Harlem Girl Lost (26 page)

Papone continued, his mouth close to Hollis’ ear.

“In the back of de car is one hundred thousand dollars, all for you,
amigo!”

That did it. Hollis was sold.

Papone smiled. “Go ‘head, go ‘head.”

Hollis smiled and exited the car, but halfway out, Papone grabbed his arm. “Now dat make us partner, and you know what you have to do?”

Hollis stared at him.

“Dat mean
all of
dem, including Chance.
Comprende?”

Hollis put his head down for a moment, then nodded.

Papone smiled and released his arm. “Enjoy,
amigo
“

Hollis hopped into the Suburban as a leggy girl moved over to the passenger-side seat. He had already been plotting the death of his six victims: Shy from the Bronx, Old Man from 116th Street, Spanish Tito from the Lower East Side, Ally Mo from uptown, and Supreme from Brooklyn. These were the associates who had been supplying 60 percent of the heroin in the inner city. Papone wanted to eliminate the entire group, but until now their operation had been tight and untouchable. Hollis, though, was exactly the person Papone needed to infiltrate their network because of his knowledge of the operation and his access.

Hollis reasoned that Papone was right. Either a person was for you or they were against you, and eliminating Chance from his grip would definitely open the doors to controlling the crack trade. He would finally be the fucking man. After wiping out the associates, Hollis would wipe out all the freelancers in Harlem. He stood to make millions if he consolidated.

Silver and Chance
took Missy to a private detox and drug treatment center called Visions. Chance paid the entire twenty-six thousand dollars in cash for a sixty-day treatment program. Missy fought for dear life not to be admitted, but fortunately for them the center was used to seeing patients like that come in, so they knew exactly what to do. Chance and Silver drove home in silence, devastated that something like that could have happened to Missy. Chance had seen many strung-out
addicts before, but nothing had ever affected him like Missy did. As they stopped at a light, he spoke. “That's it!”

“What?” Silver asked.

“That's it. I'm not doing this shit anymore.”

“Doing what anymore?”

He pulled over to the curb and parked, looking at Silver. “I'm not selling that shit anymore.”

Silver was stunned. “Chance, you getting out?”

He nodded. “You were right. I'm no different from these other niggers. I was only fooling myself. I don't give a fuck what it takes, but I'm leaving all that shit alone.”

Silver hugged him tightly. “I'm with you all the way, baby. We'll do this together, okay?”

Hollis had waited
for hours in his car on Dumont Avenue in Brooklyn for Supreme to appear. Supreme was a fifty-eight-year-old man who, from the way he acted and dressed, still fancied himself a teenager. It had not taken Hollis long to put his plan into action, and he had already killed four of the six men in one day. He killed each one old-fashioned style, with two bullets to the head. He was eager to make his mark in the game. Hollis had something special in store for Chance, and would use him for his fall guy. Since Hollis was already hot, he needed someone to take the blame for the murders he had committed, and a trail had to be created to lead the cops to Chance to take the heat off him.

Finally, Hollis spotted Supreme emerging from his house, alone. Hollis quickly checked his weapons, three hunting knives, and jumped out of his car. He pulled his baseball cap
low over his eyes and crept closer and closer to his victim. Ten feet in front of Supreme, Hollis cuffed one of the knives in his hand. He quickly closed the distance between them and stabbed him two times in his midsection. As Supreme held his fat, bleeding stomach, Hollis dropped another knife in his hands and expertly tossed it dead center into Supreme's back. The man staggered once and then fell on his face like a brick.

Nearly a week
passed before Chance went back around the block. It was then that he discovered the drama going down. The first thing he found out about was Hollis’ arrest, through Butterfly Ty

“Yo, Chance, we been looking for you, fam. Shit done hit the fan something lovely.”

Chance tried to remain calm. “A'ight, nigger, I'm here now. Kick it!”

Without hesitation, Butter ran down the shit about Hollis being arrested and the associates being murdered one by one— Tito, Shy, Supreme, Old Man, and Ally Mo, all dead. As he broke shit down to Chance, luxurious cars of all types started screeching to a halt in front of their spot. Butterfly pulled out his Glock.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you—these niggers was looking for you for two days,” he informed Chance, keeping an eye on the newcomers. “Just say the word, nigga, and I'll start layin’ these niggas down.”

