by Deja King
Now that Smokey was dead, I had to find another connect to get my street information from. "Damn, Smokey is dead," I mumbled out loud. I felt some kinda way about that. I was riddled with guilt for bringing Smokey in some shit that he couldn't handle. Yes, he was a willing participant but he had no idea the stakes were so high. The streets were deadlier than ever for me, because I didn't know who was who or what was what. Everybody had an agenda, including me.
When I stepped out the tub I heard knocking at my bedroom door. I grabbed my robe to see who it was. "Precious, it's me, Nathan, I have your car keys." After the shoot out in Harlem, instead of going back to get my Range, I took a taxi home. Hell I didn't know if them niggas knew what type of whip I was in. They could've been on a stake out. When I arrived home, I sent Nathan to go pick up my car.
"Thanks so much," I said, taking my keys from him.
"No problem. But, Precious what happened today? You came home looking distraught. Why was you over in Harlem anyway?"
"Damn, you asking a lot of questions."
"I'm just concerned. Supreme would want me to look out for you and my gut is telling me you involved in some heavy shit."
"I appreciate your concern, Nathan, but I'm good. If I need you I will let you know." I shut the door and sat on my bed. Supreme had a lot of love for Nathan, but I didn't trust him with my personal business. He had never done anything to me, but it was a known code of the street not to trust anyone, especially people who claimed to care about your well being.
The next day, I didn't wake up until two o'clock in the afternoon. My body needed the rest. It had been non-stop action since I was discharged from the hospital. I honestly wanted to get away from everything. Recouping on some faraway island was what I craved, but Nico is what I hungered. I wouldn't be able to enjoy anything until that nigga was dead. As crazy as it might sound, I wasn't even mad at Nico for trying to kill me. I knew after I got him locked up, it would never be safe for both of us to walk the same streets. But I underestimated Nico. I thought he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Now that he was free, taking me out was a given, and I wouldn't expect anything less from him. But killing Supreme was unforgivable. This was between me and Nico. He took away the only man who ever truly loved me. When Supreme died, so did all my dreams.
After getting dressed, I went downstairs, starving for something to eat. "Hi Anna. I know it's the middle of the afternoon, but can you make me some breakfast?"
"Of course, Mrs. Mills."
"Where are today's papers?"
"I'll get it for you. You also have a message from a Mr. Jamal Crawford." I had been meaning to call Jamal, but of course there has been nothing but drama the last few weeks. I'm going to call him the minute I finish eating breakfast, I thought to myself.
First thing I did when I got the New York Post in my hands was to turn to the crime section. Sure enough, the newspaper had a small article about my incident the day before. Titled, "A Bloody Massacre in Harlem." Of course the police had no witnesses; even if someone did see something, no one was talking. The streets always be watching, but rarely ever talk unless there are young children involved. No one in the hood wanted the blood of innocent little ones on their hands.
I wanted to make sure Smokey had a proper burial and that his immediate family was financially straight, but I didn't know any of his people. He mentioned he had a daughter, but that's all I knew. I didn't want to go around asking too many questions, because no one could know I was dead in the center of The "Bloody Massacre." Three of those bodies were mine. I would figure something out.
After devouring the French toast and home fries Anna cooked, I took my glass of mimosa and went outside to call Jamal.
"Jamal Crawford's office, how may I help you?" his receptionist said. A smile crept across my face when I heard that. Jamal had done real good for himself. I never doubted he wouldn't, but to actually see it come to fruition was amazing.
"Yes, this is, Precious Mills returning his call."
"Hi, Mrs. Mills. He was expecting your call. Let me put you through." There was a slight pause, and then Jamal picked up.
"Hi, Precious, thanks for getting back to me."
"I meant to call you a while ago, but with everything that's been going on, it has been hectic."
"I understand. I should've given you more time before I called, but there were some business matters that really couldn't wait. I spoke to Supreme's attorney and he said you're in charge of his estate, so I need your clearance for a few things."
"That's not a problem. Just let me know how I can help."
"It would be great if you could squeeze me in for lunch or dinner in the next couple of days, so we can go over some paperwork."
"No problem, how about tomorrow night?"
"Great, I'll make dinner reservations at Cipriani for seven, is that good for you?"
"Actually, if you don't mind, can we have dinner here at my house? I can have Anna prepare a lovely meal. I'm just not up for going out in public yet."
"I'm so sorry. How insensitive of me. I would love to come over for dinner. Is the same time alright?"
"Of course. Is there anything in particular you want Anna to cook?"
"A good steak is always nice."
"Then steak it is. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Jamal."
I was looking forward to dinner with Jamal. Even when we were in high school, I always felt as if I could trust him. Something about him seemed so honorable, which was rare coming for the grimy Brooklyn projects we grew up in. I needed a confidant, and I hoped Jamal could be it. As I continued to think about Jamal, my cell rang and the call was from a 917 number that I didn't recognize. At first I wasn't going to answer it, but then I said, "Fuck it." I heard loud music in the back when I answered the phone.
"Hello," someone mumbled, but the music was so loud I couldn't hear shit.
