Diamonds and Pearl (28 page)

“About fucking time. If you ask me, we should've met the nigga before we did the job. I'll round up the troops,” Vita said, and headed for the door.

“Don't bother. He wants to meet me alone.”

Vita's head whipped around. “Alone? What for?”

Diamonds shrugged. “You know these old-school niggas are hella suspicious of new faces, even ones who commit murder for them.”

A worried expression crossed Vita's face. “I don't like this, Diamonds. We don't know these Spanish niggas like that. You could be walking into a setup.”

“It's possible, but I doubt it. Eddie ain't no fool. After what we did to Pana and his whole team, he knows that if anything were to happen to me, you and the boys would rain hell down on his bean-eating ass. And I won't be alone; TJ will be there too.”

Vita snorted. “Shit, if he's who you're taking with you for backup, then you might as well be alone. He ain't the most useful muthafucka I've met.”

“Cut the boy some slack, Vita. Not everybody got the stomach for what we do. TJ may have his faults, but if it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't have been able to get into position so quickly when we rolled into town.”

“Yeah, he's good at making deals. I'll give him that. But the boy needs to stay in his lane. That shit he pulled earlier could've compromised us.”

“But it didn't,” Diamonds countered. “In any event, I don't think it's a mistake TJ will be making again anytime soon,” he added, to assure her.

“You better hope not, because blood or not, I'll take that bigmouthed nigga out the game myself,” Vita promised. “And, speaking of mistakes, what's with you showing mercy earlier? I think you leaving that old man and his brat alive are invitations to disaster. We should've let both of their asses burn along with the bar instead of pulling them out. If they're dead, then they ain't liabilities.”

“And if they're dead, Pops can't sign over the deed to what's left of that property,” Diamonds said, enlightening her. “The lawyer is gonna pay a call on him this morning, and I want you to go with him. The fact that we're holding his kid hostage at the storage unit should be enough insurance for Pops to keep up his end of the bargain, but seeing you will remind him of what will happen if he doesn't.”

“Sounds like you've pretty much got it mapped out, but there's one thing you haven't considered. Even if Pops does sign over his property, what's to stop him from blowing the whistle on us after he gets his kid back, bringing the wrath of every boss in New York down on our heads?”

Diamonds laughed. “V, you of all people should know me better than that.” He unwrapped the newspaper he'd taken from the refrigerator. Lying in the center of the bloodstained wrapping was a cow's tongue. “When I'm done, the last thing you'll have to worry about is a nigga speaking ill of this crew.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Long after Diamonds had dropped Buda off, anger still burned in Buda's chest. The only reason he had gone along with Diamonds to that shit hole bar was because he knew it would present him the opportunity to bust some heads. Diamonds had claimed they were only going to try to negotiate with Pops, but because Buda knew Diamonds, he also knew it would turn physical. Diamonds dealt with people who didn't submit to his will by putting his hands on them or making them disappear. This was the reason he and Buda had been clashing so often lately. Buda was no yes-man, and Diamonds couldn't deal with that.

Back in the day, Buda and Diamonds had been more like brothers than he and John-Boy. They could come to each other in times of trouble, love or war, but it seemed like their relationship had changed since they'd left New Orleans. Diamonds had become distant and had started treating him more like one of the other soldiers rather than the man he had trusted enough to appoint his second-in-command. Buda had been ten toes down since the beginning and was always the first to step up when the situation called for it. Diamonds had a knack for overlooking the good things he did and focusing on the bad. Granted, Buda knew his drinking was becoming an issue, but none of them were without their vices, including Diamonds.

With all the pent-up aggression he had going on, there was no way Buda was going home. His first mind was to take a taxi to his car and hit different strip clubs until he got lucky, but he'd been drinking and had a pistol on him. He'd be ripe for the plucking for some overzealous cop. It was best that he took a cab to wherever he planned on going rather than risk spending the weekend in lockup.