“Nah,” Chance told him. “Not now, but keep yo’ shit on ready.”

One by one, Ally Mo's people came. Then Shy's lieutenants
Gentry and Bosco came. In what seemed like a Puerto Rican invasion, everybody from Spanish Tito's side came looking for answers. So many people milled about that Chance had to open up the club and let them all in so the block didn't get hot. Bo-Bo, one of Ally Mo's people, spoke first.

“Yo, Chance man, this shit is smelling real funky. This shit wasn't no fucking accident—it was a fucking hit, plain and simple!”

This seemed to fuel everyone's anger, causing everyone to yell at once. Spanish Tito's younger brother, Tesio, glared at Chance.

“Yeah,
papi
, and the dirty motherfucker who did this shit shot my brother in broad fuckin’ daylight while he was in the park with his five-year-old granddaughter—his granddaughter, man! I only know one motherfucker heartless enough to do some shit like that.”

Chance challenged him with measured anger. “So fuck you tryna say, nigger?” It was obvious that Tesio had not meant to throw it out there like that, but he wanted some answers. He only said what everyone else was thinking.

“I'm saying, where the fuck is your brother at, Chance? I heard nobody's seen him, or you for that matter, since they all started to get dropped.”

Anger rose in Chance at the insinuation. “Yo, son, I know you're upset about your brother, but on everything that I love, and that ain't much, don't you ever step to me with that bullshit, ‘cause if I had something to do with it, you wouldn't even be here to inquire about it!” Tesio gritted his teeth but remained silent.

Bo-Bo tried to ease the sting of Chance's words. “Bottom
line is this: we all got a potential enemy, and for all we know, Hollis could be a victim too.”

In the midst of their anger, no one had thought about this.

“Now, Chance,” Bo-Bo went on, “All we doing is process of elimination so we can look elsewhere. The more we know about the situation, the quicker we can handle all this fuck shit! So it would be to all our common interests if you tell us when you last heard from Hollis.”

The entire place went dead silent. In Chance's heart, he knew Hollis had no reason to bump off these niggas and bite the hand that helped feed him, but he couldn't stop Papone's name from rattling in his brain. In spite of how guilty Hollis might be, he was part of his crew, so he had to represent him above all. Chance decided to give them only the minimum of information, and when he saw Hollis, he'd find out what's what.

“Friday at the club. He was kicking it with this chick when I left at about one. That's the last time I saw him.” Chance really didn't give a fuck if they were satisfied or not; he had his own questions. He turned to Gentry. “Now tell me what y'all know.”

Later that night
, Silver and Chance were both heavily burdened with thoughts. Silver was still concerned and worried about Missy and didn't notice Chance's change in demeanor. Even if she had, he wouldn't have told her about his problems.

The entire situation left a bad taste in his mouth, and he tried to remember every conversation that he and Hollis had had over the past month. Nothing seemed to add up, even
though he went back over it at least a thousand times. It was then that Chance grew afraid—not from a fear of dying, but from the fear of not being in the know. He knew that the answer would begin to reveal itself very soon, but little did he know that it would come sooner than he ever expected.

As dawn's light began to creep through the curtains, he looked at his watch. It was five-thirty in the morning. He cursed and gently rose from the bed, not wanting to wake Silver. He stepped into the bathroom and took a long shower. By the time Silver woke, bacon and eggs were crackling in the frying pan.

“Chance, you cooking breakfast for me again?” she asked, hugging him around the waist.

“Of course. Anything for my fiancée,” he said, smiling.

“Now that's the second time you said that. You gonna get me open and I'm gonna hold you to it to marry me!”

Chance looked in her eyes, then reached inside his pocket and pulled out a pink satin ring box. “In that case, will you marry me?”

Silver's jaw dropped as she stared at the ring box, then his eyes. Extending his hand, he urged her to take it. She opened the box slowly and gaped at the large diamond ring nestled inside.

