by Noire
Ace had been one of the closest people in the world to G. Not as close as Moonie, nah he couldn’t front and say that, but he had definitely come in second place on G’s trusted capo list.
Him, Moonie, Pluto, and G had been a four-man crew when all that cash got stashed in a mausoleum out in Woodlawn Cemetery after Juicy’s grandmother died. In fact, he had helped G haul the old lady’s dead body outta the coffin and stuff her into the trunk of his whip. Later that night, he’d ridden with G and Pacho out to the landfill and tossed the dead bitch off on top of a mound of rotting trash.
But Harlem had exploded in a fireball after G got shot, and Ace and Pluto had both gotten knocked in a flash. The cops had raided Pluto’s crib and caught him with his pants down, but Ace had gotten done even worse. He’d gotten busted going to check on his sick Grandma. And when the bullets started flying, it had been Grandma who ended up slumped over in her rocker with a metal slug through her forehead.
Hot rage ran through Ace as he thought about how he’d had to cool it on Rikers for a month before his lawyer finally got him out. But by that time it was too late. He had rushed over to his boss’s crib straight outta lock up and busted opened the wall safe. He had known there wasn’t gonna be a whole lotta doe in G’s home stash, but he had expected to find some decent pocket change. Most of all, he had expected to find a very special key, and when that shit wasn’t there, he had rushed out to Woodlawn Cemetery and used a sledgehammer to break into a crypt. Ace had known he was fucked by the weight of the metal drawer when he pulled it out. It was too light to hold a body, and it was damn sure too light to hold over half a million dollars in cold hard cash.
He shook with rage as he remembered staring up at the ceiling in the mausoleum. He’d flung a vase of dead flowers against the wall, then snatched up a folding chair and started swinging it like a bat. He’d cursed and screamed and beat the shit outta the walls and the floor until there was no more strength left in him.
There was no question in Ace’s mind about who had pulled a grand larceny on G’s hard earned stash. If he coulda gotten hold of Gino’s dirty ass he would have snapped his fuckin’ neck. But Gino had dipped. That marked niggah had grabbed Juicy and fled the city just like a little bitch.
I shoulda popped him when I had a chance, Ace thought bitterly. Right before his murder, G had given Ace an order to take Gino to the airport and put him on a plane. And when Ace had asked his boss what he should do if Gino bucked and didn’t wanna go, G’s eyes had been colder than ice when he’d said, “Then kill him.”
“And that’s what I shoulda did,” Ace said out loud. If he had sunk a hot one in Gino when he had him in his sights, the money woulda still been sitting in the crypt when he got outta jail, and him and Pluto would be rolling in it right now. “Yeah,” Ace muttered under his breath, his voice thick with rage and regret. “That’s exactly what the fuck I shoulda did.”
CHAPTER 11
Pulling up to the Canadian checkpoint, Monique eyeballed her reflection in the rearview mirror. Not only did she look cooler than ice, she looked young, sexy, and absolutely stunning. The line of cars waiting to cross the border had been mad long, but she wasn’t nervous and she wasn’t stressed. She had no reason to be. Her ID was in order, the paperwork on the whip was in order, and most important, the vehicle was totally clean. No drugs had ever come close to it because that had been one of G’s strictest rules.
Monique flashed the skinny white border agent a ‘fuck-me’ smile and he sent her one right back. She had dropped Ace and Pluto off at a mall in a small town nearby, and then followed the directions on her GPS until she came to the border crossing.
She handed over her paperwork, and when the agent directed her to get out so the car could be inspected, she climbed out cooperatively and stood there crunching on a Chick-o-Stick she had stashed in her bag.
Less than ten minutes later she had cleared customs and was on her way. According to the GPS the sanitarium was twenty-five miles north, so Monique sat back in the plush leather seats and purred. Handling the luxury whip was like riding a nice fat dick, and she enjoyed the feel of the powerful car as it moved at her command.
Sunny Hills was on a large, fenced-in compound. Monique had to show the letter they’d sent G, along with her photo ID, before they would let her pass through its heavy, well-guarded gates.
When she pulled onto the grounds she was shocked by what she saw. A huge, modern estate situated on what looked like miles of rolling green grass. Employees dressed in fancy uniforms walked around looking like butlers and maids. There was a slick swimming pool with bright blue water, several cabanas, and shaded tables where patients were laid out getting back rubs and hip massages.
This ain’t no regular nut-house! Monique thought, taking it all in. Hospital, hell. G musta been dropping a gwap every year to keep his wife stashed away at a slamming resort like this. Escorted by an attendant, Monique breezed into the administrative office and filled out a stack of discharge paperwork for Salida McKay.
When she was done, they assigned her another attendant who escorted her down to the area where Salida was being housed. This attendant was a Black woman who looked to be about sixty.
