Harlem Girl Lost (23 page)

Besides stripping
, Missy supplemented her income by having sex with Big Willie niggers who weren't afraid to spend money for a good piece of ass. Most of her clientele were Dominican drug lords from all over Washington Heights. These Dominicans now supplied 90 percent of the cocaine trade in New York City. They knocked other niggers out of the box by offering a stronger and cheaper product, causing everyone else to retire. If any niggers in the city wanted to buy some weight, they now had to go through the Dominicans.

For Missy, this was a match made in heaven, because once she threw her snapping-turtle-like pussy on them, they were just one step from wanting to marry her ass. But Missy made it known that she wasn't wifey material—strictly rental only for the gushy pussy. As an added incentive, she had access to all the cocaine that she wanted. They threw that shit at her because the more Missy sniffed, the freakier she got, and she took full advantage of it. The disadvantage was that she had developed a huge coke habit in the process. In front of them, she sniffed all she wanted, but behind closed doors, she hit the glass pipe. Even though they sniffed coke also, they had a rule to never smoke it. Furthermore, they would not respect or fuck with a woman who smoked the shit, so she became an undercover crackhead.

KING PAPONE

K
ing Papone was a rotund, thick-necked Puerto Rican in his forties, but looked closer to fifty because of bad eating habits. He had eyes that burned straight through you. At the moment, he was sitting in one of his many so-called offices, which were really abandoned buildings in Spanish Harlem. He was the second largest distributor of heroin in New York, behind Chance's organization.

Hollis had completed dozens of killing contracts for Papone over the years, primarily low-level dealers from the black side of Harlem or freelance dealers trying to set up shop without his approval. Hollis sat on an old plastic milk crate and listened to Papone ramble, as he always did. Standing next to King Papone was his ever-present henchman/bodyguard, Lugo, a huge, grim-faced man. Hollis was unsure of his race, but he had a hawk's stare, and at the moment was eyeing Hollis carefully. A smiling Papone was speaking to Hollis in his thick accent.

“I goin’ to give you a opportunity of a lifetime. I give you a shot,
amigo.
You crew show me loyalty. I like dat.” Never losing eye contact with Hollis, Papone shook his head, his facial expression
changing every second. “You want to know how I made it to de top and stay de top,
amigo?”
Searching Hollis’ face, he continued. “What, you think dey like me ‘cause I hell of a guy?” Papone's friendly demeanor vanished. “Fuck, no!” he shouted. “Because I de most ruthless and dirtiest son o’ bitch in de world!” He shrugged. “Have to be, in dis bidness. Dey pull de knife, I pull de sword. Dey used de gun, I used de bomb. Dey try to fuck me, and I will fuck dem and bury dem and a year later I dig dey ass up and fuck dem again! Really, Chico, I stick my fucking dick through dey fuck eyes and skull fuck dem!”

Hollis just stared at him as he continued.

“You see de difference, my friend? To me it's all de same. Man, woman, or child, dey gotta go, dey gotta go …
md-tenlos!”

Hollis felt the ominous presence of the devil himself in the room.

“I trust no one but me and my mother, and I still cut de deck on dat bitch!” He shrugged again. “So I guess I only trust myself.” He chuckled.

Hollis remained quiet, admiring the man's coldness. In an instant, Papone turned back on his charm, along with a wide smile.

“Enough about me,
amigo.
Dis is about you … your organization, huh?” Papone stood up. “Personally,
amigo
, I like you.” He nodded approval. “I like you and your brother … but I don't like your associates.” He frowned. “I be blunt with you. I think you guys being used. You do all de hard work and dey reap all de treasures.”

Papone paused and watched Hollis. He was a master of
head games and deceit, playing on people's emotions and greed and using them to his advantage. He was simply planting a seed in Hollis’ mind, and he would wait patiently until it grew.

