Street Chic

by Anthony Whyte

“Is there something wrong?”

  The sisters remained silent.

  “We’re friends. Your problems are mine.”

  “Claire, we better leave now,” Candace said. Her tone sounded grave.

  “Right now…?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Candace said standing. “I’m afraid our pet back home is sick,” Candace continued with a wry smile.

  Maurice Tines and Claire stood. She started to gather her things.

  “Let me know something. What kind a pet problem you got? I can always recommend a good vet.”

  Candace was already walking away, ignoring him. Maurice Tines wasn’t convinced. He pressed Claire.

  “Take this piece of info… I understand women’s independence and all that rah—rah, but certain things are best handled by the man. Such things like, for example, getting rid of garbage, you get my drift…?”

  They walked to the door and Claire turned and kissed him on his cheeks.

  “Nice show…” she whispered.

  “Anytime, and come again.”

  “We will again, soon.” Candace waved. The bouncers opened the door and the sisters strutted out.

  “What’s with the dames, boss? They got sick or…” one of the henchmen asked.

  “I don’t know, just my luck. Damn pets…!”

  “What kinda pet they got, a dog I bet?”

  “I don’t fucking know and I don’t care.” Maurice Tines watched the strut of the Osorio sisters. “But I do know classy asses when I see some, and they got it.”

  There was a soft wind whipping against their motion. Hair-blowing in the wind, Candace signaled for the driver. When the stretch pulled around, the sisters jumped in.

  “Leaving early?”

  “It was cool. Please take us home,” Candace said curtly.

  The chauffer raced along on the highway, heading back to the hotel. Candace stared at her sister.

  “Sean’s a rat.”

  The word dropped like a bomb. Claire’s expression twisted from surprise, then anger, back to surprise. Nothing was said for a long stretch of time.

  “You’re saying…” Claire started.

  “Your boy-toy has been squealing on us to his parole officer. Jacque said a parole officer came to him and casually mentioned us. Jacque dug a bit deeper and his informant told him they’re getting ready to set up some kind of team and Sean’s a part of it.”

  The information rolled off her tongue like poisonous venom shot from a deadly snake. Claire felt the betrayal crawled through her veins, cutting off her breath. She leaned back then sat upright, repulsion dogging her thoughts. She wanted to shut it out but couldn’t. She thought of their lovemaking and felt him all over her, dirtying her body.

  “A rat…?” she repeated gravely. “No, not my Sean…”

  Claire was clearly hurt by this new revelation. Images of the two of them hugging, kissing and fucking ran repeatedly in her mind. She shook her head, but the memories stayed the same.

  “If you would only listen to me and keep your fucking legs close, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Candace said, looking at her sister’s face.

  The pain she saw made her want to take it all back, but it was too late. A frustrated and angry Claire smacked her sister’s face hard.

  “I may be a lot of things but I’m not a whore. Don’t you ever talk to me like that ever again,” Claire said angrily.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Not as sorry as that sucker-ass nigga’s gonna be,” Claire said with determination.

  Claire was furious. She pulled her gun and rubbed the barrel. She checked the magazine and slapped it back inside. She screwed the silencer to the muzzle and looked over at Candace.

  “I’m sorry, Candy. I lost my nerves. But thinking how that scumbag played us because of me… Well I sorta lost it momentarily. I’m back.” The sisters hugged.

  “We’re gonna be alright, big sis,” Candace said in her sister’s embrace.

  “Where’s that sucka now?” Claire asked.

  “He visited Jacque after he left the airport. Jacque told him to chill out. But, big sis, he’s back in NY.”

  “Candy, call Jacque and have him wait for my call. Tell him how worried we… I got. And I was broken up about him leaving… Blasé, blasé… I want him to come back here and I’ll take care of him.”

  “Jacque said Sean was really pissed. He was whining about how we did nothing when he was being kicked out of the club,” Candace said as she dialed Jacque.

