A Girl From Flint

by Treasure Hernandez

  “The guy from the bar. He was a cop, Honey. He knows we killed Keys. I told you. You told me to stop tripping, but I told you that somebody was going to find out. We should have gone back to New York.”

  Honey’s eyes shot open. “A cop?” she asked, almost yelling. “What did he say to you? Did you tell him anything?”

  Tasha yelled back, “Do you think I’m stupid? I didn’t tell him shit. He just knows. He told me to meet him in front of the club tomorrow.”

  Honey sat down on her bed. She shook her head. “He doesn’t know shit!”

  “He said he saw us, Honey.”

  Honey walked over to Tasha and grabbed her shoulders. “Tasha, think! If he knew something, he would have arrested you right then and there. He’s bluffing. He doesn’t know shit. He wants something.”

  Tasha tried to calm herself down, but she couldn’t. She’s so calm, but she ain’t the one he came up to. “What do we do?”

  “The only thing we can do. Give him what he wants. You have to meet him tomorrow.”

  Tasha shook her head. “No, I’m not doing it. Why can’t you go? Why can’t Mimi go? Hell! Amra can even go.”

  “He told you. You have to go.”

  Tasha knew that Honey was right. She had to find out what the detective wanted. It’s all going to fall back on me. I have to fix this. If I don’t, I’m going to go down for all this shit.

  Honey knew what Tasha was thinking just from the look in her eyes. She walked over to her friend and hugged her tight. “Tasha, we are in this together, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “Don’t tell Amra about this,” Tasha said. “I don’t want her worrying about this right now.”

  “Mimi doesn’t need to know either.”

  Tasha then got into her bed and fell into a restless sleep.

  When Tasha woke up the next morning, she felt exhausted. She had tossed and turned all night, and the thought of her getting caught for Keys’ murder made it impossible to go to sleep. She looked at the clock. It was ten o’clock. She thought about the money that she had saved underneath her bed, and she instantly wanted to go home. She knew she couldn’t though. I need to handle this.

  Amra came in and saw her deep in thought.

  “Are you feeling better?” Tasha asked.

  “No, I feel like shit. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I felt like I was going to die.”

  Tasha laughed. “I thought you were drunk.”

  Amra plopped down on the bed. “Nah, I didn’t even drink last night. I think it was just way too hot in there. I fucked my leg up last night, though.” She lifted up her pajama pants and showed Tasha the sore on her leg.

  Tasha frowned. “Damn! You fucked your shit up. It probably happened when you fell on the floor in the bathroom at the club. That’s why it’s all bruised up around it. You need to put something on that.”

  While Amra went to get a bandage, Tasha thought about telling her about Troy Smith, but she knew her friend would panic. I don’t have time to be worried about her right now. I just need to get us out of this.

  Tasha stayed in bed just thinking. She desperately wanted to be with Joe, but the way her life was going, it didn’t seem like she would ever make it back to him.

  She got out of bed and threw on some Enyce jeans and a red-and-white Enyce shirt. She pulled her hair back in a neat ponytail. She looked into the mirror and could tell that she hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before.

  Honey walked into the room and said, “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know anything.”

  Tasha was hoping Troy wouldn’t show up. She was shaking nervously, tapping her foot during the cab ride. She got out and walked toward the club, her heart beating like a drum as she got closer and closer to her destination. She saw a black Lexus sitting in the empty parking lot of the club. She heard the car horn and saw him roll down the window. She recognized his face and started walking toward him.

  He hit the unlock button, and Tasha got into the car. “I’m glad you made it,” he said.

  Tasha rolled her eyes. “Stop with the bullshit. What do you know?”

  Troy smiled at her smart mouth. He tossed a folder into her lap. “That’s what I know.”

  Tasha quickly opened the folder and flipped through the pictures inside. She saw pictures of her with Keys, and more importantly, pictures of her and her friends entering and exiting Keys’ house, and of her with the pillowcase in her hand that they’d used to carry the money in the night of his murder. Tasha’s heart stopped, and she tried not to show she was scared. If he wanted to, he could arrest me off of this, so what does he want? “Why are you showing me this? What do you want?”

