by Roy Glenn
As Diane left the kitchen, Mike looked up at the clock. “Six o’clock. Now this is when you were supposed to get here,” Mike said, taking off his apron as he walked toward Shy. He couldn’t stop himself from looking in her eyes.
She looked back at him. He frightened her and excited her all at once. “If I hadn’t been early I wouldn’t believe you cooked all this.”
As they walked through the kitchen doors and started down the hall, Shy heard music begin to play. She thought to herself that maybe he’s not so terrible after all. He didn’t have to go to all this trouble for dinner. He could have just as easily told the chef to come in and throw something together. And with all that’s going on, Vicious Black is a good person to know. Besides, he is kinda sexy, for a killer.
Her defenses began to melt away with the sound of the music. Mike opened the door for Shy and she thanked him. As Shy walked through the door, she could see that a candle-lit table was now in the middle of the dance floor. The music that she heard coming down the hall was live. Que was on stage playing ‘The Girl From Ipanema’, one of Mike’s favorites. They usually play it for him anytime he comes in the club. Mike and Shy walked to the table. Diane pulled out the chair for Shy and poured the champagne. Dom Perignon 1982, from Mike’s private stock. Diane served the salad and asked Shy if she would like fresh pepper on her salad. Freddie placed a glass of Remy Martin VSOP to the right of Mike’s champagne glass, then came around to Shy’s side of the table, and asked if she would like a cocktail with her meal. Shy declined, but asked him to come back after dinner and check on her.
The evening went on. Diane served the meal. The music was excellent, and the conversation twisted and turned in many different directions. They laughed and talked like two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.
“Black, everything tastes delicious. You really are a good cook,” Shy said, trying not to talk with her mouth full, but not succeeding. “This is really nice. You arranged all this for me. You cooked all this food. I’m really impressed.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it. Freeze thought that saving your life was impressive. Said I went all out. But I really didn’t think that it phased you.”
“You know, I thought about that when I went to bed last night. That I really didn’t seem like I appreciated you saving my life.” She held out her hand and looked at Mike. “Thank you, Black.”
He took her hand, stared into her eyes, then said to her without letting go of her hand, “Has anyone ever told you that you have very expressive eyes, beautiful eyes?” He let go of her hand. “So, forgive me if I stare sometimes.”
Although he had let go of her hand, Shy left it out there. “Thank you, Black.” Finally realizing he’d let go of her hand, she jerked it back quickly.
“Do you have any ideas about who would want to kill you?”
“Not a clue. I was having a hard enough time trying to figure out who was robbin’ us. Why would anybody want to kill me?”
“It’s probably not you personally. It’s just business, remember. And that’s just the nature of our business.”
“Touché.”
“But your attacker was from Detroit. I sent Kenny there to check it out. His name was Leon Thomas. That sound familiar to you?”
“No, I’ve never heard of him. It still doesn’t seem possible that someone wants to kill me,” Shy said, sipping her champagne. “But I don’t really want to talk about it now.”
“So, how’d you get the name?” Mike inquired, motioning for Freddie to freshen his drink. “Are you just shy, or were your parents just in one of those moods when you were born?”
“No, it’s just a nick-name,” Shy laughed. “It’s short for Chicago. That’s where my father’s from. My name is Cassandra, Cassandra Sims.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra Sims,” Mike said, extending his hand.
Shy accepted his hand and replied, “Well thank you very much. The pleasure is all yours.”
Mike laughed. “I like that. I like a woman with confidence.”
“I thought it was my eyes,” Shy said very sexually.
“Why’d you have to go there. Now I have to stare at your eyes and hold your hand for a while,” Mike said in his sexiest voice. “But it’s really hard to eat like that.”
“We could go on like this for hours, but I’m hungry too. So I promise not to say anything about my eyes…if you promise not to, look at me like that,” Shy said very slowly.
“How am I looking at you, Cassandra?” Mike asked, still holding her hand.
“Well, it’s like you’re looking through me. I don’t know,” Shy said with an innocent giggle.
