Dear Summer (real in the streets)

by K Elliott

  “Yeah, really.”

  “Tommy doesn’t love you, he loves me and I will prove it to you.”

  “How?”

  “Hey, just stay on the phone and be quiet,” Summer said. She felt bad for even entertaining this broad, but she had to let this chick know she was not number one, even though she was no longer sure she wanted to be with Tommy. She dialed Tommy on the three-way.

  Tommy answered on the first ring. “I was just thinking about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What were you thinking?” Summer said. She felt like she was betraying him but she just couldn’t get Angie’s words out of her head.

  “I was thinking about us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I haven’t spoke with you in a while and I was wondering how you are doing?”

  “What are you talking about? You were over my house last week… remember? You were telling me about your father and his drug problem.”

  Tommy sighed. “Yeah.”

  “So what’s going on with him? Is he doing okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Why not, Tommy? He’s your father.”

  “I know, but I have a lot of other shit on my mind.”

  “Like what, Tommy? You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I know. That’s why I like you.”

  “Tommy, I’m sorry about what happened the other night.”

  “Yeah. What was that all about? You ain’t never trip before when I came over to see you.”

  “I know. It’s hard to explain. I mean, I was kind of emotional, you know? My period was about to come on.”

  “Whatever, man. You just snapped on me for no reason.”

  “You think I really snapped on you?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Tommy, let’s not argue. I want to talk seriously for a minute.”

  “What you want to talk about?”

  “I think you were out of line when you came over the other night.”

  “What? I thought you were sorry about what happened the other night.”

  “Tommy, cut the bullshit. I’m a woman. I’m an emotional being.”

  “This shit don’t make no sense to me. I mean, you blame your actions on your period and now you are bringing the same bullshit up.”

  “I know you don’t understand. You wouldn’t.”

  “So what’s this all about?”

  “I want to date other people.”

  “What the fuck. Where did that come from?”

  “I do, Tommy. I mean, you got your woman, what’s her face…” Summer said. She knew Angie’s name, had heard all about her, but she couldn’t let Angie know she had actually given her a second thought.

  “Who are you seeing?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Yo, that’s really fucked up.”

  “Tommy, where could me and you possibly go in this relationship? I mean, you aren’t going to leave your woman.”

  Summer heard Angie breathing on the phone. Tommy probably heard it too but he would just assume it was Summer.

  Tommy said, “You don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You’re not going to leave her. If you were going to leave her you would’ve left her by now.”

  “It’s not that simple, Summer.”

  “I know.” Summer paused and thought. She really wanted to make Angie mad, but how?

  “Me and Angie got a lot of history together, Summer.”

  “Yeah, I know. And me and you are moving in two different directions.”

  “How so?”

  “Tommy, I want to get married one day and I just don’t think you’re the right one. I mean, I don’t think that you want to marry me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Tommy, do you love me?” Summer said, wondering if Angie had dropped the phone a long time ago. She’d hoped that the bitch was reduced to tears. She could picture tears rolling down those sweet little cheeks.

  “Tommy, are you there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I know you did.”

  “And what is your answer.”

  “Summer, you know I love you.”

  “Tommy, what the fuck did you just say!?” Angie interjected.

  “Who is this?” Tommy asked, but he already knew. It sounded like Angie, but how? Why? How much had she heard? Tommy terminated the call.

  ***** Tommy’s phone rang several times but he didn’t answer. He needed time to think. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. What had gotten into Summer? How did she and Angie meet? Had they met? Would Angie have his baby now that she had heard him say that he loved another woman? A woman who obviously didn’t love him or else she wouldn’t have set him up like that. Were Summer and Angie together? Were they friends now? Who initiated the conversation? Which one of them was out to get him? Had they both gotten fed up with his B.S.? The phone rang. It was Summer. He sent her straight to voice mail. It rang again. This time it was Angie. He didn’t answer it either. Summer sent him a text message…Tommy call me I need to talk I’m alone.

  He responded. What the fuck do we need to talk about? He didn’t believe she was alone. Those bitches had to be in this together.

  Chapter 28

  It was 2:00 a.m. J-Black drove the Dodge Magnum down I-77, headed to the Waffle House. He would get some breakfast before turning in. It had been a long night with little reward—two home invasions that netted him $3,000. “Broke-ass drug dealers…” he mumbled to himself.

  His phone rang. It was Tangie. He answered. “Hey, baby. I want to see you. Can we get together?” she said.

  “I’m not meeting with you unless I’m getting some pussy.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to take care of you,” Tangie said.

  “But yesterday you said you were on your period.”

  “It stopped today, and I’m just so goddamn horny.”

  “Where you at?” he asked. Suddenly Waffle House wasn’t that important. He would get the bitch to cook him something right after she gave him head.

  “The Pointe Apartments on Tyvola.”

  “Yeah? What the fuck you doing over there?”

