Welfare Wifeys (18 page)

Lloyd continued staring up the block long after Mookie and Fish had disappeared into the building. If he’d had a gun he would’ve shot Mookie dead, but since he wasn’t strapped all he could do was stand there and fume, wondering how he was going to break the news to Scar that they’d taken another loss.

The first thing Rico noticed when he walked into his plush Queens home was the smell of pork chops frying. He had expected his wife Carmen to still be out shopping, but from the way the food smelled he wasn’t mad at the fact that she’d come home early.

“Is that you, Ricardo?” Carmen called as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She was an olive-skinned woman who wore her thick black hair ratted. Her face was nearly as beautiful as it had been when Rico had met her fifteen years prior, but she was beginning to put on a little weight.

“Hey, baby.” Rico kissed her on the cheek. “Did you miss me?”

“No, I had my young black lover to keep me warm inside while you were running the streets,” she joked.

“You better watch that. If I ever caught you giving my stuff away I’d make the front page of every damn newspaper in the city.” He slapped her on the ass playfully.

“Oh, stop doing that in front of company. How are you today, Changa?”

“Fine, thank you.” Changa smiled.

“Will you be staying for dinner?”

“With the way that food smells how could I not stay?” He rubbed his stomach greedily.

“That’s all you guys ever do is mooch off me,” Rico kidded him. “Oh, I picked these up while we were out.” Rico handed Carmen a plastic bag.

She peered inside and smiled at the healthy-looking steaks. “Good, I’m going to season them now so we can have them for breakfast in the morning with some eggs.”

“Jesus, I wish I had someone at home to cook for me every day,” Changa said.

“Changa, I keep telling you that you should come to church with us. There are some nice girls there that I’m sure would go for a successful guy like you.”

“No, I don’t think I’d be very welcomed in God’s house. But thank you,” Changa said politely.

“Nonsense.” Carmen snapped him with the dish towel. “Everyone is welcomed in God’s house, even the sinners.” She looked from Changa to Rico and back again. “Now you go in the living room and make yourself comfortable, the food will be done shortly.”

“Okay, Carmen.” Changa headed toward the living room, glad to escape one of Carmen’s campaigns to get him into church. He knew that she meant well, but it irritated him.

“Why don’t you fix us a couple of drinks while you’re out there, Changa? I need to speak with Carmen for a few,” Rico called after his bodyguard and followed his wife into the kitchen.

“So, what brings you home so early today?” Carmen asked as she went about the task of washing the dishes.

“I couldn’t wait to get home to my lady.” He hugged her from behind and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ah, only if that were true.” She reached around and patted Rico on the ass. “I’m glad you’re home early though. Did you stop by the tailor so he could fit you for your tuxedo?”

“No, I’ll take care of it though,” Rico said.

“Rico, you’ve been telling me that since last Tuesday. Rosa’s wedding is next week and you know she’s depending on you to walk her down the isle,” Carmen reminded him.

“Carmen, didn’t I tell you I’d take care of it? I’ve been running around all day and I’m tired, so the last thing I want to have my wife bitching at me about is some wedding that we’ve got plenty of time to get ready for,” Rico huffed.

“You watch your mouth in my house, Ricardo. Don’t you go talking to me like I’m one of your hoodlum friends.” Carmen waggled her finger at him. “That’s your problem, you’re always running the streets and neglecting your family!”

“Carmen, are you serious? You live in a big ass house and spend your holidays in Saks and I’m neglecting you.” He shook his head. “If the streets don’t drive me crazy you sure as hell will.”

“So I’m gonna drive you crazy because I’m worried about you, Rico? You should be glad your wife cares about you because your flunkies sure don’t. Every time you leave this house I hold my breath hoping that I don’t get the call from Changa or one of the guys telling me that something has happened to you.” She crossed herself.

“What’s there to worry about, baby. I’m just a humble supermarket owner. Nobody wants to bother with me,” he assured her.

Carmen dried her hands and turned to look at him seriously. “Rico, save that kind of talk for the police or one of the little girls who haven’t known you since you were on the corner selling nickel bags. The streets are getting dangerous, Papi.”