He continued to stare at her. Shy felt her last layer of defense slip away. She struggled to maintain it. She closed her eyes and pulled her hand back slowly.
“Okay, I promise,” Mike said letting go of her hand. “But how did you get to be nicknamed after your father? Usually, it’s boys that get named after their fathers.”
“Well, I’m the youngest of five children. My oldest brother Harold is ten years older than I am. George is eight years. Gary is five years, and Randy is a year older than me. Me and him are real close. When I was a little girl, my brothers would pick on me. So my father would take me around with him wherever he went. At first people started calling me little Chicago, then little Chi-town, then little Chi and finally just Shy. So what’s your story, Black? How did you get the name Vicious Black?” she asked, “Because you’re not vicious at all. Actually you’re kind of nice.”
“Do you really wanna know?”
“Yeah. I really wanna know. I know it’s probably real violent, and it’s probably not good dinner conversation. But, I really wanna know.”
“I was fifteen when I got started working for André. Me, Bobby, Nick and Jamaica. First, we were runners. Then we started collecting for him, but he liked me and Bobby. So he started taking us around with him. Sometimes we felt like pets, you know, two pit bulls. So one day André takes us to collect from some guy that owed him twenty-five grand. I was like seventeen, eighteen by then. So we tie the guy up, and André starts going through the where’s-my-money shit. Bobby’s torturing the guy when his wife comes home. André takes the bit —I mean woman in the back and rapes her.”
“What were you doing while all this was going on?”
“Watching some movie, The Soldier on TV.”
Shy laughed as she pictured him calmly watching TV surrounded by the screams of rape and torture.
“Now Bobby’s idea of torture is while he slaps the guy around he tells him jokes. Some of them are funny, some aren’t. If you laugh, you get slapped. If you don’t, you get hit. Hard. Anyway, André gets through doing his thing with the wife and comes out of the back. André slaps the guy a couple of times and asks him where the money is. But by now the guy is too out of it to talk. André says ‘Yo, Black, come here.’ I don’t even answer him.”
Shy listened quietly; she called Freddie over to the table. Shy asked him to get her a drink, “Doesn’t matter what.”
“So then he says, ‘Yo, Black, I think this guy’s dead.’ I looked at them, got up, and walked over to the guy. I told the guy to look at me, but he didn’t move. So I said it again, but this time he looks up. I took out my gun, held it to his forehead, and shot him. One shot in the head. Then I looked at André and said, ‘Now he is.’ André freaks. Says ‘Damn! You just a vicious muthafucka, a vicious black wearing muthafucka, ain’t you’? I said, ‘Whatever, can we go now?’ And the name stuck.”
Mike sat back in his chair and waited for Shy to say something. Freddie returned with a rust looking drink to match her dress.
“Yeah, I was right. Rape, torture, murder, not exactly dinner conversation. But I did ask.” Shy sat back in her chair and pointed at Mike. “You know what; you are not at all what I was expecting. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Yes I do. I was expecting the guy in that story. But you … no, I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t eve
n like you yesterday.” But she knew she was lying. “But tonight, I’ve really enjoyed myself. You’re quite intelligent, for a killer. I mean last night; you push me down and shot somebody. Then today, you cook me the best meal I ever had. Arrange all this. And I have had so much fun talking to you. No, Mike Black, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You think that’s something. I got a Balinese-dancing girl tattooed on my chest.”
“Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep,” Shy said quickly.
“What?”
“That was a line from The Big Sleep with Humphrey Bogart, right?”
“Yeah, how did you know that?” Mike said, looking kind of puzzled.
Shy smiled at Mike. She leaned forward and said, “I told you I have four older brothers. I had to watch a lot of gangster movies growing up. Now I just love them, being kind of a gangster myself.”
“Where are your brothers, Cassandra?”
“Baltimore-Washington area. My oldest brother teaches college English; one is a supervisor for the IRS; one writes programs for a computer company; and the other is a doctor.”
“So, with a family resume like that, how’d you become kind of a gangster?”
