Let That Be the Reason

by Vickie M. Stringer

  I did as he suggested and talked to Ramón. I just wanted to ensure that those vans kept coming and that I wouldn’t receive a Colombian necktie.

  With renewed strength, I helped the guys get off to New York. We packed the van with the money, and I briefly explained to them in my best Spanish what had happened. I was so grateful to have taken Spanish for three years in high school. This, combined with exposure to Latinos, really helped my conversational Spanish. We hardly spoke any English, because they didn’t know much. But they did know how to say some things in English like, “money,” “count money,” “yes” and “no.”

  I sent them off and decided to go to a movie to calm my nerves. I wanted to think that Erik and T were playing a joke on me and that they would reappear, but I knew they wouldn’t. They were gone, and it was up to me to repay their debt. “Our” debt. Besides, I was at point zero again. I had to bust my ass to pay Dragos and start saving all over again. I wasn’t going out like that. Every thoroughbred takes a fall. This shit wasn’t about money anymore. I had a point to prove and those who crossed me would eventually need me. I planned to get shit on lock and be the baddest bitch in the game.

  Fourteen

  Ring… ring.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” G always called me sweetheart before he asked for something.

  “Hello, Gregory.”

  I listened to the hissing sound of him blowing smoke from his cigar before he continued.

  “Meet me at the hotel. I’m here with Anthony and Marsha. They have something to show you. I think it’ll be worth your time.”

  “Where you at?” I asked cautiously.

  “The one on Morse Road.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “An hour?”

  “Yes, G, or sooner.”

  “Please make it sooner.”

  “I’ll try. Bye.”

  This muthafucka wants me to stop, drop and roll for his ass. I don’t think so!

  Ring… ring.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Bitch!” Click!

  Now who in the hell was that? Recently, I had become “bitch” to a lot of people, so I couldn’t begin to narrow down who that was. I had other things on my mind. Just for today, I would be that bitch.

  Finally, I would meet Marsha and Anthony. I had heard a lot about them—a boosting couple. I wondered what they were trying to sell. Maybe it was jewelry or perfume. Maybe shoes. Whatever it was, I would know soon.

  I arrived at the hotel, clean as a whistle, wearing a Guess jean outfit with matching boots and purse, and smelling like gardenias, and G wanted me to buy some tools. Ain’t that some shit? A bunch of tools, stolen from a hardware store. They were valuable, I was sure. But they weren’t my style or concern.

  “No, G. I don’t want them.” These nickel-and-dime marks. I can’t believe G called me here for this shit. I owe a king’s ransom, and I’m out here looking at some Black and Decker.

  He continued to question me. “Why, C?”

  “What can I do with these?”

  “Sell them.”

  “To who?” I asked, actually expecting an answer from this clown.

  “I don’t know. You’re resourceful.”

  “Tools?”

  “Yes, it’s a good price.”

  “A trunkful of tools.” My mouth fell open. Where in the hell is a microphone when you need one? I need to scream a Flavor Flav wake-up into the mic.

  “They’ve been waiting for over an hour for you. They expect to make this sale.”

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred.”

  “Hell no!”

  “How you gon’ play me?” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

  “I’m not playing you. You know I don’t want tools. You need to talk to them. Let’s go inside.”

  I parked my whip, and we walked into the hotel room.

  “Anthony, Marsha, this is Carmen.” G made the introductions.

  “Hi, Carmen,” they said in unison.

  “First of all, how do you get all those clothes?”

  Anthony answered, “Well as you see, I’m only four-eleven and my wife is four-nine, so, Carmen, the clothing racks are taller than we are. We just creep through them and nobody ever sees us. They only see the empty racks when we leave the store. People call us the Littles.”

  I shook my head no. “I really like the clothes, but these tools, I can’t do it,” I said, offering a polite rejection.

  “G, you said she would do it!” Marsha screamed with an attitude.

  “I just can’t get rid of them,” I explained.