  “Fuck that piece a shit! He was getting on my last damn nerves. Lucky for him I didn’t know then what I now know. I would’ve had him taken out with a bullet. The nerve of that rat,” Claire hissed.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was sunny today in New York City. Sean packed his bag. He felt that he wouldn’t be coming back. He waved at his sisters and walked out to the morning air. Sean rode the subway downtown and walked to the parole office. He was set in his mind that he would be ready if they sent him back up north. Sean was prepared to do whatever it would take not to go back. He was taken aback when his PO seemed pleasant when he greeted him.

  “Come on inside the office.”

  The real surprise came when he walked into the office. It was teeming with detectives and federal agents. His heart sank as he looked around the room. The PO was grinning like he’d just won a bet. Maybe this was his promotion party.

  “Take a seat,” he said to Sean.

  Sean dropped the bag and several officers rushed over and immediately scooped it up. They opened it and examined the content. The long interrogation process began the moment he sat down.

  There was an annoying quiet. It disturbed him. Sean bent over, putting his face into his hands. What could he say that would make this right? He couldn’t bring back lives.

  “I don’t know nothing about nothing…” His voice was emotional, and he slurred like a drunk. He wasn’t convincing. “I don’t know anything…”

  “Contessa Mendez’s people fingered you. Why did you kill her? Is it because she’s a woman, Sean? Remember that incident, Sean?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember. But I really wasn’t involved.”

  “Then it’s time for you to save yourself and help me out. I’m sure you know that I’ll put in a good word for you. I guarantee that you won’t be touched,” the detective said.

  Sean grabbed his sweaty forehead as if he had a massive migraine headache. He stared at the detective. His mind was playing tricks. He wanted to make it different.

  “All right, I mean, I wasn’t actually there. I was waiting in the car.”

  “Were you the driver on this one?”

  “It wasn’t like that…”

  “Okay Sean, let’s see where loyalty lies.”

  The photo sketch, with the title boosters along with pictures of the Osorio sisters was placed in front of him.

  “Do you know these two?” she asked.

  Sean stared at the picture. He glanced at the sketch. Then he went back to the photo.

  “No, I mean they looked very pretty and all but I don’t know all the pretty girls in NY. I mean…” he said, sweating as he lied.

  The detective pulled the snapshot of Sean and the girls and puddles of water drained from Sean’s body. His shirt became wet and perspiration covered the chair he sat on.

  “Who are these women to you, Sean?” the detective asked, shoving the photo in his face. Sean stared at it and quietly cursed the day he met the Osorio sisters.

  “The one to the right is my girl, Claire, and the other is her sister.” His answer was sheepish.

  “I can’t fucking believe this, you knew these two all along and…” the PO started, but the detective waved his hand silencing him.

  “I didn’t know what was happening… I…”

  “Lover boy, these two are wanted on various charges. Associating with known felons…” The PO stared at him.

  “I swear I didn’t know…”

  “Your girlfriend and her sist
er are involved in murder. They are notoriously known around town. It seems you’ve been getting your rocks off with cold-bloodied murderers.”

  “I didn’t know anything about that,” Sean said.

  “Sean, lying may cost you your freedom.”

  “They picked me up from the club. I didn’t know them like that.”

  “They’ve been riding around town lifting everything that’s not tied down and now they’ve moved on to murder.”

  “Don’t let me find out that you’re lying.”

  “I’m not…”

  “When and where will you see your girlfriend again?”

  “I don’t know. She usually calls.”

  “Oh, you’re just a boy-toy?”

  “I ain’t nobody’s boy-toy!”

  “That’s on you. Just know the next time she calls you, you call me.” The detectives stood. “Play along or we’ll put your ass away for a long time,” he warned.

  By time he got out of the parole office, it was cloudy and the rain came. Sean walked out of the station. He felt an uneasy queasiness in the pit of his stomach.

  Sean stopped to get a bottled-water and checked his messages. He breathed a sigh of relief, and hurried to the bus stop. Sean left and Teresa was on her cell phone dialing Jacque. She was a good informant to Jacque and ran down Sean’s activities while at the probation office.

