Wifey (8 page)

“I could’ve told you that.”

“You think he gon’ wait for me?” Nikki asked me. I wanted so badly to tell her the real deal about Brian, but now wasn’t a good time. She wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. I brushed the question off and went at it another angle.

“Girl, forget all that nonsense. Just focus on trying to get outta that jam. Shit, if you know like I know, niggas come a dime a dozen. Especially the ones in the game.”

“But, I don’t want nobody else,” Nikki cried.

“Look, if you keep thinking about Brian and what he’s out there doing, then you gon’ mess around and get sick. And speaking of which, have you been eating? ’Cause, you sho’ looked like you lost a little bit of weight when I seen you today.”

“Yeah. I’ve been eating a little bit.”

“Girl, you better stop playing and eat.”

“I eat.”

“Okay. But don’t let me see you again, and you look like you done lost some more weight.”

“I’m straight.”

“A’ight, then,” I told her and left that subject alone. “Oh yeah, your daddy called and left you another message.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“What did he say?”

“He just said it would be nice if you’d return his phone calls. That’s all.”

“Well, when I call you back just put me on three-way with him.”

“Are you gon’ tell him where you at?”

“I’mma have to.”

“Well, please don’t tell him you on my three-way.”

“I won’t,” Nikki told me. Then, about ten seconds later the jail system disconnected our call. Nikki called me right back and that’s when I called my uncle on three-way.

“The Simpson residence,” he said when he answered.

“Dad.”

“Yes, Nikki,” he replied in his stern voice.

“I just got all your messages.”

“Where have you been? And why haven’t anybody heard from you?”

“Because, I’ve been away.”

“Away? Where, Nicole?”

Nikki was getting ready to answer her daddy, but her voice cracked up.

That’s when I knew she was about to start crying all over again. “Nicole,” my uncle called out in his nonchalant tone, “Where are you?”

“I’m in jail, Dad.”

“For what? Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you in jail?” he asked, hysterically.

“For drugs.”

“What were you doing with drugs, baby?”

“Dad, it’s a long story,” she answered between sniffles.

“Well, tell me about it,” he began to plead.

“I can’t.”

“And why not?”

Nikki sighed and said, “Look, Daddy, can you and Mama come see me?”

“Can we come see you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Well, as soon as your mama gets home, we’ll be right down there.”

“Okay.”

“Do we need to bring you anything?”

“I’m not allowed to have anything. The only thing this place will let me have is money. I can buy everything I need from their commissary.”

“How much do you need?”

“Well, Kira dropped me off two hundred dollars a few days ago. So whatever you and Mama can give will be fine.”

“Okay, baby. I will.”

“Alright. Well, tell Mama I love her and that when ya’ll come down here, I’m gonna tell ya’ll everything that happened.”

“I sure will.”

“Okay, then. Well, I guess I’ll see ya’ll later.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Nikki assured her dad.

Once Nikki gave her father the address, and everything was out on the table between Nikki and her dad and the goodbyes were signed and sealed; I cleared my uncle off the line. When I clicked back over to Nikki, I could hear her talking to one of the female C.O.s, about her getting some Tylenol for her headache. And after that conversation was over, me and Nikki talked some more until the time on the phone ran out.

I, on the other hand, fixed myself a sandwich and decided to go to the shop and hang out, just in case a few of my clients wanted to stop by.

Running Thangs

I set my alarm clock to wake me up at seven o’clock so I could get to the shop for my eight o’clock appointment. After I got dressed, I headed downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of juice when I heard Ricky moving around in the den. Curiosity got the best of me so instead of going into the kitchen, I went straight into the den.

To my surprise, Ricky was sitting down on the couch, counting a table full of money placed in front of him.

“What you doing up so early?” I asked him.

“I gotta count this dough so I can send it off.”

“Are you almost finished?” I asked him as I walked closer.

“Yeah. Almost.”

“Where you sending it to?”

“To Papi’s people.”

“Oh, so you fucking wit’ them again?”

“Yeah. Just for right now, though.”

“How much you gotta send them?”

“A hundred and fifty Gs,” Ricky told me as he wrapped a stack of one hundred-dollar bills in four thick rubber bands.

