by Nikki Turner
Timing was everything as I prepared to execute my plan. I reviewed it over and over in my head as I got dressed for court. Constantly watching the clock, I wanted everything to be perfect. It all had to be executed on point to be sure I would never be a suspect in the shit that was about to go down.
Stacey had made the ultimate mistake, and it was time for her to pay. I actually thought about what I might wear to her funeral as I scrolled though my closet to pick out the perfect outfit for court.
What a day, what a day! I thought, taking a navy blue dress from the rack. I placed it up against me and turned to the full-length mirror on the closet door. I smiled at my reflection as I thought about the joy I'd feel when I got TJ. back and revenge on Stacey. Just then my doorbell rang. I looked over at the clock. It read 8:30 a.m. It was Young Boy, and he was on time, as usual.
He'd been by my side since the first day I told him about losing TJ. He had promised to take me to the court and stand by me before and after TJ. was home. I was actually thinking of making Young Boy TJ.'s godfather. He'd been the closest thing to a godparent that TJ. had. Hell, he was the closet thing TJ. had to a father. Young Boy was the one putting up most of the money for the lawyer, taking me to see T.J., paying bills, and doing all the things Li'l Man was supposed to be doing. He even paid the damn phone bill Li'l Man ran up with all those collect calls. So in my eyes, Young Boy was more than worthy to be T.J.'s godfather. Shit, I figured Li'l Man didn't bother asking me about that shiesty bitch Stacey being the godmother, so I didn't owe him the respect of asking if Young Boy could be the godfather.
After letting Young Boy in, I went back to my bedroom and slipped on my navy blue dress. I called my people up real quick and gave them the okay before leaving my apartment and hopping in the car with Young Boy. As we drove to the courthouse I constantly checked my watch. The sweet smell of revenge was in the air. At nine o'clock I would be sitting in the courtroom, and that's when the shit would hit the fan. My stomach bubbled with fear as the reality of the events that were about to occur set in. But there was no turning back now. The ball was already in motion.
For the past few days I had watched to see when Stacey arrived and left school. This day she wouldn't arrive. Nine o'clock came and passed. Court began and was adjourned, and as expected, TJ. was returned to me. Thanks to money and people Young Boy knew, I was presented as the world's fittest mother. He arranged for everyone from pastors to doctors to testify on my behalf.
Now it was time to see if Stacey had been dealt with. I had Young Boy stop at a convenience store to grab something to drink, and I used the pay phone there to call my people. I didn't want to use my cell just in case shit got hot somewhere down the line.
I dropped the coins in the pay phone, dialed the number, and let the phone ring. After the second ring, the phone was answered.
“How's the weather?” I asked.
“The weather is lovely,” the male voice on the other end answered.
That was all I needed to hear. After his response I made arrangements to meet him later. We said as little as possible. I smiled and headed back to the car, drinking the Slurpee I had just purchased from the convenience store. I rode the entire way home with that smile on my face. My son was back with me, and Stacey had gotten what she deserved.
Once I got home I invited Young Boy inside. I figured the least I could do was cook him brunch. He'd done so much for me, all the while asking for nothing in return. Once inside my place I turned on the television for Young Boy and headed into the kitchen to cook. From the kitchen I watched Young Boy as he played with TJ. Although he had no kids of his own, it seemed so natural the way he interacted with TJ. It didn't take long before I was finished cooking and began to set the table.
“Yo, Tee!” Young Boy called in a frantic manner.
I rushed over, afraid that something was wrong with TJ. Instead I walked in to see Young Boy's eyes glued to the television. With the remote in hand, he turned up the volume. I listened as they interviewed a badly beaten woman. The reporter stated that the woman's home was burglarized, and she had been assaulted in the process. It seemed that the robbers had gotten away with a number of expensive pieces of jewelry, money, and her new BMWRX5.
“Ain't that yo’ girl Stacey?” Young Boy asked.