  “My auntie’s house.”

  “Your auntie’s house? What the fuck do you mean, your auntie’s house? I know your aunties; both of them, and don’t neither one of them live on no Tyvola.”

  “Not my mama’s sisters, silly, my daddy’s sister. My aunt Jene.”

  “She got food? Because I’m hungrier than a motherfucker.”

  “She cooked some baked chicken today. I’ll heat it up for you.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Enter from the back gate, the Nation’s Ford Road entrance.”

  K. ELLIOTT

  ***** J-Black pulled up to the gate. A security box was at the gate, which required a code for entrance; one that he didn’t know. He called Tangie. She didn’t answer. He dialed again. Still no answer. Where in the hell is she? Why ain’t she picking up the phone? Maybe the bitch is in the shower. Damn, that baked chicken sounded good. Some rice would be nice with that, and a glass of iced tea, he thought. Then he would fuck the shit out of Tangie. She wasn’t much to look at, but damn, she could fuck. Had been fuckin’ since she was fifteen, so she had told him.

  He tried dialing her number again. No answer. When he put the Magnum in reverse, he looked in the mirror. That is when he saw the first man behind him. The second man he didn’t see until he was next to the driver-side door.

  Shots came through the back window first, shattering it. J-Black tried to duck. He reached for the gun on his waist. That is when the second goon opened fire, shooting him twice in the side. J-Black slumped over.

  The man shot two more times, once in his thigh and once in his lower leg.

  The first goon was now on the passenger side. He fired
two times, both shots hit J-Black—in his shoulder and in his back.

  The goons then ran to a blue SUV that awaited them. The truck sped off. Nobody saw a thing.

  ***** J.C. offered his truck keys to Scottie in exchange for a quarter of an ounce of cocaine.

  “I’m keeping it until Monday and then you pay me. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Make sure you have my money or else you ain’t getting this nice-ass Range Rover back.”

  “I will have the money, no problem.”

  “Okay. Here you go. Pure Fiscale.”

  J.C. grinned, examining the bag. He couldn’t wait to get home,

  Dear Summer

  but first he would trade some of his coke for some ecstasy. Then he would call Shantell.

  ***** Shantell picked up the phone. “Hello, Daddy.”

  “Hey baby, I got something for you.”

  “What you got?”

  “I got some skittles,” he said, using the street term for Ecstasy. “What else you got for me?”

  “What do you mean?” J.C. asked. He knew what she wanted.

  What she always wanted—money, and he didn’t have any. “You know what I want, Daddy.”

  “No, I don’t,” J.C. lied.

  “Daddy, I need some help with my bills.”

  “Shantell, I don’t have any money.”

  “Daddy, I only need $200.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Aw, Daddy. Why are you treating me like this?”

  “Come see me,” he said. He didn’t want to hear her whining. “I don’t want to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you ain’t got no damn money.”

  “So, is this all this relationship been about?”

  “You know it. I mean, what else can it be about, old man? I

  know you didn’t think I loved you.” J.C. bit down on his lip. He didn’t know what to say. He knew that Shantell had only hung around him for money, but it just hurt so much to hear her say it.

  “Goodbye, J.C.”

  “Take care, Shantell.”

  Chapter 29

  Tommy was staying at the Microtel Inn on Billy Graham when he received the call from Scooter. “J-Black got shot last night, and the doctors are saying that the nigga might not make it.”

  “What?” Tommy said more out of surprise than hurt or anger. For a brief moment he wished that J-Black would die. He had robbed him in the past, raped his ex-girlfriend and killed one of his friends. He was not somebody Tommy was very fond of.

  “Yeah. He got shot last night entering the gate of some apartments. Some man discovered him slumped over in his car.”

  Tommy stood and began pacing. He wondered if Q had him shot. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go to the hospital to see J-Black. They weren’t friends. He looked on the bright side, if J-Black died, there would be no chance of a murder-forhire charge. Though he never thought it would come down to that anyway. Nobody knew J-Black had killed three niggas for him. At least he hoped they didn’t.

  “Damn. So, they have any idea who did it?”

  “No, you know how it is. This guy had plenty of enemies. It could have been anybody.”

  “So they saying that he might not make it?”

  “Yeah, man. This shit’s crazy, man. Shit is going from bad to worse.”

  “You can say that again,” Tommy said, thinking about all his problems. J-Black was the least of his worries.

  “I think I might go to the hospital to see him,” Scooter said.

  “Keep me updated.”

  K. ELLIOTT

  ***** Friday night, and the AMC movie theater was full of teenaged kids. Q met one of the goons in the parking lot. The man was about five foot nine with a full beard. He was from Philly. That was the only thing Q knew about him. He’d been sent down by his cousin Eli from Norristown, Pennsylvania. The goon said, “The job is done.”

  “Good.”