  “He was in here for about an hour talking with the detectives alone… They had your girls’ file and all…”

  Jacque closed his phone and thought about the news.

  “That muthafucka was snitching on my girls,” Jacque sighed.

  CHAPTER 24

  3pm EST Miami

  Claire and Candace were inside their principal warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The place was filled with stolen merchandise. They picked up new weapons and loaded clips in magazines. Candace closed her cell phone.

  “Jacque said a detective came by his place asking for Sean.”

  Claire continued loading the magazine and checking her weapons.

  “I’m taking these four babies right here,” she said.

  “What we should do is bring him back to Miami and take care of him here,” Candace said.

  “Done deal…”

  “Let’s go take down loud-mouth,” Candace said.

  “Uh huh, we’ll catch him at his lil’ honey’s pad…”

  “They won’t be ready for this.”

  “Hell no, they won’t…”

  Red Gucci and Prada backpacks were in place. The sisters strapped the saddle bags to the frame and mounted the motorcycles. They cranked the engine. Claire twisted her long hair into a bun and slipped the red helmet on. It matched the color of her motorcycle.

  “Osorio sisters, forever,” she said, cranking her engine.

  “Ride like the wind,” Candace smiled.

  She donned the yellow helmet, the same color as her motorcycle. They geared up and set off down the road with speed. The next morning the sisters were sitting idly at a light. They spotted a Starbucks and decided to get coffee. Claire and Candace parked the motorcycles close by and walked into the Starbucks. They ordered their cups of coffee and sat behind another patron.

  “This kinda good,” Claire sipped and smiled.

  “I have this strange feeling like sump’n ain’t right,” Candace said with a frown.

  “What’re you talking about?” Claire scoffed.

  “I feel a little uptight, like oxygen isn’t circulating right…”

  “You didn’t pay your bill…” Claire joked and sipped. “This vanilla coconut is just right. You should’ve gotten it instead of…”

  “I’m serious, sis. I just don’t feel right,” Candace said with finality.

  “Well you know you’re very superstitious so don’t let that get you carried away. I called Mimmy and let her know we were doing a modeling gig in Vegas and would stop in Miami…”

  “It has nothing to with Mimmy and what she thinks, sis.”

  “Then what’s the matter, Candy…?”

  “I really don’t know. I don’t, but it doesn’t feel right, big sis.”

  “I tell you what, we’ll go and say bye to Melanie and clear with what we got now, okay Candace?”

  “Lately I’ve been having all these dreams about dead fishes and…”

  “Here we go with all this dreaming again. Candy, I’m sold. We’ll pack up and leave for Sin City as soon as possible. Just don’t bother with the dreams. They make me nervous when you talk about them.”

  “Okay…”

  Sheryl Street woke up with the anxiety stuck in her throat. She couldn’t wait to get it off her chest. It had been building since the day her mother left home and never returned. Now she was working as a police officer while studying law at a local university. She had acquired all the tools and skills required to track her mother’s whereabouts. Sheryl was up early, her heart beating rapidly through her chest. She pushed the coffee cup away and walked to the bathroom, her mind weighed down by her emotions. Sheryl hurried through showering and quickly dressed.

  In complete police uniform down to her shiny boots, Sheryl walked uneasily to the address of the South Florida mental institution in Chattahoochee. The research she had done and the late evening work had finally paid off. The bittersweet success of her investigations revealed that her mother was mentally ill and for the past sixteen years had been receiving treatment for an acute case of catatonic-like delusions.

  Her mother’s condition was too confusing for the local clinic when she was living with her in Opa Locka. The day she disappeared, a visiting physician covering for the clinic’s doctor who normally gave her medication, recommended confinement for the patient’s own safety. For her own reasons, her mother had failed to list Sheryl as a daughter. Sheryl’s mother had been confined in the mental institution since she was seven. Now a matured woman, Sheryl entered the building. She was exhausted from not sleeping. Trying hard to pull herself together, she addressed the physician who greeted her.

