True to the Game III (12 page)
“How?”
“Do you love her?”
Quadir went silent.
“Do you still love her?” Viola asked more forcefully.
“I love her.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“And Amelia?”
“What about her?”
“I love her too.”
“You love her for everything that she did for you? Or are you in love with her?”
Quadir shook his head. “That’s just it; I don’t know. She means everything to me. She’s everything that I’ve never had in a woman. She’s independent, she’s smart, she’s fun to be around, she’s strong. She puts my ass in check when I need it. I’ve never met anybody like her.”
“Well, that’s because she’s independent and not no project chickenhead, like you’re used to.”
Quadir laughed. “Mom!”
“You dating these hoochies looking for some tennis shoes and something to eat, and maybe get an outfit and their hair and nails done. Let’s keep it real.” She kissed Quadir on top of his head. “And for the first time in my baby’s life, he’s met a real black woman. A strong sister, who tells him to keep his money in his pocket; she’s got this. She doesn’t need anything from you, Quadir. She just wants your love.”
“And I want to give it to her. She deserves it.”
“Don’t give it to her because you think you owe it to her, baby. One thing about women like Amelia, they always land on their feet. No matter what decision you make, even if your decision is to make none at all, she’s going to be all right.”
Quadir exhaled. “You got a quarter?”
“A quarter? What for?”
“Hell, for the coin toss. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.”
Viola threw her head back in laughter. Quadir joined in.
“Follow your heart, Quadir.”
“My heart is pulling me in two different directions.”
She shook solemnly. “No it’s not. It’s pulling you in one direction, but your pride and sense of duty are pulling you in another. You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t owe Amelia anything for saving your life. She’s a doctor; it’s her job. You don’t owe those niggas on the street no explanation. You don’t owe Gena and who cares what she did in the midst of your absence? Listen, son, you make your decisions in life based on what will make you happy. You were given a second chance to live. Take it. Don’t let nothing stop you from living your life to the fullest and being happy.”
Quadir nodded. “I thought you liked Amelia better.”
“I do. What mother wouldn’t want their child to marry a doctor? But hell, I’m from the hood so I’ll always root for the underdog. Listen, it’s not that I don’t like Gena or that I like Amelia better; you’re the one that gots to lay up with the broad. Shoot, not me. I just want you to make whatever decision will make you happy. I’m your mother; I love you—that’s what mothers do.”
R
ik pulled up to the shopping center in his black Range Rover and found a parking space up front. Today was a good day for shopping. He had a little change left over, and he might as well get some new kicks. Even if he wasn’t balling out of control like before, there was no sense in looking like shit. He lived by the mantra “never let ’em see you sweat.” So even though times were desperate, he was still going to look as if he were the fucking king of Philly.
The clothing store that he chose today was one of his favorites. It was a small Italian clothier that sold fine Italian suits. They could hand-make you a suit, or tailor something off the rack to fit you just right. They also carried the latest in street gear in another section of the store. Today, he was here to do a little bit of shopping for both.
Rik stepped into the shop and waved to the owner’s son, Anthony. Anthony was a typical young Italian. He wore the flyest tailored suits out there, but fucked them up by wearing too much jewelry. He had a Rolex on one wrist, a Rolex bracelet on the other, three rings on his left-hand fingers, and four rings on his right-hand fingers . . . way too much.
Rik headed for the suits. He was going to find something on the rack and have it tailored to his specifications. Charcoal was the color he needed, something in a really dark gray color, not too close to black, but none of that light gray shit either. Something that looked fly. He already had the shoes and a tie that would go perfectly with what he had in mind.
“Well hello, Tyrik!” Detective Ellington greeted him from behind.
“Spending a little bit of that dope money today, are we?” Detective Davis asked, stepping to the other side of Rik.
Rik saw that the detectives had him boxed in. “Man, what y’all want?”
“We’re putting together a greatest-hits mix tape,” Ellington told him. “We got your soundtrack from the dope deals you made.”
“And your conversations with your cellmate while you were in jail,” Davis added.
“And of course the best one of all, your conversation with Ms. Scott,” Ellington told him.
