True to the Game, page 16
Seven hours later, a doctor walked into the waiting room and called out, “Mrs. Smith?”
Tyrik’s mom was up like a shot. “Yes, Doctor?”
“He’s gonna be fine. We removed two bullets, and we moved him into ICU. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable.”
“So, he’s okay?”
“Yes. In several weeks he’ll be as good as new. I see no sign of any complications with surgery. The bullets were easy to remove and there was no damage to any of his organs, so he should be fine. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him for the next couple of days, but I’m sure he’ll pull through.”
Lita stepped forward. “When can I see him, Doctor?”
“Well, we should let his mother see him and then we should let him rest. He’s heavily sedated. But tomorrow you can see him.”
“Okay, okay,” Lita said, upset she couldn’t see her man.
“Oh, thank you.” Rik’s mother grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Thank you, God, for saving my baby.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, liking this woman for recognizing him.
“Lita, come on,” Qua said. “We’re gonna take you home.”
Quadir said nothing, just drove thinking about him and Rik lying together on the floor in the club. He was so grateful Tyrik was still alive. But thoughts of Black cut deep. He’d grown up with the man. It seemed like everybody he’d come up with was dying or in jail. He pulled up alongside Lita’s Cadillac.
“Thanks,” she said.
“We’ll follow you home,” Qua insisted.
After leaving Lita’s mother’s house, Quadir and Gena drove home. The ride seemed longer than before. Quadir’s mind was racing, replaying the minutes and seconds before the gunfire began over and over. People who’d looked at him real weird or the guy who’d bumped into him. He was the guy shooting, too. The entire night was a setup. The guys standing on the wall with gators on, no women around, not partying or getting down. He saw all their faces when the infrared light came on.
Gena realized the shit was out of control. Her man wasn’t safe and neither was she. Both were touchable, both were accessible, and both could have anything waiting for them when they reached home.
She looked over at Qua; her man was in the zone. Her presence didn’t surround him as it usually did. So she simply let him sit. Sometimes it’s better to simply let a person be. No conversation, no radio.
As they pulled into the driveway of their lovely home, he finally asked, “Gena, what’s it all for?”
“I don’t know. I don’t ever want to lose you. Nothing is worth losing you for. Nothing.”
“You’d give all of this up?”
“To be with you? Please. In a wink of an eye.”
The Way Players Play
Jerrell Jackson was riding through Mt. Airy in his brand-new black Jaguar. MAFIA65, read the license plate. He had blown up, and in such a short period of time. He was making enemies, but for some reason, he didn’t fear them or care.
He checked the time. Forty-five minutes late, he thought, thanks to some girl he ran across at the bus stop needing a ride. He gave her a ride, too. Went inside the house, talked to the girl for a few minutes, had his way with her, then stepped off into the sunlight. It didn’t matter, though. Girls would sit around and wait for him all day if they knew he wanted to see them. And they did want to see him. Be it for the money, be it for his car, be it for who he really was. For whatever reason, they were trying hard to see the boy. Jerrell had a magnificent home up in Monticello County, complete with marble floors and waterfalls.
Jerrell pulled into the long, narrow driveway of perfectly landscaped grounds. Everybody was there. He could tell by all the foreign vehicles sitting in his driveway.
“Yo, I’m here,” he said, coming through the door.
“What’s up?” Khyree said.
They were surrounding a pizza that had been delivered. Everybody shook hands, as usual, and Jerrell sat himself down and grabbed his slice.
“What’s up?” Ran asked.
“Man, I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Everything’s rolling smooth.”
“Money’s right,” Sam added.
“People are buying weight,” Ran informed him.
Khyree took a bite of pizza. “Everything’s fine.”
Jerrell finished the mouthful he had and told them about Quadir’s retirement. “He was trying to get rid of the last little bit of stuff he had. That’s why wasn’t no coke moving, remember? The motherfucker was selling keys for ten Gs.”
Ran asked, “Quadir ain’t quitting, is he?”