  “Yeah, got that nigga good.”

  Q handed him a Nike shoebox stuffed with cash. The goon looked. “I ain’t got to count it, do I?”

  “No. The money is good. You can trust me.”

  The man pulled his beard, contemplating. “No, I can trust Eli.

  I don’t know you, nigga.”

  “How many times did you shoot him?”

  “I don’t know, maybe six or seven.”

  “Are you sure he’s dead?”

  “If that nigga lived, he’s Superman.”

  Q shook hands with the goon.

  Before the bearded man left, he said, “If you need me for anything else, just let Eli know. This is what I do.” With the box still under his arm, he continued, “I’m also in the collection business.”

  “The collection business? What are you talking about, the collection business?”

  “Yeah. You need me to collect some money, just let me know. If I don’t come back with the money, you ain’t got to pay me shit.”

  Q smiled, thinking there were a few outstanding debts out there. But it really wasn’t worth hurting somebody over.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Q walked back to the SUV. Country fired it up. “Nigga said J-Black is dead.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah. Said they hit him up seven times.”

  “Dayum,” Country said, pulling out of the parking lot. “We gotta take care of that Tangie, and then we’re done. Right?”

  “We have to take care of one more thing.”

  Dear Summer “What’s that?”

  “We have to send Tommy’s fat ass a message,” Q said. Country pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto South

  Boulevard.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ma shoot his house up,” Q said, pulling out a chrome nine. “Why didn’t you get those Philly niggas to do that?” Country

  asked.

  “Because we can do that shit ourselves.”

  “Okay, when you wanna handle that?”

  “I want to handle that shit right now.”

  “It’s only eleven now.”

  “Well in another two hours.”

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  “Yep, I got a bitch that work at the highway department to run

  his name.”

  “Damn nigga, you’re a cold ruthless motherfucker.” “You already know this.”

  Chapter 30

  Tommy was at the Microtel sound asleep with CNN playing in the background when his phone rang. The caller ID read Angie. His gut told him something had happened. He answered the phone on the second ring. “What?”

  “What my ass. Somebody just shot my house up.” Tommy sat up in the bed. “What you mean, somebody shot your house up?”

  “Just what I said, Tommy. The police are here now asking me a bunch of questions and shit.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “Hurry up, Tommy, hurry,” Angie said with her voice full of emotion.

  Tommy stood, still half asleep, and then he sat on the bed. He slipped into his pants and put his Jordans on thinking about the payback. He knew it had to be Q, and with J-Black in the hospital he would have to do it himself.

  ***** When he got there Angie was walking around in her robe, hair disheveled, showing the crime lab detective where the shots went. Tommy attempted to hug her.

  She pushed him away. “Tommy please get the fuck off me.” The detective, a tall white man with glasses, asked Tommy, “Do you live here?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you weren’t here tonight.”

  “No.”

  “Okay, do you have any idea who might have done this?” “No,” Tommy lied. There was no doubt in his mind that Q had

  something to do with this.

  “You have any enemies?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  The man scribbled in the pad. A short Asian cop walked

  up with some casings. “Looks like one of the guns was a
40 caliber.”

  Tommy said, “One of the guns?”

  “Yeah, there were at least 25 shots fired, and there are two different size holes in your wall.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, looks like somebody is trying to send a message to you,” the Asian cop said.

  “Hey, it could have been the wrong house; I don’t have any enemies.”

  The white cop shrugged. “Yeah, it could have been the wrong house, but highly unlikely. My experience tells me that it’s somebody that you know.”

  Tommy looked the man in his face. Damn cops always think they are so goddamn smart. He walked away before the cop called out to him. “Sir, I need to ask a few more questions.”

  Tommy turned and faced the man.

  The cop was still scribbling on his pad. “Where were you tonight?”

  Tommy looked confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I was at the Microtel on Billy Graham.”

  “Who were you with? Can anybody prove you were there?”

  Angie stared at Tommy.

  “I was alone.”

  “Why were you there in the first place? You live here.”

  Tommy looked at Angie. “Me and my girlfriend are not on good terms.”

  Angie said to the officer, “That’s true.”

  “I don’t know, maybe the front desk clerk,” Tommy said, remembering that he’d lost his key and had to get a replacement around 11 p.m. “Yeah, the front desk clerk. I don’t remember her name but she was a short little redhead.”

  “Sir, where do you work?”

  “I don’t.”

  The officer looked at the Range Rover that Tommy had just pulled up in.

  “My pops sued the state and received a lot of money.”

  Angie said, “It’s true.”

  “So, no job?”

  “Well, I invest in real estate.”

  “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” the man said, then handed Tommy his card. “If you hear of anybody talking in the street give me a call.”

  “Okay.”

  After taking more pictures and walking around the entire house twice, the officers interviewed the neighbors and then left.

  Tommy walked inside the house behind Angie.