Eviction Notice (32 page)

EPILOGUE

The deadline to
pay the back rent came and the girls had failed to come up with the money. The marshals were kind enough to let the girls grab as much of their stuff as they could before they padlocked the door. Anything else they needed out of the apartment they would have to get from whatever storage facility the city dumped it in, and that’s if there was anything left after the movers got done picking over it.

Sahara and Porsha held each other and cried as the lock was placed on their door, signaling the end of an era. They had had some good times and bad in that apartment, and also learned some life lessons that would stick with them for a long time. They had tried to visit Frankie while she was in the hospital but the police wouldn’t let them, saying that they would have to wait until after her arraignment and visit her on Rikers Island. They still couldn’t believe that the DA was prosecuting her when Frankie had been the victim. It was another example of how the system wasn’t designed for people of color.

Porsha and Sahara packed the things of Frankie’s that they were able to salvage and took them out to her aunt’s house in New Jersey before going their separate ways and promising to keep in touch. Sahara had family in the Bronx that she was able to stay with. It was overcrowded with all her relatives in the apartment, but it was better than sleeping in the streets, so she didn’t complain. Her experience with King James taught her what she should’ve known all along—that she wasn’t built for the street life. With a new lease on life, she devoted her time to working extra hours doing hair at the shop and trying to stack enough bread to open her own spot.

The transition hadn’t been so easy for Porsha. After being evicted from the projects she had gone to stay with her sister for a while and fell back from stripping to try to put more of her energies into school and her degree, but that didn’t work out. It seemed like every day her sister was on her back about one thing or another and constantly bringing up the mistakes that she had made in her life. It was like living with her mother all over again, so she left. Porsha floated around for a while until she was able to find a small apartment in the Bronx that fell into her budget. It wasn’t much and the neighborhood was suspect, but it was hers. She often found herself thinking about Alonzo and what might’ve been if she hadn’t been so hard on him. One day she decided to go to the supermarket and check in on him, and was surprised when Mr. Green told her that Alonzo had quit a few weeks prior. This made Porsha smile because he had finally decided to dream bigger for himself. She would see him again someday, but for now she was just going to focus on herself.

*   *   *

A week after
she’d been arrested, Frankie finally had her day in court. She had expected to see the legal aide she had been going over her case with, but she didn’t recognize the man who had introduced himself as the counsel for the defense. He and the DA argued back and forth about the seriousness of the charge and what the punishment should be. The defense counsel wanted the judge to rule that it was self-defense but the DA kept bringing up the fact that it was an unregistered handgun and that there were drugs found at the scene. He finally agreed to throw the drugs out and reduce the murder charge to involuntary manslaughter, but he still wanted Frankie to do time, so she took it to trial. The judge set a trial date and ordered that Frankie be held on twenty thousand dollars’ bail. She prepared herself to go back to the island and get comfortable because she knew damn well she didn’t have that kind of money, but when she got back in the tank she was informed that her bail had been posted. Frankie had no idea who had posted her bond and she really didn’t care, if it meant that she could get back on the streets.

A few hours later, Frankie was released from 100 Centre Street and took a deep breath. It had only been a week but she felt like she had been locked up for months. As she walked down the courthouse steps she saw the lawyer who had represented her sitting on a double-parked car, staring at her.

“So it was you that posted my bond?” Frankie asked.

“Don’t be stupid, little girl. Somebody wants to talk to you.” He knocked on the back window. The window rolled down and Frankie saw Cutty’s coal-black face looking out at her.

“Get in,” Cutty ordered.

“Listen, Cutty, if it’s about your money—” Frankie began, but he cut her off.

“Stop talking and get in.” He pushed the door open. Frankie was scared shitless but she didn’t have a choice so she got into the car. “You know, I had to do quite a bit to track you down, girl.”

“Yeah, I ran into a little situation.” Frankie wrung her hands together nervously. She thought about coming up with a story and trying to spin him, but figured she’d do better telling the truth. “Cutty, I know I owe you some bread from that work you gave me but I got robbed.”

“I know all about it, Frankie. I handled that li’l situation personally.” He pulled a folded-up handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. Frankie looked inside the handkerchief and almost threw up when she saw that there were two fingers wrapped in it. “That’s the one who got away,” Cutty explained. “Dumb muthafucka was spending my money around Harlem like it was water. Nobody steals from Cutty.”

“So I guess this makes us square, huh?” Frankie mustered a weak smile, but Cutty’s face was serious.

“The hell we are. By the time I caught homie the money was almost gone, so that debt is on you, and so is that bail money I just dropped to get your li’l ass out.”

“Hold on now, Cutty. I can understand about the money from the coke, but I didn’t ask you to bail me out,” she tried to reason.

“I know you didn’t. The way I see it, had I left you in jail, then you wouldn’t have been able to get my bread, right, you see how that works?”

“Not really, because I’m ass broke. Shit, I ain’t even got no place to live,” Frankie said.

“I’ve considered all that, which is why I’ve decided to let you work the debt off. Until you get my bread, your li’l ass belongs to me.” Cutty rested his hand on Frankie’s thigh.

Frankie slapped Cutty’s hand away. “I ain’t no whore.”

Cutty shook his head. “First you fuck up my money and now you insult me; that’s no good, Frankie. And for the record, if I wanted your li’l pussy I’d take it and there wouldn’t be shit you could do about it. I don’t want your pussy, Frankie, I want your services. You’re gonna come and work for me.”

“Doing what?” she asked suspiciously.

“Don’t worry about that just yet. All you need to know for now is that when I call on you, you’d better answer.”

