really?” I said, hands on my hips. “You hear that, Kolanda? He’s admitting he made a mistake. What attorney you know would do that?”

  “Seriously, Keisha. I swear to Jesus I haven’t been happy since you left me,” he continued.

  “Well, I doubt if anything will change, because I don’t plan on returning to make you happy. You had your chance.”

  “Please, Keisha, just give me one more chance to show you that I love you and that I will leave Amy right now if you take me back.”

  Deet, deet, deet, deet, deet, deet. My alarm on my watch went off. “What’ya know? Your time is up, playboy. Sorry.” I waved him good-bye.

  “Please, Keisha. I love you.”

  “Love doesn’t fuck around,” I spat, pointing my finger in his face. That love shit coming from his mouth angered the hell out of me. “I gave you my heart, and I was damn good to you, Josh. And what do you do? You cheat on me, on a woman who was loyal!”

  “You were loyal, Keisha. And—”

  “I know damn well I was, punk! You messed that up by wanting another bitch over me. It’s over! O-v-e-r!” I spelled it out loud and clear. “And I would appreciate it if you never came back over to this house again looking for me. Now, bye!” I turned and walked away. “Kolanda, you can shut the door now. I’m finished,” I told her.

  “Sorry, Josh,” she said to him and shut the door. “Girl, you colder than ice cream! A true Virgo!” Kolanda said and went back to dusting the living room.

  I stopped at the base of the stairway and broke down crying. This guy was my first love, the man I gave my virginity and heart to. And like broken glass, he shattered my heart into pieces, hurting me. That’s not love; that’s a lousy, no-good loser! The presence of Korey and his caring heart toward me and my feelings had helped me to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and begin to love again. All seeing Josh’s face did was make me fucking angry with hate for what he did to bring our relationship to an end. Right now, I needed Korey. I needed him to hug and hold me. I needed him to kiss me and tell me that if no one else truly and sincerely loved me, he did, and that, unlike Josh, he wouldn’t ever break my heart.

  Chapt
er 22

  Take Me to the Safe

  Korey

  Hammer and I sat inside this plush mansion of a crib. It was nice and cool inside, courtesy of central A/C. The furniture inside this joint was all new and covered with plastic to preserve it. The floors were shiny white marble, and the huge staircase was shiny wood grain. The staircase led to an inside balcony where one could stand on it and see everything and everybody below. This joint for real reminded me of that crib Al Pacino had in Scarface, where he was shooting mu’fuckas from his inside balcony, the scene outside his in-house office, the one where he said, “Say hello to my little friend!”

  Fat Rah’s wife led Hammer and me to a room upstairs that was filled with nothing but kilos of coke and pounds upon pounds of weed. She put four kilos in a garbage bag along with two pounds of weed to serve the cat who was coming over, who her husband had phoned her about.

  About twenty minutes later, we heard the doorbell. Hammer and I stayed close by, but out of sight, while she handled her business. The customer was a white hillbilly-looking, dirty mu’fucka. I guessed that’s how they looked in this neck of the woods. Mu’fuckas selling big coke, though! There was little chitchat between them. She served him and he left, leaving her with a big Ziploc bag full of cash. She didn’t count it, so I assumed he was a trusted regular customer of Fat Rah. But she said it was 102 Gs. That meant Fat Rah was selling kilos for twenty-five Gs a pop and a pound of weed for a G.

  I handed the cash to Hammer. He wasn’t all that concerned about getting more cash. Not as concerned as he was about confronting Fat Rah.

  “Take me to the safe,” I told her. I figured if it was going down, and it was, we may as well take every fucking dime we could. Besides, like my ace and brother told me when I first got out, you can never have too much money!

  She led me upstairs while Hammer watched things down below. While upstairs, she stopped in her bedroom. “I need to call Donald first.”

  “For what?”

  “Whenever I make a transaction, he likes for me to phone him that everything went smooth.”

  “Then hurry and call him.”