It was then that he remembered he had a chick who didn't live too far from where Diamonds had dropped him off. Of all the women he had spread out all over the city, she was the one he could call anytime of the day or night, and she'd be down for whatever he wanted to do and then some. He'd been knocking the bottom out of her for a few weeks and couldn't get enough of what she had between her legs. He whipped out his phone and scrolled until he saw the name
GOOD PUSSY
and hit send. She picked up on the second ring, and a sultry voice came over the line.

“Well, hello, stranger. I haven't heard from you in a while. I was beginning to think you stopped fucking with me.”

“Never that, sweetheart. Shit, just been hectic, so I ain't had a lot of playtime, ya know?”

“Sho ya right. Get that money, big daddy,” she said, stroking his ego.

Buda got to the point. “So what's up? You home? I got an itch I need scratched.”

“No, I'm not home, but I'm not far, either. I'm out having drinks with some people. You remember the place you met me at, right?”

“Yeah.” He recalled the after-hours gambling spot where he'd first laid eyes on the object of his affection. “What are the chances that if I swing through there, you'll cut your company loose and we can get into some grown folk's action?”

“Slide through and find out,” she teased, and ended the call.

*   *   *

Eight minutes later Buda was climbing out of a taxi on 118th and Lexington. At that hour of the night there weren't many people out, except drug addicts and people looking to gain entrance to Hades. Hades was located in the back of a storefront that doubled as a small bakery during the day. It was a spot where you could go when the regular clubs had closed down but you wanted to keep the party going. Buda had discovered the dive through a pill dealer he knew, during one of his all-night benders. To that day it was still the most fun he'd ever had in New York City.

Buda knew he would be subjected to getting searched like everyone else, so he stashed his pistol under a trash can on the corner. He hated moving around without his gun, especially when he was alone. That was all the more reason for him to get in and get out. Outside there were a couple of girls standing around, waiting their turn to be allowed inside and trying not to look suspicious. It was kind of hard to do, considering they were hanging out on a known drug block, wearing heels and short skirts. Anyone who saw them knew that they were either looking for a good time or selling pussy. Their thirsty eyes latched onto Buda as he bypassed the line and marched through the small entrance.

Before he could cross the threshold, he was greeted by a monstrosity of a man who stood at least six foot five and had a large block head and a scar that resembled a lightning bolt across his forehead. He bore a striking resemblance to the Mary Shelley character he had been nicknamed after, Frankenstein. He stood between Buda and the rear door that led to the lounge and scowled at him from under thick bushy eyebrows.

“Sup? I was here the other night with Boogie,” Buda said in an attempt to jog Frankenstein's memory.

“Boogie ain't here,” Frankenstein told him in a voice that sounded like two stones grinding together. “If you plan on going inside, it'll be a fifty-dollar cover.”

When Buda had first come there with Boogie, they were whisked inside with no hassle, but now Frankenstein was acting like he didn't know him. Buda didn't want to seem like a petty nigga for arguing with him, so he dug into his pocket and paid the cover. Frankenstein gave him a thorough searching before standing aside and allowing him to pass through the back door.

Hades wasn't a lounge, a club, or a bar. It was a storeroom that had been gutted and filled with some small tables, a few chairs, a sectional couch, and a bar that looked like someone had ordered it from a Fingerhut catalog. Though it might not have been much to look at, it had a reputation amongst underworld circles. For all intents and purposes, Hades was pretty much just what the name described it to be: a place where you could entertain your vices. Girls, gambling, cheap liquor … they had it all.

Buda scanned the faces inside Hades, looking for the one he felt was the most beautiful in the room. He found her on the second sweep. The moment Buda spotted Mercedes, he felt the familiar tightness around his heart that crept in every time he'd seen her since the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She was a thick Latina with long legs and a head full of thick black hair that hung down to her pumpkin-sized ass. Mercedes was sitting at a table in the back with some corny-looking dude invading her space and whispering in her ear. Buda knew he and Mercedes weren't exclusive, but it didn't stop his heart from filling with jealous rage at seeing another man sniff around what he had tasted.