*   *   *

Happy sat on
the living room couch in Snoop’s apartment, listening to the new stereo system he had brought for his shortly and demolishing a Big Gulp. The projects had been full of drama and he got off on every second of it. He was partially glad that the girls had gotten kicked out of their apartment, but sad because he had never gotten a chance to fuck Porsha. Had he known they were in danger of getting evicted, he would’ve offered her the money a long time ago in exchange for a taste of her sweet love. A desperate woman was prone to do things she normally wouldn’t have, and Happy loved a down-on-her-luck broad. No matter, there were plenty more flowers to pluck in the projects as the times got harder and when they needed something, Happy would be right there to give it to them.

As he sat there plotting on his next victim, Miss Info came on with her celebrity drama report: “From the projects to the penthouse, it’s been the Cinderella story that’s had the Internet buzzing. Check out my latest video blog entry as your girl got a chance to sit down and chop it up with the owner, Brown, LLC, and his widely popular Web site, BrownGirls.com. You’ve read about his incredible story, now hear it from the man himself. Mr. Levi Brown.”

Happy spit his Big Gulp all over the table when he heard the girl say Levi’s name. Happy and Levi were as thick as thieves and there were two things he knew about Levi that made the story impossible to believe. For one, he didn’t know his ass from his elbow about computers, and two, Levi was broke. Happy had just loaned him a hundred dollars the other day so that he could buy a bus ticket down South to visit his relatives. There was no way in hell that he could’ve been sitting on a million dollars and Happy not have known about it. The story had to be some kind of mistake.

He jumped off the couch and went over to the computer on the dining room table. As fast as his fingers could type, he went to Miss Info’s site. When Happy saw the picture of Levi dressed in a business suit and holding up a laptop, he found that he suddenly didn’t feel too well.

*   *   *

Tionna sat by
Gucci’s bedside, watching her sleep and trying to keep from crying. She had been doing quite a bit of that since Gucci had been shot. It took four surgeries before they were finally able to stabilize Gucci. The bullet had hit her in the stomach and done a number on her small intestines before exiting through her back. The doctors said that she was very lucky because if it been a fraction of an inch to the right it would’ve hit her spine and she would’ve been paralyzed. She had avoided paralysis but still wasn’t out of the water yet. Gucci had slipped into a coma and no one knew when or if she would come out of it.

Tionna had taken it the hardest of everyone, including Ms. Ronnie. She felt like if she’d never pressured Gucci into going to the club in the first place, then she wouldn’t have gotten shot. Everyone tried to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, but no matter what they said, Tionna would always feel like it was, which is why she was at the hospital day and night watching over her friend. On more than one occasion Ms. Ronnie had tried to persuade Tionna to go home and get some sleep, but she refused to close her eyes until Gucci opened hers.

Tionna felt a cold wind on her back that sent a chill down her spine. The window was closed, so she figured it must have been a breeze coming from the open door. Tionna got up and closed the door. When she turned to go back to Gucci’s bedside, someone grabbed her from behind. She opened her mouth to scream, but a gloved hand covered her mouth.

“I’m going to move my hand and you are not going to scream, do we understand each other?” a familiar voice whispered in Tionna’s ear. She nodded. “Good.” He released his grip. As soon as he moved his hand, she shrieked and broke for the door. Before she could get it open, she was grabbed roughly from behind and forced against the wall. “Dammit, Tionna, shut up before hospital security comes,” Animal told her.

Tionna turned white as a ghost when she saw Animal. “But you’re dead, everybody said you were dead.” Tionna blinked, thinking her eyes were playing tricks on her.

“No, I’m very much alive, which is more than I can say for the men who did this to Gucci.” He approached her bedside and stared down at her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her, if not more so. “How long has she been like this?”

“For over a week now. The doctors say she had a mild stroke during the last surgery,” Tionna explained.

Animal took her hand in his and kissed her cold fingers. “My poor baby”—tears dripped from his eyes and splashed on her arm—“look what they did to you. Don’t worry, I’m here now and I’m gonna make this right, I promise.” Animal leaned in and kissed Gucci on the lips before turning to make his exit.

Tionna followed Animal to the door. “What are you going to do?”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

Tionna nodded. “Can I ask a favor of you, Animal?”

“I’m all out of goodwill, T,” he said seriously.

“It ain’t for me, it’s for Gucci … well, kinda. I know I might be wrong for saying this, but I don’t care. When you find the ones who did this, punish them.” Tears welled in Tionna’s eyes. “Make them suffer for what they did to my girl.”

“That I can do.” Animal nodded. “Get word to your friends and loved ones, T. Tell them that they might wanna stay off the streets for a time. The sky is gonna rain blood over Harlem, and I don’t care too much who gets wet.”

ALSO BY K’WAN

Gangsta

Road Dawgz

Street Dreams

Hoodlum

Eve

Hood Rat

Still Hood

Gutter

Section 8

Welfare Wifeys

ANTHOLOGIES

The Game

Blow
(with 50 Cent)

Flexin & Sexin

Flirt

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

EVICTION NOTICE. Copyright © 2011 by K’wan. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

K’wan.

  Eviction notice : a hood rat novel / K’wan. — 1st ed.

          p. cm.

1.  African American women—Fiction.   2.  Street life—New York (State)—New York—Fiction.   3.  African Americans—New York (State)—New York—Fiction.   4.  Harlem (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction.   5.  Urban—Fiction.   I.  Title.

  PS3606.O96E95 2011

  813'.6—dc22

2011020384

e-ISBN 9781429984430

First Edition: October 2011