“I’m so glad you came to get Mrs. McKay out of here,” the hefty woman said, her short legs moving fast. “Are you her daughter?”
“Oh no,” Monique said quickly and then lied, “I’m her niece, Monique. She was married to my uncle.”
“Mr. McKay? Oh, what a fine man! He used to come around here all the time, just loaded down with shopping bags and boxes full of expensive clothes jewelry. He made sure he kept his wife looking good and living in style, too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him though. A lot of family members seem to just up and stop coming to visit sometimes.”
“Well, he upped and died,” Monique said flatly. “That’s why he stopped coming.”
The attendant frowned.
“Did he get sick? It happens. Our patients outlive their family members all the time. Most of them have healthy bodies. It’s their mental state that keeps them here.” They crossed the street and headed up a grass-lined walkway. Monique waited as the attendant used a key-card to unlock the side door of a small, ancient-looking building.
“We’re here,” the older woman said brightly, and led her into a stifling hot lobby. “This part ain’t as nice as what you saw out front. This is where they keep the ones who can’t pay their bill no more.”
Monique looked around and nodded. Now this was more like it. She’d seen a couple of nut-houses in city hospitals and most of them were just like this: run down, dark, and low-budget.
“For years Mrs. McKay stayed in one of the finest suites on the property,” the attendant went on. “But about a month ago they waited until it got real late at night, then they packed her things up and stuck her way back here where the real broke patients stay. I wasn’t here, but I heard they had to drag the poor thing out of her room kicking and hollering. She’d been living there so long her suite was the only home she really knew.”
The attendant stopped outside of room 126 and knocked three times on the door. When there was no answer she swiped her key-card through the slot and Monique heard the lock click open.
“Don’t worry,” the attendant whispered behind her hand. “She’s been getting her medication every single day. It’s against the law for us to withhold anti-psychotic drugs just because the family can’t pay.”
Monique nodded. She had no fuckin’ idea what kinda fool she was gonna see when the door swung open, but she wasn’t prepared for what was waiting on the other side.
Salida McKay sat in a metal folding chair by the window. Her hair was piled on her head in a mass of soft, natural curls and she was dressed to slay in a slinky maroon designer dress. Her legs were crossed elegantly at the knee and a pair of bammin’ chic silver stilettos with a six-inch heel were on her slender feet.
“Mrs. McKay!” the attendant called out brightly. “You have a visitor. It’s you
r niece, Monique! She’s come to take you home!”
Salida took her time turning to face them, and when she did Monique saw exactly why she had been the only bitch that G had ever wifed.
She was beautiful. She was more than beautiful. She had some shit about her that screamed, “Royalty!” Like she deserved to be bathed and oiled and fanned by servants.
But gorgeous or not, Salida had some crazy shit going on with her too. Monique had seen that buggy look in the eyes of sickos around Harlem her whole life. She wasn’t sure if Salida was gonna bust her out and get stupid because she’d never seen her before, or if she was sane enough to use this opportunity to get the fuck outta jail while she had the chance. She found out real quick.
“Monique, huh?” Salida smirked, looking Monique slowly up and down.
Watching her cunning eyes, Monique could tell there were still a few slick cylinders clicking in the old bird’s brain.
“Yes,” she answered sweetly. “I came to get you, Aunty. Uncle Granite sent me.”
“Where is he?”
Monique didn’t know what the hell to say. “Um, he couldn’t make it so I came instead.”
Salida stared at her real hard for a second and then uncrossed her legs and stood up, displaying her full, magnificent splendor.
Goddamn, Monique thought, begrudgingly giving up mad appreciation for what she saw. Salida was an older version of Juicy. Her body was succulent and luscious. Her slick maroon gown fit her curves like a tailored glove. Simply put, she was a prime stunna. She looked delicious. In fact, she looked damned delicious, and even as jealous of other chicks as Monique was, she had to give the bitch that.
She watched as Salida swung her sweet round hips across the room like she was a bikini model on somebody’s fashion runway.
“It’s about time you got your ass here,” Salida said crisply, like she had been expecting Monique for months. “Grab my things from the closet, and don’t forget my minks.”
She sat back down and crossed her legs daintily as Monique and the attendant scurried to throw her personal items into two large designer suitcases that were stored under the bed.
“She don’t mean no harm bossing you around like that,” the old Black attendant whispered as her and Monique packed Salida’s gear. There was expensive jewelry, silk dresses, lingerie, and top-label designer shoes out the ass. “Mrs. McKay just has terrible mood swings. Up one day, and down the next. You never know what you’re gonna get out of her. It’s part of her mental condition, so be sure she stays on her medication at all times.”
As they were on the way out the door Salida spoke to Monique over her shoulder.