“That’s what the word is on the street.” Jerrell took another bite. “Now . . .” he said, standing up. “If Qua has stopped, that means you-know-who is going to take his place,” he said, pointing at Ran.
“Rik!” Ran shouted, as if he’d scored points for the right answer.
“Exactly, which means Rik now has his plus Quadir’s piece of the pie.”
“Rik’s supposed to be real upset about Black,” Khyree said. “He told Lita that we was behind it, so now she talkin’ ’bout don’t call for a while. She’ll bring Khy to my mom’s house. Man, I don’t know what Rik’s calling himself doing with my son, you know?”
“Wait a minute. What did he tell Lita?” Ran asked.
“He told her that we was behind Black’s party and Black gettin’ killed,” Khyree responded.
“Like he know something don’t nobody else do.” Ran laughed. “What else he say?”
“That’s it. I doubt he’d tell Lita anything he was gonna do, with her having my son, you know,” Khyree said.
“Man, he would tell her. The question is, would she tell you?” Jerrell asked.
Khyree glared at him.
Jerrell scanned the room like a general commanding an invasion. “Let’s kidnap Forty.”
Jerrell waited for the response.
“Kidnap! Why do you want to kidnap him?” Khyree asked.
“Who’s running this shit?” Jerrell glared at him. He hated the way Khyree always had something to say behind him.
Khyree, as well as the others, sat in silence, trying to figure out what Jerrell was talking about. There was no need to ask, ’cause if he wanted you to know, he’d let you know.
* * *
It was Christmas Eve. Club Phoenix was packed. Everyone was dressed to impress and champagne was flowing. The night was going well. Rik was out with Lita, of course. Rik didn’t travel far. Lita didn’t let him. Amin and Zafa were there. Charlie and Forty were standing in a corner talking to Jamal and some girls. Rik couldn’t help himself; he had to walk over. There were girls there.
The Muslim brothers arrived like the mob, in long coats and brim hats, surrounding Amin as if they were his bodyguards. Brother Ramzidin, Brother Ramier, and Brother Muhammad were all there. Winston and Blair were over at the bar.
Tracey had called Gena to see if she was coming to the Christmas Eve party, but she and Qua had decided to spend the evening at home.
Tracey, being as single as she was, couldn’t have stayed away from that party if she wanted to. Everybody was there, even the city’s football and basketball players. Radio personalities were transmitting live from the party. Andrea, Veronica, Bridgette, and Kim were standing together at the open champagne bar, trying to get with somebody else’s man. Tracey knew Lita couldn’t stand none of them, especially Veronica.
As the evening went on, everybody danced and had a good time. Lita mingled while keeping a real close eye on Rik, never losing sight of him for more than a few seconds. Amin and Zafa sat at their table. Occasionally, Amin would talk to a girl, but it must have not been anything, ’cause his wife was sitting right next to him.
Kim was dancing with Jamal. Lord, Tracey thought. Gena really needs to be here. Jamal was all over Kim, and vice versa. Some girls acted like they didn’t care if guys felt all over their bodies when they danced, but Tracey didn’t think it was right. When she was dancing, she wouldn’t let any stranger touch her like that. When she was slow dragging and felt their dick getting hard, she would walk off the dance floor. She hated that, especially when it was some broke-ass nigga trying to get his groove on. Men, they’re so desperate.
“Guess who?” a man said from behind her, covering her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“Who do you want it to be?”
“Dr. Dre.”
“Oh, you straight played yourself with that one, sis,” Quinny Day said, uncovering her eyes.
“No, baby. You know I was joking,” she said, really wishing it was Dr. Dre.
“No, you wasn’t, but it’s cool.” Quinny Day was standing there in front of her, looking too good.
“I’m joking, Quinny Day. You know who I’m trying to see,” Tracey said. “You, boy. You, you, you.”
“Don’t be playing games, Tracey.”
“Quinny, please. You know I take you personal.”
“Hi, Quinny Day.”
