Dollar Bill (11 page)

Knowing Doc was aiming to become a doctor, Auntie Charlene felt that a $100,000 policy for their mother was called for. It was like pulling hen's teeth for Auntie Charlene to get her sister to sign off on the paperwork to put the policy in effect. She didn't want to think about death. It was the one-year anniversary of the date the policy was signed when the car accident occurred.

Dollar's mother had, in print, named Klein as the sole beneficiary. She spoke words to him instructing him that 50 percent was to go to Dollar in spite of what the policy stated. With Dollar being incarcerated for life, she didn't know what would become of his percentage if she was to list him on the policy. So instead, she left the distribution into the hands of her baby boy. He was to keep Dollar's books full, which he failed to do. Klein refused to allow Dollar to profit in prison off of the death of their mother. He had no idea what he would do, if anything, with the money, but he knew he wasn't going to document those funds on prison record. So he put away Dollar's portion, not knowing that Dollar would someday actually be able to benefit from it after all.

$46,000 was left for Dollar after funeral expenses. Dollar saw the money not as a new start, but as a foundation to get started, to get started on his bigger picture. The $46,000 was more like the outline that needed filled in.

Dollar needed to get him a quaint little pad. He needed stability and what he referred to as “Uncle Sam hush money:” legitimately earned money to validate his purchases. He needed some new threads. He had to be able to play the role once he hit the streets again. But most importantly, he needed his old running partners. He needed Tommy and Ral.

When Dollar knocked on the locked screen door of the tiny Cape Cod home, a woman's silhouette appeared on the other side of the screen. The big door was only cracked, but Dollar could see that she was fine. Her banging curves were a beautiful sight, and not just because Dollar had been locked up for eight years. As she neared the doorway, her long, wavy locks that she, in sequence, pushed behind each of her ears with her slender fingers, became visible. Her fingernails were smothered by a fresh set of acrylic nails with a funky watercolor design. Her large gold hoop earrings, four inches in diameter, dangled from her soft lobes, slightly brushing her rouge-powdered cheeks here and there.

“Yes, I was looking for an old friend of mine, Tommy,” Dollar said in awe as he tried to view every inch of the woman through the black metal bars that secured the screen door. Dollar looked down at the piece of paper he'd printed off at the library and compared the address on it to that above the mailbox on the house. His public records search had shown that Tommy owned this property.

“Ha ha, very funny. I see the jailhouse didn't affect your sense of humor,” she responded as she unlocked and pushed the screen door open, allowing the daylight to shine upon her soft brown skin.

“Tommy,” Dollar shouted, recognizing Tommy only by her voice, not her stunning features. “Thomasena McRoy!”

“In the flesh,” Tommy said.

“Hell no.” Dollar bent over laughing.

Tommy, though both excited and shocked to see her old stomping partner on her doorstep, was becoming angered by Dollar's howling laugh.

“You're a woman now,” Dollar said as his laughter faded out.

“No shit,” Tommy said, now full-blown pissed and unable to enjoy the coming home of Dollar. “I've always been a woman.”

“Oh, my bad,” Dollar said, coughing his laughter to a complete stop. “But, damn, girl. You was my boy. Now look at you. You clean up real good.”

Tommy opened the screen wider and then stepped to the side for Dollar to enter.

“Your place looks nice,” Dollar complimented her as he peeped out her humble abode.

“How'd you really get out?” Tommy asked suspiciously, cutting right to the chase. Before Dollar could prove her suspicions wrong, she continued. “I heard a rumor or two, but I know you, D. There's got to be more to the story.” She looked him up and down. “So what brings you to my doorstep?”

Coming to her own conclusions, all types of wicked thoughts started going through Tommy's head. Maybe Dollar really was a snitch and maybe him turning her over was part of the deal. This could be a setup as far as she was concerned.

“Hold on right there,” Tommy said as she suddenly walked away from Dollar. She walked down a hallway and entered a room. Just a few seconds later she returned with a brown paper bag in hand. “Here you go.” She handed Dollar the bag.

Dollar looked inside to find seven rolls of money held in place by rubber bands. He looked up at Tommy curiously.

“Take this,” Tommy said. “There's about seven grand in there. It ought to get you by for a while. Keep in touch and I can hook you up with more. There's more where that came from. It just might take me a minute to get that much again though.”

Dollar began to laugh.

“What? What's so damn funny?” Tommy said with a twisted mug. “Is it not enough? Look, I said I can get more. Just give me some time.”

