Diamonds and Pearl (26 page)

“Yes, sir,” Diamonds confirmed. I got a million-dollar idea that can turn this hole-in-the-wall—no disrespect—into a cash cow. A franchise of gentleman's clubs called Purple City. It'll boast the baddest bitches and the most exclusive crowd. I'm telling you, old timer, we could make money hand over fist!” he said passionately.

Pops took up a pack of Lucky Strikes from his desk and tapped one of the cigarettes from the pack. He took his time lighting it and exhaling a large cloud of smoke before responding. “Young man, I admire your zeal, and under different circumstances this might be a conversation I'd be willing to explore, but as it stands, I can't do it. And before you ask why, let me offer you a simple explanation. If you and TJ back-doored Pana to take what he had, I'd be a fool to think the same couldn't happen to me if I let you get close enough. A snake don't care who it bites. I'm old, but I ain't no fool. That being said, you can all get the fuck out of my bar.”

Diamonds's face saddened. “That's a real shame.” He stood and smoothed his shirt. “I'm sure I could've learned a lot about the nightclub business from an OG like you.”

“Sorry to have to disappoint,” Pops replied in a most insincere tone. As he watched Diamonds make his way to the door, Pops felt a sense of relief. The young man who had introduced himself as Diamonds made the old man uncomfortable, and he would be glad when he was out of his office. When he was rid of him, the first thing Pops planned on doing was firing his entire security staff for letting them get so close, including his son Rob.

Diamonds stopped short of the door and turned back to Pops. “I wouldn't say it was a completely uninformative trip, though. Tonight I learned that you can put a suit on a monkey, but it'll still be a monkey.”

Quite unexpectedly, Goldie landed a crushing blow on the old man's chin that sent him spilling to the floor. While Pops was trying to push back to himself back to his feet, Vita leaped onto his back and slipped a clear plastic bag over his head. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist to keep him from getting up while she suffocated him.

“Diamonds, what the fuck are you doing?” TJ sprang to his feet. He was all for roughing Pops up, especially after how he had talked to him, but killing him wasn't part of the plan.

Diamonds spun on TJ with so much hostility in his eyes that for a minute it looked like he would attack. “You don't say another fucking word!” his voice boomed. “You made it like this when you decided to give a full confession and damn the rest of us with it!”

“But, Diamonds—”

“Leave it alone, TJ.” Goldie stepped between them. There was something in Goldie's eyes that told TJ it was in his best interest to listen.

Pops was on the floor, kicking and flapping around like a fish out of water. He clawed at Vita, but she was hunkered down tight, limbs bound around him like a human coil. The more Pops fought, the harder it was for him to breathe.

Diamonds knelt beside him, brandishing his dagger so that Pops could see his reflection in the black blade. “You hear that, old man, that thumping in your ears? It ain't your heart; it's hooves. The horseman is on his way to snatch your ass, and I'm the only person short of God who can convince him to make a detour. You ready to have a civilized conversation?”

Pops nodded frantically, trying his best not to black out. Using the blade, Diamonds sliced open the bag, nicking Pops's cheek in the process. The old man watched in astonishment as blood on the tip of the blade sizzled before being drunk into the black steel. He looked into Diamonds's eyes and, for the first time in a very long time, knew real fear. “What kind of devil are you?”

“The kind who won't take no for an answer.” Diamonds laughed demonically. “I came here in friendship, offering you an opportunity to turn this shit hole into something special, and you spit in my face. That was a bad move.” He grabbed Pops by his jowls and squeezed so tight that Pops's teeth cut into the soft flesh of his inner cheeks. The black dagger glistened menacingly, thirsty for another helping of the old man's blood. “Now you will watch me build on its ashes.”

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later Diamonds was pushing his SUV at a moderate speed down Seventh Avenue. Black smudge marks stained his steering wheel from where his fingers had rested. He'd have to run it through the car wash at some point that day. When he noticed a procession of fire trucks and emergency service vehicles speeding north on the other side of the street, he couldn't stop the thin smile that crept across his lips.

