In My Hood (14 page)

“Forty-five percent? That shit is crazy.”

“It is what it is, youngun.” Leroy shrugged.

“I got my own connect now and the weight and quality is on point,” Ishmael reasoned.

“It don’t matter who you cop from, son, because whoever it is, I’m sure they cop from my people,” Leroy said with confidence.

“Why the fuck do I have to give you forty-five percent?”

“You ain’t giving me forty-five percent, Ishmael. I get ten percent to keep the deal, then I throw the other thirty-five percent to those cocksuckers downtown.” He laughed.

“Why can’t those bums come to me for a straight deal? You profit off me as the middle man.”

“You don’t hold no weight downtown, Ishmael. Don’t look at it as a profit. Look at it as an investment.”

“Investment? Investment for who? You?” Ishmael inquired.

“No, for you, youngun. With me keeping the feds off your ass keeps you worry free, and with you being worry free, you run your operation with a level head. I keep the heat off you and the temperature at a comfortable degree. You dig?” Leroy schooled.

“You killing me, Roy.”

“Hey, son, who said shit in life was free.”

“Man, fuck that. I don’t need them mafuckas to protect me. I got my own security,” Ishmael retorted.

Leroy leaned forward on his forearms. “You don’t want to fuck with them.”

“You know I never thought I’d see the day you’d bow down to no man,” Ishmael said, shaking his head in disappointment. “I used to idolize you. I looked up to you. I loved you more than I did my own father—and I hated his black-hearted ass.”

“What do you want from me, Ishmael? They got us all by the nuts. It’s either play the game their way or get played. I could go to war because I damn sure got the muscle, but I’m too old, and frankly, I don’t care to. And how long do you think you gonna last going up against the politician, police force, and government? Not long.” He shook his head, showing clear hurt over Ishmael’s actions.

“Fuck that. No deal. I don’t bow down to nobody. Ishmael stands on his own.” He patted his chest. “You can stay on your knees and suck dick if you want to but frankly I prefer sucking pussy,” Ishmael said, standing.

Leroy sat back in his chair, staring at him. “That’s a bad move on your part, Ishmael, a bad move.”

There was silence in the room as the two men stared each other down, neither of them blinking.

“So that’s your decision?” Leroy asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Ishmael stated calm and cool.

“When the shit hits the fan, I can’t help you, so don’t come to me.” Leroy turned his high-back leather chair around so that his back was facing Ishmael.

“So it’s like that, Leroy? You turning your back on me? You was like a father to me and you gon’ turn your back on your son?”

Leroy didn’t say a word. All that could be seen was the clouds of smoke from his cigar streaming into the air.

Ishmael thought about how if the OG’s that since died knew Leroy was siding with the system, breaking the code of the streets, they would turn over in their graves.

Ishmael walked out of the room with distress and pain written all over his face. This man took him under his wing and did things for him his own father didn’t do. Leroy was like the father he never had.

D
esiree had just gotten off the bus after going to check out an apartment a coworker had told her about. She switched the heavy book bag to her other shoulder and began the several-block walk home. School was going great, but working the hours she did and going to school was a little hard.

When she walked into the apartment she was relieved to see Beverly and the kids weren’t home.

Beverly had found her a boyfriend, and she had been staying away from home a lot. He was an older man who lived across town. He was a drinker like Beverly, but the difference between the two was he was a hardworking man. He drove a pickup truck, and he would come pick up Beverly, and the kids would pile in the back of the truck.

Desiree showered and made her something to eat. After eating, she sat down at the kitchen table to do her homework. She had a few hours to spare before she would go to bed to get a quick nap before work.

Her assignment was to plan a financial budget for a business owner whose business was losing money. She needed to create the formula that would stabilize and allow the business to profit.

She opened her book to the page that was assigned to her group. The owner of the business listed all revenue and expenses. Desiree stared at the book in shock when she read that the type of business was a bowling alley.