  “Give them to your husband,” little Miss Marsha suggested.

  Frustrated by now, I barked, “Look, I’ll give you $250 for them, just because.”

  G blurted out, “No way! Carmen, you got the money.”

  No, this nigga didn’t just call me out like this. “G, can we talk for a minute?” We walked out the door, just far enough away so they couldn’t eavesdrop, and then I turned to him, got up in his face. “G, I’m out here trying to get money, and you call me out here to hustle backward. Yo, I don’t hustle backward, and you had best not ever in this life, or the next, call me for some bullshit. You’ve played yourself, playa.”

  He tried to talk, and I continued. “I know I got money, nigga, but it ain’t yours to spend. Understand?” I stood there until, like a kid, he nodded that he understood. I couldn’t afford to go through this petty shit again.

  I peeked my head into the hotel room and bid farewell. “Anthony, Marsha, I can’t help you, but it was very nice meeting you.” I turned to leave, and as I walked to my car, G kept complaining in my ear.

  “G, what’s up? I just can’t use the tools, but I’ll see if I can find someone who can.”

  “No, don’t help me. I don’t need your help.” He started whining and rolling his eyes like a thirteen-year-old girl on the playground.

  “G, it don’t have to be this way. You catching feelings over some tools? What’s really going on?”

  “Nothing. You think you all that? You think you the shit?”

  “All what?”

  “All that, but you’re not.”

  I paused for a moment, then spoke. “You know what, G, I am all that now, and my time is valuable… too valuable to be called away over some bullshit, but thanks for calling.” As I walked to my Jeep, I realized this was once again jealousy, and it was getting old. I could expect it from a woman, but from a man, it’s fucked up. Suddenly, G began to laugh like a maniac from a horror movie. I detected something in his laugh but I dismissed it. “Bye, Gregory.”

  He stood there and watched as I drove away.

  I was cruising the streets with my eyes glued on my rearview mirror looking out for the po-po, a tail or a stickup kid on my trail. I thought about how much I had been using my phone lately and was wary of a phone tap. To relieve the stress, I decided to pamper myself. I went downtown to the City Center Mall and treated myself to a facial, manicure and pedicure. Inside the mall was a Caribbean bistro, so I splurged on lunch.

  Afterward, I started window shopping, but I was ready to spend. Walking past Frederick’s of Hollywood, I envisioned myself wearing the lingerie and silk and lace panty set on display in the window for someone special. I closed my eyes and I imagined a pair of strong arms embracing me, caressing me, making me feel like a desired, sensual woman, then a faint bump into me brought me back to reality. I looked to my left and observed a woman and a man who carried a small child in his arms walking past me. I realized I had no one. The things I really desired, money couldn’t buy. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, I moved on.

  Perfumania, my favorite perfume store, seemed to call my name as I neared. I couldn’t resist the alluring mixture of fragrances, so I purchased perfumes and had them gift-wrapped for my mom and sister. Next, I purchased a beautiful red Armani suit for my sister because she had just started a new job.


  Sure, I had money, but who knew what the future held? The future wouldn’t catch up to the present and not let me spend the money I earned in the past. Be it death, the penitentiary or the grave, I was spending some of that money. Hell, Erik and T-Love were somewhere spending all the money I’d thrown bricks at the penitentiary to make, so I would, too.

  I wanted to give Chino something, but what did you give a man who had everything? Then I knew—a toy. You gave a man who had everything a toy. Maybe one day I’d get Chino a motorcycle. I thought, Whatever my Chino wants, he can have!

  And my son. What would I give my son? “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy is out here getting down for her crown. You are gonna have more. I see that for you, and I’m gonna get it for you—by any means necessary.”

  Fifteen

  Ring… ring.

  “Hello, may I help you?

  “Hello, Pammy?” It was my mom, and she never called me on my work line.

  “What’s up, Mom? Why are you calling my work line?”

