Promise Kept, page 24
“You didn’t kill him, Sin. You made that bastard a folk hero.”
When Keisha came back into the apartment, she found Promise on the couch with her feet up, thumbing through a magazine as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “I hope those are the classified ads you’re looking through, since you ain’t got a job no more.” She snatched the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table.
Promise sat up. “Larry told you, huh?”
“He didn’t have to. Everybody was talking about the show your yellow ass put on last night.”
“He had it coming. I got tired of Larry’s disrespect. He was always calling me out of my name. Dizzy broad this, clumsy gal that.” Promise imitated Larry’s country drawl.
“Where’s the lie? You done broke more dishes in that man’s joint than any five bitches I know. Just face the facts, Promise. That game might not be one you’re cut out for,” Keisha said.
“You’re right about that,” Promise agreed, before retrieving the magazine from the table and going back to her page flipping.
“So now what?” Keisha asked.
“What you mean?” Promise looked up at her.
“I mean what do you plan on doing about money? You know this ain’t no soup kitchen.”
“How can I forget? You tell me almost every day,” Promise said with an attitude. She was tired, hungry, and not up for Keisha’s shit.
“I wouldn’t care if I told you every hour. This is my damn house. You don’t like what comes out of my mouth? Find another place to rest ya head, ma.”
“Relax, Keisha. You’ll have your rent money. I made a nice piece of change at Dirty Wine last night, and I got a few other things lined up,” Promise told her.
“Is that what Sin’s ass was talking about? I swear your head is as hard as a fucking rock! I keep telling you to stay away from Sin, but you’re gonna have to learn the hard way. You and my cousin Mouse are just a couple of dumbass kids from Newark, trying to play grown-up games.” Keisha shook her head.
“What’s the matter? You afraid of a little competition?” Promise accused. “Sin said he came by to conclude his business with you and don’t think I don’t know what kind of business he was talking about.”
Keisha snatched Promise off the couch by her tank top and shook her like a child. “Lil bitch, you better watch your mouth. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Talking about things you’re clueless to is liable to get your ass hurt!”
“And so will putting your hands on me!” Promise broke Keisha’s hold, causing her to stumble backward. Keisha was strong, but Promise was no weakling. She was a thick girl, and the few street fights she’d had coming up in Newark taught her how to use that weight to her advantage. She hadn’t meant to push Keisha that hard, but she was angry. The initial look on Keisha’s face was one of hurt, but it quickly changed to anger.
Keisha’s eyes narrowed to slits, and there was ice in her tone when she spoke. “Ain’t no bitch or nigga never raised their hand to me in my own house.”
“Keisha, I didn’t—”
“Yellow whore, you got until I come out of my bedroom to be gone, or I’m surely going to prison this afternoon,” Keisha promised. Without another word, she turned and went into her room.
Promise hurried around the living room, tossing her few meager belongings into a duffle bag. She had never seen Keisha that angry, and there was no doubt in her mind that she would make good on that threat. Promise had crossed a line that she knew she couldn’t come back from. She stayed only long enough to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything of importance in her haste. In way of an apology, Promise peeled off $200 from the money she’d made at Dirty Wine and dropped it on the coffee table.
She sat outside on one of the benches in front of Keisha’s building with her few meager belongings. She probably looked like a homeless person to the casual passerby, and technically she now was. For all Keisha’s bullshit, she, at the very least, had been kind enough to let her crash while she sorted her life out. She had been the only security blanket Promise had had while in New York, and Promise had let her mouth and her ego snatch that away. She now found herself displaced for the second time in a year. She thought about calling Mouse but decided against it. She had already come to Promise’s rescue more times than she could count. There was no doubt that, if she asked, Mouse would try and convince the guy she was staying with to let her crash, but that would be too much of an imposition. She was already a guest in someone else’s home and trying to bring Promise in might fuck up her situation. Promise would have to solve this problem on her own.