“I can't believe this, T,” Dollar said, looking down at the bag of money. “You ain't changed a bit. You still think everyone is out to get you or out to get something from you, huh? You would have looked good puttin' this shit on my books over the last eight years.”

“You wouldn't accept my letters so I figured you wouldn't accept my money either,” Tommy said as if her feelings had been hurt by Dollar rejecting her letters. “Look, Dollar, I appreciate everything you done for me back then, you know. And I know I owe you. But I got a life now. A lot of shit has changed.”

“Maybe you have changed,” Dollar said disappointed. “Do you think I would actually bring you that kind of drama to your doorstep?”

“Well, I have changed. I'm not her anymore. I'm not the Tommy you knew back in the day,” Tommy spoke. “Things have changed. You're right; I've changed.”

“So I see,” Dollar said. “Street life got you noided, huh? But don't even worry. It ain't even like that. I'm out, legit. I'm free, baby. I didn't have to climb over the gate. They opened it up for me. Now how about you opening up yours for me so I can give you the real on my release?” Dollar held his hands out. “Come on; let your guard down a little.”

Tommy eyeballed Dollar for a minute. She brushed by him and locked the screen door while looking left to right to make sure no one else was out there.

“Damn, Tommy, what kind of shit you into?” Dollar entered her house.

“You wouldn't believe the jealous hoes I have to deal with working at the Chocolate Factory,” Tommy said. “The niggaz who be up in the bar and they bitches be trippin'. I done had my windows busted out and my car spray painted. I even got jumped coming in the house one night. But I got somethin' for they asses the next time they wanna jump out of a bush at three o'clock in the morning and rob a bitch of her tips.”

“Damn,” Dollar said. “Tommy Gun still keeps the Glock cocked, huh? Shit, who would have guessed the life of a bartender would be so dangerous?” Dollar pretended to have chills and wiggled his body while hugging himself.

“You's a silly mafucka,” Tommy said, heading into the kitchen. “I don't bartend at the Chocolate Factory. You want a Coke?”

“Yeah,” Dollar responded. “I'm a little parched.”

“Oh, ‘parched,'” Tommy said. “Did you learn that word in jail? You got a jailhouse degree that you can't do shit with on the outside and couldn't do shit with on the inside, either?”

“Naw,” Dollar answered, laughing. “I didn't get down with getting fifteen degrees. I mean, what the fuck a felon gon' do with a master's?” Both Dollar and Tommy laughed. “So what do you do at the Chocolate Factory? You a bouncer? Them chicks be hooking you up like that with tips just for walking them to their car and shit?”

“Do I look like a bouncer to you, Dollar?” Tommy said, putting her hands on her hips. She sucked her teeth and then opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of Coke. “Besides, what do you know about a bouncer's role in a strip club? It's more than just walking chicks to their car. They're like our own personal bodyguards.”

“Oh, hell no,” Dollar said. “You ain't shakin' it up in there, are you?” The look on Tommy's face said it all, with her downcast eyes. “You, Tommy Gun, is a dancer now? I knew I must have been dreaming. I ain't really out of jail, am I? Satan playing some fucked-up practical joke on me, ain't he? I mean, the next thing you gon' tell me is that you got kids.”

Before Dollar could even finish his sentence, a little girl, who looked to be around seven or eight years old, came out of one of the back bedrooms. She was wiping her half-asleep eyes with the backs of her hands.

“I can't believe this,” Dollar said in amazement. “You really are a woman.”

“Auntie Sena,” the small child said to Tommy.

“Yes, Heaven,” Tommy said as she approached her niece, handing Dollar his Coke along the way.

Dollar went and sat on the couch after cracking open his can of soda and taking a sip.

“I had a dream. We were at a party but nobody was singing ‘Happy Birthday' or nothing. Everybody was sad.”

“Well maybe the person whose birthday it was was turning fifty,” Tommy joked, but her niece failed to see the humor in Tommy's comment.

“My nap is done. Can I watch 'toons now and have some Blue's Clues?” Heaven said, referring to her Blue's Clues fruit snacks.

“Sure, baby,” Tommy said. She grabbed a package of fruit snacks from off the top of the refrigerator and handed them to Heaven. Heaven went back into the bedroom, not once inquiring about the stranger on the couch.

“You babysitting?” Dollar asked Tommy.

“No, they stay with me,” Tommy replied as she went over and sat down on the couch. She cracked open her can and took a swig.

“‘They'?” Dollar inquired.

“My sister's kids, my two nieces.” Tyra Must still be asleep.

