by Kareem
“That’s cool.”
“I don’t want you to call nobody; and, whatever you do from this night forward, ‘Cute, don’t ever mention, under any circumstances, what happened in that apartment with that nigga. You hear me?”
“Certainly, K. What about me finishing up my CD?”
“It can wait for now. We don’t want you doing anything at this point but lying low and healing up. Feel me?”
“I feel you. I hate y’all had to see me like this.” She began to cry.
“Shiddd, we don’t,” Hammer interjected. “Ain’t no nigga got no business beating your ass ’til your face all swollen and shit, and your eye all big and black. Fuck that! You with P.I.C. now. We’re not letting you go out like that.”
“I appreciate it, guys. I really, really do.”
Up to this point, She’Cute had only perceived Korey and Hammer to be nothing more than fly, handsome businessmen, who by all means would help her singing career blossom into something beautiful. She had no idea that these two brothers had a past rooted in dealing drugs and them being ruthless bad boys when need be.
“Like my brother K said, ’Cute, just don’t ever in this life mention what happened with your boyfriend,” Hammer reminded her, knowing that a snitch would not be tolerated as a part of the company they kept.
“I won’t. Besides, I’m the one who shot and killed him. Tired of that bastard slapping me around!”
“Yeah, but you killed him with the assistance of my brother and me.”
“I’ll never, ever say anything about it. I swear to that.” She crossed her heart.
“Good. Neither will we. On a criminal level, my brother and I only have a select few that we deal with. Like us, they never discuss outside our circle what we do in the dark. That would be a fatal, fatal mistake, ’Cute. Are you hearing me?” Hammer looked back at her in her good eye to show his dead seriousness.
“I understand. Believe me, I understand.”
There was an awkward silence in the car for a few seconds. She broke it. “How did y’all know to come over?”
“My brother was very concerned about you all day today. He felt and knew something was wrong with you. Particularly because you’ve never missed a studio appointment. Moreover, K wasn’t feeling your boyfriend.”
“You wasn’t, K?”
“Not at all. I knew me and that nigga was gonna violently clash if he had done something to you, which I deeply felt he had as I was patiently awaiting your arrival at the studio. When you didn’t show up, I said to myself, ‘That nigga did something to her.’ And, trust me, after seeing your black eye and swollen face, had you not murked him, I would have,” Korey assured her, nodding.
“I appreciate you guys for coming to see about me,” she reiterated, wiping her tearstained cheek as Korey pulled in to the Fairfield Inn.
She’Cute been on her own since she was sixteen. Feeling like her heavily drug-addicted parents cared more for their addiction than her, she fled her hometown of Atlanta with her boyfriend, who was nineteen years old and on the run from state authorities for a past robbery attempt of a convenience store. In Charlotte, her boyfriend peddled drugs, but he was really a nobody.
“It’s our job to check up on you. Hell, like Ham said, you with P.I.C. now. We ain’t letting nothing happen to you if we can help it. Now, peep this,” Korey said and parked. “I’ma go in here and cop you a room for a week. It’s just until your face and eye heal. Afterward, shit, we’ll try to find you a nice li’l apartment somewhere and finish up your CD. Not to mention, your face gotta be pretty for all those photographers whose magazines you’re gonna be all up in as the next big thing in the R&B genre.”
When Korey said that, She’Cute managed to smile. Smiling was painful. Her face hurt severely, but the mere thought of her becoming a star made her happy.
Chapter 38
“Babe,” Kolanda said to her husband inside her office where he had come to have lunch with her before having to later meet with a prominent hip hop magazine reporter for an interview with Mad Loot. “Our source tells me that it’s a miracle indeed that Rah’s wife is still breathing now on her own, no life support machine. Says that ninety-five percent of people who get shot in the head don’t survive. They die immediately.”
“That’s why I capped that nigga, Rah, and his bitch in the dome, Kolanda,” he said with the volume low on his voice as he sat across from her at a shiny wooden table inside her office, eating a salad. She was having the same thing. “I had no intention of sparing either of their lives.”