"I can't hear you!" I screamed over the phone so whoever was calling me could either hang up and try back later, or go to a less noisy area and speak the fuck up.
"My bad, is this better now?" a familiar-sounding male voice asked.
"Yeah, who is this?"
"It's me, Mike. And please don't hang up the phone, Precious."
"Mike, what do you want and how did you get my cell number?"
"To answer your first question, I want to see you. Precious, we need to talk."
"We ain't got nothin' to talk about."
"It's about Nico. I have some information that I believe will be helpful to you."
"Now why would you want to help me? I thought Nico was your friend, or does a snake like you have no friends."
"Precious, there is no need for the venom. Like I told you at the funeral, I had no idea what Nico was up to. The streets and I are very disappointed with his actions. Supreme was a legend in this industry. He will be sorely missed."
"Oh, it was fucked up for him to take out Supreme, but it was okay for him to try and have me wiped off the face of this earth?"
"I'm not saying that, Precious, but the Supreme ordeal came from nowhere. So, can we meet somewhere and talk? I promise what I have to say is of great importance."
"Then say it now."
"I don't disclose pertinent information over the phone."
"I'll tell you what, Mike. Since my first priority is to have my husband's killer brought to justice, then I'll allow you ten minutes of my time. But you'll have to come to my home alone, and of course my bodyguards will search you. So don't come armed, or you won't make it past the gate. You can come tomorrow evening at six. Don't be late." I hung up the phone dreading to see Mike. I would handle my business with him before my dinner with Jamal. Mike was a snake, but he might be the link I need to bring down Nico. Only time will tell.
I spent the rest of my day trying to decide what questions to ask Mike. I knew he had a lot of street connections, and more than likely had an idea of Nico's whereabouts. Still, I had to be careful with my approach. He might be some bigtime music mogul no
w, but just like me, the hood ran through his blood. If I played my cards right, Mike could be an endless pool of information. If I came at him wrong, I wouldn't get shit.
That evening when I went to bed, I tossed and turned the entire night. My mind was flooded with questions regarding Nico, and my body yearned to be held by Supreme. The two of them had been the most important men in my life, so it only seemed logical that at every moment of each day, one of them was on my mind.
Ring ...ring.. .
"Hello," I said, looking at my clock. It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning. Who could be calling me this early?
"Good morning, Precious. I was calling to confirm our meeting for this evening at six."
"You can't be serious? You're interrupting my sleep to confirm some fuckin' meeting? You're taking this music industry shit way too serious."
"It's not about the music industry; it's about handling my business. I have business with you, and I want to make sure that it's still on. My schedule is always full, and if for some reason you've chosen to cancel, I need to know so I can make room for someone else."
"That won't be necessary. Our meeting is still on. I'll see you at six." I flipped my cell phone closed, slightly frustrated. Since the first time I met Mike, I couldn't quite figure him out. There was no doubt he was extremely smart, but there was something else. Since calling and confirming meetings seemed to be the thing to do, I put a call in to Jamal.
"Hi, can I speak to Jamal Crawford?"
"Who's calling?"
"This is Precious Mills."
"Hold on, Mrs. Mills." For the few seconds Jamal's assistant had me on hold, I glanced at my hands and feet and realized that a pedicure and manicure were calling my name. The next call I would be making was for an in-house appointment.
"I hope you're not calling to cancel?" Jamal said when he picked up his phone.
"No, actually I was calling to confirm."
"Wow, that's funny. I was going to make the same call to
you, but I thought you were still sleeping."
"I'll admit I'm no early bird. Someone woke me up, and you know once that happens there is no way you can go back to sleep," I said with a slight laugh.
"I understand. So we're still on for seven?"
"No doubt."
"Great, so I'll see you then." Jamal was like a different person now. His voice was so confident. No one would ever believe that he used to be a certified ghetto nerd.
The day flew by. After having a conference call with my attorney for over an hour and then sitting through my pedicure and manicure, it was time to get dressed for my first meeting of the evening. My appearance had to be on point, because a woman's looks meant everything. You had a much better chance of making a man jump through hoops for a pretty face than a busted one. But just a pretty face wasn't enough for me. I liked to get a nigga's dick hard off the first glance. That way they would be so busy trying to calm down their third leg that they wouldn't be able to focus and have their guard up when I was picking their brain for information.
I decided to slip on a banging-ass red number for the evening. The one-piece Chloe jersey jumpsuit hugged my body perfectly and made my now slimmed-down figure voluptuous in the right spots.
"Precious, your guest has arrived."
By the sound of Nathan's voice, I knew he detested seeing Mike come through the front door. Mike's friends were responsible for busting a champagne bottle over his head. It was a long time ago, but I guess you never get over something like that.
I looked myself over one last time before heading out. I stood at the top of the grand staircase. Mike gazed up at me from where he stood in the marble foyer. It was like that scene from Scarface, the first time Tony Montana laid eyes on Elvira with nothing but lust in his eyes.
"I see that you're right on time," I said, slowly walking down the stairs.
"Promptness is a must in my book."