“Did you ever find out who robbed your spot?”

“Nah. I didn’t. But I got some people on it, though.”

“You talk to Brian?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I mean, just in general.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“He say anything about Nikki?”

“Nah. Not really.”

“That’s kind of fucked up don’t you think?”

“Well, what is he supposed to say?”

“Well damn, Ricky! Do I have to spell it out for you? I mean, come on. Nikki is locked up behind your shit! And Mr. Pretty Boy Brian was fucking her! So, don’t you think he should be concerned about her, even if it’s just a little bit?”

“He’s concerned about her.”

“He don’t act like it.”

“Well, it’s just that he got a lot of shit on his plate right now.”

“But, what about Nikki? I mean, he is her man, right?”

“Look, I don’t know ’bout all that. All I know is that he’s got some pretty big issues he’s got to deal wit’ and they can’t wait.”

“Well, Nikki ain’t too happy about the way he’s brushing her off. And it’s gon’ end up affecting her if he don’t step up.”

“What is she saying he’s doing?”

“He don’t accept her collect calls. He don’t go and see her. And I know for a fact, he ain’t sending her no cheese.”

“Well, I’ll talk to him ‘bout that when I see him later.”

“And what you think that’s gon’ do?”

“Look Kira, Brian listens to me whether you know it or not.”

“Well, what you gon’ say to him?”

“I’mma tell ’em to get his shit together wit’ Nikki.”

“And you think he gon’ do it?” I asked Ricky, as if I didn’t believe a word he was telling me.

“Yeah.” “Okay. Whatever!” I threw my hands in the air. I knew he ain’t going to do shit. All Ricky cared about right now was getting that money straight so he could send it off to them Spanish cats he owed. But it’s okay because if he don’t do something it’s going to come back on his ass too, whether he knows it or not.

“I’m going to the shop,” I told him as I turned around to leave.

“Wait,” he said, scrambling to get up from the couch. “Let me get some pussy right quick.”

I turned around and looked at Ricky with the most disgusted expression I could make. “Go get some pussy from that hoe you fucked wit’ the night you stayed out. Remember...last week,” I told him.

“What you talking ‘bout? I wasn’t out fucking nobody. Me and this nigga name Fleetwood took a ride to D.C. that night so we could straighten out some shit wit’ a few of them cats out there.”

“Yeah. Tell me anything,” I said and walked straight out the house to get into my car.

***

For the second surprise today, Ricky was still at home by the time I got back there from work. He was still in the den, sitting on the couch in his Calvin Klein boxer shorts and wife beater, playing a game of football on his PlayStation when I walked in the house. And like always, he was on his cell phone too, ripping somebody a new asshole.

“Look, I don’t give a fuck what you do! Or how you do it! Just as long as my shit come back diesel!” I overheard him saying.

Now to my understanding, Ricky couldn’t be talking about nothing else but his damn drugs. Every week around this time, he’s flipping out on whomever he got cooking his coke up.

I remember back when Ricky used to cook his coke up himself, when we first got together. He wasn’t big time back then. All he could afford to buy was a couple of ounces. If the price was right, every now and again he could jump up to 4 ½ ozs. Ricky thought he was on top of the world when he graduated to that Big 8 status.

Those were the times when I used to sit back and watch him measure out the coke and the cut on the eyes
.
Ricky used to work it out by acting like he was a real chemist or something. He even taught me how cook that shit up, but it was strictly for just-in-case purposes only.

When he finally ended his conversation, I was in the kitchen eating a slice of cake I baked a couple of days ago and that’s when he decided to call my name.

“Yo Kira, bring me one of them Red Stripes outta the refrigerator.”

I wanted so badly to tell him to drop dead, but I ain’t go there with him. Like a nice wifey, I got him a cold beer and took it to him.

“You make some money today?” he asked me after I handed him the beer.

“A little. Why?”

“Just asked.”

“What, you gon’ give me some?”

Ricky didn’t answer my question. All he did was laugh like I had said something funny. “You the one wit’ all the dough,” he finally replied.

“I can’t tell. ‘Cause I ain’t the one ‘round here driving an eighty-thousand-dollar whip.”