“I don't know if you notice,
amigo
, but dere is no more Mafia as you once knew it. Dat time was long ago, dey no longer powerful. Hell, de Dominicans—El Flaco from Washington Heights, an associate of mine—dey are more powerful than dem. What you got now is some ninety-year-old grease-ball who use you black boys like a master use his slaves. You a slave,
amigo?”

Hollis glared at him.

“I didn't think so,” Papone said. “You guys are boss. You hear me? Boss!” He nodded. “Now, here's what I say. Since you and your brother live in black Harlem, dere's a lot of money to be made on coca, and if de right person can control all of it … ooh,
amigo
, sky de limit!”

He watched Hollis ponder this, and decided to drop the hook.

“All you guys got to do is cut dem Italians off. Dat way I handle de heroin and you guys handle all de coke. We talkin’ millions of dollars!”

Hollis stared at him. “So why are you so generous to me when you can make the money?”

“Conyo, amigo,”
‘Papone said. “You forget, you come to me. I just try mentor you. I got eye, I can see.”

Hollis eyed him warily.

“Look,
amigo
, you don't have to trust me. I don't. Words lie, math don't. It don't take rocket scientist to see dat you got what it take … you smart, you know de street, and most important, people fear and respect you.”

A week passed
, but Silver hadn't once left the apartment. Missy was so busy with her life, she was hardly ever home, but one day Missy walked into the house with a bright smile.

“Yo, get ready. We going out tonight!”

Silver was not in the mood for a party. “I don't feel like going out tonight.”

Missy planted her hands on her hips. “Listen, Silver, your ass ain't been out this house since you got here. So don't you think it's time for you to act your age instead of your temperature and have some fun?”

Silver thought about it for a moment. “Naw … maybe I'll go with you next time.”

Missy shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay, but Chance is gonna be there.”

Silver froze. “What did you say?”

Missy remained silent and pretended to be cleaning her nails.

Knowing exactly what Missy was doing, Silver smiled. “Missy, what did you say about Chance?”

Missy sarcastically held her hand toward her ear. “Oh, did you say something?”

Silver rolled her eyes. “You heard me, hoe!”

“Hoe? Look who's talking. As soon as I said that nigga's name, you came on yourself!”

Silver felt a flush of heat; Missy was right.

“Anyway, I was uptown taking care of some business and saw that motherfucker named Hollis, that dude you saw blast that nigger on 119th Street.”

Silver shivered just thinking about it.

“Anyway, he was tryin’ ta push up on me, and I'm ignoring his ass, so he started getting disrespectful. So I kept walking, ‘cause that's one motherfucker that turns my skin, but then that nigga squeezed my ass like he's Mike Tyson or something. I was ready to cut that nigga on the other side of his face when Chance rolled up and checked him. So we talking, right, and I told him you was back in New York, and blah, blah, blah, he wants to see you!”

“What do you mean, blah, blah, blah?” Silver asked anxiously.

“Just like I said. I told him you were home, and he wants to see you at the club tonight.”

Silver rolled her eyes again and folded her arms across her chest. “That nigger got some nerve wanting to see me after he did that fucked-up shit to me!”

“Silver, man, why don't you give the brotha the benefit of the doubt?”

“Benefit of the doubt?” Silver said in surprise. “Missy, that nigger dissed me in front of all them niggas and then put me the fuck out his house!”

Missy put her head down and spoke softly. “How do you know he didn't have reason for doing it?”

Silver was ready to break on Missy but knew there was more than what she was telling her. Silver walked to her and put her hand on her shoulder. “What did you mean by that?” Missy couldn't look Silver in the eyes. “Missy, what are you not telling me?”

“Damn, Silver … it was all my fault!”

“What are you talking about, Missy?” She lifted her friend's face.

“I was the one who told him that you got accepted at Spel-man,” Missy moaned, putting her head down again.

Shocked by the revelation, Silver stared at her.

“That night, when you and Chance went out, I called his house to ask you how your first date at Amy Ruth's was. He said you were in the shower, so I asked him how did he feel about you being accepted into the school. Well, he said that you told him that you wasn't accepted.” She looked up at Silver. “Silver, I didn't know you told him you wasn't accepted. How was I supposed to know?”