Tracey heard a girl’s voice and turned to see Bridgette. She looked horrible. Her outfit was cheap. Her makeup looked worn, and she had bags under her eyes. After Quinny brushed her off, he and Tracey looked at each other.
“Damn, she needs to find another fool, like Black had to be to fuck with her trick ass, ’cause sis is going down,” Quinny said, looking at Tracey real serious.
“I heard the money ain’t been right since Black got killed,” Tracey said.
“Her simple, retarded ass should have something.”
“Like he had a will? He didn’t bequeath nothing to her.”
“Huh?”
“I said, he didn’t leave her anything.”
“So, why did he have to leave her anything? She should’ve saved something for a rainy day. Come on. You females aren’t slow, just stupid. Yo, would Gena be messed up?” Quinny Day asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Okay, then. Besides, even if Black didn’t leave her nothing, she got herself. If I was a woman, there wouldn’t be no way my Black ass would ever be broke.”
Rik was on the dance floor with some girl. He was getting drunk, but he hadn’t lost his mind yet. Of course, Lita was walking around looking for him. Veronica, a true-blue slut with a capital S on her chest, danced with another guy over to the right of him. She always thought she was playing somebody, but the truth of the matter was, she wasn’t playing nobody but herself.
Rik took a closer look, and damn if it wasn’t Forty dancing with her. “Hey, Forty!” he called out.
Veronica didn’t look, ’cause she had already spotted Rik and knew how he was. They were straight up playin’ on the dance floor. Rik couldn’t help but watch them. Most people couldn’t do anything but watch them. Veronica and Forty were doing some serious grinding out there, and the thing about it was, while she was dancing with him, another guy on the dance floor came and danced behind her, even pushed up next to her while she was already pressed up onto Forty.
Girls couldn’t stand Veronica, and guys were always in her face but talked about her behind her back like she was nothing. Trying to tell Veronica about herself was a waste of energy. She liked getting attention so much that you could tell that’s really what she was after—someone to look at her—and that’s exactly what the guys did. Look at her, play mind games on her, and always give her attention. The kind of attention she really didn’t need.
Forty was all over her. Rasun thought he was getting ready to pull her skirt up and start fucking her. He’d already flashed her tit to everybody on the dance floor. The girl was drunk, and she needed somebody to get her ass home. Andrea and Bridgette, the “friends” she came with, knew she was drunk ’cause she was at the bar drinking up Forty’s champagne like she’d never had it before.
“Forty, I got to go outside. I need some air.” Veronica was hot and felt like she was going to faint.
“Well, come on.” He helped her fix herself and got her outside. “Come on, here. My jeep is parked right over there. Come on.”
Veronica tried to get herself together, but she felt so light, so out of touch, she couldn’t walk without holding on to him. Forty’s jeep was parked way in the back of the club.
“Damn, Forty, I thought you said it was right outside.”
He took her to his jeep. Once he helped her inside, he rolled the window down. “If you start to feel sick, open the door.” He didn’t want her to throw up in his jeep. “Here, let me move this seat back for you,” he said, playing with the control panel on the far side.
Suddenly, Veronica was prone, but she hadn’t felt a thing. She assumed it was part of the head spin she wished would go away. Everything felt dizzy, and when she closed her eyes, it was worse.
She didn’t feel Forty’s fingers running along her inner thigh, and by the time she noticed anything, he was already pushing her legs apart, getting her skirt out of the way, moving into place with a big, fat, juicy dick sticking into the air. It was too late. Forty had his shit out, her panties down, his condom on, and he was ready to go to work.
Veronica was too far gone to put up a fight. Just to raise her arm and utter no took too much effort. Forty kept his head up to make sure he didn’t get caught doing what he was doing. Veronica wasn’t really moving, but she was breathing, eyelids opening and closing in slow motion, only the whites showing.