Rico sighed and rubbed his temples. “Carmen, I’ve been doing this for twice as long as we’ve been together, so please don’t try and tell me about my business. I’m a boss, and nobody is gonna fuck with a boss.”

“That may have been true ten years ago, but today the word
boss
is just that, a word when you are dealing with wild animals,” she shot back. “Just today, I read in the paper how a thirteen-year-old killed a girl who was just walking along the street, and all for what,
to prove that he had balls? Ricardo, I look into the eyes of these little boys who operate the streets and see only two things: despair and hate, and it makes me afraid for you because these are the broken souls you deal with day in and day out.” Carmen took his hand. “You are the man of this house and as your wife I’m going to support you as I always have, but as your wife I have to ask that you at least think about what I’m saying to you.”

The look in his wife’s eyes tugged at Rico’s heart strings. Carmen had been his voice of reason throughout his whole climb of the ladder to hood success so he valued her wisdom, but she didn’t understand. Rico had enough money to step away and still live a decent life, but when you were that deep in it ceased to be about the money, and became about the addiction to the lifestyle. To put an end to the conversation Rico simply kissed her cheek and said, “I will.”

Changa was just finishing their drinks when Rico came into the living room. “Yo, the Knicks are playing the Heat.” Changa pointed at the big screen television.

Rico sank into his recliner. “Fuck the Knicks.”

Changa came from around the bar and handed Rico a glass of cognac, then took a seat on the couch to the left of him. “I decided not to hit you with a chaser, because for you to say fuck the Knicks your day must’ve just taken a turn for the worse.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Rico took a light sip of his drink. “Just growing pains of marriage.”

“And that’s just why I’m never getting married.” Changa laughed.

The melodic doorbell sang through the house, irritating Rico further. He hated that damn door chime, but Carmen loved it so he dealt. “Baby, can you get that!” he called down the hall. “Probably one of her fucking friends,” he told Changa. “I swear these neighborhood
broads come over here at least three times a week to eat my food, be nosey, and drink up my booze.”

“Maybe you should put them to work,” Changa joked. He and Rico laughed at it for a short second, but the smirks turned to looks of concern when they heard raised voices in the foyer.

“You can’t just come into my house like that!” Carmen shouted loud enough for Rico and Changa to hear her and take action.

In a flash Changa was on his feet with his gun drawn, moving toward the foyer. He disappeared into the hall and within seconds he was backpedaling into the living room with his hands in the air and the gun hanging harmlessly around his thumb. Moving with him into the living room, with his gun pointed between Changa’s eyes, was Detective Brown. Following shortly behind him was Detective Alvarez, with half a dozen blue uniforms behind him.

“Looks like somebody got caught with his hand in the cookie jar,” Brown said, carefully disarming Changa.

“I’ve got a license,” Changa said.

“Muthafucka I’d bet a week’s pay that you ain’t even got a green card, let alone a license to carry a firearm in an English-speaking country.” Alvarez laughed at him. “Grab the bar before I let these eager public servants jump off in your ass. You too, Ricky,” he told Rico.

“That’s Rico,” he corrected him.

“It’s gonna be Rachel where you’re going.” Brown shoved Rico against the bar next to Changa and began patting him down.

“You can’t just barge in here like this, where’s your warrant?” Carmen wanted to know.

Brown paused from his frisking. “We don’t need a warrant when in pursuit of a suspect that’s fled into a domicile.”

“That’s bullshit, nobody has run in here,” Rico told him.

“Sure we did, two roaches stole a bread crumb from the local bakery and ran under your door,” Brown said sarcastically. He
shoved a piece of paper in Rico’s face. “This here says that we’ve come to snag your asses for murder.”

“Murder? You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind!” Rico told the detectives.

“The hell we are.” Alvarez stepped forward. “There’s a lady dead and a crippled guy singing soprano about how you orchestrated the whole thing.”

Rico laughed. “It’s his word against mine, it’ll never stick.”

“Maybe not to you, but he’s fucked.” Alvarez pointed at Changa. “We’ve got his prints at the scene.”

Rico glared at Changa and told him without words what would come of him bringing heat to not only Rico’s organization but his home.

Changa’s jaw dropped. “You’re trying to set me up.” He tried to rush Alvarez but the officers tackled him to the ground and cuffed him.