  “I was coming from the grocery store and noticed a car following me. Have you talked to Chino? Is he looking for you or something?”

  “No, Mom, why do you think that you’re being followed?”

  “The other day I went to open the blinds in the dining room and noticed a car parked on the side of the house. A man was sitting inside, and I didn’t really pay it too much attention, but when I was coming out of the grocery store parking lot, I saw the same man and car behind me as I pulled into traffic. Now, the last time you and Chino were feuding and you took his money and left, him and some other thug—”

  “He’s not a thug, Mama,” I interrupted.

  “Him and some other thug”—she pronounced every word this time—“came up here looking for you. So what’s going on?”

  I had no idea, but I knew it wasn’t Chino. I had only gone home once since I started hustling with the drugs, and I hoped to God no one was staking out my mom’s house or putting a tail on her.

  Immediately wanting to calm my mother’s concerns, I said, “Mom, don’t even worry. You know that you ain’t did nothing wrong, and if someone is tailing you, it’s because of your cooking. You probably have a stalker looking for your world-famous Star barbecue sauce. Don’t stress it, and stop thinking the worst. Okay?”

  “Okay, Pammy, I just wanted to talk to you and make sure you were okay.”

  “Mom, I’m fine, and since you called, I was wondering if you’d like to keep your grandson.”

  My mom happily agreed to keep the baby for me while I looked for a house and continued to get myself together. My mom had no idea that I was dealing drugs. I told her I was doing nails at home and was back in school. Nothing but lies. She didn’t ask too many questions, probably because she didn’t want to believe that I was in the streets. Many in my family assumed that Chino finally came through and was helping me out on the down low, so I didn’t have to answer many questions. I just promised to hurry, get myself together and get back in contact with family.

  As the weekend approached, I contacted the guys and told them of my new ticket. It was a high post as usual. I decided to raise my tickets in an attempt to recoup my losses. I increased my tickets by $1,000. Even though there were gripes, everyone just rolled with it. I told them it was due to a drought in New York. What could they say? Droughts happen, prices vary, people get popped, people have falls and people take losses. Not to mention, the political aspect of drug importation. That was the way of the streets.

  I figured that I would have Dragos paid in about three weeks of steady pumpin’. Plus, I was placing an extra thirty Gs on top of my payoff just on GP for being late to mend the relationship and to show some integrity. Shit, the bill collector gets interest if you’re late, why not my supplier? I was like the United States Postal Service, rain, snow, sleet or shine, I was coming through. On top of it, the service was still bringing in about $2,000 a week, so I was happy about that.

  I went to a Realtor I knew and I told her I wanted a house on a land contract, no questions asked. A nice home for me and my son. She dated a black guy who was in the game and instantly knew what time it was. He had been in the life, but with her being a white girl, she was able to get her foot in places that I could not get into. So I let her do all the legwork, for a discreet fee, of course.

  I wanted the American Dream, though I wasn’t sure if I would stay in Columbus. I still wanted to move, but I was keeping my options open in Columbus. Moving to New York was out of the question but a small town anywhere would work. All I knew was that wherever I ended up, my home would be mine.

  All I could think was, Where is my Chino? If only he knew how much I needed him. I had been dreaming of him lately, and in my dreams, he needed me. He was calling out to me. I didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but I knew he was broke and in need of cash. I could feel it. He needed help, and like me, he needed to know he had someone he could depend on. Yeah, he needed me. My dreams never lied. I spoke right to his spirit.

  “Chino, I don’t have much, but what I have is yours, and I’m still here for you. Can you hear me?”

  On the ground with my hair twisted in between Chino’s fingers, I knew that I had to fight; not with my fists, but with a woman’s mind. I looked up into his face with eyes full of tears and said, “Chino, baby, please don’t hurt me. All I wanted, all I ever needed to know was that you loved me. I miss you and how you used to make love to me.”

  He began to loosen his grip, allowing me to assume a submissive position on my knees in front of him. I began to caress his legs up to his groin area as I continued to plead, “Chino, don’t do this to us.”