It took all I had to keep from smiling as I answered, “Yep.” I paused for a moment, staring at the television. “Oh, well, I guess what goes around carries around.” I said as I walked out of the room and finished setting the table.
A smile crept across my lips as I envisioned Stacey's battered face. She was fucked-up and better off dead, if you asked me. But I didn't feel the least bit sorry for her. That bitch had gotten what she deserved. She wasn't dead, but she was close to it. She was dead financially, though. I made sure my people stripped her of all the things that made her the prissy bitch she was: the fancy designer-label clothes, the jewelry, the car, and Li'l Man's safe. My people had followed the plan perfectly. Like clockwork, they ran up in Stacey's spot and collected everything, but not before giving her a lifelong reminder, a beating that would always haunt her. I couldn't have whipped that ass better myself. She got a blow for each day my son was away from me.
It took a minute, but I eventually put two and two together and realized that when she failed to convince Li'l Man into making me kill TJ. by having an abortion, that bitch tried to kill him by poisoning him with alcohol. That would have definitely gotten TJ. out of the picture—and me, too, for that matter, considering I probably would have had to go to jail for that shit. But none of that mattered anymore. Her plan failed and mine prevailed.
After eating, I made TJ. a bottle and began to clean up the kitchen. Young Boy offered to feed him as I cleaned. Again, things looked so natural as Young Boy took TJ. into his arms and fed him his bottle. I stood there and smiled at the sight of the two of them, but at the same time I couldn't help but think, Why couldn't Li'l Man be here doing these things?
Before I knew it, tears were rolling down my face. Young Boy looked up at me standing there.
“What's wrong, baby girl?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, sniffing and quickly wiping my tears away. “It's just that I want the best for TJ., and without a father, I don't know if he'll have it. When I look at you two together, I just think of the things he'll miss out on without an active father.”
“Like I told you before, I got'cha back,” he quickly responded.
Bang! Bang! Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. I walked over to the door and opened it. Standing there was Roc, my dude from the strip club. He'd come through just as promised. After Roc shared a little bit about his reputation on the streets with me, I knew he was perfect for this job. It didn't take much game for him to have pity for me. So when I hit him with my plot for revenge on Stacey, he readily agreed—no questions asked!
“Merry ChrisTmas!” Roc said before handing me a duffel bag. He winked and then walked away.
I walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind me, leaving Young Boy in the living room to finish feeding TJ. I put the bag on the bed and began to inspect the contents. I counted twenty-five stacks of ten hundred-dollar bills.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars!” I said softly. I nearly fainted. Stacey had gotten what she deserved, Li'l Man had gotten what he deserved, and I had gotten what I deserved. Now it was time for TJ. to get what he deserved.
I returned to the living room with Young Boy and TJ.
“Everything okay?” Young Boy asked, inquiring about the knock at the door.
“Yes, just perfect,” I responded. “Now, what were you saying before I left?” I asked, attempting to pick up where our conversation had left off before the knock on the door interrupted us.
“I was just saying that I got you and TJ.'s backs,” he replied.
I wasn't really sure what Young Boy was prepared to do for TJ. and me, but I figured this would be the perfect time to formalize his relationship with my son.
<
br /> “Young Boy, you've been the closet thing me and TJ. have had to a baby father. I know you can't hold that title, but I would like to offer you the title of godfather, if you will accept.”
Young Boy's face brightened as I spoke. “Fa’ sho'!” he replied with excitement. “I love this li'l nigga like he my own already.”
I exhaled. My struggles were finally over, and not a minute too soon. According to Li'l Man, thanks to his parole violation, he would more than likely be behind bars for the next five years. I was not about to wait around for him and continue living the life of some project chick. It took a lot of bullshit to wade through, but I realized that there wasn't shit cute about that kind of life. I wanted more for TJ. I was turning in a new direction. I had gained a motherly bond with my child that I never thought would happen. Having TJ. in my arms gave me a feeling of joy that I'd never felt before. Looking into T.J.'s big eyes made me proud to be a mom. I now looked forward to the dirty diapers, late nights, and bottles of formula. And I'd found a father figure for my son.
