In My Hood (22 page)

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It was 4:05 a.m., and there was no sign of Ishmael. Desiree had called him at 3:30 on his cell phone and told him to pick her up. She had a headache, and her supervisor was letting her leave early. Desiree walked to the corner and looked around for him. It was cold and the wind blowing seemed to make her head hurt worst. She was getting a little frustrated because it was the third time that month he had been late to pick her up. She was grateful to have a ride, but she was tired and her head was killing her. She made a mental note to remember to talk to him about having her wait on him. She was his lady, and she should come first. This was exactly why she didn’t want to depend on anyone. She’d rather do things for herself.

The morning was quiet, and the birds began to chirp. She looked up the street in both directions, searching for any sign of him. She noticed a man with a large Afro and sunglasses heading toward her. She began to feel uncomfortable so she decided to go back inside and wait for Ishmael. Her face and ears were cold so going back inside the restaurant was a good idea. As she walked up to the restaurant, a black van pulled up in front of her.

It all happened so fast. The man walking toward her bum-rushed her, and the van doors opened. He put his hand over her mouth and shoved her. She didn’t go willingly so a man inside the van grabbed her arms and pulled her in.

The man inside the van was wearing a ski mask, and the driver who appeared to be a female also wore an afro wig with sunglasses.

She tried to fight the two men in the back of the van, but they slapped her several times across the face, causing her severe pain. She just lay still, hoping they would stop beating her.

They blindfolded and gagged her and tied her hands and feet. She lay on the cold, hard metal floor of the old van. She was terrified. Tears ran down her face fast and hard. She began to think about the day Roc and Tracey were murdered. She escaped with her life that day. For some reason, Desiree knew she wouldn’t escape this day. No one was that lucky.

Ishmael raced through the streets like a bat out of hell, heading to pick Desiree up from work. He was so stressed he lost track of time. The product had gotten dropped off to get bagged. When he tried to call Damon to go to the drop house, Damon didn’t answer his cell.

“What the fuck is going on?” he said.

He flew up the street in his whip. He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant like a bat out of hell. He sat and waited in the truck for Desiree to come outside. He continued to think about Derrick. He made a few phones call to the crew, and the status was still the same. No one had heard anything from Derrick. He called Damon. There was no answer.

“Damn. Everybody’s missing,” he said out loud. “Where the hell is she?” He looked toward the restaurant.

He had things he needed to do, and Desiree had him sitting in the parking lot waiting on her. He jumped out of the truck and went inside the restaurant. Hazel the manager saw him come in and went over to him.

“What can I do for you, boyfriend?” she flirted.

Ishmael was not in the mood for Hazel’s Stella-got-her-groove-back antics.

“Hey, Hazel. Where’s Rae?”

“She left. I thought she forgot something and you was coming in for her because of the migraine she had.” She looked at him, puzzled.

“No she ain’t with me. I just got here. She called me, but I was running a little late.”

Now he was confused. Where could she be?

“Well all I know is she called you, and she went outside to wait for you. Maybe she got tired of waiting and caught a cab home, or maybe she called another ride.”

“A’ight. Thanks, Hazel,” he said, not wasting any more time talking to her.

That can’t be possible. Desiree doesn’t know anybody else who she could call to come get her. Maybe she got tired of waiting and did catch a cab home,
he thought. This pissed him off, because he had tried several times to convince her into letting him purchase her a car. But no, she didn’t want him to buy it. She wouldn’t even let him get her a cell phone. He was fed up with the I-don’t-need-no-man-to-do-for-me women liberation shit. He was going to get her cell phone, and there wasn’t shit she was going to do but take it. He was the man, not her.

Ishmael continued to argue with himself in his head as he drove. He stopped by the house.

“Rae,” he called out to her once he was inside.

There was no answer. She wasn’t there yet. The puppy ran and bit the bottom of his jeans, playfully tugging and pulling on him. He was not in the mood to play so he kicked the puppy who ran off yelping and hid under the sofa.

Ishmael sat on the sofa when his cell phone began to ring.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Hey, boo.”

“Who dis?” he asked with a frown on his face.

