Laugh Now

by Rahiem Brooks

  With his penis out the bag, Dre watched in dismay as his clothing was picked up, taken to the kitchen sink and dumped inside. Ben removed the currency and a brown wallet from Dre’s jean pocket. He then reached for the spigot and drowned Dre’s clothes. Ben returned to the kitchen and sent Dre upstairs to get a change of clothing. Anger was on Dre’s mind, but he regarded the thugs of the Bad Lands as good and conscientious men, who were notorious for getting away with crimes.

  Dre returned downstairs and got straight to the point. “How much to do an Italian?”

  “Depends? How you want him done?”

  CHAPTER 60

  Hours later, Kareem parked in front of 757 Madison Avenue. He nodded at his doorman and scanned the lobby. Struck by the lobby’s luminous quality, Kareem suddenly appreciated the Van Gogh paintings lining the Carrara marble corridor that led to the elevators.

  “Toi! Sweetheart, I’m home,” Kareem shouted as he shut and locked the loft door behind him.

  There was no response. He heard soft music playing. The music came from the living room. He traced Ginuwine’s voice, a track from his album titled, The Senior. He followed the smooth balladeer to the living room, and found Toi on the sofa.

  She was startled by Kareem’s early arrival home and suspiciously hid something behind her back. He witnessed her surreptitious behavior and his excitement to see her had morphed into a distrustful sleuth.

  She hoped that he did not recognize her movements and cheerfully greeted him. “Hey baby! I’m glad your home. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

  He stood in front of her with his face twisted in disgust. “Oh! You did, huh?” He asked and recalled her moment with Shimir. He tried to desperately keep his cool before he confronted her. But all of his stuffed heartbreak swam to the surface, and he could not tolerate her flagrant disrespect anymore; but, he did not want to reveal his hand just yet. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pretended to be just as elated to see her. Toi flung her arms open, inviting him into her space, but remained seated.

  Kareem held his ground. “No! Get up, so I can squeeze that...,” he told her, and gawked lustfully at her ass.

  Toi smiled wildly, but he did not get up. “Baby, I’m tired, because I’ve been at the doctor’s all morning. Add to that, I’m comfortable. So, come over here.” She demanded, and then sealed it with, “Ple-e-e-e-ase.”

  He did not care about her sexy, innocent look. He was adamant that she stand. He had McKenzey to deal with, along with a host of other mundane things to tend to. He would not deal with her nonsense. “Doctor’s office? What’s wrong with you?”

  The way he asked the question, offended her. “Nothing’s- wrong-with-me! I, uh, just went to see my gynecologist for an exam,” she said, looking at the ground.

  “What the fuck you got? For your sake—”

  “I don’t have shit,” she said interrupting him. “You gave me something.”

  Kareem could not fight the devil off his back. “What, bitch? What the fuck could I have given you?” He yelled and hesitated, before slamming her with a powerful thunder of verbal insults. “You have been having a sordid relationship with that hood nigga, and you probably got something from him. What, you don’t think that these walls or the streets talk?”

  “But, Kareem—”

  “Don’t interrupt me when I am fucking talking. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. I work hard and you fucking complain.

  You had the audacity to have that nigga up in my crib, too.” He ended his rant and walked over to the bar and poured himself straight 151-proof vodka.

  She cringed with each word that he yelled. She got herself together and looked forlornly. “You’re one-hundred-percent right. This is an opulent lifestyle. It’s packed with high fashion, amazing parties, and smooching celebs. That’s all dandy, but —”

  “I’m not tryinna here this bullshit,” he said and sipped his cocktail.

  “Let me finish. That’s all gravy, but all I want is you. Yes, I have been hanging with a male, but I saw him as a friend. He tried to kiss me and when I pushed him away, he bruised me.” She removed her jacket and revealed the mark that Shimir had left. “I need a male friend. Like the old Kareem Bezel used to be. Not like that all-important, millionaire-influenced, workaholic Bjorn Prodigy.” She sounded as if she had rehearsed those lines for weeks.