There was no more looking back. Everything from this point on would be for TJ. and Tee, not for Li'l Man's son and Li'l Man's baby mama. I was gladly willing to pass down that crown.
WAITING IN THE DUGOUT …
LAKESA COX
POWER
Definition of a woman with power: That corporate chick in the game who knows the power of her pussy and her mind and knows how and when to use them both.
Talk about a way to end a party! Thump, thump, thump. With every stroke of my manhood her head hit the bottom of the table. Hungrily, Paula sucked and licked and hit her head, sucked, licked, hit her head, all to a perfect rhythm. Paula was giving me dome like I'd never had it before, and I moaned and groaned through every lick. Good thing everybody else had left for the night; otherwise, they'd all have been getting an earful from the City of Richmond's new commonwealth's attorney, Christian Hall. Not only was I the new commonwealth's attorney, but I was also the youngest person ever to be voted into this position. At thirty-five, I was still in my prime, eager to take on the thugs and criminals who had taken over the streets of Richmond. Paula, my executive assistant, felt that this phenomenal day shouldn't end without a bang, which was just about what I was going to do in her mouth until she pulled away. I came all over the front of her blue dress. She rose from beneath my new oversize mahogany desk and sat on top of it with her legs spread open, revealing her blond pubic hair. She probably wanted me to reciprocate, but I never planned on going down on her. Not that I would have ever told her that.
“So?” she said, questioning me as if today might be her lucky day.
“Paula, you know I'm not quite ready to go there yet,” I said coyly.
“Come on, Chris. When are we gonna … well, you know?”
“When it happens, it won't be on top of this desk, that's for sure. Be patient, sweetheart. When we take this to the next level, it's definitely going to be worth the wait.”
I kissed her on the cheek as I zipped my pants. Paula sucked her teeth, grabbed her hot pink thong from my in-box, and hopped down off the desk.
“Chris, I think I've been more than patient. This is ridiculous. I want you so bad. I need to feel you inside me. Is that too much to ask?”
“No, it's not too much to ask. And yes, you have been patient. But just give me some time. It'll happen. Trust me,” I replied with a sincere look in my eyes.
She flashed a smile that told me she believed me.
“Okay. I'll see you later then,” she said.
“Bye, sweetheart,” I said as she left my office. I made a note to go to a jewelry store to pick her up a token of my appreciation. Nothing big, just something to keep her off my back with that sex talk. See, sleeping with Paula wasn't part of my agenda. Paula was a nice girl and everything, but she was nobody I'd ever consider getting serious with. Getting blow jobs in the office is every man's fantasy, but that was about all she could offer me. Don't get me wrong—Paula gave good head, but number one, she was definitely not my type, and number two, she was dumb as dirt. Even if number one and two weren't an issue, there was still number three: my grandmother. She always said, “If she can't use your comb, you can't bring her home.”
Even though I dated a white girl or two in high school, my grandmother never knew about them. Since my grandmother is my pride and joy, I always do what I know will make her proud of me. My mother was a strung-out crack addict who left when I was ten, and I haven't seen her since. My father, a two-bit hustler who introduced my mother to crack, disappeared after he found out he was wanted by the police for the rape of two thirteen-year-old girls who lived in our neighborhood. So, at the age of ten, I was forced to pack my things and move in with Grandma Lucy. My grandfather had recently died of liver cancer, so Grandma Lucy was all alone and happy to have me move in with her. She reared me the best she could, instilling in me the idea that nothing was impossible.
After watching how my mother and father lost their souls to the streets, I vowed to become a lawyer and help clean the streets of drugs and drug dealers so that other kids wouldn't have to grow up without a mother's and father's love. I made Grandma Lucy proud when I graduated from Hermitage High School in 1987 as the valedictorian with a GPA of 4.0. I went to the University of Richmond on a full scholarship, graduated, and went straight to law school at the University of Virginia. After graduating from the UVA, I took the state bar and passed it on the first try. I worked at a couple of law firms until I was given the opportunity to work as an assistant commonwealth's attorney, with a concentration on criminal felony cases. After assisting in several high-profile cases and helping to convict some of Richmond's most notorious criminals, I finally became Richmond's commonwealth's attorney, aka HNIC (Head Nigga in Charge).