“You know, the one where she offered you the money to make a two-million-dollar bond,” Davis added, placing his arm around Rik.
Instantly Rik became nervous.
How the fuck do they know that?
“I don’t know what y’all are talking about,” Rik told them.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah. Let’s not play stupid, Tyrik,” Davis said. “Don’t make me pull out my little tape recorder and play it back for you.”
Ellington shook her head and whispered into Rik’s ear. “You really don’t want him to pull out the tape recorder. It really pisses him off when he has to do that. Besides, if we listen to all those tapes of you discussing drug deals and drug money, we might find reason to indict you once again.”
“Okay.” Rik lifted his hands in surrender. “What do you want from me?”
“The offer your little friend made to you . . . do you think that you can get her to make it again?” Ellington asked.
“What, the offer to post my bond?” Rik asked. “Why would she do that? I’m not in jail.”
Davis produced a pair of handcuffs. “That’s not a problem. I can definitely make that happen.”
“I haven’t done shit!” Rik protested.
“You think that means something to me?” Davis asked with a crooked smile.
“Let’s just say, we have an arrangement to make with you,” Ellington told him.
“And that would be?” Rik asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“We want you to borrow some money from her,” Ellington told him.
“For what?”
“To keep your black ass out of prison!” Ellington snapped. “However much you want, just so long as it’s an emergency, and she’ll loan it to you. She offered it to you once, right?”
“What, you want to get her on tape offering me some money?” Rik asked. “I ain’t wearing no wire!”
“No, dipshit, we already have her on tape offering you the money!” Davis told him. “Can you get her to loan you the money or what?”
“Maybe,” Rik said, looking at the pair of oink-oinks standing in front of him. “What’s in it for me?”
Davis and Ellington exchanged glances. “Um, like besides staying out of jail, you get to keep whatever you can get her to loan you,” Ellington replied.
“Bullshit!” Rik said, looking at Letoya as if she were out of her mind. “This is a setup.”
Davis shoved Rik up against a clothing rack. “This ain’t no bullshit, boy! You either cooperate with us, or we’ll make your life a living hell. You got that?”
Rik nodded.
“Good.” Ellington stuffed one of her cards into Rik’s pocket. “If she agrees, you contact me ASAP. You got that?”
Rik nodded.
Ellington and Davis turned and exited the store. Davis turned to his partner. “There ain’t no way in hell we’re letting him keep that money.”
Ellington nodded. “I know, but it sounded good, right?”
Davis laughed and climbed into the car.
Inside, Rik straightened out his clothing.
What the fuck is wrong with the police? Those two must be out their minds. If they think for one second that they’re getting in on my meal ticket, they can forget it.
There was no way he was calling them, or doing anything else for them or with them. He pulled the detective’s card from his pocket, tore it up, and tossed it over his shoulder. He was here to enjoy himself, relax, and shop, and that was exactly what he planned to do.
The Clam Bar and Pat’s Cheese Steaks in South Philly was where everyone hung out on the weekend, especially after the clubs closed down at two in the morning. Grabbing something to eat and hanging out on the smaller streets of South Philly was a longstanding Saturday night ritual for Philly’s young hip-hop partygoers. Showing off their new clothes or skimpy outfits and their souped-up cars with shiny rims was the thing to do.
And if you were a female, being with a hot boy was also the thing to do. Kevvy Kev’s 5.0 Mustang Convertible GT made him a hot boy, and that was one of the reasons Bria made him her boyfriend. Kevvy Kev’s 5.0 was burgundy, with a ground-effects kit and a massive whale tail in the back. It was sitting on seventeen-inch all-gold Daytons that matched the car’s peanut-butter interior and gold trim. And Kevvy Kev’s stereo system was off the chain as well. Without a doubt, Kevvy Kev had the cleanest ride on the scene every weekend. Bria loved to be seen inside that car, especially when the top was down and the system was booming. They would joyride for hours, riding around the city aimlessly.
Tonight Kevvy Kev had the top down, and everybody was out and about. The weather had finally cleared, and for the first time in a long time the stars were visible.
“What do you want outta here?” Kevvy Kev asked.