“I know,” Kolanda responded, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She then continued dropping on him what her source dropped on her. “The ones who do survive a shot to the head are usually seriously impaired for life. Some never come out of a coma.”
“Look like this bitch coming out of hers, though.”
“Yeah, but she’s in such an amnesiac state of mind that our source tells me she doesn’t even recognize her own mother. She’s severely senile at this point. She has also been slipping in and out of consciousness. Doctors are contemplating hooking her back up to the machine. Honestly, I doubt if she’ll ever recover.”
“Hate to say it, but hopefully the bitch doesn’t recover.”
“She’ll be so mentally impaired that, even if she does, she wouldn’t be able to finger you or Korey. I mean, babe. Who in their right mind would take the word of a retard? Think about it.”
“Is there anything else? Mad Loot and I got a meeting with this magazine reporter.”
“Unfortunately, there is something else.” Kolanda walked over to her desk and retrieved a folder. She walked it over to Hammer, who was now wiping his mouth and hands. He was preparing to leave so that his wife could get back to work. Kolanda fingered through the many papers inside the folder while standing next to Hammer, who was still seated.
“Look at this,” she said, placing a composite drawing in his hand. Hammer studied it and knew immediately who it resembled. Small beads of sweat began surfacing over his forehead as he felt himself suddenly getting angry.
“Who the fuck gave this sketch of Korey to the cops, Kolanda?” He tossed it on the table, thinking it was becoming one thing after another. First, there was the Olivia incident, then Rah’s wife showing signs of recovery, then the She’Cute situation that ended up with her boyfriend losing his life, and now this damn drawing of his ace.
“Some teller at a gas station in Monroe,” Kolanda answered while placing the sketch back inside the folder.
When she mentioned a gas station, Hammer’s mind immediately replayed Korey and him being at one. It was where Korey rocked Fat Rah’s wife to sleep with his good looks, mannerisms, charm, and wit before Korey kidnapped her at gunpoint.
“When everything went down, investigators went all through Monroe, questioning whomever they could get to cooperate with them on anything suspicious that they may have witnessed around the time of the shootings.”
“And a fuckin’ gas station teller comes forward, huh?”
“Unfortunately. Sources say the teller remembered seeing a man talking to this Sheila woman, Rah’s wife, out in the gas station’s lot. He gave the cops that description. Why they never followed up on it, I don’t know, but now they’re back taking a fresh look at the case.”
“You know the name of this teller?”
“Not yet. I’ll get it.”
“Male or female? You know?”
“If I’m not mistaken, a male.”
“Well, babe, find out his name. Find out if he still works at that gas station and even where he lay his head. He can’t be allowed to finger my ace. That’s like fingering me.”
“I’ll get on it ASAP.”
“Fuck!” Hammer exclaimed, hitting his fist in his palm. The possibility of Korey and him going back to the joint after all these years of being out and living their dreams was something he’d do anything to avoid. Like Korey, Hammer hated the joint. Being in the joint would take him not only from the lif
e he loved, but also from the very people he loved, like his dear wife and Keisha. If he could help it, he wasn’t going back to being locked in a cage like an animal where he would be told when to do this and when to do that. For a man like Hammer, prison was hell on earth. Again, a fate he would avoid at all costs.
He ended the meeting with his wife and went and handled business with Mad Loot and the hip hop magazine reporter. But next to his artist getting some publicity, all Hammer could think about was that sketch of Korey and getting to the person who gave it.
* * *
“You ain’t doing nothing but digging your own grave. You know that, Korey?” Shamika said to him. “That’s all you doing when you use your mind to think like a thug.”