“Oh, what's up with that?”

Tommy paused before replying. “My sister's dead so I took the girls in so that they wouldn't have to get dumped into the system. She was murdered.”

“Damn, T,” Dollar said. “I'm sorry to hear that shit. How did she die?”

“She was raped and beat to death a few years ago. Her and her boyfriend, the girls' daddy, was staying up over at the Hills. The girls were asleep right in the next room when it all happened,” Tommy said as she subconsciously began to crunch the Coke can in the palm of her hands. Dollar watched as soda leaked from the can down Tommy's hands.

“So, the girls been with you ever since?” Dollar asked.

“Yeah. The state put me through all kinds of shit about getting custody, but I refused to let them be put in foster care. That's why I had to start dancing. I had to keep dropping change into the lawyer like he was a fucking parking meter.” Tommy licked the liquid from off her fingers.

“How come the girls didn't just live with their father?”

“He's the one who raped and killed their mother,” Tommy replied. “The girls was so used to them fighting and carrying on all the time that that particular night didn't seem any different than all the other nights they had fought. I tried to get my sister to leave his ass. She couldn't let go. Even after I shot his ass, she stayed with him.”

“You shot him?” Dollar said, surprised.

“Man, my sister's face was fucked up. He beat her because when he came home he saw the man who lived next to them leaving out of their apartment. UPS had left a package with the guy next door because my sister wasn't home when they came to deliver it. He accused her of cheating with the man. He beat her and put her out the house buck naked and told the girls he'd kill them if they let her in. Keelah called me . . . Remember Keelah from South High School?”

“Yeah, ol' Keelah,” Dollar answered.

“She called me and told me that she had looked out her window when she heard screaming and saw my sister beating on the door without any of her clothes on. She said she took my sister a blanket and tried to convince her to come to her house and call the police, but she wouldn't do it. She was afraid he'd do something to her girls in retaliation,” Tommy said, trying to contain her emotions in order to get the story out clearly to Dollar.

“I headed straight over there,” Tommy continued. “That twenty-minute drive turned into a two-minute drive. When I arrived, I told my sister to wait in my car. I went and busted that muthafuckin' living room window out, climbed through that bitch, and sent the girls outside to the car too. That punk-ass nigga gon' see my Mag and go lock himself in the bedroom like a ho. So I'm banging on that bitch yelling for him to come kick my ass, to come fight me. The longer I stood banging on that door the more pissed off I got, but I knew that punk nigga wasn't coming out.

“So I left and went out to the car. It was dark when I got there so I hadn't got a good look at my sister's face. When I turned on the interior light in the car and saw my sister's face,” Tommy said as she began to get emotional, “I had to do that nigga, Dollar. I went back up in that house and just start firing at the door. I let all fifteen Mags off through that bedroom door. Do you know only one hit that muthafucka? And in the hand at that, his damn pinkie finger. I blew that muthafucka off, though. I got back in the car and drove my sister and the kids to my house. Two days later, they were back with him. One month later, she was dead.”

“Did you do any time for shooting him?” Dollar asked.

“That nigga knew better than to report my ass. He told the police some dudes broke in through the living room window and tried to rob his house.”

“Damn, T.” Dollar sighed. “I'm sorry all that shit had to go down.”

“Shit happens,” Tommy said. “And you still live.”

“Things can't be that bad,” Dollar said. “You got Gs sitting up in here like everything is gravy. All you doing is dancing, ain't it?” Dollar raised his eyebrows at Tommy.

“You know I would never get down like that,” Tommy said. “I ain't selling pussy. I sell them niggaz a little weed, but they ain't getting the cat.”

“For real,” Dollar said. “That's your hustle, weed?” He was pleased to see that she hadn't gone 100 percent legit.

“I don't like that look you giving me,” Tommy said. “Talk to me, Dollar Bill. What's on your mind?”

Dollar took a sip from his soda and let out a loud belch. He then looked up at Tommy and proceeded to tell her how he, once again, needed her services.

“You talking about robbin' muthafuckas again?” Tommy asked. Dollar nodded in the affirmative. “Ain't you learned shit? We fucked up the first time and the last time. You don't know these streets now. These cats are ruthless. Nigga's backup got backup now.”

“Introduce me to the streets again,” Dollar said to Tommy, taking her hand. “All I need is an introduction and I can take it from there. Back in the day, I was a virgin to the game, but now it's a different story.” Dollar told Tommy about the old head, Romeo, he had met in prison and how he schooled Dollar on the game before turning over the wild card to him.