“Oh, so you don’t know my voice anymore?” It was Zola.

“What you want, Zo?” he asked, irritated.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you want, Zola?” he repeated.

“I was just wondering if you’re coming home tonight.”

“Have I been coming home?” he asked sarcastically.

“No.”

“A’ight then. Is that all you want?” He didn’t feel like playing games. He had enough going on.

“I guess so.”

“One!” He disconnected the call and turned on the television.

D
esiree sat blindfolded and tied to a chair in an abandoned house. Two candles sat on the floor in the corner next to her, dimly lighting the room. She could hear squeaking as mice ran around the room. She was cold and terrified. She could hardly breathe because of the stench of urine. She tried to break free of the ropes that were wrapped around her wrists, body, and legs. She couldn’t break free, so she began to cry.

She heard the door to the room open. She could hear several footsteps but no one talked. She could feel them staring at her, and this frightened her more.

“So what you wanna do with this green-eyed bitch?” a female voice said with jealousy, finally breaking the silence.

“First, I’m gonna plug every hole in her pretty ass, then we gonna put her outta her misery,” a male stated.

“
Ilk
!” the female said.

“Ay, hold up, you ain’t say nothing ’bout murking this broad,” another male voice said.

Desiree was freaking out because she knew she was going to die. She began to scream the best she could. She squirmed, trying to break free.

“Look at this bitch. She feisty as hell, just like I like ’em,” the first male stated.

“You a sick bastard,” the female shouted.

“Man, let’s just go get this loot, and you can do whatever you want to the broad. I ain’t with that sick shit you into,” the other male stated.

Desiree didn’t recognize any of the voices. She wished Ishmael was there to save her.

“A’ight, let’s do this,” one of the males said. “I’ll be back for you, shorty.” He touched her face.

Desiree began to scream. The female punched Desiree in her face with all her might. Desiree belted out a loud grunt. The pain was unbearable.

“Backstabbing bitch,” the female yelled.

“A’ight, chill. Let’s be out,” one of the men said, and they walked out of the room.

Twenty minutes later at Ishmael’s house, Damon, Zola, and Niles pulled up into the driveway.

Damon had convinced Niles to get down with them on robbing Ishmael. After Ishmael told Damon to watch out for Niles the day he came home from the joint, Damon stuck to him like glue. He realized Niles was an a’ight dude, so the two became tight. Damon told Niles all about how Ishmael didn’t trust him anymore and thought he was a rat. Niles was pissed because he looked up to Ishmael. The charge he took was for Ishmael who told him to take it because he was a minor and it would be his first charge, so he wouldn’t get that much time. He was loyal to Ishmael so he did it. Ishmael did take care of him while he was locked up, but that was still no reason to kick dirt on Niles. So after Damon came to him about Ishmael, he was down for the payback.

They all exited the vehicle. Zola took out her keys, and they walked into the house.

Parked in a black Lincoln with limousine-tinted windows was Arnold Bowen and the hit man. Bowen looked around suspiciously. Ten minutes later, Bowen and the hit man got out of the vehicle.

They crept up to the front of the house. The door was locked. The hit man took out some tools to pick a lock. Several minutes later, he got the lock open. Bowen removed his .380 and they went inside.

Cohen was sitting several houses away in a different direction watching the whole thing. He was squatting on Ishmael. He had been staking out his house for several days, trying to get anything on him to connect him to the murders. Cohen got out of his car, heading over to the house.

Inside of the house the three stood inside the closet looking at the safe. Niles was squatting in front of it playing with the dials.

“You think you can get it open?” Zola asked.

“I think I can.” He studied the safe closely. “Ish didn’t spare no paper when he copped this.” He admired the heavy armor on the safe.

“Hurry up and crack that mafucka,” Damon said, losing patience.

Niles was an ex-burglar until Ishmael put him onto the world of hustling. Before then he could pretty much figure out any system to get what he wanted, and safes were his pet peeve. He loved the challenge they offered.

“Hurry the fuck up, man,” Damon pushed.

“Chill, D. We got time. Ishmael ain’t coming home tonight,” Zola assured him.