"Follow me." I led Mike into the den. Nathan and one of my other bodyguards were behind us. When I closed the door they stood post right outside. They knew he was unarmed, but hands could be just as deadly. "I have another meeting very shortly, so let's get right to it. What information do you have for me?"
"Relax for a minute. You obviously had more than business on your mind when you decided to put on that outfit."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Any man would get a hard-on looking at that number, but I suppose that was the objective. Well, let me applaud you," he said, clapping his hands.
"I don't find your behavior amusing."
"That's too bad, because I find yours to be. Let's get one thing out the way. I'll be the first to admit that you're probably the sexiest, most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. But your beauty is only going to move me but so far. It'll never blind me to the point that I lose control over the situation, like I'm sure it has with other men in your life."
"Save the bullshit. You're the one who asked to come see me, let's not forget that. So my appearance needs to be an afterthought, not your first one." I knew my voice had a tone of irritation in it and I had to calm myself down. Mike had a way of getting under my skin, but I couldn't let him know that, although he probably already did. The smug son-of-a bitch had the nerve to read me. His assessment was correct, but didn't anybody ask him.
"Enough of this small talk; let's discuss what I came to see you about."
"My point exactly." I had to say that so Mike wouldn't think he was running this show.
"I don't know if you heard about this, but there was a major shoot out in Harlem the other day. From what my street informants told me, it was because of some million dollar ransom you put out on Nico."
I damn near dropped the glass of cognac I just poured myself. Luckily my back was turned away from Mike so he couldn't see the stunned look on my face. "Million dollar ransom? You need to check your so-called informants, because they digging up bad dirt. I'm letting the police handle the investigation of Supreme's murder."
"Then I guess that means you have no interest in knowing who was behind the set-up. Since that's the case, then my business here is done." Mike turned to walk away and I couldn't stop myself, I wanted to know.
"Who was behind it?"
Mike stopped for a moment, with his back toward me. I imagined him grinning at me caving in, and it made my skin crawl.
"Nico. He got word about your hit and came up with a plan of his own."
"What, to have me killed?"
"I'm sure that's what he intended the end result to be, but Nico planned on walking away with the money first. From what I understand, B-Boy's cousin not only has a business relationship with Nico, but a personal one. They came up hustling together. So when B-Boy told his cousin about the hit that was lingering over Nico's head, he warned Nico. Nico figured B-Boy could pose as the hit man for hire. Let you pay him the first half up front, and then take some fake photos with Nico dead and get part two. It wasn't a bad plan, but somehow B-Boy fucked up and he ended up dead along with his brother and one of his partners. Oh, and so did your middle man," he added. "I believe his name was Smokey." Mike paused before continuing. "Answer me this, Precious, were you the one responsible for the dead bodies in Harlem?" he asked, mocking me slightly.
"You seem to have it all figured out. You should be telling me the answer to that question."
"Then I say yes, except for Smokey of course."
"Sorry, I can't take credit for ending the lives of those bitch-ass niggas. But whoever left them flat lining did a commendable service for the community."
"That's too bad. Word on the streets is that a woman who is not only gorgeous, but mean with the heat is responsible for the havoc up top. They speak of her as if she's some sort of female superhero. From the description, I just knew it had to be you. I was wrong. You're not the baddest bitch in New York after all."
I gave Mike a smirk of disgust. The head games he was trying to play with me had now gone beyond just being annoying. "Listen, the rea
l question is; do you know the whereabouts of Nico? And if you did, would you tell me?"
Mike walked back and forth a few times as in deep thought. His tailored dark navy ensemble moved with each movement of his body. I always heard that real gangsters wear suits, and watching Mike draped in his was only authenticating the statement.
"You may not believe this, but I don't know where Nico is hiding out. The last time I saw him was right after he shot you.
"You saw Nico then? What did he say?" This was the first time I had spoken to anybody who had a first-hand account of not only seeing Nico, but talking to him. My whole body filled with anticipation of knowing what he discussed with Mike.
"He called me right after the shooting, and we met at the Pier. He told me what happened and that Supreme and his bodyguards witnessed what went down. That had him on edge, because he knew he would be wanted for murder. He had just beat one murder rap and was free again only to turn around and get charged with another. But of course, at that time unbeknownst to us, like the cat you are, you survived with eight lives still intact."
"What else did he say when you saw him?"
"He asked me for some money so he could get out of town. I had no time to head to the bank, so I could only come with a hundred thousand. He took it and I wished him well."
"So that's how he was able to buy that diesel from B-Boy's cousin, the money you hit him off wit'. You're responsible for funding his madness."
"Precious, when I gave Nico that money, I thought you were dead. Never did I believe Nico would come back to finish you off and kill Supreme in the process. Nico told me he was leaving town. Giving him a hundred thousand was the least I could do for him. As I told you, me and Nico go way back."
"Yeah, it seems Nico goes way back wit' a lot of people."
"I told you in the studio a long time ago, Nico is a true kingpin just like me. He will always have powerful people looking out for him."
"So, if Nico called you tomorrow, would you go and help him knowing that he is responsible for Supreme's death?"