“The both of you know that I’m too long in the tooth to walk into something this fucking idiotic.” Rico allowed himself to be cuffed.

“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll get it all sorted out at the station.” Detective Brown shoved Rico toward the door.

“Carmen,” Rico called over his shoulder, “call the lawyer and tell him what went down.” Rico and Changa were escorted out the door. Changa continued to profess his ignorance to the murder, but Detectives Brown and Alvarez didn’t come for you unless they were sure. Everybody in the hood knew this about the cops. Rico had no idea what was going on, but what he did know was that before it was all said and done heads would roll.

Gucci felt what could only be described as
exhilaration
as she pushed through Harlem in her shiny new toy, with her best friend riding shotgun. Animal denied her nothing and she lived like a queen when she was in Texas, but it failed in comparison to just being able to toll through her old haunts uptown. The spirit of Harlem’s call was so powerful that most of its natives always found reasons to come back to take a dip in the Fountain of Swag, and she was no exception.

“Bitch, are you smoking or sightseeing?” Tionna brought her back to the here and now.

“Here you hype.” Gucci flicked the ash and handed the blunt to Tionna. “And watch my seats.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna fuck up ya lil ride so be easy,” Tionna said.

“Damn, I miss Harlem!” Gucci exclaimed as she looked out her window at the passing sights.

“I don’t know why because ain’t shit going on now that wasn’t going on when you left.” Tionna dumped the ashes out the window and handed the blunt back to Gucci.

“It ain’t just about the people and what they’re doing, it’s about
Harlem. Tell me you don’t get a chill every time you pass 110th Street, or hit Fifty-fifth on a hot summer day?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Tionna said flatly.

Gucci shook her head. “Then maybe you need to try getting out of New York once in a while so you can see what I’m talking about.”

“Please, I got two bad-ass kids, no man, and between my job and school, no life. Where the fuck am I going?”

“Come down to Texas, it ain’t like we’ve never invited you,” Gucci reminded her.

“And what do you expect me to do with those two little demons of mine?”

“Bring them with you, T. We got a big ass backyard for them to run around in to burn off some of that pinned up energy. Stop acting like we ain’t family and pack your shit.”

Tionna thought on it for a minute. “Nah, I don’t think so, Gucci. You know I miss my sister from another mister, but I don’t wanna cramp your style.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m saying, you’re down there doing you with your boo. I don’t wanna be no third wheel.”

“Tionna, if you’re a third wheel then we’ll be a tricycle. I don’t give a fuck who I’m with, you will always be welcome. Besides, I could use the company. I’m always in New York because this nigga Animal is always running around doing this and that leaving a bitch on stuck. Every time you turn around him and that damn Soda gotta make a move.”

“Who, the little cat with the big chain? Homebody can get it!” Tionna admitted.

“Yeah, right between the eyes. All he does is smoke weed, sip syrup, and chase bitches. I keep telling Animal that if I catch him dirty I’m gonna leave him, right after I body his ass.”

Tionna sucked her teeth. “Gucci, you’re tripping. Animal’s nose is so open for you that I couldn’t even see him looking at another broad.”

“Yeah a’ight, that’s because you haven’t had to live through these shameless ass groupies that follow these rappers around like shadows. I had to bust this bitch in the mouth one day when we were in the mall.”

“Say word?”

“Word to everything, T. Ol’ girl was pressing my man like she didn’t even see me standing there and when I tried to brush her off politely she had the nerve to roll her eyes.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did, and I ran straight up in her mouth.”

“Harlem.” Tionna gave Gucci a high-five. “Shit, I didn’t know it was like that.”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna get worse when the album drops,” Gucci said in a defeated tone.

For the first time in a long time Tionna saw what could’ve passed for doubt on Gucci’s face. “You think Animal might jump out the window?”

Gucci thought on it for a while. She had replayed the question to herself over and over in her head, but hearing someone add voice to it made it seem slightly realer. “I’d like to think not, T, but I guess only time will tell.” Gucci dipped a little lower in her seat and manipulated the wheel with one hand, while she hit the blunt with the other. She hit a deep pothole and ended up getting ashes on herself.