“I’ve been selling drugs since high school—reefer back then. When I went to Syracuse that was my work study program. I graduated with a dual degree in management and marketing. When I came home my brother Randy was waiting tables in Brooklyn, trying to get into medical school. The money that my father had left us to go to college with was gone. Everybody in the family was struggling. He would have never gotten the money for med school waiting tables. So I told him when I got a job I would help him and when he graduated from med school, you know, I would go back and get my masters in marketing. See, I wasn’t even thinking about rolling then, college girl you know. But reality set in quick. After four months of looking for a job—any job—we were both broke, both of us waiting tables in some dive in Brooklyn. I said, “Hold up, I got a marketable skill.” So I went to see one of my father’s old business associates, who turned me on to someone to do business with. After he gave me a lecture about what I was getting myself into, he fronted me a couple of ounces. I rounded up my old partners and we went to work.”
“I’m impressed. What’s the secret to your success?”
“No secret. I run a business; it’s just that simple.”
“No, Ms. Sims. The way I hear it you run a very high volume and extremely profitable business, which you grew from a couple of ounces. There’s an art to that. So, I say again, what’s your secret?” he said leaning toward her.
Shy leaned right back at him. “And I say again, it’s no secret, it’s just business.” Shy sat back in her chair and smiled playfully. “It’s just not business the way you know it.” The smile now a superior one. “I do business just the way they taught me. I market a product. I manage people and money.” Mike sat and listened intently as Shy defined in a fair amount of detail how she structured her business, how she applied what she had learned and in seven years turned a couple of ounces into a company with annual sales projected to top four million dollars. The concept intrigued him. His eyes began to open to new possibilities as Shy talked optimistically about her plans for future growth.
Her mood changed as she began to reflect on the past and the choices that led her to this point. “I told myself I was just gonna do it ‘til he got through med school. Not.”
“Have you ever thought about going back, getting your masters?”
“Yeah. I think about it,” her eyes displaying the regret she felt. “I even took a few classes early on. But that was just to get a higher price clientele; that’s all. I still think about it, but I’m definitely not motivated,” Shy said, looking kind of sad when the vocalist began to sing, ‘You’re All I Need to Get By.’ A cappella at first. Her face came alive, her head drifting back slowly. “I love this song.”
“So do I.” Mike stood up and held out his hand. “Come dance with me.”
Shy looked up at him and accepted his hand. “I’d love to.”
As Mike and Shy got up to dance, Jap leaned toward Freeze and said, “Touchdown.”
“I was wondering what was taking him so long.” Freeze replied as he stood up. “Yo, I gotta get out of here. This shit is making me sick. I’ll make the rounds tonight. You stay here and watch them. Call me on the cell if anything goes down.”
“You want me to tell Black where you going?”
“Na. I’ll tell him as soon as he gets through doing his thing.”
As the music played, Mike and Shy danced very slow and very close. Shy rested her head on his shoulder. “I guess this is the part when I’m supposed to exhale,” she said to herself. Maybe it wasn’t all that, but he definitely felt better than her pillow. Shy closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift, wishing he’d hold her tighter. He drew her closer as if he had heard her wish. He looked at Shy. Her eyes closed, mouthing the words to the song. Like a rush of adrenaline, all at once everything became very clear to him. All his questions seemed answered. All of his doubts seemed illogical. “I could really get used to this. It’s been a long time since I danced with a woman.”
“Why? I know it’s not because you don’t like women.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh really? Long story? What was her name?”
“What makes you think? —Nevermind. Her name was Regina.”
“Did she break my —,” Shy caught herself, “I mean that baby’s heart?”
“Baby, huh? Yeah, she busted me out.”
As the song ended, they stood staring at one another. Each searching awkwardly for something to say. They walked hand in hand back to the table, without saying a word. Mike held out the chair for Shy as Freeze approached to break the spell.
“Yo, Black, I gotta break, go do my thing. Jap’s gonna stay. Make sure her boys behave themselves. If you need me, you know the routine. I’m out, peace y’all.” Freeze grabbed his coat and pointed at Tony and Jack on his way out the door.