  He sat his glass down and clapped his hands. “And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Cheating Thriller goes to...” He sipped his drink, and then walked toward her. “Listen carefully, no one will invent a copy machine with a feature to replica me. I cannot believe you have such a hard time accepting my ambition. That’s just too bad because, I promised myself that I would take care of myself and my family with my intelligence. Simple as that! So can that bullshit. You’re here, or you’re not.” He paused to sip his drink, and then politely asked, “What’s behind your back?”

  “I don’t have anything behind my back.” She again whined, as she sat back deeper into the sofa and wiggled around in an attempt to further conceal the item.

  “I don’t believe that you have the audacity to lie to me, Toi,” he told her, pulling a 9x11 gift-wrapped box from behind her back. He unwittingly went on to scold her, as he snatched the paper off the gift. “What’s this for that nigga? You have to

  wake up at the crack of dawn to pull one over on me. You thought that you were getting over on me. Little Bobby next door already alerted me to your cheating. He asked if I knew your brother. I didn’t know you had one. But if he’s your brother, what the fuck am I?”

  “A father!” she said, as he pulled a book from the box.

  CHAPTER 61

  Tears fell from her eyes. It seemed like, she walked through a rainstorm. The words were more powerful than President John Adams’ Inaugural Address on March 4th, 1797, that included a 727-word sentence.

  Kareem read the title of the book: Pregnancy Sucks, For Men by Kimes & Kimes. He flipped to the first page and read the inscription:

  Dear Reem:

  Thanks for an incredible life, and I apologize for my selfish behavior. Now give me some love, and as you can see I am dressed for our party for three reservations at Per Se.

  Love Always,

  Latoya

  The room was silent, except for the noise made by Toi’s nylon blouse when she handed him her home pregnancy test. Kareem fell back and knocked a Swarovski crystal swan off the end table. Glass shattered everywhere. He sat in awe. He had been so busy that he had missed the good things. For a change he was lost for words, in a state of confusion. He felt like dancing down the toilet along with all of the excrement that had just dropped out of his mouth. He tried to put a string of ideas together. Opting for the obvious, he hugged her, and she sank deep into his arms.

  “I had to see my GYN because I have missed my period for a month. She set me up to get a test in her lab, but I couldn’t wait, so I spent $200 at Duane Reade to buy a home test.”

  Kareem slouched with her wrapped in his arms. He was bewildered. He had not digested everything and felt uncomfortably ashamed of his actions. A tsunami of emotions hit him hard. He had no idea what to do, so he relinquished his emotions with tears.

  There was nothing to be said, other than, “You have no idea how much I love you, Toi. This is about far more than running around with celebrities. More than traveling here and there. I want so much to please you and to really change the lives of the people around me. I work hard for myself of course, but the visions of the end result for my family is on my mind every step of the way.”

  “I know baby, and that’s why I love you so much. I knew that this was your plan in high school, so why I’ve been so selfish is beyond me. Everyone that I encounter sums up your qualities as a superior man—even my damn gynecologist, for Christ’s sake, she read about you in the Times. I do not want to lose you. I am sorry for going behind your back and fraternizing with someone else. I assure you that it was harmless and nothing sexual ever happened.”

 
; “Toi, do not lie to me. The last thing that I need is for a nigga to come up on me and claim that he was fucking you, while I ran around trying to get life better for you.”

  “Kareem, please don’t do this. I did not do anything sexual with him...” She paused and leaned to grab the stereo remote. She raised the volume of the stereo, which played Ginuwine singing a song about his first born. She told Kareem to listen to the song.

  The song played, and Toi’s actions gradually vanished into Kareem’s memory. He did not want their love to fail. Especially not then, as his career ballooned to stardom. He needed to be loved. Needed someone there. He needed Toi.

  She moved her body to become face-to-face with him. Her breath tinged with peppermint, as they kissed. She leaned back and he climbed on top of her.