***************

It was Wednesday morning, the day they were going to rob Groovers I. Bilal opened his eyes to a brightly lit room. The sunrays bounced around on his face. He got up and walked over to the window, peering down onto the street. He saw one of the local drug runners standing down on the sidewalk below the window. He opened the window and stuck his head out.

“Beaver,” he yelled.

The young man looked up toward the window.

“Wassup?”

“What time is it, man?” Bilal asked.

“What I look like to you? A clock?” Beaver said sarcastically.

“Just tell me what time it is, youngun.”

The young man looked at his watch.

“It’s 9:07. You need to buy you a damn watch instead of a bag of dope.”

Bilal closed the window and walked over to the mattress.

“Rae-Rae, get up.”

Desiree moaned and pulled the covers over her face.

“Rae-Rae, we need to talk. I don’t think the time is right,” he said as he sat down on the mattress.

Desiree threw the covers off her face. “You don’t think the time is right? How long we gotta wait, Bunchy? Listen, it’s now or never, babe. I’m ready to get this paper.”

“Yeah, but Rae-Rae, do you realize if we get caught that we could do some hard time?”

“Bunchy, stop being a punk. This plan is perfect. There is no way we can get caught. You said so yourself.” She got up and walked into the bathroom.

Bilal lay back on the mattress and folded his arms across his forehead.

***************

Bilal walked into the restaurant. There were two men sitting at the counter and three women seated at one of the tables. The waitress had just finished taking their orders. She brushed past him as he approached the counter and sat down on one of the stools.

“Hey, suga, you want something to eat?” she asked him.

“Naw, I’m okay. Can you tell Rae-Rae to come out here for me?”

“Well what’s the matter? You look so down and out.”

“I’m good,” he stated wearily.

“Okay. If you say so.”

The waitress disappeared behind the swinging doors. After a few moments, Desiree appeared.

“What’s up, babe?”

“Where is the bag, Rae-Rae?”

“It’s in my locker in the locker room.”

“I need it.”

“For what, Bunchy?”

“Rae-Rae, please not now. Just get me the bag.”

“Bunchy, you’re going to fuck this up. What’s wrong with you? Stop trippin,” she whispered.

“I’m not trippin, Rae-Rae. Forget it.”

He stormed out of the restaurant heading for the stairs leading up to the offices. Desiree watched him with concerned eyes.

“I hope he don’t mess this up,” she said to herself.

***************

Bilal was outside in the back of the bowling alley taking a smoke break, deep in thought as he leaned against the building. Desiree came outside and approached him.

“Are you all right?”

“I guess so,” he said solemnly.

“Listen, baby, we’re in this together. After we do this, we can leave town and go somewhere and settle down. Live a new life,” she said, trying to cheer him up.

“A new life, Rae-Rae? How we gonna live a new life? We addicts. There ain’t no new life for a addict. All addicts’ lives are the same wherever you go.”

“No, Bunchy, we can get a new flat—hell we can get a house with the kind of money we gonna get. We could buy nice things for ourselves, travel, and have a good time.”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head.

They both walked back into the bowling alley. Desiree headed for the kitchen while Bilal looked up at the bowling alley’s clock. It was 12:45 p.m. He walked over to the front door and looked around the parking lot. His heart was beating harder in his chest than usual. He thought about the plan over and over in his head. His stomach began to quiver. He needed a hit.

Bilal went into the men’s room. Once inside, he looked in each stall to make sure no one was there. He went into a stall, closing it and locking it. He sat down on the toilet and retrieved the tiny baggy from his cigarette pack. He took a book of matches out of his shirt pocket and bent the corners, then he dipped the bent matchbook corner into the off-white substance. Scooping a nice-size portion out of the bag, he brought it to his nostril and sniffed. He did this twice in each nostril and put away his product. He walked over to the mirror and checked the contents of his nose to make sure no residue was showing. He looked at himself in the mirror and waited for the drug to take effect as he felt the drainage from the dope slide from his nose down the back of his throat. He glided out of the bathroom and proceeded back to the office located next to Harry’s huge office.