Forty couldn’t believe how easy it was. He was used to having to buy a big-ass pair of gold earrings or something, but this was too fucking easy. Veronica was too weak to hold her arm up, couldn’t tell him to stop, couldn’t hold him off her. He was pounding her little ass half to death.
When he was done, he took a rag from the back seat and wiped himself. He tried to get Veronica to get up, but she only moaned. He checked his Rolex. There wasn’t much time left. He pulled her underwear up off the floor, pulled her skirt down enough to cover her panties, and went back to the party. Nobody seemed to really miss him.
“Where’s Veronica, Forty?” Andrea asked.
“She’s out in the car. She didn’t feel good. Hey, I can’t take the girl home, so don’t leave her.”
“Forty, you ain’t shit!” Andrea said as she headed for the lobby.
“Mm-hmm, whatever. Your girlfriend’s gonna be ass out if you leave her. Think I’m playin’?” he hollered back.
Jerrell walked out into the lobby, where Ran was talking to some girl.
“Yo, what up? You ready or what?”
“Man, chill. I got this shit under control. There’s a car waiting outside.”
“All right, I’m out.”
“What’s the matter?” Andrea asked, sensing something was going on.
“Nothing. He’s ready to go, that’s all,” Ran answered. “So, we gonna get together or what?”
“Yeah,” Andrea replied.
“Well, write down your number so I can call you.”
“Can’t we go get some breakfast? This is almost over.”
Everybody was pairing off for the night, but it looked like Andrea would have to look for a meal somewhere else.
“I can’t, baby. I got shit to do. I wish I could, but I can’t. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go get a nice lobster dinner, okay?” He slipped her number into his pocket. “I’ll see you later. Don’t give nobody none, either.”
She seemed confused. “Who?”
“That nigga you gonna get to take you to breakfast.” There wasn’t anything slow about Ran. “Damn,” he said, thinking about the pussy he could’ve gotten instead of having to take care of shit for Jerrell.
Forty caught up with Andrea and Bridgette and walked them over to his jeep to get Veronica. She was out cold. Her skirt was on the floor and she was completely exposed from the waist down.
“What you do to her?” Bridgette asked.
“I didn’t do that! That’s not how I left her,” he said.
“This don’t make no sense.” Andrea got her friend up and out of the drunken sleep she was in.
Veronica didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Andrea pulled her skirt up and put her panties in her pocketbook. Bridgette came around with the car, and Andrea helped Veronica get into the back seat. Forty stood a few feet away talking with some girl as if nothing had happened.
* * *
Quadir and Gena were lying together in the living room with the fireplace glowing, listening to Sade, sipping on some Alizé, languid from their lovemaking, appreciating the fireplace for more than its glow.
Much to Gena’s surprise, Quadir had a gift for her. Over in the corner sat a lidded box, covered in shiny red paper with a silver bow on top. “What is that?”
“Look and see.”
He placed the box on the floor next to her, and she removed the lid and looked inside.
“Qua! She’s adorable!”
“It’s a he.”
“Oh, he’s so adorable.”
She gently gathered up the tiny furball, cuddling it.
“I saw him and I thought he was cute.”
Gena inspected the diamond-and-gold tag. “Gucci?”
“I named him Gucci,” he said, grinning. “You know, he’s a Persian. He’s gonna have a lot of hair.”
“Qua, I figured that,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “I don’t believe you. This is so sweet.” She paused. “I got something for you, too.”
“Really, is that so?”
“It is,” she said, standing up completely in the raw. “But you have to catch it,” she said, running up the stairwell butt naked as he ran after her.
* * *
The black Pathfinder pulled into the back of the parking lot of the West Point Motel, under a tree and out of the light, where it sat and waited.
Ran was impatient. “Man, what the fuck is the bitch doing?”
“Don’t ask me. She’s your people. I don’t know nothing; don’t even know why I’m here. All I know is that sis would want to bring her ass on,” Sam said, picking some dirt from under his fingernail.
Ran grabbed his pager out of his pocket. No number. He already knew that. He checked it for sound and sat it on the seat.