  “Sheryl Street, right? I’m Dr. Katz.”

  “Yes, I’m Sheryl,” she answered, accepting the older woman’s handshake. “Thanks for your help in helping me find my mother…”

  “Oh, it was my pleasure to help,” Dr. Katz said. “This way please…” she added, leading the way through secured doors.

  Sheryl caught up with her. Dr. Katz turned her head, eyeing Sheryl. With a smile she said, “Oh so, you really are an officer, huh?”

  “Yes, I am,” Sheryl feigned a smile.

  She could sense the fear around her. The place seemed to belong in some other world. Sheryl had dreamed of the day she would see her mother. There was much to discuss and talk about. There was anger, rage and discontent stirring inside of her, but Sheryl was overcome with sympathy when Dr. Katz spoke.

  “She may not recognize you, so be very patient. Her mind is that of a five year old at times when she does come out of her silence. Please try to understand we’re doing all we can, but mental illness is complicated. And, if not caught early at times, can become more complicated. There are no proven treatments for her disorder,” Dr. Katz said, pointing to a woman sitting alone on a bench and walking away.

  Sheryl was stuck in awe of the person before her. She looked much older, gray haired and wrinkled, but there was no mistaking her. The grown woman playing with a child’s Barbie doll was her mother. Sheryl was dumbfounded and didn’t move for what seemed like an eternity. Finally after discerning the entire situation, she walked over to the bench.

  There was fear written all over the patient’s face. The scent of urine alerted Sheryl’s senses. Her eyes roamed for help when she realized her mother had urinated. Nurses on hand came to her rescue, taking her mother away. Sheryl flopped on the bench in shock. Sheryl left with no further interaction with her biological mother.

  Her thoughts were heavier as she drove back to the precinct office in Dade County. Still dazed from the visit with her mother, Sheryl walked into the office
and flopped down at her desk.

  “The captain wants you in his office,” a voice said, interrupting her recollection of the morning’s earlier meeting.

  Lt. Cooksey was already there in the captain’s office, sitting and smiling. She stared at the captain and wondered if she was being brought up on charges for insulting Lt. Cooksey again. He always had a way of pushing her buttons and in the past she had cursed him and had once slapped him. Their relationship wasn’t healthy but the job funded her dream to complete law school. Although she enjoyed working for the police, her real feelings were that graduation couldn’t come fast enough.

  “Sir, you wanted to see me?” Street asked.

  “Yes, c’mon in Officer Street… C’mon in and sit down. Now, I know you know Lt. Cooksey, right? He’s currently heading up a special task force. Apparently New York cannot handle their trash so this situation has been dumped in our lap. And we intend to show everyone that we can handle it. We aim to clean it up and we think you can help. We need you on this one…” the captain said with a frown of business all over his grill.

  When he was finished outlining exactly what had to be done, Sheryl Street was in more shock than when she had walked in.

  “You can handle this mission, now, can you Street? Cause if you can’t, we’ll get those girls and all their connections,” Lt. Cooksey smirked.

  Street sensed the sarcasm that question came with. She was confident she could do the job. For a beat, she wandered if she was suffering from the delusions her mother had. She comforted herself in a sarcastic smile when she replied.

  “Yes sir, I can. Will that be all?” Street asked and got up.

  “Remember, Street. These individuals are well connected and are considered armed and dangerous. Be careful. And don’t make any moves without informing either myself or Lt. Cooksey, okay?

  “Okay sir,” Street agreed with a salute.

  “Go get ’em!” the captain said. “There’s promotion in this one, officer.”

  Sheryl left the office, went back to her desk and got on the horn to New York. She started dialing Mimmy’s number. It rang before she heard the outgoing message. She left a message for Mimmy to call her back. She next dialed Jacque’s number. She was sure he knew and tapped the desk as she waited for him to answer her call.