Thinking about the tragedy that was her life made Promise’s eyes water. “You better not cry, bitch,” she said to herself. She couldn’t eat those tears, nor could they shelter her from the elements. No, the time for weeping was over. She needed to act. She thought of the few random people she had met in New York and couldn’t think of one who would let her stay with them for a couple of days, at least without wanting something in return. That was the one crucial lesson that she had learned during her time on the streets. Nothing was without cost. It was like Vaughn had predicted. She could only stand on that soapbox for so long. She now found herself with a few choices. She could rent a motel room and stay there until the money she’d made at Dirty Wine ran out or place a call that she had told herself she wouldn’t. It was a hard choice, but feeling the first few drops of rain on her head made it easier. With a deep sigh, she pulled out her phone. “Hey . . . it’s me. That offer still stand?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
several weeks later
“Those would really bring out the color in your eyes,” Mark said, leaning on one of the jewelry counters at the small Zales store inside the mall. He was a handsome man with chocolate skin and dressed in a form-fitting gray suit. Mark had only been working at that location for two months but had already proved to be one of their top salespeople. He was so good that he could sell water to a whale, but at that moment, he was trying to sell a pair of ice-blue diamond earrings to a blond.
Mark had damn near broken his neck turning around when the blond was strutting past Zales. But then again, so had every man and even a few women who laid eyes on her making her way through the mall. She stood about five nine, maybe ten, in her sleek black designer heels. She was wearing a short-cropped leather jacket and black slacks that hugged her ample hips. Fire engine red lipstick painted her thick soup coolers, and her bone-straight blond hair hung down her back, stopping just short of an ass so round it looked like it belonged on a black girl. Wearing big designer shades and dripping with swag, she reminded him of a young Amber Rose, only with hair.
Mark prayed that she would stop at his booth, and her pivot in his direction told him that God had been listening. He quickly checked himself in one of the counter mirrors as Ms. Rose approached his station. After making sure there was nothing in his teeth, he tried to cut into her. “How you doing today, beautiful? Anything I can help you find?”
“I doubt it, but if that changes, you’ll be the first to know,” she said without bothering to acknowledge him beyond that. This was a first for Mark. He was a slick talker and strikingly handsome, so most women were drawn to him, but not Ms. Rose. He continued to watch her as she went from counter to counter checking out the different pieces of jewelry. She stopped and lowered her shades when she came across the earrings. It was then that he saw her eyes for the first time. They were as clear and as blue as a tropical ocean. She was taken with the earrings, and Mark saw this as his window of opportunity. Her eyes really did match the set perfectly.
She paused her examination of the earrings and turned her blue peepers to him. “You have much luck running that line on chicks who come through here?”
“It ain’t no line, just an observation,” Mark told her. “Here, let me get them out so you can have a better look.” He grabbed the key from behind the counter and unlocked the case to retrieve the earrings. He slid them across the counter to Ms. Rose. She plucked one from the velvet pillow and held it to her ear, looking in the mirror. They really did bring out the color in her eyes. “Told you.”
“They’re nice or whatever.” Ms. Rose placed the earring back in its place.
“C’mon, you and I both know that these are better than nice. They’re amazing. You see the clarity in those stones? These are of the finest quality, not that cloudy shit that most jewelers would try and charge you an arm and a leg for. These stones were carved with you in mind, and because of that, I’ll give you a good deal on them.”
“How much of a good deal?” Ms. Rose asked suspiciously.
Mark pulled out his calculator and punched in some numbers. “They’re priced at thirty-five hundred, but for you?” He paused, mulling it over. “I can let them go for three thousand even—and your phone number.”
Ms. Rose laughed. “You swear you got game.”
“Can’t knock me for trying, right?” Mark smiled.
“You done with this snake-oil salesman? We got places to be,” a male voice spoke up from behind Ms. Rose. Mark had been so focused on Ms. Rose that he hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone. He was a short dude with cornrows, rocking a black shirt and black jeans. Both his hands were weighed down with shopping bags from Nordstrom, Saks, and Victoria’s Secret.
