The Mike Black Saga Volume 2

by Roy Glenn

  Lonnie glanced over at Smiley. “I understand,” they both said, almost in unison.

  Albert hung up his phone. “It’s confirmed.”

  “That your boy?” Birdie asked.

  Albert nodded his head.

  “All right,” Birdie said as he walked Lonnie and Smiley to the door. “Go on and get outta here, I need to talk some things over with Albert.”

  Once Lonnie and Smiley were out of the building and in their car, Lonnie said, “That has got to be the dumbest plan I ever heard. This is just what I’m talking about, we gotta be smarter than that. All that shit is gonna do is get them killed,” he added.

  “Just tell them yeah I heard that too,” Smiley mocked Birdie. “I’ll tell them, yeah I heard that too, but I didn’t have shit to do with it.”

  “They want us on the street talking this dumb shit up while they’re hiding, that’s bullshit! We the ones that need to be laying low.”

  “I think we need to put the word out that we didn’t have shit to do with it, then we lay low,” Smiley recommended. “And when Birdie and Albert are dead, we’ll make peace with Bobby Ray.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mike Black

  I stood with my eyes closed and my back turned when the cell door close behind me. There was a certain finality to that sound; it was almost like part of my life had just closed behind me. I knew when I opened my eyes, I would see my future.

  I opened my eyes and looked around the cell.

  This was my future, these walls, and this time.

  There was a small Puerto Rican man on the bottom bunk, which meant the top one was mine. I walked further into the cell toward the bunk and put my new belongings down.

  “My name is Pablo,” the small man said.

  “Mike Black.” I said.

  Pablo was saying something to me, but I wasn’t listening to anything he was saying. The only thing on my mind was Cassandra, my beautiful Cassandra.

  I climbed up on the bed, stretched out and closed my eyes. I didn’t wanna think about her, I wanted to block it all out. Make like this nightmare wasn’t really happening.

  That she wasn’t dead.

  But I couldn’t.

  Every time I opened my eyes or felt the pain in my back from this hard ass bed, it would reinforce the fact that Cassandra is really dead and I’m in jail for killin’ her.

  The harder I tried not to think about Cassandra, the more I thought about her. With my eyes closed, I saw her laying there. I saw the blood; saw her face, beaten, bruised, and bloody.

  How would I go on without her?

  And what about Michelle?

  I really didn’t wanna think about my baby being forced to grow up without her mother. The way things were looking, she may be growing up without a father either. I had to face the fact that even though I didn’t kill her that I may be spending the rest of my life locked down.

  Caged like a fuckin’ animal.

  I wondered if I’d ever see Michelle again. The idea of it sent chills through me. I remembered the first time I held my beautiful baby girl in my arms the day she was born. She started screaming bloody murder. She cried, until the doctor handed her to me. She stopped crying and stared into my eyes. At that moment, I was hooked. It was like Michelle held up her pinky and I wrapped myself around it.

  Michelle looked so much like Cassandra. I couldn’t wait to get home every day so I could hold her, make funny faces at her, feel her squeeze my finger and just marvel at this new life I held in my hands. Cassandra would tell me to put her down because I was gonna spoil her, but I didn’t care. For maybe the first time in my life, I was happy … happy to be home with my girls.

  All that is over now.

  Who would do that to her and why?

  I tried to think of who my enemies were. Most, if not all of my enemies were dead.

  Diego?

  Maybe he set this in motion before I killed him?

  Maybe his father, Gomez?

  He had to know by then that Diego is dead and figured I had something to do with it. But no, I doubt even Gomez, with all his connections, could have put something together this quick. This took planning, that much I was sure of. Besides, Gomez practically disavowed any knowledge of Diego existence. But my killing his son would be enough to change his mind.

  It couldn’t have happened any other way. I talked to Cassandra less than an hour before I came home and found her. She didn’t give me any indication that anything was wrong.

  I remembered dropping to my knees when I saw her. Her body was still warm. That means that whoever killed her, had to know where I was and how long it would take me to get there.

  There’s one thing that bothers me the most. Goodson said Cassandra called the police and told the 911 operator that I was trying to kill her. The police got there right after I did. I’m not sure how fast police response times are around the way, but I know that it can’t be all that great. At least ten; more like fifteen minutes. The call had to been made just before I came in the house. The only question now was why. Why kill Cassandra and not me?

  I knew the answer to that.

  The only reason to kill her and not me is to hurt me.

  Maybe I was next.

  The killer had to be somebody that would want to hurt me, exact some measure of payback for what they suffered. I always knew that Cassandra was going to be my weakness, that’s why I wanted her out of the city.

  I was the reason she was dead.

  Like I killed her myself.

  That thought made me feel worst. How could I have been so stupid, blind to the fact that this was bound to happen? I was too fuckin’ arrogant thinking that I was so fuckin’ powerful that I couldn’t be touched.

  I thought I heard a noise, but I was so out of it I didn’t give it much thought. I tried to think of everyone that I killed or was in any way responsible for killing.

  The list was long.

