Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose

by Floyd, Justin Amen

  CHAPTER 34

  Meka was in her mother’s house packing. She wanted to be ready for her flight tomorrow. A few weeks ago, Dre had told Meka that he was heading back to New York and that he wanted her to come with him. Initially, she’d said no. Greenville was her home; it was all she knew. All of her family was here. But after giving it some serious thought, she’d recently changed her mind. Yeah all her family was here but they didn’t give a fuck about her. They never had. Yeah Greenville was her home but what did she really have here to hold on to besides a bunch of bad memories and pain?

  It was a week after Ant had been murdered. The emotional wounds were still very fresh and cut deeply. As she stuffed her suitcases with clothes, her mind would inevitably drift to thoughts of her brother; happier times. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thought about pieces of her heart that she could never get back. The events of the past few weeks had scarred Meka forever.

  Mike was now brain dead, withering away in a hospital bed unable to breathe on his own. Ant was dead; murdered by the pigs in blue. Meka had also just found out that Gloria was back running the streets again; doing whatever she could to get high. The more Meka thought about it, the more she knew that leaving with Dre was the right move. It was time to get away from Greenville and start anew. But before she did there was something very important she needed to handle…

  $$$

  David Patterson had been promoted to Lieutenant after the killing of Anthony Davis was ruled ‘justifiable’ by the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division. S.L.E.D as they are more commonly referred to, is the state’s top law enforcement agency. They investigate all deaths and shootings by the gun of an officer. Their track record for being biased in favor of officers was notorious. It was no surprise to anybody in the black community when they came back with their speedy decision.

  There had been an elaborate ceremony at City Hall attended by Mayor Bob White, several city council members, the Sherriff, and other high ranking law enforcement officials. At the ceremony, which was also attended by the public and captured by several local news media, Patterson was heralded as a hero who had risked his life in order to make the citizens of Greenville safer. The former detective basked in the glow of public adulation and honor. All the years of hard work and corruption he’d put in on the force was paying off. Finally, thought Patterson.

  $$$

  David Patterson pulled up beside the black prostitute in his new grey Buick Lasabre. It was a little past midnight. He was easily able to blend in with the other customers in and around ‘the cut’, who had come out under the cover of the night to get whatever fix they needed. “Hey honey,” Patterson said as he pulled up beside the black woman and rolled down his passenger window. Her dress was tight and cut short. She gave him a good view of her full braless titties as she leaned into his car.

  “You looking for a good time sugar?”

  Patterson leered at the woman. He reached down and rubbed his crotch. “I’m always looking for a good time babe. How ‘bout you hop on in this here car and show me what kinda fun you talking about.” The whore got in.

  “Ok buddy its $50 for head, $80 to fuck and $150 for my asshole. All that freaky stuff like pissing or taking a shit on me is 50 bucks extra and you pay for the motel room.” She ran down her list of services and prices as if she was going door to door selling Avon products. “Of course I’d prefer cash but if you got some crack…”

  Patterson pulled out his badge. “Shut your fucking trap you black bitch.” All the feigned niceness evaporated from his voice. “You got two options: I can arrest your ass and let you spend a couple days in the county or you can suck the skin off my dick and I’ll let you go. And I ain’t got all goddamn night either.” The crack whore didn’t hesitate. She reached over and pulled Patterson’s uncircumcised dick out of the already opened zipper in his pants. She began sucking.

  Patterson closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he got sucked off. The whore was a little older than he preferred but what the hell. It wasn’t like he was paying for it. He smiled to himself. Despite being elevated to the rank of Lieutenant and given a desk job, David Patterson still enjoyed the thrill of picking up a whore and getting a nice good blowjob every now and then.

  There was a sudden knock at the driver’s side window. Lieutenant Patterson opened his eyes, furious. He’d been about to cum. He placed his hand on the head of the woman sucking his dick, telling her to keep going. The knock came again. Probably some homeless fucking junkie, thought Patterson as he rolled down the window. “What the…!?” The last word died a horrible death in his throat as he realized he was staring down the endless hole of a high caliber pistol.

  “This is for my brother muthafucka.” BOOM! BOOM! Two slugs tore into David Patterson’s face and the side of his head. The crack whore jumped up with a mouth full of semen. The flash from the muzzle of the gun had briefly illuminated the interior of the car. For a few brief seconds that seemed like years, Meka stared into the eyes of her mother. She turned and fled.

  EPILOGUE

  The American Airlines plane sat on the tarmac at Greenville Spartanburg International Airport waiting to take off. Tameka Davis sat in her seat next to the window and stared outside. The morning summer sky was a peaceful blue as the sun ascended. Beside her, in the seat next to the aisle was her boyfriend Dre. The flight attendants walked the aisles smiling as they made sure everybody was comfortable.

  Meka didn’t hear them. She was in a zone as she reflected back on all the craziness and drama that had transpired over the past couple of years. All of the bloodshed, the death, the pain, the love lost. She thought about how much she had lost; loved ones and friends she would never see alive again.