  Troy heard the quiver in her voice and knew she was scared. He looked at the beautiful young woman who sat next to him. “I want you to work for me. You see, I could easily put you and your little friends away for a long time, but that’s not what I’m here for. As far as I’m concerned, that’s one less scum off the street. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can make this disappear, but only if you help me.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “There’s a new face in town. In the streets he’s known as Jamaica, and he’s moving heavy weight. I want you to do the same thing you did to Keys. I want you to get in close and get me the information I need to put his ass behind bars. After that, you’re free. I’ll keep my end of the bargain . . . if you keep yours.”

  Tasha was in no position to refuse the offer. “How do I know this is going to be a one-time thing?”

  Troy laughed. “My word is bond. Give me a number where I can reach you at.”

  Tasha took a deep breath and reluctantly gave him her cell phone number.

  Troy smiled. “Be expecting my call, shorty.”

  Tasha shook her head and quickly got out of the car. I hate this shit. I didn’t do this by myself, but I have to fix it by myself. I’m tired of niggas holding shit over my head. I don’t even know if I can trust him. I don’t know shit about him. Tasha knew it wouldn’t be hard for her to charm the man Troy was going to put her on. She just hated that she didn’t have a choice. Troy had quickly taken the place of Manolo in her life, but in his hustle, the stakes were higher.

  As soon as Tasha walked in the door, Honey was waiting for her. “What happened?” she whispered, trying to make sure Mimi and Amra didn’t hear.

  “You were wrong. He does know. He has the pictures to prove it too.”

  Honey’s heart dropped when she heard the news. She looked at Tasha in despair. “What now? What happens next?”

  Tasha lowered her head. “I have to help him arrest some drug dealer that’s been taking over since Keys died. He says if I help him, he will make Keys’ murder disappear.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “We’ll all go down for the murder.”

  “How does he expect you to do that?”

  “How else? He wants me to do the same thing I did with Keys.”

  “That shouldn’t be that hard. You had that nigga whipped after the first date.”

  “This is different. It’s not a game.”

  Jamaica and his right-hand man, Tariq, sat in his hotel room, counting the money they’d just made. Jamaica stopped counting and looked over at Tariq. “We could never make this money this fast back home. Flint is where it’s at, duke.”

  Tariq smiled and continued to count the piles of money on the bed. Without taking his eyes off the money, he replied, “We did it, son. We’re big time now. That new shit you brought back got the streets in a frenzy. I told you when you came here we were going to make major moves.”

  Jamaica pulled his gun off his waistline and set it on the bed. He then stood up and walked toward the window and opened the blinds. He walked out onto the balcony and looked at the city lights. He took a deep breath of Flint’s fresh air. If money keeps rolling in like this, I might not go back home. I can
’t believe how our dope is driving niggas nuts here. I don’t want too much attention, though. I ain’t trying to get knocked.

  Tariq stuck half of his body onto the balcony. “Wanna hit this?” He offered Jamaica the blunt he had in his hand.

  “Nah, duke, I’m good. I want to stay focused.”

  Tariq looked at Jamaica like he was crazy. “I feel you, but me, I got to stay high.”

  Tariq went back into the hotel room and continued to smoke, while Jamaica stayed out on the balcony, thinking about how good life was at the moment.

  Troy had Tasha right where he wanted her. She knows she doesn’t have a choice. He knew that Jamaica would not be able to resist her. She was what every nigga wanted.

  Troy pulled his holster off his waistline and set it on his living room table. He felt bad about blackmailing Tasha, but she was the only way he could get something on Jamaica. Keys was very careful when he was alive, and if she was able to get him to trust her, then she had to be good.

  He picked up his case files, opened them and looked at the pictures he had taken of Tasha. He didn’t want to waste any time; he wanted her to get on Jamaica as soon as possible. One of his little niggas from around the way had told him where Jamaica liked to hang out, and he planned on sending Tasha there the next night.

