True to the Game, page 18
“Let’s try this shit again, motherfucker. You ready to go?”
Forty considered. Why didn’t he see the shit before? How did he let it happen? He’d slipped up and let the motherfuckers catch his ass out there. How stupid could he be?
“I’m ready to go.”
“Bitch-ass nigga, shut the fuck up.” The masked man gave him a swift, forceful smack to his head. “You ready to go when I say so.”
Forty sat there seriously trying to figure who the fuck was talking to him.
“I want a million dollars, and then I’ll let you go. You only get one phone call. You get that person to take the money to the Springdale Mall tomorrow morning at nine. All they got to do is put the money in the yellow school bus in the parking lot. If they don’t, then it’s your time to die, nigga. You’re not confused about none of this, are you?”
“No, man. I’m not confused.”
“What’s the number?” Still tied up, with the phone held to his ear, Forty asked for Charlie when a girl answered the phone.
“Yo, man, your girl called and said you didn’t come home.”
“Listen, I need a million dollars put on a yellow school bus in the Springdale parking lot at nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Forty said.
“Beware of the man in the checkered suit. The iguana has landed on you, too, motherfucker,” Charlie joked.
“I’m serious. I’ve been kidnapped. You got to help me,” Forty said seriously.
“What?” Charlie said, realizing his buddy wasn’t playing.
“Man, you only got till nine o’clock in the morning tomorrow. Put the million dollars on the yellow school bus at the Springdale Mall,” Forty said as the man hung up the phone.
“Hello? Forty!” Charlie said frantically as the dial tone rang in his ear. He hung up the phone, thought for a moment, and turned to his companion for the evening. “Come on, you gotta go.”
She protested a little, so he dragged her by the arm. “Get dressed, you got to go. Come on.”
“Fuck you, Charlie! Where’s my money?”
“Bitch, you get nothing. I’m having a crisis, and I need you to get away from me so I can solve it.”
He gave her fifty dollars, and she was pissed. “No, you didn’t. No, you didn’t play me for no paper and be so small about it, with your little-dick self,” she hollered, expecting to get her usual $350.
“Bitch, you are a flea. Here, here you go; another fifty. Didn’t you hear me say I’m having a crisis?” he asked angrily, pushing her out the door before slamming it in her face.
Charlie got on the phone and immediately called Rik. Rik couldn’t believe it. He realized who had Forty and he understood why. Ever since Quadir stopped serving the city, Jerrell had been coming at him instead of Quadir. Quadir never took care of serious business. Quadir let Jerrell push him out of the game by killing all the people who bought hundreds of kilos a month from him. But Rik wasn’t giving up anything. He was coming the fuck up in a major way and had just started to come into some serious paper, like Quadir. He wasn’t going out like no sucker.
He sat back and listened carefully as Charlie told him about the phone call from Forty. Rik already knew something was going on when Sharon paged him, talking ’bout, “Where is my man? I know he fucking some bitch with you, Rik.”
Rik had done everything but hang up on her. He sent Charlie over to Sharon’s to explain what was happening.
Rik hung up the phone. There was no problem putting together a million. Forty was worth a million, so paying the money wasn’t a problem. Within minutes, a dozen phones were ringing off the hook and the city’s ghetto gazette flashed the news headline that Forty had been kidnapped by the Junior Mafia. Rik called Quadir and told him what was happening.
“How much?” Quadir asked.
“A million.”
Quadir was prepared to put up the paper. “You got it?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s just that there’s no guarantee in a situation like this.”
* * *
Rik and Charlie drove toward the Springdale Mall with a duffel bag placed on the back seat containing the million requested for Forty. All the while, Rik warned Charlie that if it was a set-up to take no prisoners. Entering the Springdale Mall parking lot, Rik could see the yellow school bus parked in a corner off in the distance. He sped in its direction. Reaching the bus, he circled the entire area. There were a few cars parked in the lot off in the distance, but the bus stood alone.