He headed to the East Side, where he kept one of his many emergency storage units. Diamonds and his companions were nearly out on their feet after all that had gone on, but there was one more piece of business that needed attending to before any of them could go to sleep.

It took the combined efforts of Diamonds and Goldie to off-load the rolled-up carpet from the back of the SUV and onto a flatbed. The manager hardly gave them a second look when they passed the small booth, where he spent most of his nights on Myspace or watching porn. Diamonds gave him a thick envelope once a week for the privilege of being invisible when he came and went.

The hallway leading to the unit was quiet, save for the footfalls of the brothers and the squeaky wheels of the flatbed. Diamonds busied himself unlocking the unit while Goldie struggled to drag the rolled carpet from the flatbed. “Shit,” he cursed when he lost his grip and the carpet hit the floor with a heavy thud.

“Ain't gonna be much good to us if you damage it, little brother,” Diamonds told him, lifting the gate to the unit.

“Like I give a shit. I'm with Buda on this one; you should've tied up all loose ends,” Goldie told him.

“Good thing you and Buda ain't running this crew.” Diamonds lifted the carpet and slung it over his shoulder. He carried it inside the unit and dumped it on a pile of laundry in the corner. Diamonds ignored the fact that the carpet started wriggling, and locked the unit up.

In silence, Diamonds and Goldie made their way back down the hall. Diamonds was deep in his thoughts when he heard his little brother start giggling unexpectedly. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing, bro. I'm just wondering how much air is in that thing,” Goldie told him.

Diamonds thought on it. “Probably not much. For his sake, he better hope his people move expeditiously to honor our request.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

After their night's business was concluded, Diamonds drove his crew back to his place. During their reign of terror up the East Coast, they had always found a house or flat to share, but since arriving in New York, they'd all moved into separate apartments throughout the city. TJ and Buda cut, but Diamonds was able to convince Hank, Goldie, and Vita to crash at his place for the night. It had been a long time since they'd all slept under the same roof. Normally Diamonds appreciated his newfound solitude, and their group sleepovers of old didn't come very frequently, but that night he wanted his family around him. He would need to draw strength from them to face what was to come.

Since arriving in New York, Diamonds had managed to land himself a nice three-bedroom apartment in an upscale Manhattan neighborhood that overlooked Central Park. It was located in a swanky building with a doorman and neighbors who looked nothing like him. He'd gotten into the building through a crooked member of the management. They allowed him to make a no-questions-asked cash payment so long as he took out a five-year lease and greased their palms for the hookup.

They pulled the car into the underground garage and filed out, looking every bit of the weary desperados they were. They had dropped TJ off first, a few blocks away from Pops's bar, where he had parked his car. He was clearly still freaked out by everything that had gone down. Trying to muscle the old man out of his place was one thing, but burning it to the ground was something else altogether. It was a bit over-the-top, especially because it had still been crowded with people when Diamonds had lit the blaze. Diamonds had taken the liberty of pulling the fire alarms to give the drunks a sporting chance to make it out safely. The ones who hadn't would be written off as casualties of the war Diamonds was waging in New York. It was a cruel and ruthless thing for him to do, but after the lack of respect Pops had shown, Diamonds needed to make sure he and everyone else had a clear understanding of what type of monster they were dealing with.

To say that TJ was rattled by what had gone down would've been an understatement. At one point Diamonds thought TJ was going to shit his pants. He wanted to feel sympathy for his cousin, but he couldn't find it in his black heart to do so. He'd known from the beginning that TJ didn't have it in him to play at Diamonds's level. He was about his paper, and hardly a punk, but wholesale murder wasn't for him. Still, he was insistent that he was worthy of a seat at the big-boy table, so Diamonds pulled out a chair and let him eat. What his wayward mother's only nephew didn't count on was having trouble digesting the meal. Before parting company, Diamonds reminded TJ of the oath he'd taken when he was inducted into their circle. Each member of their squad was bound by their words and their deeds to the pirate code Diamonds had written and, as such, had an obligation to their crew above all others, even family.