  I began to bring my face near his knees and began to stroke and talk to his ego. “Chino, just hold me, baby. Make love to me.” Knowing there was no better feeling than making up after a passionate fight, I tried to reach his desire. He loosened the grip on my hair but still held the back of my head and began to respond.

  “Pooh, why you be trippin’, acting crazy and shit.” I began to unzip his pants and move my lips to his private area. Loosening his belt buckle, he placed the nine that was in his waistband on the chair cushion, which was hiding my .380 underneath.

  When I felt his grip completely release from my hair, I made my move. As Chino relaxed and prepared to be sexed, I reared my fist back and punched him between his legs. The smack of his balls against the knuckles of my fist echoed in the room. He bellowed and doubled over in pain, holding his dick while falling to his knees. I stood over him, grabbed his gun from the chair and cocked the gun, placing one in the chamber. “Now, muthafucka, who’s the bitch? Looks like you the bitch, Chino. If you only knew how to control your dick, we wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. I wouldn’t have bitches calling the shop, and we would be happy.” Placing the nine to the back of his head, I screamed, “Now, muthafucka, what?”

  I closed my eyes in an attempt to erase the memory. I felt tears escaping, but I wiped them away. I opened my eyes with an eerie feeling but that feeling was overcome by a tingling sensation in my right ear. As I began to rub frantically, I thought, Damn, my ears are burning. Someone must be talking about me.

  Sixteen

  “Chino, man, check it out! You will never believe what I found out. Okay. Remember I went to that party with Delano?” said Rock.

  “Yeah.”

  “I went trying to mix it up and get us another hookup since Joe Bub Baby got knocked and we fell off.”

  “Right, right.” Chino nodded.

  “Well, Delano is still trying to tax me. Shit, we wholesale not retail. But I went anyway because he really started blowing up when he got his new hookup.”

  “How was it?”

  “It was a small gathering, but it was real nice. It was at a party house up north for this girl named Gabrielle. Remember everyone was talking shit about this new bitch that’s suppose to have it going on and serving up ballers with high-quality shit?”

  “Yeah, real compet
ition.”

  “Chino, if Joe Bub’s ass wasn’t so greedy and tried to cut a side deal, we would have never fell off, and he would not be in lockdown.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I finally met that bitch, and she is as polished as we’ve heard.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because I’ve worked with the best and that’s you, and this bitch been schooled by the best. Problem is, she ain’t really a bitch at all. She really is good people. Chino, it’s Carmen.”

  “Who?”

  “Carmen.”

  “I don’t know a Carmen.”

  “Man, all the shit coming through stamped with TCP is from Carmen.”

  “TCP?”

  “Nigga, you forgot the Triple Crown Posse?”

  “I know about my Triple Crown Posse, but no one else’s.”

  “Man, the bitch slangin’ them thangs is none other than your Pooh. She is going by the name Carmen. She is a baller and got some people in her corner. There were several Spanish people at the party, and one she was introducing as her brother. But I know it ain’t her brother. He’s Colombian, and she was kickin’ it all tight and shit with him. Remember, Pooh speaks Spanish also.”

  “You don’t have to tell me about my Pooh. I remember everything about her. Are you sure? What did she say when she saw you?”

  “I don’t think she remembered me. I wasn’t around her that much. I’m sportin’ my dreads now. I wish the police would forget my face, but I remembered her. She was looking at me like I looked familiar. But I just kept moving out of her full sight. I didn’t want to get my ass thrown out of there.”

  “Maybe it was her man she was with?” asked Chino.

  “No, Chino, she’s solo. He ain’t her man. They just friends, business associates and pretending to be brother and sister. I watched her all night. Delano wants her, but she got him on hold. I noticed how he looked at her. Chino, Pooh was looking good, too. Just to see her laughing and holding her head up like she was—I was glad to see her like that.”