  He pulled Tasha’s number out of his wallet and smiled to himself. With her working for him, he was so much closer to getting the bad guy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tasha received a call from Troy the following morning, telling her that Jamaica would be at Junior’s that night. “You need to be there tonight,” he told her. “I need you to get in good with him quick. He usually stops in around eight o’clock. I’ll be there watching you, so don’t fuck up.”

  “How will I know what he looks like?”

  “You’ll know when you see him. He’ll be the nigga who comes in with a group of dudes. He’s the ringleader though. He runs it all. It’s not hard to spot him.”

  Tasha hung up her cell phone without saying good-bye. Damn! What did I get myself into? How do I know this is going to be the last time this nigga tries to use me? Or, how do I know he’s not going to arrest me after he gets what he wants?

  Tasha walked into Mimi’s room. She saw her asleep in her bed, and Amra’s bed was neatly made up with a note on the top of the blanket. Tasha walked over to the bed and picked up the letter. It read: Went out for a minute. Be back in a few. Amra.

  Tasha threw the letter on the bed and whispered, “I wonder where she went.” She shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the room and thought about her task at hand for later that night.

  As Amra sat in the doctor’s office waiting for her name to be called, she flipped through a magazine. She thought to herself, I wish they would hurry up. Please, God, don’t let me be pregnant. I do not need this right now. She hadn’t been feeling well lately, and was always fatigued. If she was pregnant, she had no idea who the baby’s daddy was. Most of her sexual encounters happened when she was either drunk or high. And she had engaged in sex with so many men, even she had lost count.

  The nurse stuck her head out of the door that led to the back. “Amra Rodgers.”

  Amra took a deep breath and whispered, “Here goes nothing!” and then proceeded to the door where the nurse was waiting for her.

  The nurse escorted Amra into a small room and told her, “Wait here. Dr. Katz will be with you shortly.”

  Amra began to feel butterflies in her stomach as she sat there waiting for the doctor to enter the room. She’d been there a week before to get a checkup and wasn’t this nervous. She had a gut feeling she was pregnant. The nausea became unbearable, and she felt the contents of her stomach threatening to erupt as her body temperature began to rise. I got to go home and lay down.

  Dr. Katz walked in fifteen minutes later. “Good morning, Amra. Good to see you again.

  Amra mustered up a smile. “Hey, Dr. Katz.”

  Dr. Katz grew a concerned look on his face and said in a soft voice, “The receptionist has been calling you all week. We needed you to come in.”

  Amra’s heart dropped. She already knew. She dropped her head and whispered, “I’m pregnant.” She placed her hand over her stomach and imagined it big, with stretch marks all over. A tear formed in her eye as she looked at the doctor. “I’m not trying to have a baby right now. I can’t have a baby right now. I-I want an abortion.”

  Dr. Katz took a seat on the stool closest to Amra. “I think it’s a little more serious than that. Your blood test came back positive. Amra, you’re HIV-positive, and it’s progressing quickly into full-blown AIDS.”

  “What? What the fuck you mean? That test can’t be right!”

  “With new technology, infected people can prolong their—”

  Amra stormed out of the office before he could even finish his sentence. She was in a state of shock the whole ride home. The tears stopped, and she seemed to be in a zombie-like trance. She didn’t even get off at her stop. She couldn’t focus on anything. She regretted all the nights of unprotected sex. I’m dead! I don’t even know where it came from . . . I mean, who it came from. My life is over!

  “You ready?” Troy asked.

  Tasha, sitting in the passenger seat of his car, shook her head up and down. “Yeah, I’m ready . . . ready for this to be over!” she said sarcastically.

  Troy quickly responded, “You have a long while before this shit is over. Get the job done.”

  Tasha smacked her lips and folded her arms tightly against her chest.

  “Don’t fuck with me, shorty. If I suspect any bullshit on your part, you know where you’ll be headed.”