“My fault, big dawg. I didn’t mean no disrespect to you. I was just trying to see if your lady might’ve been interested in these earrings. Valentine’s Day is coming up, and they’d make a nice gift,” Mark said. From the dude’s posture and the way he was staring at Mark, he could tell the man with the cornrows was with the shits, and Mark didn’t want any problems, especially not at his job.
“That’s not my man. He’s my valet,” Ms. Rose said dismissively, much to the disapproval of the man holding the bags.
“I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds fancy as hell,” Mark admitted. “You know, when I saw you walking by, I knew you weren’t no regular chick. You had to be some kind of celebrity. I got an eye for the elite.”
“Is that right?” Ms. Rose leaned in closer so that she and Mark were eye to eye. “Then what industry do you think I’m in?”
Mark thought on it. “With that body and those eyes? You can’t be anything short of a movie star.”
“You might want to get that eye of yours checked. I’m an actress, but far from a movie star,” Ms. Rose told him.
“I was close! And you might not be a star yet, but you will be. I know I’d pay good money to see any flick you was in. Let me get your IG or at least your IMDb page, so I can check out some of your work.”
“Stop playing with this lil nigga and let’s bust a move,” the valet said in an irritated tone. He might not have been Ms. Rose’s man, but he was definitely giving off jealous lover vibes.
Ms. Rose shot him a dirty look and then turned her attention back to Mark. “You’ll have to excuse my boy,” she said, dragging the word out, “we were so busy today that he had to skip lunch, and it’s made him a bit cranky. And getting three grand out of me for some middle-of-the-mall jewelry store is as unlikely as the prospect of you getting my phone number.”
“Damn, that’s cold. You act like my breath stinks or something.” Mark tried to laugh off the sting of rejection.
“It ain’t that at all. In fact, you smell like sunshine and rainbows, which is all the more reason that you and me can’t have nothing to do with each other. I let you hitch your little wagon to this fast train that I call a life, and I’d end up feeling bad when you find out too late that you ain’t built for this ride. Take this courtesy I’m about to give you and leave it.” Ms. Rose then slipped into a vernacular that didn’t fit her Caucasian persona. “You ain’t quite slick enough to grease this pig yet, but I got a way neither of us leaves this conversation empty-handed.” She paused to make sure she hadn’t lost him in the spin cycle. “I got twenty-five hundred for you.” She slid a Mastercard across the counter to Mark. “Two bands on the card and five cash in your pocket. Don’t think about it too long because I ain’t got all day.”
Mark looked down at the card, which was in the name of a Mrs. Aleen Choo. “Lady, I don’t know what you think, but—”
“It ain’t about what I think, but what I know. And what I know is that you ain’t new to this.” She opened her purse to show him the bills inside. “Now stop playing and run this card before you make us both hot.” She dangled the Mastercard.
Mark was hesitant. He didn’t know Ms. Rose from a can of paint, but apparently, she knew him and how he got down. He couldn’t believe that this beautiful movie star bitch was on the hustle! With a weak nod, he plucked the card from Ms. Rose’s hand and swiped it. He held his breath, but to his surprise, the transaction went through. He placed the earrings in a box before wrapping them and presenting them to Ms. Rose. She slid him the bills and accepted the earrings. As he continued to stare at the slick blond fox, something about her nagged at him. “We know each other? Don’t we?” Mark asked just above a whisper.
“You should’ve opened with that question. Not ended with it.” Ms. Rose gave him a wink, before putting her shades back on and turning to leave.
“You playing real fast and loose lately, huh?” Sin asked once they were away from Zales and the crooked salesman. He sat the numerous bags on the ground in front of Bebe, so he could adjust for a better grip.
“Nah, I’m just being proactive. That’s what you told me to do, right?” Promise adjusted the wig that she had been feeling hostage to all day long. It was heavy and hot, and the pins she had holding it in place were starting to stab at her.
“You know what the fuck I meant, and it wasn’t burning through one card in one store. We spread the charges out. That was the plan!” Sincere reminded her.