“So do you have any plans for the rest of the night, Cassandra?”
“I do, but that’s not a problem. I’m enjoying myself too much to deal with what I got to deal with. Besides, that’s what they’re for, right? Yo, Tony, come here.”
Tony stood up and came to see what Shy wanted. “What’s up, Shy?”
“You remember that business we discussed on the way here?” Tony nodded. “I need you to go out to Brooklyn and check it out, see what’s up. Jack will stay here with me. I’ll be okay.” Tony accepted his assignment and departed the table. He went over to Jack to let him know what was going on, finished his drink, tipped Freddie handsomely and left the club.
“Now that that’s settled, what did you have in mind for the rest of the evening, Mr. Black?”
“Well, Ms. Sims, I was hoping that you would come —and take a walk with me.”
Picking up on the play on words, Shy responded, “Where do you want me to come—and walk to?”
“Just around. I promise to behave myself, Cassandra.”
“Since you put it that way, how can a girl refuse?” Shy stood up and started walking toward the bar. “Jack, get my coat please.”
Mike thanked the band for coming out and especially for playing ‘You’re All I Need to Get By’. He handed them an envelope. He went into the kitchen to pay Diane and Michelle. He thanked them for helping him out on their day off and told them that they could go when the place was clean. Jap took the opportunity to call Freeze and make him aware of the change in the evening’s agenda, and of Tony’s sudden departure, which seemed to be of particular interest to Freeze.
Mike and Shy left the supper club and walked down the street with Jack and Jap not too far behind. As they walked down the street most of the people they passed said, “What’s up, Black?” Some of the older folks still called him Mike, but they spoke too. They walked and talked for over an hour. Mike would stop from time to time to talk to somebody. Watching him, Shy got a sense of
the respect he commanded. “So, who are you anyway, Don Black?”
“Well, I do suffer from a godfather complex, but no. I grew up round here. Everybody knows me. I wanted to show you off. And by the way, you’ve gotten a few compliments.” Mike stopped and smiled seductively at Shy. She returned the smile as she walked toward him. Their eyes locked, the energy between them built to crescendo, but before she could say anything, a young brother came running up to them. “Yo, Black! Yo, Black, man it’s a goddamn shame! You know it just ain’t no reason for this to be happening! You gotta do something about this Black, because yo, Money, I’m tired of this!”
“What was the damage today, Larry?”
“Forty-four to ten,” Larry said. “Yo, Black, it was embarrassing just to sit there and watch. Why don’t you buy the Jets and clean house, man?”
“I ain’t phat like all that,” Mike said as he and Shy walked away. “I was gonna ask you for some spare change, so a brother could have something.”
“Yo, Black, you could have introduced me to the woman. She sure is fine!”
“Does he always get that excited about football? I mean, I thought something was wrong the way he came running up on you. I was getting ready to cap his ass,” Shy said, removing her gun from her left coat pocket and then putting it back.
“Maybe he was excited about your eyes, Cassandra. Anyway, if it was like that, I would’ve shot him myself,” Mike said removing his gun from his right coat pocket and then putting it back with a smile. They continued up one street and down the next. They stopped in front of a three-story house. It was the home of Emily Black, Mike’s mother. “This is where I used to live,” Mike said, pointing to the house before walking on.
“Must be some bad memories there.”
“No, life was good here. When I see that house I still think of home.”
Mike and his Mother came to New York when he was four years old from St. Vincent in the West Indies. Arriving in New York with no family or friends or much money to speak of, they moved into a small, one-room flat in the South Bronx. After she completed nursing school, Emily got a job at Lebanon Hospital working the evening shift when Mike was six. With a new job, Emily was able to move out of the South Bronx into the basement of a two family house, in a section of the Bronx with a large West Indian population. After a few years, they were able to move upstairs. Emily still lives there, but now she owns the house. With Emily working evenings, Mike would stay upstairs with her friends, George and Daphene Smith, and remain until his mother came for him. This lasted a couple of years until he decided he no longer needed a baby-sitter. From that point, the streets and television raised him.