“Get me a cheese steak with fried onions, mayonnaise, ketchup, and salt and pepper. And get some cheese fries and a Pepsi,” Bria told him.
Kevvy Kev climbed out of the car, and Bria caressed his behind. She loved herself some Kevvy Kev. And so did a lot of other girls, she knew. She had already gotten into four fights over him, but that was okay, because to her he was worth fighting for. Kevvy Kev had the most dreamy brownish-green eyes that a girl could ever imagine. She loved it when he sat between her legs while she cornrolled his long hair, and he would stare up at her with those damn emeralds he called eyes. And those lips of his were the sexiest lips she had ever come across. She loved to suck on them; they felt like orange slices in her mouth. She was getting wet just thinking about how fine and how cute he was.
“Hey, Bria!”
She turned to see who was calling to her. A car filled with football players from her high school pulled into the parking lot next to her.
“What’s up, baby?” one of them, a guy named Troy, asked her. “When you gonna drop that half-breed zero and get with this hero?”
“When that hero gets his own car and stops riding in the backseat of somebody else’s.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Troy asked.
“Troy, you not even riding shotgun yet; you still backseat, right passenger side window.”
The rest of the guys in the car started clowning Troy.
“Bria, you know you fine as hell,” the driver told her.
“Marcus, don’t even start, ’cause you know me and Stephanie is friends. And you know I’ll tell her everything that you say to me.”
“Girl, why you tripping?” Marcus asked.
“Where is Brianna’s fine ass at?” J-Roc asked.
Bria shrugged. “I don’t know; what I look like, her keeper or something?”
“Here come your busted-ass nigga!” Troy told her. “You need to come and get some of this pure black Mandingo, and leave those Vienna sausages alone!”
The boys cranked up their car and pulled away laughing. Kevvy Kev returned and passed Bria her food.
“What the hell they talking about?” he asked.
Bria shrugged. “Nothing, as usual.”
Kevvy Kev climbed into his car and closed the door. Bria opened up her food and began eating.
“Bria, right?”
Bria peered up from her sandwich. She had never seen his face before. And he was way too old to be in high school. “Do I know you?”
“No, but you know the person I’m looking for,” Terrell told her.
“Do I look like the Yellow Pages to you?” Bria asked, craning her neck.
“Cute.” Terrell smiled. “Real cute.” He pulled out the picture of Gena and held it up. “Where’s your cousin?”
Bria’s eyes flew wide. Instantly, she knew that this was the man who had hurt her grandmother. “I don’t know where she is!”
“Say, man! Go on with all of that bullshit!” Kevvy Kev said forcefully. “Can’t you see we eating?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Terrell told him.
“Yeah, well I was talking to you!” Kevvy Kev opened his door and started to climb out of the car.
Terrell pulled out a handgun and shot Kevvy Kev in the groin. The sound of gunfire caused pandemonium, and people began to flee.
Terrell grabbed a screaming Bria by her hair and pulled her face closer to Gena’s picture. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know!” Bria shouted. “I haven’t seen her but once since she moved out!”
“Where did she move to?”
“I don’t know! I think she moved in with her friend!”
“What friend? Give me a name.”
“Markita!” Bria shouted. “Her friend Markita!”
Terrell let go of her hair. “Are you lying to me?” He pointed his weapon at a squirming, crying Kevvy Kev.
Bria leaned over and shielded her man from the gun. “No! I’m not lying! She moved in with her friend!”
Terrell nodded and tucked his gun away. He could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll find you, and next time, it’ll be you that I bend over and fuck like there’s no tomorrow. You understand me?”
Bria nodded, scared as all back doors as she looked into the eyes of a madman.
Terrell leaned over and stuck his tongue into her mouth for several seconds before rushing to his car and peeling away.
Gena rose to her feet and looked around the hotel suite she had been staying in now for the past several weeks. After her visit to the hospital to see Gah Git, Gena had decided it was best not to go anywhere near her family or anyone else she cared about. She walked into the bathroom and turned on the sink faucet. She looked at herself in the mirror.
Today is the big day, no turning back,
she thought as she splashed some water across her face and reached for a washrag.