They were inside her salon alone. It was well after 8:00 p.m. and she was closing up. He had She’Cute with him along with his son KJ, both of whom he had sent to wait for him out in his car while he hollered at Shamika about Olivia’s situation. The only reason he had She’Cute with him and his son was because he had gone over to the hotel earlier to check up on her after having taken KJ shopping. He didn’t want her feeling alone with the incident that they took care of last night weighing on her mind, so he took her with him and KJ to Mint Hill and had Shamika do her hair.
“Digging my own grave, Shamika?” Korey repeated her. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. I hate it when you do,” he said, trying to get her to see his point of view, which was that a father was in the right to do whatever possible within his power to see to it that his child was protected as well as respected in this world of sin.
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to you like this. No one else is, Korey. Are you even for real right now? I’m telling you the truth. You’re digging your own grave.”
“That’s not the truth.” Korey shook his head. “Truth is, I’m standing in defense of our daughter.”
“Really?” Shamika stopped wrapping up her salon appliances, and she looked at him from a short distance, for he was sitting in one of her worker’s chairs.
“Yes, really. I’m standing in defense of our daughter by any means necessary. Bull jive ain’t nothing.”
“No, you’re not,” she refuted, now shaking her head and her index finger. “Don’t even sit there and tell that lie.”
“Lie?”
“Yes! You’re not defending Olivia. Who you fooling, Korey? Certainly not Shamika! I know you. You’re defending your li’l reputation as her no-nonsense father who would rather walk through hell’s fire with gasoline poured all over him before it is said that he lets someone get away with disrespecting his daughter.”
“Am I wrong? I’m her father.”
“But you thinking like a fool!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands for emphasis, cutting him off.
“There you go trippin’. I ain’t gotta listen to this shit!” Korey got up to leave, offended by her calling him a fool, but Shamika blocked the door, preventing him from doing so.
“Get out my way, Mika.” He gave her a slight push on her arm. She stood her ground.
“I ain’t doing nothing! What’s up? Now all of a sudden you want to leave? You wanna leave ’cause, for real, Korey, you’re a coward!” She pointed her index finger in his face to punctuate her statement. “A stone-cold coward!”
“First I’m digging my own grave. Then I’m a fool. Now I’m a coward, Mika?” he shot back and looked her directly in her eyes.
By now she knew he was heated. The eyes were never untruthful. Plus, she knew him well enough to know he didn’t care for being belittled. You would think she would have retreated and let him be on his way for the purpose of cooling down, but Shamika was the one person who wasn’t afraid to confront Korey with what she believed to be the truth and right. So she continued standing her ground, knowing that if she stood on her ground of truth unapologetically, all of heaven would back her play. Not to mention she’d been praying on Olivia’s situation earnestly.
“I called you what I called you because that’s exactly what you been acting like: a coward, someone afraid to use his head.”
“That’s your opinion. Now, excuse me.” He reached for the door handle to leave. Shamika didn’t budge.
“You ain’t going nowhere ’til I finish saying what I got to say.”
“Then say what you gotta say, Mika, ’cause I’m done talking!” he cut in quickly because he was getting really upset.
“Boy,” Shamika said through clenched teeth while pointing her finger in his face, “I’m praying for you. That thug pride in you and that ego of yours need to die! Look at you. All ready to go over to Hammer’s place, where Olivia is right now waiting on you because y’all supposed to have a meeting on what should be done to the guys who violated her. O told me y’all was having a meeting.”
“You her mother. She can tell you whatever she wants.” Korey shrugged.
Shamika slowly shook her head and tears were now forming in her eyes. “I rebuke the devil in you, Korey. What are you trying to turn our daughter into by having her around a bunch of folks who think like you? Huh? A thug? Is that what you want for our daughter? Even if you and Hammer were to do something crazy, why O gotta meet with y’all on it? Why she gotta be a coconspirator, Korey? Huh?”
“O grown. She can go where she wants. You trippin’!”