As Silver recalled the day, she thought about the letter she had thrown in the garbage can. He must have read it. All at once it began to make sense. Chance would have done anything in order for her to make it, even if that meant losing her. A sudden epiphany overwhelmed Silver, and she jumped up with a scream.

Missy looked at her as if she had gone crazy, but Silver just bent down and gave her a huge kiss on the cheek. “What time are we going?” she asked Missy.

Missy looked momentarily confused. “About ten o'clock.”

Silver looked at her watch. “Good. We got six hours to get ready.” She hurried to Missy's room. “I'm gonna pick an outfit out of your closet for tonight, all right?”

Missy frowned but said, “Sure.”

Silver chose an expensive yet conservative Donna Karan outfit. This was no small task, because it seemed like every outfit Missy owned was skin-tight. While they got dressed, they talked and laughed because it reminded them of their prom
night, but this time Silver didn't need to sneak around. That moment was the first time Silver had thought about her grandmother since returning to New York. She promised herself that as soon as she got a chance, and the nerve, she would go and see her. Tonight, though, she had but one mission on her mind, and that was to fill the void in her life.

At the club, the girls took a table on the second level with a perfect view of the entrance. Silver sipped on a virgin strawberry daiquiri and sat impatiently, as it was close to midnight and Chance had yet to arrive. Silver looked magnificent and had turned down dozens of guys who asked her to dance, unlike Missy, who'd started dancing as soon as she walked through the door. It was evident that Missy was a regular inside the club because the girls had yet to reach into their pockets to pay for a drink, nor had they paid to get in for that matter. Two full melting daiquiris and an untouched bottle of Cristal on ice sat in front of Silver on her table, sent by admiring ballers. She glanced down at Missy, busy sexin’ a nigger lovely as she shook her body, throwing the nigger her ass as if they were fuckin’ right there on the dance floor.

Tired and frustrated from all the guys asking her for a dance, Silver decided to cut the night short and tell Missy she was ready to leave. But as soon as she stood up she saw a familiar face come through the door. It was Chance. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him. He was dressed in black, sporting a baldy that seemed to glisten from the strobe lights. His mere presence electrified the entire club, and the crowd began to part as if he were Moses. They all knew who he was: the unofficial king of New York. He carried a large bouquet of red roses.

As if from a sixth sense, Chance looked up and saw her staring down at him. In an instant, he headed toward the staircase. Time suddenly slowed as she watched him walk up the stairs. It was as if Silver had met him for the very first time. What a difference four years had made, she thought. He was more refined and distinguished. It was quite obvious life was doing him well, and she felt his bulging muscles when they embraced. Neither had said a word—they could only gaze into each other's eyes. It wasn't until Missy, sweating profusely, came up to them that they broke eye contact.

“Ah, sukey sukey now … y'all two look perfect together!”

The ice was broken as they both looked toward the wide-eyed and smiling Missy, who urged them to sit.

“Now you two just sit down and do like Mary J. and reminisce and catch up on the old days while I get y'all something to drink.” She looked down at the drinks already on the table. “Better yet, y'all deserve the best, compliments of all the suckers in the house!” She lifted a bottle of bubb and poured champagne into three glasses. She lifted her glass in the air. “I propose a toast.” With embarrassed smiles, Chance lifted his glass, and Silver, ignoring the champagne, held up her virgin daiquiri.

A guy rolled up on Missy and asked her for a dance, but she cast him an evil look. “Can't you see we're in the middle of something?” She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Chance and Silver, shaking her head in disgust. “Niggers … Anyway, as I was saying, I dedicate this night to two of my oldest and dearest friends, Silver and Chance. If ever there were two people who belong together, it is you two. I read something one day and it said, ‘If you love someone, let them go. If they don't come back, it wasn't meant to be. But if you really
love each other and let them go and they come back, it was truly, truly meant to be.’ “