“Oh, you can get one. Shit, I ain’t stupid! I know you got some dough stashed.”

“Yeah, in my bank account. And that ain’t nuttin’ to be calling a stash.”

“Yeah. Tell me anything,” Ricky said, trying to turn his comment into a joke. And like a good girl, I didn’t feed into the game he was trying to play. I just brushed it right off my shoulders because I knew right off the bat that he was testing me. The truth was, he knew for a fact I’d been stealing his money. That’s why he moved his shoebox somewhere else. But it was okay because I knew this house like I knew every shoe I had in my closet. So, I will find it.

“Did you check the mail box yet?” I asked him.

“Yeah. But, wasn’t nuttin’ in there but a Victoria’s Secret order book.”

“You sure that was it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“‘Cause I’m waiting on a letter from Nikki.”

“Well, it wasn’t in the mailbox. Maybe it’ll come tomorrow.”

I fell down on the couch beside Ricky and let out a real loud sigh.

“Damn, what, you tired or something?”

“Yeah. I am,” I responded, sarcastically.

Ricky didn’t respond because he was getting his ass tore up playing the
GameDay 2004
game. I sat back and watched him play as I always did. He loved the attention. Sometimes, when I was in the mood, I’d be his cheerleader since I looked better than them little tramps that cheer during halftime. After watching him play two more games, I became restless and demanded more space on the sofa. That way I could catch a quick nap.

Ricky moved over and I snuggled into the spot of the couch I was already sitting on. I tucked my legs behind Ricky’s back and dozed off.

***

I woke up about thirty minutes later when I heard the doorbell ring. I just laid there and pretended to still be asleep so I wouldn’t have to get up and answer it. Of course, my magic worked like a charm because after the second ring, Ricky got up to see who it was.

“What’s up, nigga!” I heard a familiar voice say.

“Nuttin’, son. Just getting ready to blaze up one of these dutches,” Ricky replied.

“I’m just in time then,” the familiar voice spoke again. That’s when I realized it was Brian.

Now my first reaction was to straight flip out on him about how he was playing Nikki, but I laid low. I knew for a fact that if I said something out the way to him, Ricky was gonna jump in it and tell me to mind my business. So, I kept my mouth shut and laid there. They headed into the kitchen, probably because I was in the den.

I heard Ricky offer Brian a Red Stripe, but Brian turned it down. “Nah. I can’t mix that shit with this smoke. I’ll be real fucked up, then,” I overhead Brian say.

“Mo’ fo’ me then,” Ricky responded. Then they started puffing and passing. Between puffing the smoke and sipping on the beer, Ricky went straight into conversation mode with Brian. By his tone, I could tell this conversation was getting ready to get serious. And since he left the TV on back here in the den, I eased up off the couch and turned it down a few notches just so I wouldn’t miss a word they were about to say.

“I’mma need you to get wit’ everybody today,” I heard Ricky say, “‘cause a lot of shit gon’ change in about the next couple of days.”

“What’s up?” Brian asked him.

“Well, since that shit happened wit’ Nikki, we gon’ have to close down all the spots and put everybody in new ones.”

“Where you gon’ put them at?”

“I got a couple of places lined up. So, all you gotta do is get word to everybody that after they run out of work to just let Pam come and scoop up the dough, ‘cause she ain’t gon’ be carrying the re-up. And then let them know to take everything outta the houses and wait for you to call them wit’ the new address.”

“What about Pam?”

“What about her?”

“Are you gon’ put her in a new spot too?”

“Yeah. Everybody’s moving.”

“You think this is a good idea?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause we got a lot of money circulating right now, and I would hate for them narcos to intercept that. Especially since we got the Spanish connect going strong again. They wouldn’t be too happy about all that heat ‘cause remember most of the dough is going to them anyway. Ya feel me?”

“Yeah. I feel you. But let me ask you something…”

“What’s up?”

“You think Nikki talking?”

“Nah. I don’t. But, you can never be too sure ‘cause like I just said, we can’t stand no mix-ups.”

“So what you want me to do about the work we just got today?”

“We gon’ have to sit on it for a day or two. At least until after the move.”