Buda got dropped off next. They left him on 125th Street and St. Nicholas, where the taxis were lined up outside the train station. He didn't bother to say where he was going, and by that point he had gotten so far under Diamonds's skin that he didn't care to ask. Since they had left the club, he had been mouthing off over his displeasure for being left out of the action that had gone on in Pops's office, and a multitude of other things that had made him feel slighted over the last few months. Every so often Hank would cut Diamonds a look. He was no doubt thinking the same thing that Diamonds was: Buda was getting out of control.

When they got to the apartment, everyone fanned out, Hank and Goldie going into the living room to raid the liquor cabinet and Vita disappearing into the kitchen to whip up some breakfast. From the way she was slamming pots and pans, Diamonds knew she was still angry about earlier, and he couldn't really say that he blamed her. Diamonds could only imagine how he looked, standing there and grinning at Pearl like a lovestruck teenager. His reaction to her was so far out of his character that the whole crew had noticed, including Vita.

While his crew had the run of his apartment, Diamonds retreated to the guest bedroom that doubled as his office/war room. Besides the bathroom, it was the only room in the apartment where he could really gather his thoughts. It was sparsely decorated with only a bed, a recliner, a mini-fridge, a small card table in the corner, and a tall wooden wardrobe with double doors. His first stop was the refrigerator, where he retrieved a beer and something thick wrapped in newspaper. Next he moved to the wardrobe and opened it.

There were several odds and ends on the shelves that he had collected in his travels, but he was focused on the floor of the wardrobe. It was a silver serving tray that was stained with something dark. On each end sat a candle, one white and one black. Between them was a withered picture. He gently picked it up and gazed at it fondly. The picture was faded, but you could still see the images of him and Buda clearly. They had taken it at Mardi Gras a few years prior. They were just two punk kids with dreams of taking over the world. Back then it had seemed far fetched, but at the rate they were going their dream could very well become a reality unless Buda managed to fuck it up. He placed the picture back onto the serving tray before retrieving a book of matches from his pocket. Chanting under his breath, he lit the black candle, then the white. Using the black dagger he'd stolen, Diamonds sliced open one of his fingers and let the blood drop onto the silver platter. The droplets congealed like mercury and separated into two streams that were drawn into the candles. Their flames danced back and forth on phantom winds, whipping across the picture. The image of Buda faded a bit more, as it always did when he performed the dark ritual. Soon there would likely be nothing left but the lone image of Diamonds in the photo, but desperate times called for desperate measures. After it was done, Diamonds closed the cabinet and retired to the recliner with his beer and the parcel he'd gotten out of the mini-fridge. It had been a long night, and the day promised to be even longer.

Auntie was probably frowning on Diamonds from the grave. Not because he murdered in cold blood one of the few people who'd ever shown him love, but because he was corrupting everything she had ever taught him.
“You can't keep taking from the cycle without giving something back.”
He could hear her warning as clear as if she had been sitting next to him in that rickety old wheelchair. To her credit, she was right. He had seen plenty of blood and misery over the last couple of years. The cycle he had broken was definitely swinging back around to claim its due, but Diamonds was willing to feed it as many souls as it could digest if it put him closer to his dream. Most men were content to be dubbed kings, but Diamonds wanted to be a god.

For all the bullshit unfolding around Diamonds, there was a bright spot … Pearl. She'd been on his mind heavily since their chance meeting at the bar. From what he had seen, she was the perfect package: young, fine, and feisty as hell. Had he not been there on business, he could've spent hours picking her brain to see where her head was at, but his paper trumped his curiosity. He was digging her, but he wasn't ready to go all in and anoint her, especially without knowing if her neck was strong enough to carry a crown on her head. Intense feelings aside, Diamonds was focused enough to know that fast women with pretty faces were a hustler's kryptonite. Pearl didn't strike him as the type, though. Not saying he wouldn't put it past her, but from the clarity of the diamonds in her ears and the quality of the Rolex on her wrist, he suspected she came from money. Not street-corner-hustler money, but old money.