New York's Finest (2 page)

“
Naomi, you need to talk to your brother before I get his ass locked up!” she yelled. Her tone was sharp and I could tell that she was extremely angry. I could also tell that she was pacing the floor in their one million dollar home. She was known for rocking four and a half inch Giuseppe Zanotti heels, so I’d bet money that those were the shoes she rattled the floor with.

“
What’s wrong? And where is he?” I asked, even though I sensed things were a bit chaotic on the other end of the telephone receiver.

“
I’m about to call the motherfucking police on his ass if he puts his hands on me again,” she continued to roar.

Before I made one comment, I shook my head with disgust, because there was no doubt in my mind that she ignited this feud with my brother. Vanessa was a fucking drama queen. If the world didn’t revolve around her ass, then all hell would break loose. Granted, she was gorgeous and fly. In fact, she looked like a pretty, big booty, small waist chick from Brazil. But Reggie pulled this chick straight out of one of those projects from Jersey, put her in their luxury, two-bedroom high-rise apartment, laced her with a wardrobe of high-end designers and just recently purchased her a white four door late model Jaguar with white leather interior. She was the envy of all the chicks from her old neighborhood. However, if they knew everything she had came with a price, they’d switch their focus on something else.

Unfortunately for Reggie, he and Vanessa had been together for close to four years, so he’d have to kill her to get rid of her silly ass. She came into his life when Reggie banked his first million. I’d always believed that timing was everything, so she could not have picked a better time to come into his life.

“
Vanessa, put him on the phone,” I instructed her because it didn’t matter how mad and upset my brother was, I knew how to calm him down. It took him a few seconds to get on the line but as soon as I heard him ask me what was up, I came back with my own question. “Reggie, what is going on around there?”

“
I’m about to kill this bitch! That’s what’s going on!” he snapped.

“
Reggie, can you calm the fuck down? You got too much shit to handle tonight. So if you put your hands on Vanessa, she might just call your bluff and dial 911 on your ass this time around. And if she does that, then you won’t be able to handle your affairs behind bars.”

“
The day she calls the police on me is the day she’s getting the fuck out of here,” he roared in return.

“
I know that. And I’m sure she does too, but tonight isn’t a good night to be testing the waters. There’s a lot of money to be made before sunrise so leave that bullshit alone and get the fuck out of there,” I advised him.

“
I’m getting ready to leave right now,” he told me.

I could tell he was moving through the house, so I was beginning to feel a little at ease. Reggie had just scored a boat load of coke. This package was the come up for the both of us. It was pure as pure can get. And the fact that we got it for a good price made our profit margin skyrocket. See, not only was I a flight attendant, I was also an opportunist. I’d only fuck with you or do something for you, if there’s something in it for me. A lot of people don’t like it, but that’s their business. This was my life and I chose to live it the way I wanted.

Marco Chavez, who was Reggie’s and mine current coke supplier, lived by this same philosophy. In the beginning, I had no idea that he was a coke dealer when I met him on one of our flights from Miami. He had the appearance of a rich real estate investor or a nightclub owner, so money was written all over him. He took my number and the rest was history. That was over a year and a half ago and even though we’re no longer fucking, we still had a good working relationship, which was how I intended to keep it.

When money is involved in any situation, you have to put your feelings in your pocket and make the right choice. I learned a long time ago from both my pops and my brother that the only way a woman could survive in this world was if she didn’t make decisions based on her emotions. You see men are logical, don’t get into that bullshit. They come up with a plan and then they execute it. Reggie was known for taking a couple of days to make final decisions. And lately, I’ve adapted that same method, along with a few others.

When Reggie finally made it out to his car, I let out a sigh of relief because I knew he was about to make his move. “Do you think you’re gonna need me to come out to the spot with you?” I asked him after I heard the car door close.

“
Nah, I’m straight. Me and Damian will be able to handle everything,” he assured me.

“
Well, if you need me, just pick up the phone.”

“
A’ight,” he said and then he hung up.

New York’s Finest Kiki Swinson

Chapter 2 – My Day Off

Normally on my day off I’d lounge around my apartment and catch up on some previously recorded reality shows. But since there was money that needed to be picked up from a few of Reggie’s spots, I slipped into a pair of blue denim shorts and accented it with my I’m Proud to be a Puerto Rican t-shirt, although I’m half black as well. I topped it off with a cute pair of old school Adidas sneakers. Every now and again, I’d go back to my roots and get into my ’hood wear.

On a more serious note, I had to fit the part when I rolled out to Reggie’s spots to handle my business. Mostly everyone in the ’hood knew me, but that’s not who I was worried about. From time to time, the narcotics detectives would bribe their way into the apartment of one of the elderly tenants in the buildings of the project and set up surveillance operations. So if I ever went there looking as if I didn’t belong, then I’d immediately become their next target. And I can’t have that. I had invested too much into our operation to have one slip up such as that fuck up everything. And it was equally important because one day very soon I had planned to take all the money I had saved and leave the country for good.

On my way out of my luxury apartment, I grabbed my keys, my Yves Saint Laurent sunshades and handbag, and marched on to the elevator. Down in the lobby area of my building, the doorman saw me approaching the exit door and rushed to open it.

“
How are you doing this morning Ms. Foxx?” he asked.

“
I’m doing great Sam. Thanks for asking,” I replied as I made my way out of the building. Like clockwork, my vehicle was parked out front and ready for me to get on the road.

I’m a huge fan of Lil Wayne, so I hit the power button for my eight-disc CD player and turned up the volume on How To Love
.
The hook on this track had my head rocking from one side to the next. And when it ended I hit the repeat button and listened to it three more times until I got to my destination, which was Harlem, my old stomping grounds. The block surrounding the Polo Grounds was crowded with cats trying to get their paper. I recognized a few of the locals and smiled at them after I exited my car.