  5 months pregnant, Meka’s emotions were all over the place. As much as she tried, she couldn’t hold back the tears as they silently slid down her beautiful brown face. The more Meka thought about it, the more she realized that it wasn’t just the past couple of years; her whole life had been hell. But she had survived. She was still here. Even after everything she’d been through, she was still here. There had to be a reason.

  Meka stopped crying. The bright sun dried the tears that had silently streamed down her face. She looked over at Dre and smiled. “What’s good baby? You alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m good,” Meka said, still smiling. After a brief pause she rubbed her protruding belly and said, “Dre… I’m having twins.” She hadn’t needed to visit a doctor to know this. She felt it. Still smiling, Meka looked back out the window. Tameka Davis had finally found her reasons for living.

  Author’s Note:

  Unlike many writers I feel a duty to my people to portray our lives as realistically and humanely as possible. I literally laughed, cried, got upset, felt sad and felt deeply for these characters as I wrote this story. As if they were real; because in every town, city or state across America I know these aren’t just characters. These ARE real people going through real situations as they attempt to make sense of and navigate through the harsh, chaotic circumstances they’ve been born into.

  I hope you were thoroughly entertained by this novel. I also hope it made you think and opened your eyes to the harsh realities that we as a people face at the bottom of societies economic ladder. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on my latest work of art.

  Peace & Love

  Ladies & Gentlemen, for your reading pleasure,

  Synergy Publications is proud to present a sneak preview of …

  HBIC:

  Head Bitch In Charge

  A NEW SERIES

  Book I

  By Caroline McGill

  Prologue

  In a crowded Brooklyn church in the heart of Bedford-Stuyvesant, a young woman sat at a piano pounding on the keys and directing three little girls with the voices of angels. The young woman was especially proud because the singing cherubs belonged to her. Her daughters, Etta, Elaine, and Elle were just ten, eight, and five years old. “The Mitchell Sisters” were singing t
heir little hearts out and making a joyful noise unto the Lord. They had the church rocking to their rendition of the old gospel favorite, “Trouble In My Way.”

  “Trouble in my way (trouble in my way) I have to cry sometimes (I have to cry sometimes) So much trouble (trouble in my way) I have to cry sometimes (I have to cry sometimes) I lay awake at night - but that’s alright (That’s alright) Because I know my Jesus (Jesus, he will fix it) I know my Jesus (Jesus he will fix it) After while …”

  The little girls’ father, Elliot Mitchell, was proud and choked up by his big voiced babies. He sat in the third pew clapping along with the rest of the congregation. Elliot was a goodhearted gentleman who was a big dreamer. He had huge ideas of making his daughters stars. God had blessed him with those girls. He had the makings of a successful gospel group. He wanted his girls to sing for God. He also wanted to capitalize off their talent. He didn’t see anything wrong with wanting to make a better way for his family.

  Elliot glanced over at his wife, Ellen, who was signaling their daughters to cut the song. Their big voiced eight-year-old, little Miss Elaine Twyla, was singing lead. When she got into the groove she hated to turn the microphone loose. Elliot caught his wife’s eye, and they smiled at each other. Their girls were born to sing.

  Elliot was the type of man who was driven by his ideas and unafraid to put them into effect. That was why his family had something. At just twenty-eight years of age, he owned the 4-story building his family resided in, as well as a business on the same street.

  He and Ellen were in love and they were a match made in heaven. Both were from the same small town in North Carolina. Elliot courted Ellen at age fourteen, and they remained high school sweethearts who later got married the year they turned eighteen. Ellen was a southern bell who had the class and style of Jackie Onassis. She believed in her man and followed him to New York City, where he promised to take care of her like she was the First Lady. They purchased their first house at nineteen, and she gave birth to their first daughter, Etta, at twenty.

  Elliot adored Ellen. He owed her his life because to some extent, she had saved him. He was from a family of hustlers. They were about money so education wasn’t necessarily a priority. His mother, Sadie, sold bootleg liquor all night to support them when his father went out and got drunk and spent all the money earned from their puck wood business on other women. So she slept late some mornings. If he and his brothers hadn’t gotten themselves up for school some days, they would have never gotten there on time.

  As Elliot got older, he got wrapped up in the nightlife and hustle and bustle of his family’s activities. There were juke joints and liquor houses along the roadside in his community. They were owned by his aunts and uncles, who had reputations so feared folks dubbed their community Little Korea, comparing it to The Korean War fought in the early 1950’s. But they couldn’t get enough of it. Folks came from afar to indulge in the mischief Little Korea had to offer, so there was action going on all night.

  Elliot often kept late hours and had the luxury of deciding whether or not he wanted to attend school. But Ellen was so pretty and sweet, he went as much as he could. He’d been smitten with her ever since seventh grade. She was the main reason he went to school everyday. And his fear of being rejected by her and labeled a dummy made him study hard to impress her with his intelligence. She was smart and seemed to get good grades effortlessly. Trying to impress her had motivated him to finish school.

  They graduated from high school in May, 1968 and got married that December - on Christmas Eve. A few months later, they picked up and moved to New York City. They tried living in Queens, but later settled in the borough of Brooklyn.