  Then I felt a sharp pain from a blow to my head and was dragged out of my bunk. I hit the floor hard. I looked up and could see three men coming at me. I looked over at my cellmate, Pablo; he had retreated into the corner of his bunk and covered himself with a blanket.

  The three men started kicking me and hitting me over and over with something hard. It felt like a cop’s nightstick. I covered my head to keep from getting kicked or hit in the face with that club. Finally, I was able to grab the foot of one of my attackers and threw him to the floor. His head hit the floor hard and that appeared to knock him unconscious. The other two backed off, but only for a second. It was just enough time for me to get to my feet.

  I looked at the two men standing in front of me. I was already mad as hell and hurt over Cassandra’s death and I wanted to … needed to take that out on somebody.

  To make them feel my pain.

  To make them understand without question.

  “You mutha fucka’s picked the wrong nigga to fuck with tonight!”

  In the small, dark cell, I couldn’t really see their faces; all I could tell about them was that they were white and bald. The first man came at me with the nightstick. He swung, but I ducked out of the way. There wasn’t much room in the cell to maneuver, and that would be my only advantage.

  When he swung at me, again I grabbed the club with my left hand and his face with my right. With all the power I had, I slammed the back of his head into the wall. The other man jumped on my back and wrapped his arm around my neck. His grip tightened around my neck and he tried to pull me off his buddy, but in that small cell he backed into the bunk. I kept slamming that man’s head against the wall, over and over again until he loosened his grip on the club.

  Now I was able to wrestle it away from him. I hit him twice in the head with the club and he quickly went down. Then I swung the club wildly over my head and hit the guy with his arm wrapped around my throat. He let me go and backed away.

  The first man that came at me started moving, trying to pull himself together. I threw the club at him like a spear
and hit him in the head. He went out again.

  Now it was just one left.

  “Come on!” I screamed at him.

  He rushed at me and I hit him as hard as I could in the face. He stumbled backwards and I kept hitting him with both hands until he went down. I stood over him and returned the favor.

  “Who sent you?” I yelled and kicked him in the face. “Who killed my wife?”

  I kicked him in the gut this time. I kept kicking that mutha fucka until he stopped moving. I stood there breathing hard and looking down at my attackers.

  Damn I was out of shape. It had been a long time since I had to fight three mutha fucka’s. Shit, it’s been a long time since I had to fight anybody.

  Too much time living the good life. Too much time getting lazy and complacent, but if I ever got outta here, that would have to stop. When I get free, everybody’s gonna know that Mike Black is back!

  I glanced over at Pablo. Once the commotion stopped, he peeked out from behind his blanket. Once he saw what had happened Pablo jumped off his bunk and ran toward the bars.

  “Help! Help! Somebody help, come quick!”

  I laughed a little, but I understood; this was my fight and he wanted no parts of it.

  Smart man.

  Three guards came running up to the cell.

  “Oh my god,” one said as he looked to the floor at the bodies at my feet.

  I raised my hands. They quickly had the cell door opened and without asking what happened, they dragged me out of the cell, cuffed me and took me away.

  “How did they get in my cell?” I asked quietly as they took me away, but I got no answer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As hard as she tried, Wanda couldn’t get to sleep. There were a million things rolling around in her mind. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Shy was dead, and that Mike was in jail for her murder.

  That doesn’t even sound right.

  She knew she had done the right thing by calling Marcus Douglas to defend him, but she still felt bad about it.

  “I should be the one defending him,” she said aloud as she fluffed her pillow and tried again to find a comfortable spot.

  Wanda knew that this was too important and that she didn’t have the trial experience that she would need to defend him herself. It would kill her if there was a chance to get Mike acquitted of the charges and she blew it because she made a mistake.

  Frustrated with her inability to go to sleep, Wanda got out of bed. She put on her robe and went to the bar in her living room. Not that she was much of a drinker, but when she did, she usually drank Apple martinis.

  “Not tonight.”

  Tonight she was sure that she needed something stronger.

  Wanda picked up a bottle of Tanqueray Gin and poured herself a drink. It burned a little going down, but she drained the glass and poured another. Wanda sat down in her favorite chair and sipped her drink.

  She, like everybody else, wondered who killed Shy. Wanda didn’t think Shy had any enemies, and definitely none that would go to this length to kill her. It wasn’t that she knew everything there was to know about Shy, but Wanda had assumed … with Shy being out of the game for so long … that problems like this died then.

  Wanda felt that it was her responsibility to call Shy’s family and tell them what happened. Her mother took the news very hard, crying hysterically before handing the phone to her son Harold. He told Wanda that he would be in New York the next morning to claim the body and take her back to Baltimore to begin to make arrangements for her funeral.

  “And since it’s Mike who’s accused of her murder; when I get there you and I can have a conversation about what is going to happen to Michelle,” Harold said. It was a conversation that Wanda wasn’t looking forward to having

  Earlier in the day, Wanda had called Pam’s sister, Monica’s house to check on Michelle. In light of what was going on, Monica had agreed to keep Michelle until it was decided what to do with her. Monica said she was just fine, totally oblivious to what had happened to her mother and father.

  Maybe I should try to adopt her, Wanda thought as she sipped straight gin. But that would make me Mike Black’s baby mama. Wanda laughed and took a big swallow.