  CHAPTER 62

  Later, the night air whistled, but was barely heard with the Tupac lyrics shouting through the stereo system. The system was not loud enough to alert neighbors to their presence, but it was loud enough to pre-hype Dre and Ben Laden. They needed to feel Tupac’s music. Feel the legend’s pain. Gangster music catapulted Dre’s mood from anxious to deadly.

  Dre parked the car in the middle of a row of cars in front of a row of condos. The gray homes were large, many of them with floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, connecting the small patio areas to the living room. Easy access to the homes. Their private spaces. Their precious jewels. Only one condo was of interest to Dre: Brent Gower’s.

  They took precautions in order to commit the perfect burglary. There would be no DNA, fingerprints, or footprints left behind to connect them to their home invasion. They approached the screen door and Ben Laden used wire cutters to snap the bolt and padlocks from the door. Dre pulled the door handle and the door slid back.

  They stepped inside.

  ***

  An hour later, Brent pulled into his usual parking space in front of his condo. He casually stepped out the truck as Carmen followed. He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her, whispering sweet sexual quips into her ear.

  They pounded the gravel under their feet until they reached the storm door. Brent fumbled with the keys before he opened the screen door. He inserted another key into the door’s dead bolt and found it unlocked. He would have never failed to secure his home.

  “Did you lock the door before we left?” He asked her accusingly.

  “You locked up. I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she responded, and seemed offended.

  He turned the door knob and walked through the doorway. He felt along the wall for the light switch and in an instant his heart pulsated.

  The VCR clock was not on and he saw metal glistening where the 60-inch plasma was.

  “What the hell? You have got to be kidding me,” Carmen said, when he flipped the light switch on.

  BG stood in the doorway. He was heated. He observed his ransacked sanctuary. Was anyone still in his home? Had he caught them in the act? Carmen grabbed BG for protection, but he pulled away from her, and ran over to the broken urn on the floor by the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of his grandfather’s ashes. They reeked or urine.

  “I’m calling the cops!”

  BG jumped up and snatched the phone from her hand. “But, BG, you were robbed. The police would—“

  “Shut up! Please! Listen, let me do this. I know who

  fucking did this.”

  “What if this was random? You really need to report this.” “Look, I do not need you to talk right now. Go the fuck

  upstairs and pack a few days clothes. I got to get out of here for a few days.”

  BG went into the kitchen to get the Crock-pot with his stash of cash. He had planned to remove the cash and put his grandfather’s ashes in there. The $164,000 in cash was gone, so he returned to the living room and used a spatula and scooped the ashes from the floor. Carmen came out of the bedroom, luggage in hand, and he said, “Let’s roll!”

  ***

  BG and Carmen pulled up to the Roosevelt Inn, a sorry motel on the Roosevelt Boulevard stretch of Route 1. BG wanted to go down a little further to a fancier hotel, but Carmen did not think that was a good idea with him having a gun.

  After they checked in and entered the room, BG placed his loaded gun on the night table. He stripped down to his boxers and turned down a hideous comforter before he slipped under it.

  He lay in bed and looked at the TV, as Carmen undressed down to her panties and bra set. She left her clothes on the floor near the bed, and slowly switched across the front of the bed to turn off the room light. When she turned around, she slipped off her bra. His eyes caught her model figure and he became mesmerized. She smiled back at him like a kid caught stealing a car.

  She climbed under the sheets and whispered to him, “I know I could get your mind off this drama. Even if for a minute.”

  She then placed kisses with her warm lips onto his small, erect penis. He was turned on, but she wasn’t. She could only take but so much, considering she was only with him for his money. She licked the shaft, and then circled the head much like she’d do a Tootsie Pop. He began to pulsate and she inserted him into her mouth. She probed fast, slow, in circles, and hard. She did not even gag and that irritated her. All of ninety-four seconds later, he was done. He squirmed and tried to get away from her jaws, which were still on him, sucking him dry. She drained him to the last drop. Unable to take it any more, he pulled her head off him. She wiped around her mouth with her fingers and then sucked them.