“Did that blade-sucking bitch take care of Rik?” he grilled her.

She looked at him like he had lost his mind and rolled her eyes at him.

“You don’t hear me talking to you?” he shouted.

“Yeah, mafucka. Damn. Rik is a memory,” she shouted back.

“Yo, y’all niggaz shut the fuck up. I’m tryna concentrate on this mafucka, and y’all standing here beefin’!” Niles looked over his shoulder at the two of them.

Damon had no patience, so he walked out of the closet. “Yo, anything in this mafucka to eat?” he stopped and asked Zola.

“I don’t know. Check in the kitchen,” she said, irritated with him.

“You live in this bitch, and you don’t know what’s here to eat?” he said, walking out of the room.

Damon went down to the kitchen and stuck his head into the refrigerator, trying to find something to munch on. He thought he heard a noise and snatched his .40, ready to let off. He looked out into the dining room and listened for a minute, then he placed the gun back in the waistband of his jeans and continued to search the icebox.

Niles was in complete concentration trying to open the safe. Zola thought getting something to eat was a good idea.

“Niles, I’m going to see what this bum is doing. You want something to eat?”

“No,” he shouted, irritated because of the interruption.

“A’ight, damn.” She stormed out of the room.

She went downstairs and walked into the kitchen. Damon was making himself a turkey-and-cheese sandwich.

“What you doing down here?” he asked, taking a big bite out of his sandwich.

“I’m getting me something to eat too.” She pushed past him.

Zola began to make herself a sandwich as well. Damon leaned up against the counter and watched her while he ate.

Zola’s cell phone started to ring. It was Nettie.

“Hey. What’s up, Nett?”

“Did you get the loot yet?” Nettie asked.

“No, not yet. Slow-ass Niles is tryna get the safe open now.”

“So where you want to meet at when you get it?” Nettie questioned.

“Oh, you can meet us at the abandoned house on Twelfth Avenue. That’s where we got the green-eyed bitch stashed at,” she said.

“What the fuck is you doing?” Damon yelled.

“What?”

“Why you telling ha that shit over the phone?”

“What are you talking about, D?”

“You telling Nettie that we got Rae-Rae stashed on Twelfth Avenue. Hang up the damn phone. Five-O could have your phone tapped.”

She sucked her teeth at him. “Nett, this buster acting all paranoid and shit. I’ll call you when we get it.” She disconnected the call. “Happy?” She looked at him.

“You’s a dumb bitch,” he projected.

Damon felt a pinch in the side of his neck. When he touched it, there was a dart sticking out of it. He pulled out the dart and looked at it.

“What the fuh?” he contemplated, studying the dart.

Suddenly his vision became blurred, and he tried to grab onto the countertop for balance. He slid down and fell to his death onto the kitchen floor. Zola looked at him and thought he was playing.

“D,” she said, kicking his leg, “get up.”

He didn’t move.

“Damon! What’s wrong with you?”

He still didn’t move. She saw the dart lying on the floor next to him. She picked it up and looked at it strangely.

She ran out of the kitchen to tell Niles what was going on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow. She knew someone was in the house, and she began to panic. She screamed and tried to run up the stairs. The hit man pulled a hunting knife from its holster and threw it at her. The knife planted itself in the back of her head. She tumbled backward down the stairs. The hit man waved to Bowen to come out of hiding. He held up two fingers, letting Bowen know that that was two down and one to go.

The two men began to climb the stairs.

“Freeze,” Cohen said, bursting into the front door.

U
pstairs Niles heard the commotion downstairs, and his street instinct kicked in. He grabbed his tools off the floor and headed for the window. He shimmied down the fire escape and jumped to the ground. Niles took off running through the neighborhood backyards.

“Hey, Arnie boy, what we got here?” Cohen asked with a wide smile.

The hit man looked at Bowen like he had been set up. Bowen looked at Cohen like he had seen a ghost.

How does he keep finding out?
he wondered.

“Hey, is this the same guy you got to do the other job?” Cohen pointed at the hit man. “Wow, you’re still in business, huh? How much does that job pay? I was thinking about changing my occupation.”