  Once Wanda had finished her second drink, she got up and went back to the bedroom. She lay across her bed confident that after two shots of straight gin that she would have no trouble at all falling asleep. But that wasn’t the case. Wanda continued to toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable spot so she could relax and go to sleep.

  Wanda sprang to her feet and began to get dressed. She slipped on some jeans and a tee shirt. Wanda poured herself a shot and drank it before grabbing her purse and her keys. She headed for the door thinking that maybe if she went for a ride that it would help her to clear her head.

  And maybe, just maybe I could get some sleep.

  After driving around for more than an hour, Wanda parked her car in her space at Impressions. When she got out of the car, Wanda was surprised to see Nick’s car parked in front of the club, but it was a pleasant surprise. She was sure that he would be out in the streets with Freeze trying to find Birdie.

  Almost without thinking, Wanda made her way around the club as she always did when she came in the club. Stopping at each bar and talking to the bartenders and waitresses checking to see what kind of night they were having. While she made her rounds, Wanda looked for Nick. She was hoping to find him somewhere in the club, which would have saved her a trip to his office.

  I don’t want him to think that I came here looking for him, she thought, and that was the truth, she didn’t come there looking for him, but she was excited that he was there.

  They had been spending a lot of time together and she really enjoyed being with him. She and Nick got along so well together, and she’d always thought that he was sexy. If she really wanted to be honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she wanted him, and that was the problem.

  First of all, she didn’t know how he felt about her, other than being friends. The last thing Wanda wanted to have happen was for her to break down and tell Nick how she felt and for him not to be feeling her. Second, they were friends, very old and dear friends.

  What if we got together and it didn’t work out between us?

  Wanda would lose a good friend and good friends; real friends are truly hard to come by.

  Once Wanda made it up the stairs to the office, she put her hand on the doorknob and was about to open it when it occurred to her that Nick might not be alone in there.

  What if he’s got some waitress bent over the desk? She thought as she turned the knob and walked in. Nick was seated behind his desk going over that evening’s paperwork. He looked up when he heard the door open.

  “Wanda!” he said.

  Nick was surprised and very glad to see her, especially since he had been thinking about her since they had lunch earlier that day.

  “Hey, Nick,” Wanda said softly, and the enthusiasm in Nick’s greeting made her smile inside. She took a seat in front of the desk.

  “What brings you out this evening?” Nick asked as he filed the paperwork he’d been reviewing.

  “I couldn’t sleep, too damn much on my mind,” Wanda replied.

  “I can only imagine. Can I make you an apple martini?”

  “I already tried drinking myself to sleep. Tanqueray Gin, straight of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “It didn’t help, I’m still wide awake. But go ahead and fix me one anyway.”

  Nick got up and walked over to the bar. “You think that Tanqueray mixes well with apple martinis?”

  “I don’t know. Make it Tanqueray then.”

  “How about on the rocks this time?” Nick asked.

  Wanda didn’t look or act like she was drunk, but he knew all too well how Tanqueray had a nasty habit of sneaking up on you. While Nick fixed Wanda’s drink and a Johnnie Black for himself, he looked at Wanda. He’d seen her dressed in her big fuz
zy robe, in a sexy evening dress and more business suits and dresses than he could remember, but this look, dressed in a tight t-shirt and tight jeans, Wanda looked delicious to him.

  You should just tell her how you feel.

  “So, what are you doing here, Nick?” Wanda said to snap Nick out of his trance. “I thought you’d be out riding with Freeze.”

  “He said he had to go handle some business. I asked if he wanted me to ride with him, but he said he had to ride solo on this one, Tonto,” Nick said, and Wanda giggled. He handed Wanda her drink. “After I dropped him off, I came by here to see how things were going.”

  “Everyone says it’s been a good night.”

  “Crowds been steady and they’re spending money. Got a couple of wanna be Ballers in the VIP ordering Dom like its water.”

  Wanda raised her glass. “Here’s to them,” she said and took a sip. “So, did you find Birdie?”

  “Nope, haven’t found him or Albert. Freeze heard that a couple of his boys been rolling around putting the word out that they don’t know where Birdie is, but they had nothing to do with it. They’re probably the ones that did it,” Nick said and paused. “We can’t find them either.”

  “Not having a good night, huh?”

  “I’ve had better.”

  “It’s so frustrating not being able to do anything for Mike. I mean we’re not even sure that Birdie had anything to do with it. Have you heard anything else?”

  “Nobody knows anything; if they do, they’re not talking about it. Right now, Birdie is all we got. You talk to the police?”

  “I talked to Goodson,” Wanda said and took another sip.

  “What’s he got?”

  “What he’s got is Mike. The murder weapon with his fingerprints on it and him found at the scene. Case closed, so let’s all go out a eat donuts!” Wanda laughed and so did Nick.

  She finished her drink and stood up. “I’m gonna get outta here Nick. Go home, try and get some sleep.”

  “You gonna be all right to drive?” Nick asked and drained his drink. He stood up and followed Wanda to the door. “Do you want me to drive you home?”