“
Can you keep an eye out for my baby?” I asked no one in particular, referring to my new midnight black Mercedes GL550 SUV.

“
You know we gotcha’ ma,” I heard one of the guys say. I couldn’t call any names, but I knew their faces all too well. And they knew me, which was what counted most. They also knew that I wasn’t to be fucked with. Being a Foxx gave me recognition and status, which meant I could leave the car running and no one would touch it. My brother Reggie laid down the law from day one and every one of these cats who patrolled the Polo Grounds knew the consequences if his law was broken. I was certainly off limits. No one could harm one little hair on my sweet ass body. Not to mention they also had to ensure no one else from the outside of this compound fucked with me, my whip or anything I was transporting. Or they had hell to pay.

The compound consisted of four buildings that we called the Four Towers. The Towers had been there ever since I could remember. As a child, my mother and hustler father used to warn us about hanging out at the Towers. It was where the action was, and that action at some point over time had moved from one tower to the next.

After one of the guys assured me I had nothing to worry about, I proceeded to make my rounds. The first stop was to this chick’s apartment that was in first tower. Her name was Candie and she lived on the sixth floor. When I entered the lobby, I was met by two of Reggie’s marksmen, or shall I say the lookout patrol. Each building had its own lookout patrol. Ben and Dre’ were both big guys standing around six feet tall and not easy on the eyes. But who cared how they looked, they weren’t paid to stand around and look pretty. Their job was to make sure no one came into the building that shouldn’t be there while I made my rounds. Reggie made sure his men were fully armed with heavy artillery when I entered into each of the four towers. And after I made my presence known, they greeted me and moved out of the way.

“
Be back in a minute,” I told them and then I headed for the elevator. I was lucky the elevator was working. Most times the elevator would be out, and I hated those days when they came. I was in excellent shape and did my share of walking getting from point A to point B in the numerous airports I had traveled through. But walking up six, seven or ten flights of stairs was not my idea of fun or staying in shape.

As I approached the elevator door, it opened and out came a very familiar face. This familiar face was Angel. Angel was a chick Reggie once used to hold his dope packages until she messed around and allowed her twenty-year-old baby brother to steal several grams out of each package so they could sell it to make an extra profit. When Reggie found out about it, he made sure her brother never walked again and she only walked with one arm. Thank God he listened to me and didn’t have them killed. He did make an example out of them though. After I smiled and said hello, I continued onto the elevator.

When I reached the sixth floor, I was met by two more of Reggie’s patrolmen. Lucky, the patrolman I was very familiar with held the elevator door open as I stepped out into the hallway. Then he prevented the elevator door from closing to prevent anyone else from getting on the elevator. This was a precautionary measure Reggie instructed them to take to protect me and isolate me from riding in the elevator with anyone else while I made my rounds to pick up his dough. You never know if he had enemies out to interrupt his business or worse, hurt someone close to him—namely me. So far it had worked as advertised.

“
Lucky, you look like you’re working hard?” I commented.

“
Most definitely. I do this all day, every day,” he smiled. Reggie gave him the name Lucky because his short ass had been shot twice and both times he escaped death. Now he had a metal plate in the back of his head. Although he pretended the plate didn’t bother him, I knew it did. I had caught him go into a zone. His eyes would glaze over and you could tell he was in another world. And during this time, he would go the fuck off, most times for no reason at all. I witnessed him beat the hell out of his babymama for no reason. It’s rumored that he received a disability check every month for his condition. So regardless of his short height, a lot of cats out here didn’t fuck with Lucky. We all knew he really was certified crazy.

The other brother was Walter, Walt for short. Reggie had just put him on the payroll, so he was new to our team. He was kind of cute, and he was definitely my type. But he was the help. And I didn’t fuck the help. Equally, and probably more importantly, Reggie didn’t play that. Too bad for Walt, because we probably would’ve made some serious chemistry in my king-size slay bed.

Like clockwork, as soon as I knocked, Candie opened the door to let me in, then she closed the door behind me. We proceeded directly to the kitchen of her small apartment and she handed me a manila envelope filled with cash. Different day, same procedure every time.

“
It’s all there,” she assured me.

“
I’m sure it is. But you know I always count the money in front of you just so we can be on the same page. But when you tell me that everything is here and then I go behind you and find out that you are short, then that’s not a good look.”

“
I understand,” she replied in her childlike voice.

Candie wasn’t your typical ghetto chick. She was a very pretty Puerto Rican, a mother of one, who spoke very good English, and she was very ambitious. With a five-year-old son, she managed to find a way to hustle for Reggie during the wee hours of the night and pursue her Bachelor’s degree in marketing doing the day. I was shocked when I entered her place over a year ago and noticed she was doing homework. It completely blew me away. And from that day on, I had mad respect for this chick. She was a twenty-four year old mother handling her business, who also had plans to pursue her Master’s degree. From previous conversations, I knew she was saving money so she could move out of this place and give her and her son a better quality of life. She was all right in my book.

After I finished counting the money, I winked at her and said, “You're right. It's all here.”

She smiled back and said, “I told you so.” She escorted me back to her front door and I stuffed the envelope inside my handbag before I made my exit. I never left out of anyone’s apartment with the money in my hands. That’s a big no-no. After I reentered the hallway, Lucky was front and center while Walt stood by the elevator with his hands holding both sides of the sliding doors.

“
You a’ight?” Lucky asked.

“
Yeah, I’m cool,” I replied.

“
You ready for me to escort you back downstairs?”