  As they sat in the parking lot of Junior’s, Tasha grew more and more frustrated with her situation. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. “What are we waiting for?” she asked in a smart way. Troy kept his eyes on the building and didn’t respond to her, so she rolled her eyes and started to look out of her window at the pedestrians and the traffic jam in the streets.

  “Showtime!” Troy said as he saw Jamaica and his crew enter Junior’s.

  Tasha tried to get a glance at the infamous Jamaica, but by the time she looked up, the men were entering the building, and all she could see was the back of their heads.

  “Jamaica is the cat with the blue NY hat and the platinum chain around his neck. That’s the man you’re after. I want you to get acquainted. Okay, go on.”

  Tasha took a deep breath. As she got out of the car, Troy said, “And don’t slam my door!”

  Tasha smiled to herself. She cocked the car door back and slammed it as hard as she could. That felt good, she thought as she headed toward the front entrance.

  Troy shook his head and watched as she walked toward the entrance. Damn! he thought, admiring Tasha’s sandy-brown hair that matched her skin. He licked his lips as he watched her ass and Coke bottle shape.

  Tasha entered the building, and as she walked to an open table, all of the guys she passed stared at her beauty.

  “Damn!”

  “Hey, ma!”

  Tasha ignored them. She was used to that type of reaction from men, but today she was on a mission. She sat down at an empty table and began to look for her target. She noticed that the groups of guys across from her were the fellas she had seen entering the building. She made eye contact with one of them. He was very dark, with perfect white teeth and had deep waves on top of his head, which appealed to Tasha. But he wasn’t wearing a platinum chain. She quickly glanced at the other men and noticed that none of them was wearing a platinum chain.

  The dark-skinned man that Tasha had been scoping out got up and walked toward her. “Hey, ma. Can I sit?”

  Tasha wanted to say yeah so badly. Any other day she would have been on him, but today wasn’t the day. “I’m waiting for someone.”

  He sat down anyway and smiled slyly. “Whoever you’re waiting for is a damn fool. He got you waiting here all by yourself. If that was me, I would have been
waiting on you.”

  Tasha smiled, but she wasn’t interested. This nigga needs to move so that I can find Jamaica.

  “What’s yo’ name?”

  “Tasha. What’s yours?”

  The dude sat back in the booth and seemed to relax before he replied, “Tariq.”

  Damn! Wrong nigga, she thought to herself. Just as she was about to dismiss his ass, a man walked past them and sat at the same table that Tariq had come from. Tasha noticed the chain on his neck. “Bingo!” she whispered as she got a glimpse of Jamaica’s backside.

  “What you say?”

  “Yo, who is that?”

  Tariq turned around. “Who? Him? That’s my man, Jamaica.”

  Tasha smiled and looked at the back of Jamaica’s head. “Tariq—it was Tariq, right?—tell Jamaica I would like to talk to him.”

  Tariq got a salty look on his face and looked back, “Oh . . . okay,” he said as he slowly rose up from the table. That bitch got some nerve, he thought as he walked back to his table with a bruised ego. He whispered something in Jamaica’s ear, and then looked back at Tasha. Jamaica didn’t even turn around to look at her. He just shook his head and continued to eat his cheesecake.

  Tasha was insulted. Who this nigga think he is? He didn’t even look at me. At that moment, the waiter walked over to Tasha and asked her for her order. “A burger and fries,” she said, never taking her eyes off the man they called Jamaica.

  As Tasha waited for her food, she saw Troy walk in. He walked past her and sat at the counter and signaled for a waitress. He spun his chair slightly around to position himself toward her, and shot a look to let her know she needed to get on her job. She nodded her head to let him know she was on task.

  Jamaica stood up and began to turn around. Tasha thought, Okay, Jamaica, let’s see if your looks are as big as your reputation. As Jamaica turned around, Tasha squinted her eyes in disbelief, and couldn’t believe what she saw. “Oh my God! Joe?” she yelled out in a state of shock.