  He immediately crashed to sleep, and she rolled out of bed. She grabbed her cell phone, and slipped into the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 63

  Moments later, the sound was deafening. The motel door swung open with a devastating crash and two masked men entered. With lightening-fast speed, BG reached for his gun and trained it on the two masked intruders, who also had guns drawn. Big guns, with silencers.

  Carmen sat up on the bed, and pulled back the sheets over her breasts. BG sat up stupefied. He did not want to make any whimsical moves to anger the intruders. He thought who ever these guys were they probably just wanted money. Their actions were marked by brilliance and he desired to know who the masked men were. He gathered mettle and sat there sure the men only wanted money.

  “We finally meet again.” One of the masked men said. BG instantly recognized the voice.

  “Last meeting, too, my nigga,” Ben Laden said.

  “This is how it’s gonna end.”

  Dre removed his mask and the former partners were face-

  to-face. They analyzed their dilemma, and recalled the other’s bad deeds. One of them would be quashed in that room. Maybe, both of them.

  “Carmen, I suggest you get out of harm’s way,” Dre said.

  BG delivered a crashing blow to Carmen’s face. He should have known that she was a snake. She reached to catch the blood leaking from her lips, as BG wrapped a bicep around her throat, choked her, and then put his gun to her temple. The adroitness of his move impressed Dre, but he remained placid. “This little bitch set me the fuck up, huh?” She scratched at his arm, and fought to catch her breath.

  “Your nut ass wouldn’t be shit without me,” said Dre.

  “I’m the fucking quarterback, remember? I lead. I direct. I put you on the game, faggot!”

  “Now, I’m the FedEx of Cocaine.”

  “I’mma kill this bitch,” BG said, squeezing harder on her throat.

  “Let her go, BG, before—”

  “Before what, pussy?” BG jerked and flung Carmen to the floor. He squeezed off a shot aimed at her head. Nothing happened. A click and rotation of the barrel. He tried to shoot again.

  Carmen gained her breath and composure. She then reached into her toiletry bag, jumped up, and threw bullets hard into BG’s face. “I’m thinking you’re gonna need these,” she said, massaging her throat.

  “Just kill me already,” BG said, looking at Dre. The words suggested dejection and gloom. “Can you fucking kill me, please?”


  That was a catchy request that Dre intended to fulfill, but not at that moment. It provoked the answer, “No, how many bullets did Chino get popped with? Six, mutha fucka. You got at least double that coming.”

  Ben Laden shot BG in the leg. “Startin’ with that one.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Immediately after handling BG, Dre headed back to New York City. Not long after he arrived there, and he went to bed, an intruder lay in wait in his back yard. The man—over- dressed in army fatigues and knee high boots—sweltered in the summer heat. His dark brown eyes with rings around them confirmed a day wasted waiting for Dre’s arrival. The man had no desire to kill Tasha and Amare without the man of the household present.

  Abusing Dre was chancy, but the man planned to make Kareem Bezel pay, slowly for being savvier, shrewder, and suave than his pal, Agent Lucas McKenzey. The man desperately wanted to get Kareem, but he would need a more sophisticated means to get in and out of Kareem’s building. Right now, Dre would pay for the raking pain caused by the nomenclature: The Bezel Brothers.

  Thirty minutes passed since Dre turned off the bedroom light. The man was antsy. He pulled open the screen door and turned the doorknob. That was a surprise, he thought. The screen door was unlocked. Agent Turner retrieved a set of keys from his pocket. The one coded green fit into the top lock. The yellow one slid easily into the middle lock. And the red key fit snugly in the doorknob lock. He turned the knob and entered the home’s kitchen.

  ***

  Dre’s silent alarm alerted him on his bedside panel that he had a door ajar. He grabbed his Magnum from the night stand and switched the monitor to the kitchen. Dre signaled for Tasha to stay quiet in the bedroom, as he raced to grab Amare. Amare wrapped his arms around his father and rested his head on his shoulder. The baby was oblivious to the invasion.