“Yeah, and them bullshit small charges are why we’re spending so much time moving around, instead of hitting for something of value in one shot and saving us half a day’s work. It’s all profit, right?” Promise countered.
“Shorty, you ain’t listening. We had, at least, another day or so to play with that card, but with that two grand charge you just put on it a red flag might go off. Who are we even gonna fence those stones to and see fair value?” Sin wanted to know.
“See, it’s you who ain’t listening. The other night, when we were casing the after-hours spot, the kid Judah cut into some of us girls talking about how he needed help picking something out for his baby mother’s birthday. Judah is getting a few dollars out here, so I’m pretty sure I can get him to spend two grand or close to it for them earrings. He’s been trying to fuck me since I met him anyway, so he’ll spend the bread with me just for clout.”
Sin shook his head. “You’ve been with us for what? A month? And you think you a master at this finessing shit already, huh?”
“Three weeks, but it feels like three years,” Promise capped.
“You for real a slick mouth these days. I think I liked you better when you were the clumsy white girl spilling drinks at that shithole strip club I found you in,” Sin joked.
“Bullshit, because, if you did, you wouldn’t have put me in position to make us so much money. Admit it, Sin. I’m your golden goose!”
All Sin could do was shake his head. Promise wasn’t wrong in her assessment. Since bringing her into the fold, Sin had made a nice piece of change. In the beginning, he had been planning to use Promise as bait to lure in potential victims for the crew to rob. Men would go crazy over those exotic features and hips. They’d follow her to hell without so much as a second thought if she shook her ass the right way. It was a thought, but just that. Promise was street-smart but didn’t have enough larceny in her heart to pull that off. She fumbled one of her first jobs, and the john she’d lured to the spot had been holding nothing but counterfeit money, instead of real cash. On another outing, she’d almost gotten herself killed when the mark wised up to what she was up to and beat her up. Promise was a hustler, but being a part of their strong-arm operations was a disaster waiting to happen. Sin didn’t want her blood on his hands, or to get himself locked up for having to kill somebody over Promise, so he pulled her off bait duties and brought her into his other business. To his surprise, she proved to be a natural at her new hustle.
Sin’s primary sources of income were robbing, contract hits, and occasionally drugs, but he and his crew were getting hot on the streets. New York was only so big, and word was spreading about who they were and what they were about, which was making it harder to move with the anonymity that had given them the edge to that point. So, he had to diversify his hustles. This is how he got into scamming. He could buy profiles on the Dark Web containing people’s personal information, which he would use to open up bogus lines of credit to make internet purchases. He even had machines to press up fake cards that could be used in stores. He kept a small crew that he would send into malls to burn the cards out buying things that they could move on the streets. In the beginning, the money was cool, but not coming in fast enough to force him to hang up his guns. Most of the people he used were Black and Latino, so there was always the risk of them being racially profiled in some of these high-end stores. That changed when he met Promise.
Of course, Promise being Promise, she was suspicious of the plan. Sin wasn’t asking her to sell her pussy or take her clothes off for dollars, but he was still asking her to put herself in harm’s way. She may not have been as likely to get killed doing this, but getting caught would carry prison time. Her fears were put to rest after she made her first purchase. Promise shook like a leaf up until the time she had made it out of the department store with the two leather jackets she had charged. What she discovered was the right makeup and those blue contacts and blond wig erased almost all traces of her African American side and gave her the appearance of a straight downtown white girl. This allowed Promise to move with impunity in and out of the most high-end stores, making fraudulent purchases without so much as a second look. It was ironic that the part of her that she resented the most was what had allowed her to finally move off Keisha’s couch. Sin was putting money in her pocket, and he had even arranged for Promise to rent a room from a woman he knew. Her host had a bunch of badass kids that raised hell from sun up to sun up, but she didn’t have a baby daddy selling pills out of her crib. All in all, things were starting to look up for Promise. Not just in her professional life, but her personal life as well.