“I ain’t trippin’ and you know it!” She pushed him in his chest. “I’m telling you what’s real. And what’s real is you’re digging your own grave, both you and Hammer! Y’all think that the only way to solve a problem is by thuggin’. That is not the only way to solve a problem, Korey. Whatever happened to someone just thinking before they react? When you were in prison, you used to write me all the time saying, ‘I hope you are out there in that world using your head.’ You used to say that in all your letters. Well, now you’re home. You’re out here in this world. Why aren’t you using your head?”
“I been fuckin’ thinking—”
“Don’t curse around me,” Shamika cut him off, hating him using foul language around her, or what her mother and church would call “the devil’s language.”
“I was thinking when I took you out the projects and bought you your own house and this here salon,” Korey countered. He knew he was a thinker. The things he’d done for her and Olivia were the proof. “Our daughter is in college behind me using my head. Now, I’m not Mr. Perfect, but don’t stand here and act like I don’t use my head, Mika. ’Cause that’s where you’re wrong. I do use my head!”
“Not disputing your ability to use your head. I know you can use it. To stop using it would be your downfall. That’s all I’m saying! Listen to me. Olivia is your heart, Korey. Don’t use your heart when seeking revenge for what happened to her. Use your head. We both know that the penitentiary and the graveyards are full of individuals who, for whatever reason, stopped using their heads. I don’t want Olivia and KJ’s father to be one of them. That’s it. That’s all I’m saying. You can leave now if you want to.”
“Then excuse me.”
She moved out of his way. Korey then walked out of her shop, hopped in his Benz, and headed back to the Queen City to drop She’Cute back off to the hotel and prepare himself for the meeting at Hammer’s.
* * *
Having arrived at the house, Korey stepped inside along with KJ. Upstairs were Hammer, Olivia, Kolanda, and Keisha. They were all in Hammer and Kolanda’s huge bedroom at the bar sipping on gin and grapefruit juice and listening to the golden voice of the late, great Luther Vandross, which was playing through Hammer’s high-amped speakers.
As Korey walked into the room where they were, he noticed Kolanda, Keisha, and Olivia were chatting about something while Hammer was sitting at the bar, quietly looking at the screen of his phone. However, it wasn’t Hammer’s phone that he was looking at as Korey supposed. It was the phone of Olivia’s ex. Hammer was watching the recording of what her ex and his buddy forced her to do to them.
“What’s up, y’all?” Korey had to somewhat shout o
ver the music to make his and KJ’s presence known.
“What’s up, dawg?” Hammer looked up and shouted, giving Korey a military salute. Hammer then reached for his entertainment system’s remote to turn the music down a little.
Korey returned the salute with his hand positioned straight at his temple and shooting it straight forward. KJ quickly walked over to his mother, who kissed and hugged him. Korey walked over to Olivia. “Hey, baby.” He kissed her. He then kissed Kolanda on her cheek. “What up, sis?” he greeted her before making his way to Keisha to give her a kiss and hug.
“We been waiting on you,” Keisha said. “But I swear, K, I don’t think you wanna really see that recording.”
“Did you see it?”
“Twice already. So did Kolanda. Hammer is watching it now. Those guys made O look like she was a whore who was getting paid to make them happy. She told us all how it all went down. I think you and my brother-in-law already know what them dudes’ punishment should be. That’s the conclusion that Kolanda and I came up with: just letting you and Ham do what y’all feel needs to be done,” Keisha said in Korey’s ear, because KJ was standing between her legs as she sat on a barstool.
By then, Hammer waved Korey over. “Look at how these niggas made sport of our baby girl,” Hammer said through clenched teeth, handing the phone to Korey for him to see for himself.
On her knees, inside of what looked to be a bedroom in the background, was his daughter. Her violators were laughing and pouring champagne over Olivia’s head and watching it run down her face while her ex’s buddy’s cock was being reluctantly sucked on by her. She moved from the buddy’s cock to her ex’s. While sucking her ex off, his buddy could be heard in the background saying that Olivia sucked cock so good that she didn’t need to be in college; she needed to be in the call girl business circle! Olivia could be heard vomiting on the recording from her ex ejaculating in her mouth.