He moved through the room at a tipsy lumber, with little care or concern for those he bumped passed or flat-out knocked over. Mercedes spotted him first, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing anger. She never even had a chance to warn her companion before one of Buda's meaty fingers jabbed him in the shoulder. The companion turned, lips pursed to bark at whoever was intruding on what he had going on, but seeing the bearded Mack truck hovering over him, he cowered against his chair

“Take a powder,” Buda ordered.

The companion looked back and forth between Buda and Mercedes, not entirely sure what was going on.

“Fuck you, looking at her for when it's me who's talking to you,” Buda snapped.

“Check this out. I don't know what's going on, but—” the companion began, but his words were cut off when Buda grabbed the back of his chair and pulled it out from the table. The companion's heart leaped into his throat when the brute grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him to his feet.

“Let me see if I can say this in a language you understand.” Buda rained spittle down onto the man's face. “I said get the fuck out of here!” He shoved the companion away with so much force that he tripped over his feet and landed on his ass. He looked up at Buda as if he were thinking about mounting some sort of defense, but he thought better of it and scampered away. “Pussy.” Buda laughed and took the seat the man had just vacated.

“You know you just cost me some money, don't you?” Mercedes coolly tapped a cigarette from her pack and placed it between her crimson-painted lips.

“Fuck that nigga.” Buda pulled out a lighter, reached over, and lit her cigarette for her. “Whatever that clown was spending tonight, I'll double it. I don't see why you're still hustling in this dive anyway when I told you I'd take care of you.”

“Is that right? And what do you think my girlfriend is going to say about you trying to snatch me from her?” Mercedes asked playfully.

“If her pussy is as good as yours, then I might have to see if we can swing a two for one. Y'all can be sister wives and shit,” Buda half joked. He'd never met her, but he had seen pictures of the girl Mercedes was seeing. She had a thick, yellow bone structure and perfect dick-sucking lips. He'd been pressing Mercedes for a threesome, but she had yet to cave to his request.

When Mercedes laughed, it sounded like sweet music to him. “Honey, I'm flattered, but I'm incredibly high-maintenance, and don't even get me started on Zonnie's saditty ass.”

“You trying to say that my pockets ain't deep enough to keep y'all laced in whatever you need?” Buda was offended.

“Calm down, lover. I ain't trying to insult you—just keeping it honest. You're a loads of fun, but I been around long enough to know that street-corner hustlers have short expiration dates. The day I stop hustling to get my own, it'll be for a man who owns some shit, and I don't mean cars or whips. I mean someone who really has it together.”

“What if I told you that I was about to be one of the richest niggas in this city?” Buda challenged.

“Then I'd say you've got my attention.”

Buda looked around to make sure no one was listening before leaning in to whisper. “Listen, baby, I'm about to run some shit down to you, but it's gotta stay between us.”

“Honey, most people I deal with are more interested in what's going in my mouth than what's coming out of it,” she told him.

“I got some big shit lined up, and when it goes down, I'm going to run this city,” Buda told her.

“You think you're the first man to whisper those same words in my ear, daddy? No disrespect, but what makes you any different than the rest of these jokers who come in here kicking that ‘I'm taking over' shit?”

“Because the rest of these jokers didn't kill Pana Suarez,” Buda boasted.

Mercedes couldn't hide her shock at Buda's admission. Everybody with an ear to the streets had heard about the assassination of one of Harlem's biggest dealers. There was much speculation as to what had had happened to Pana and why, but no one could say for sure what the real story was, though there were quite a few people anxious to find out. Mercedes had even overheard a guy her girl was dealing with say there was a price on the heads of anyone involved. The wheels in Mercedes's head immediately started spinning. “You're shitting me.”

“Do I look like a man who would bullshit such a pretty lady?” he asked seriously. “Pana was the first of the dominos to fall, but they'll be others. When it's all said and done, these niggas are all going to line up to kiss the ring of New York's new king.”