Rik pulled up on the side of the bus. Charlie emerged from the car with the duffel bag of money in one hand and his hammer in the other. The double doors of the bus were slightly open. There was enough space for Charlie to push open the doors. Taking his first step up onto the bus, he pointed his hammer in the direction of the seats. He was ready to lay anybody down who popped out at him. He placed the duffel bag on the floor of the bus. Then he carefully pushed it with his foot down the aisle, past the first row of seats. He exited the bus, pulling the doors back to how he’d found them.
With the task complete, everyone sat back and waited for the phone to ring with the news Forty was home.
* * *
The following morning, a yellow school bus pulled up on the 1300 block of Conestoga Street and parked down the block. Ran stepped from the bus with a million dollars in a duffel bag. He went inside.
“The nice thing about this is that everyone got what they wanted. I got the money and you get to go home. I say it’s time to celebrate, don’t you?”
Forty couldn’t see him ’cause he was still wearing the ski mask. Jerrell directed Sam to untie Forty from the chair but to leave his hands tied. Forty was barely able to stand, he’d been tied up so long. It sure felt good to get out of that chair. Once he felt a little bit of strength coming back into his body, he assumed he would be all right. Then he welcomed his anger. Looking like an old man with arthritis, Forty turned on Sam and, with all his strength, threw his tied hands around Sam’s head and yanked the ski mask off.
“Sam?” he said as he watched Jerrell remove his ski mask before Ran did the same.
Forty was livid. “You fucked up when you kidnapped me. You not getting away with kidnapping me and taking my million dollars.”
“Nigga, I already did.”
“You think you did. This shit ain’t never gonna be over, so go ahead. Kill me, motherfucker,” Forty said, already knowing they were going to do that.
“Pussy, take that!” Jerrell shot him in the right leg. “I already did get away with taking your million dollars. I got it right here.”
The bullet ripped through Forty’s flesh as his body dropped to the floor.
“I wish I’d known you were the one behind this ’cause you woulda never seen no paper from me!”
“Man, fuck you!”
“Nigga, fuck you, too.”
Another explosion tore into Forty’s other leg. The pain was agonizing and he screamed.
Jerrell shot him again, getting his arm. “You would’na paid if you knew it was me.”
Pow! went the gun as Jerrell shot him again in the other arm.
“See, baby, I’m running this shit and you or nobody else can stop me,” Jerrell said as he circled Forty’s body.
“Fuck you,” Forty rasped as he lay on the basement floor.
Insane with anger now, Jerrell shot again, getting him in the chest. Pow! Pow! Then he stood over Forty. “Say your prayers, nigga,” he said, and put the gun right between his eyes and squeezed the trigger as Forty tried to duck. The bullet fired and grazed the side of his head, taking him out.
Realizing Forty was dead, Jerrell jumped back into the reality of having a million dollars.
Ran said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll come back tonight and take care of the body.”
“Yeah, we can dump that nigga right in the Schuylkill River,” Jerrell sneered. “Come on. Let’s go.”
After going about their regular business for a few hours, hitting their regular customers, Ran and Sam pulled onto Conestoga Street at two in the morning. Yellow police tape was everywhere. “Stay here,” Ran said.
He got out of the truck and went up on the porch. Blood was everywhere. He pushed open the unlocked door and went inside and there was more. It looked like a paint roller had made a trail from the basement.
“I don’t fucking believe this,” he panted, running out and pulling the door shut behind him. “I don’t fucking believe it. Get Jerrell on the phone.”
They would find out later that a neighbor had looked out his window, thinking he’d heard shots, but didn’t call the police. When Forty dragged himself onto the porch and the man saw his bloody body, he then called the police. Forty lay alone on the porch until they arrived. No one came to his assistance, even to put a blanket over him. Forty lay there, dying in the winter cold, all alone, until the ambulance arrived to take him to a nearby hospital.
The police had searched the house, dusted it for fingerprints, and left about forty minutes before Ran and Sam arrived to take Forty’s body away.
“Shit. Jerrell is gonna be mad as shit. We got to call him,” Ran said in a panic. “We got to call him.”