“Chance,” she whispered, “are you for real?”

Chance took the pan off the burner, got on his knees, looked up at her, and clasped her hand. “Silver, will you marry me?”

Silver sank to the floor beside him. “Oh, God, Chance, yes … yes!”

They kissed, then rolled to the floor and made love right there on the kitchen floor.

After they showered, Silver told him she had something important to do that day. It was time to face her grandmother. After they dressed, Chance dropped her off at 138th and Seventh Avenue, planning to meet up later in front of Missy's building. Chance kissed Silver and told her they would be making some big changes soon.

In Chance's gut, he felt that too many things were happening too quickly. Years ago, A.O. had taught him to always go with his gut feelings—that if something didn't feel right, bounce and live to worry about it another day. Being that Chance wasn't anyone's fool, he would not hesitate to heed such advice. He went to the bank safe deposit box that he kept for emergencies and removed five hundred thousand dollars in cash. Though he took precautionary measures, he failed to notice the black Suburban that had been following him since he and Silver had left their building.

THE ROOM OF LOVE

W
ith every step that Silver took, the muscles in her legs began to grow weaker and weaker until they felt as if they would give way at any second, but she kept going. She finally saw her former residence, and for the hundredth time since turning onto the block she searched for a good reason to just turn around, but in her heart, she knew she had to get this over with. As she climbed the stairs of her grandmother's brown-stone, she noticed it was cluttered with old supermarket circulars and Chinese take-out menus. When she reached the door, she noticed a thick chain wrapped around the gated doorway. Perplexed, she went down to the garden level, but it also had a thick chain wrapped around it.

“They came and took her.”

Silver turned to find a lady across the street sweeping in front of her building. She remembered Marie Riley “What did you say?”

“They came and got her a long time ago, the ambulance people, and she ain't been back since.”

Silver walked across the street. “What happened to her?”

She looked at Silver. “And who might you be?”

“I'm her granddaughter. I've been away at college for the past four years.”

The woman looked at her more closely and then smiled. “Oh, yeah, I remember you. You the one who got the name after your eyes. I haven't seen you in years. Congratulations, child.”

Silver tried to smile, but she couldn't disguise her impatience. “Thank you, but can you tell me what happened?”

“ ‘Bout a year ago, your grandma had a major stroke. Almost died, too. So they keep her in the hospital nearly six months before she came home in a wheelchair and everything. A month after that, they came and took her again, but this time they put her in a nursing home and she ain't been back since.”

“Do you know where she's at?”

The elderly woman slowly shook her head. “I'm sorry, dear, but I don't.”

“Thank you,” Silver said, and walked off in a daze.

Chance met Silver
at exactly one o'clock and told him everything that she had learned.

He rubbed her hand. “I want to show you something that might make you feel better.”

She sighed. “What is it, Chance?”

He smiled. “You'll see.” He turned onto 122nd Street between Lenox and Seventh Avenues and parked in front of a row of beautiful brownstone houses. He got out and opened her door, then went back to the driver's door to pop the trunk. He pulled out two bulky bags as Silver watched.

“Where are we going?”

He grinned. “You'll see.”

He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a ring of keys, and opened the front door. As they entered, Silver immediately heard babies crying. Walking toward the back, Chance opened a door and greeted an older woman with a soft loving face, who was in the process of changing a diaper.

“May I help you?” she asked, turning around. She adjusted her glasses and gasped in pleasure. “Oh, Chancellor, I hardly recognized you.”

Chance dropped both bags and smiled. “How are you, Ms. Geneva?” He gave her a big hug and kiss.

She laughed. “Chancellor, I haven't seen you around here in months!” She placed the baby on her right shoulder, gently patting its back.

Silver looked at Chance with questioning eyes, and he smiled again. “Ms. Geneva, I'd like you to meet my fiancée, Silver.”

With a big, genuine smile, Ms. Geneva extended her hand toward Silver. “Oh!” she smiled. “Just like the room!”

Silver glanced up at him again, her brows lifted in question. Before he could explain, Ms. Geneva took off her glasses and began chiding him.