So, I had the career that I had dreamed of all my life. The only thing missing was a woman in my corner to share my successes with. Unfortunately, Paula wasn't that woman. By the time she'd realize it, though, I'd have promoted her and moved her to a job making more money, in a bigger office, and with a supervisor with an even bigger appetite for sex. The way I saw it, she'd find a man in the same skin she was in and would forget all about me.
I grabbed the Richmond Times Dispatch newspaper. Front and center was my photo, with a headline that read, “Youngest Commonwealth's Attorney in the History of Richmond.” But then, just below my front-page article was a story about the city's most recent homicide, which appeared to be drug related. The body of an unidentified young black male was found over in Creighton Court, one of Richmond's housing projects. It sickened me every time I read a story like this. Drug dealers appeared to be running this city, and as the commonwealth's attorney, I planned to get rid of as many of them as possible, if for no other reason than for the sake of my mother. As far as I knew, she could still be out there, getting high, continuing to poison herself to death. Maybe in some way I could get some relief, knowing that I helped get rid of the culprits responsible for keeping my mother addicted and put them away for a long, long time.
RENÉE
“You know what, nigga? It ain't even about you. It's about me. See, I sent you to do a job that should've been simple and easy. But no, you got the police coming around my restaurant asking me questions. I can't have that. I've come too far for too long to get caught up,” said Tank.
I was standing outside of the two-car-garage door listening as my man, Tank, decided the fate of this dude who had double-crossed him. See, Tank was the big man around Richmond. He controlled Creighton Court, Gilpin Court, Fairfield Court, Whit-comb Court, and Mosby Court. The only housing project he didn't run was Hillside Court, which he and I were working on.
I walked to the front of Tank's colonial-style, three-story brick home, which sat on ten acres in New Kent County, right outside of Richmond, and leaned against a tall column to wait for Tank. I knew Tank wasn't going to do the dude in the garage, because it would be too messy. He was giving the dude one last opportunity to redeem himself, maybe
offer up some information on the competition or something. He was definitely going to kill him, though. The only person who knew about this place was me. Then there were those who knew but wouldn't have the opportunity to tell anyone else about it. The garage door opened, and I realized this dude was taking his final walk down the green mile. He was whimpering and begging Tank to spare his life.
“Tank, man, please! My girl just had a baby and shit. She don't have nobody but me. Please, Tank, listen to me for a minute!” the dude pleaded.
“Can't do it, nigga. Just keep walkin'. I promise you, it's going to be quick and painless,” Tank said without emotion.
“But, Tank, I need you to understand, the shit didn't go down the way you thinkin'. Give me a chance to explain. …”
Their voices drifted as they got farther away. Tank took the dude to the woods behind the house. The woods seemed to go on for miles, but Tank had certain “hot spots” where he did his dirty work. These hot spots consisted of open graves six feet deep. He forced his victims to jump down in the hole, shot them, then buried them. Only in extreme cases did Tank resort to this, since he normally had his boys handle all of his dirty work. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of situations where Tank had to take care of business himself.
I headed inside to wait for Tank, and before I could make it through the foyer I heard a single gunshot. The sound was so deafening that it startled me, and I dropped my keys. At that moment I realized the dude was dead. A chill went up my spine at the thought of someone being murdered right outside the house.
I proceeded through the minimansion to the stainless-steel kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water, I sat on one of the bar stools, slid up to the granite counter, and waited for Tank. It's not like I didn't have any work to do. As the executive director for Richmond Redevelopment and Housing Authority (RRHA), I stayed pretty busy. But I just was not in the mood to check e-mail, approve vouchers, review proposals, or anything. I just wanted to sit and be lazy all day.