Sam found a payphone and pulled the Cherokee over so Ran could call Jerrell. The phone rang. A few seconds later a girl answered. “Yo!”
“Hello,” the girl said.
“Who dis?” Ran asked.
“This is Val, Jerrell’s sister.”
“This is Ran. Where he at?”
“They got him.”
“Who?”
“The police. They came and arrested him.”
“What for?”
“Attempted murder and kidnapping.”
“Oh, shit.”
“They said he tried to kill some guy, Christopher Cole. Who’s Christopher Cole?”
“That’s the boy, Forty,” Ran replied. “I got to go,” he said, and hung up the phone.
He and Sam would now have to find someplace to stay, since the police were probably looking for them. Ran went straight across the bridge and into New Jersey. He didn’t pass Go and he didn’t collect two hundred dollars. He went straight to New Jersey.
All Over
1990
Happy New Year! It was 1990. Fireworks exploded through the night sky as people of all races and ages joined in the New Year’s celebration in the middle of Penn’s Landing.
“Happy New Year!”
Rik found himself being patted on the back by a white man. “Yo! Has he lost his mind?”
“Come on, Rik. Be happy. It’s New Year’s,” Qua told his friend.
“Fuck the New Year,” Rik said, jerking his shoulders as if to shrug off the encounter.
“You see him, Lita?” Qua asked.
“Yeah,” she said, laughing.
Ready to party, they ended up at Amin and Zafa’s New Year’s Eve party. Qua and Rik talked all night while Gena and Lita floated around, mingling through the crowd, greeting all their friends. Qua finally got them some nice seats at the bar, and the bartender replenished every bottle of champagne they went through. Both Quadir and Rik bought lots of champagne for everybody. Rik poured a glass and passed it out to all the sisters who’d given him a shot in the past year.
“Damn,” Rik said. “You know her?”
“Talia?” Quadir asked.
“The bitch is all that.”
“Been there, did that.”
“You better watch what you say before Gena creep up behind your ass,” Rik joked as they both laughed.
Qua looked over his shoulder. “It’s cool.”
But there was a face missing from the proceedings, Rik observed. “The shit is fucked up about the boy, Forty.”
“They say if he makes it, he not gonna walk again,” Qua said.
“Man, fuck that! They better know their days are numbered, dig me?”
“So Ran and Sam still on the run?”
“Yeah, they’re on the run from me and the police, and Jerrell’s in jail.”
“Good.”
“I tell you this much. Ran’s not gonna make it, and if Jerrell sets foot back out on the street, he’s not gonna make it, either, and neither is that pussy-ass Sam. Their future’s already been planned by me, and they don’t have one.”
Qua knew he meant it. Rik was no joke. The boy would take you out if necessary. Quadir had already known about the half million up for grabs for whoever killed Ran and Sam. The word was in the streets.
“Look, there goes Veronica,” Qua said, directing Rik to look her way.
“So, you fuck with Forty now?” Rik asked her.
“What are you talking about?” she asked with a serious attitude.
“I’m talking about you and Forty. Remember last week in the parking lot, or was you that fucked up?” Rik asked, laughing at her.
“Why you worried about me? You the one who wanted that homely bitch, so mind your homely-ass business and leave me alone,” she said, walking away.
“She’s a Reebok ho,” Rik said, flagging his hand at her.
“You liked it!” she spat back at him.
“Hated it!” he shouted back.
Qua sat there falling out laughing ’cause he’d heard the parking lot story, especially the part about her clothes not being arranged quite the same way as when Forty left her. Of course, it wasn’t right, but who was to say what was wrong?
The night went on, and the party came to an end. Quadir pulled Gena over to the side and kissed her gently.
“Happy New Year, baby,” he said, letting her go.
As everyone made their exit, the cold winter air sent a chill right through Gena’s sable. As usual, Quadir looked around the entire set. Girls were hopping into rides, and cars were riding back and forth as people scattered about the sidewalks, pairing off for the night.