  After Dr. King was assassinated in 1968, angry Blacks were determined to tear down the establishment so they vandalized, looted, and burned cities across the country. Brooklyn was no exception. Some of its neighborhoods suffered vastly. As a result, Whites began to relocate. Property values declined drastically, allowing Elliot to purchase his first house for a little more than a dollar and a dream.

  Now all these years later, he and his wife were well respected pillars in their community. Ellen played the piano in church and directed the choir. She was his better half and she was a great mom to his daughters.

  They had three girls but Elliot vowed that they would all be like him. He grew up with six brothers so he didn’t really know how to be gentle. He often made his girls wrestle and tussle like boys. And he had big plans for them. He envisioned that they would all be women of power and head their own empires one day. They would be in charge, no matter what society said about women being unequal. The year was 1981, and times were changing.

  Chapter 1

  1991

  Ten years later…

  As Twyla dipped through the Manhattan bound traffic on the FDR Drive, she glimpsed over at the hundreds of cars in the oncoming traffic on the southbound side. Relieved that her side was flowing well, she looked over at her younger sister in the passenger seat. Elle’s barely sixteen-year-old eyes were lit up with excitement. She thought she was pretty hot shit right about then.

  She was on her way to do her very first run. Acting as a traveling student, Elle would be boarding an Amtrak train from New York City to Baltimore with a suitcase filled with heroin and everything necessary to prepare it for street distribution. The drug paraphernalia she carried ranged from bags to cutting agents. Elle was what the law would call a “drug mule” in the making.

  Drug trafficking was commonplace for Elle and Twyla’s demographic. It was quite a popular occupation. Lots of young African American women in their neighborhood made a living carrying work out of town for drug dealers aspiring for wealth and power. The reason the job paid so well was because the police usually suspected that inner-city, young, Black men were up to no-good. They were frequently harassed and subjected to random searches. So using females to transport the product was the safest way for those migrating to rural parts of America attempting to lock down townships with high demand for New York City narcotics. A lot of dudes got jammed up trying to move shit. It was just easier to pay a girl to take it on the bus or train.

  Full of big sisterly concern, Twyla sighed. “Girl, I hope you know what you doing. Yo’ ass better be careful. You playin’ some real big girl games now, baby sis. That nigga Knight got you doing all this crazy shit all of a sudden. Lady and Pop gon’ kick yo’ ass.”

  Elle grinned at her sister, who was almost three years her senior. If the two were the same shade of brown they would have probably been mirror images. Elle’s milk chocolate complexion was a few shades darker than Twyla’s caramel, and she was a few inches taller and a little thicker. But their facial features were almost identical. Their oldest sister Etta was light skinned, taller, and slimmer, but she looked just like them too. They all had paisley shaped eyes and perfect noses with full luscious lips and hair that came pass their shoulders. They were all very pretty, and were often the target of envy from other neighborhood girls. The fact that their family owned a house and a business didn’t help. The sisters had to fight a lot growing up.

  Elle knew their parents would be upset about her endeavors. They had split up about three years before but they still shared the parenting process equally. “Elaine Twyla Mitchell, will you please quit?”

  Twyla frowned at Elle. She hated to be called by her whole name.

  Elle laughed, and continued. “Sis, I can only get in trouble if Pop and Lady find out. I’m okay! Don’t worry, I’ll be back in like two days. Just cover for me. I lied and said I was staying the weekend at Madison’s.”

  Twyla nodded slowly. Her baby sister was growing up. She thought about forbidding Elle to go but she didn’t want to be a hypocrite. Her respect for the game wouldn’t allow her to. She was Elle’s age when she started doing runs for her daughter’s father, Bilal. Back then, Elle used to see her coming home from out of town with expensive designer gear and money. Twyla used to take her and their baby brother, Junior, shopping with that
money. She had spoiled Elle, so it was partially her fault. She wanted to be like her. Her little sister looked up to her.

  The crazy part of it was that Elle was an honor student. She was enrolled in a specialized high school you had to pass a citywide test to get into. When it came to books, she was the smartest sister of the three of them. Twyla and Etta both proudly acknowledged that. Their baby sister had been a bookworm most of her life but she was hot in the ass now. Girlfriend was having sex and you couldn’t tell her anything. She had hooked up with Knight, this gangsta ass nigga who was everything she should’ve avoided. He was a well-known hustler who Twyla knew for a fact was a murderer. And Elle was smitten with him.

  Knight’s right-hand man was a guy named Rude. Rude was another bad boy boss who Twyla happened to have a little history with. He grew up across the street from them, so they played together when they were small. He asked her to be his girlfriend when they were eleven. It didn’t stand the test of time but she still cared about him. She also knew how ruthless he was. Knight was the same way, so Twyla wasn’t thrilled that he had hooked up with her little sister. She didn’t really approve, but what could she say? Her boyfriends were cut from the same cloth. She had always dated drug dealers and killers. She guessed her baby sister had looked up to that too.