He moved a picture of Super-Fly that hung on the wall. Behind the picture was a perfectly drilled hole looking right into Harry’s office. He peeked into the hole and saw Harry sitting at his desk talking on the phone while his assistant gave him head.

It was getting close to four o’clock when the money would be delivered. Bilal walked over to two more pictures and checked the drilled holes in the wall. After everything looked to be in order, he walked over to the huge steam pipe that came from the ceiling leading to the floor. He squeezed his skinny hand behind the pipe and felt for the towel he’d placed there, pulling it out. He unraveled the towel, exposing two .32 caliber weapons.

“Now or never, baby,” he heard Desiree’s voice say in his head.

D
esiree was standing out front of IHOP waiting for Ishmael to pick her up. She was exhausted. School and work had taken their toll on her, and the fact that this was her second week of not smoking was starting to get to her. But she was determined to stay smoke free of the cancer sticks and to keep the deal she and Ishmael had. He agreed to stop eating the violet candy if she agreed to give up cigarettes. But he still had one up on her because since he quit eating the candy he smoked weed more. But that didn’t bother her because weed was never her drug of choice—when she tried it, it made her paranoid.

She walked over and sat on a bench—her feet were killing her. She began to think about Bilal as she spotted Ishmael pulling into the parking lot, and the thought left her mind just as quick as it came.

She jumped into the truck, and they sped off. Neither of them uttered a word. Ishmael was in his own thoughts, and Desiree was just plain ole tired. Minutes later she looked over at him. She could see something was bothering him. In fact, for the last several weeks, he had seemed to be off in a distance. When they were together she could tell he was trying hard not to show what was obvious to the naked eye. Something was going on, and Desiree could see the hurt in his eyes. The eyes never lie.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked, rubbing his arm.

“I’m good, baby.” He gave a weak smile.

Although he was clearly stressing about something Desiree was growing deeper and deeper in love with him. She wanted on so many occasions to make love to him, but her heart wouldn’t allow her to do it. She still loved Bilal, although her heart was changing, the more time she spent with Ishmael.

Ishmael looked over at her. She had laid her head back and closed her eyes. He could see how tired she was. He admired her ambition. She was a hardworking woman. She went to school by day and worked at night. She didn’t deserve to have to struggle the way she did. But what could he do? She would not allow him to spend a dime outside of dinner and dancing on her. Any gifts he tried to give her she’d give back. Any money he tried to slide to her, she’d refuse.

It often made him feel less than a man that she wouldn’t let him take care of her. They were definitely an item, and his boys often ragged on him, saying he didn’t have what it took to take care of a woman. But he never let them know what the real deal was.

Zola had been making herself invisible more and more lately. Ishmael had been so wrapped up with Desiree and getting ready for war that he hadn’t noticed. All he knew was that it was peaceful at home and the bitching had stopped.

Once he pulled up in front of Beverly’s crib he shook Desiree lightly to awaken her.

“Rae, why don’t you let me help you?”

“Ishmael, we’ve been through this before. I don’t need any help. I need to do this for myself,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“The least you can do is let me get you your own crib.”

She sighed out loud and laid her head back onto the headrest. She was exhausted, and she was a little tired of not being able to get any sleep. She had been apartment hunting and didn’t have enough money to take any of the apartments she had seen. She was so tired of all the noise that the building and neighborhood kids kept up, causing her to lose hours of sleep. She thought about taking Ishmael up on his offer to help her get a place, but she wanted to do it for herself.

She had always taken care of herself with no help from a man, and she was damn sure not going to start. Ishmael offered her gifts all the time, and on several occasions she wanted to take them so badly. For example, she could sure use a cell phone because Bev didn’t have a house phone. He offered her a shopping spree as well. As bad as she needed some decent clothes, she couldn’t take it. She did the best she could with the money she made. She didn’t seem to see a problem with shopping at Easy Pickins and Payless shoes. They offered the same expensive look at a much lower price.