“Shit,” Rik said as he pulled up behind him. “Yo, Quadir, baby,” he hollered, seeing Ran’s face in the crowd.
“Yo! Go this way,” he said, pushing Lita, trying to move them out of Ran’s range.
Quadir saw Rik had his gun pulled. Panic struck him, and he grabbed Gena.
“Quadir!” she screamed as she saw a guy pull a gun and aim straight at them. For one brief second, her mind returned to the fast-food parking lot and the jammed gun. The face behind it was his. He’d pointed the gun at her and fired as the seconds elapsed between one another. Gena’s heart pounded like waves against the seashore as Quadir threw her body to the ground and got on top of her like a protective shield. The people out celebrating New Year’s Eve were caught in the middle of a drug war, and hundreds scattered, screaming and ducking down on the ground.
Quinny Day saw Quadir go down and began firing aimlessly into the air. The sound of the gunfire left Gena alone to a point where no one could touch her as she huddled in Quadir’s strong arms.
Rasun spotted Sam and Khyree and began firing at both. He watched Khyree tumble to the ground as bullets pierced his lower abdomen. Reds took a shot in the arm and fell behind a car parked on the street. Jamal saw everything in front of him. He stopped his car dead in the middle of traffic. He reached under his seat, jumped out of his brand-new Mercedes-Benz, and aimed at anybody he knew Rik wanted dead.
Rik took his time as he aimed carefully. From nowhere, the bullets hit him, crumpling him to the ground. His back burned like fire as the metal ripped through his flesh. With all his weight, Rik turned around and fired the infrared Glock, dropping one of Ran’s rookies.
Rik ducked behind a car as red lasers flickered through the air. His bullets met the enemy as the laser fired directly on its target. His pain was unbearable, but Rik held steady until Ran fell dead to the ground.
The deafening silence that followed allowed the remaining Junior Mafia assassins to hear a familiar motor as a black four-door Cherokee slowed down long enough for everyone to hop in before it sped away, leaving a trail of smoke and bodies sprawled in the middle of street.
The silence of gunfire was like an alarm, alerting everyone that they could come out of their hiding places. People peeked out from behind cars, buildings, and curtains to see if it was over.
“Quadir, come on,” Gena said. “They’re gone.”
She realized something was very wrong. Freeing her body from his, she realized he’d been shot in the chest as she rolled him off her.
She stared at his lifeless body and began to cry. She picked up his head and laid it in her lap, hovering over him to keep him warm, realizing that her girlfriends’ nightmare was becoming her own reality.
“Quadir, please get up.” She tried to lift him. “Get up, baby. Quadir! Oh, no! Please, baby, get up! Somebody, help me! Somebody, help me, please! I need someone to help me. Please!” Covered in his blood, she continued to plead. “Qua, please, please . . . Baby, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me now! Boo, talk to me!”
“G,” he rasped, scaring her silly.
“Quadir, I love you, baby. Please don’t die. You’re gonna be all right.”
“It hurts, Gena. It’s burning!”
Gena’s head spun about, looking for help, only to see Lita sprawled on the sidewalk in a pool of blood and Rik lying next to a car. She was all alone; there was no one left. They were all dead.
“No! No! Qua, hold my hand, please.” The bleeding was so bad, and she could feel his body tightening in her arms. Gena heard the sirens but saw no ambulance.
A police officer hunkered down next to her, speaking softly. “Miss, is he alive?”
“Yes! Yes, but he needs an ambulance!”
He touched her shoulder and told her, “There’s one on the way. It will be right here.” He stood and started counting bodies.
“Take . . . take . . .” Quadir whispered.
“What, baby? What?”
“Take it, take . . .” He closed his eyes again, and she began to remove his jewelry. “Key chain . . . take it.” He was able to slip her the diamond Q key chain she’d given him.
“Qua, please hold on. The paramedics are on their way.”
She stayed as close to him as possible without smothering him. Finally, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics gently helped her stand before placing Qua on the stretcher. She watched as they went to work on him, never letting go of his hand. The moist drops made their silent way down her cheeks unnoticed.