“I don’t know where you’re going, Monique, but I’m from New York. New York City, in the United States. Do you know where that is?”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” Monique said sweetly. I know New York City like the back of my hand.”
Salida nodded. “Good. Take me there.” And then she added, “You got a cigarette?”
Monique, with her arm full of Salida’s shoes, clothes, and all the other random shit the older lady had accumulated over the years, nodded yes.
Salida looked satisfied.
“Good,” she said dryly. “Light me one.”
CHAPTER 12
It wasn’t Harlem they were heading for as Monique re-crossed the border with Salida riding shotgun in G’s luxury whip. Instead, they were Brooklyn bound. But first, they had to make a quick stop.
“Why are you stopping here?” Salida asked as Monique pulled into the mall parking lot where she had left the two main men in her life. “You taking me shopping or something?”
“No, we’re not going shopping but I’m picking up some people who really wanna see you, Mizz Salida,” Monique said. “They gonna roll with us the rest of the way to the city.”
She texted Pluto and let him know they were waiting outside, and when him and Ace walked out the mall and headed toward the car it was all Monique could do not to bust out laughing.
“What…the…fuck?” Salida said slowly, narrowing her insane eyes and blowing smoke from her nose as she watched the two fat men waddle their way over to the car. Salida was smoking up all her damn cigarettes, but Monique didn’t care. This trick was funny!
“Who are those two clowns coming to see?”
Monique giggled as she climbed out the driver’s seat so Ace could get in. “You. They coming to see you.”
Salida sat right where she was as the two men approached. Ace came straight over to her window wearing a big smile on his face. He had been with G the longest and had known Salida very well back in the day.
“Sup, Mizz Salida,” the big man said. Seeing her brought back memories of the good old days with G and he took her hand in his and kissed it respectfully. “It’s Ace. Remember me?”
“Hello, Arnold,” Salida replied calmly. “Yes, it has certainly been a long time.”
Ace walked around the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, and Pluto stepped up to her window next.
“How you doing, Mizz Salida? I’m Pluto. G was my dawg. Me and you met a long time ago but you prolly don’t remember me.” He opened her door and held out his hand like he was gonna help her get out.
“Oh, I remember you,” Salida said, and there was no mistaking the coldness in her voice. “I remember you very well.”
Perched in her seat like a goddess, Salida reached out and pulled her door shut, leaving Pluto standing out there with his hand still held out.
Monique giggled her ass off in the back seat, happy to see Pluto get dissed.
“Take me home.” Salida glanced at Ace, then turned and looked out the window at the dumbfounded Pluto. She blew some more smoke out her nose. “What you standing there looking stupid for? Climb your big ass in the backseat and let’s go.”
$$$$$
The ride back to the city was interesting. Monique was fascinated by Salida. Mama was a boss! She was still sexy at damn near forty-five, and even though she had been doped up and locked away for years, the stress of it didn’t hardly show on her at all.
“Where’s Granite?” Salida asked about ten minutes into their journey. Pluto had climbed angrily into the backseat next to Monique. He kept looking over at her all crazy-like. Monique knew he was daring her to grin so he could bust her one. It was all she could do to hold her giggles in too. It wasn’t everyday that big bad Pluto got bitch-checked by a female.
“Is he at that club?”
“Umm, which club, Mizz Salida?” Ace played dumb. “You talking about the G-Spot?”
“Yeah,” she said. “The G-Spot. I know all about that place. Who you think told him to buy it and how to set it up? Is he still running it?”
Ace swallowed hard. “Yeah, the Spot is still pretty hot. It’s not all it could be, but it’s still generating.”
“I didn’t ask you all that,” Salida replied, irritated. “I said is Granite still running his club?”
Monique almost felt bad for Ace when she heard how hard he sighed.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Mizz Salida, but G is dead. We buried him six months ago. I can take you to see his grave if you want me to, and I’m sorry you gotta find out like this, but that’s what it is. G is dead.”
Salida kept right on puffing on her cigarette. “How’d he die?”
“Somebody killed him. He got shot.”
Salida got real quiet for a while. And then she scared the shit outta all of them when she threw her head back and bust out laughing.
“I knew it! I knew it! I knew that black bastard was dead! That’s why they let me outta that hell-hole! He always said the only way I would ever see the streets again would be over his dead body!”
Smiling, she blew a long trail of smoke out of her nose. “So who did it? Good for that mothafucka!” She laughed. “Who did it? Huh? Who did it?”
Ace was too shocked. “Mizz Salida! That ain’t right! Laughing at ya man like that! I just told you he’s dead!”
Salid
a bucked and came hard out of Brooklyn. “Oh, fuck you, Arnold! What ain’t right is what that niggah did to me! Telling my little boy I was crazy! Separating a mother from her damn child! That’s what ain’t right! And where’s my damn son? Where’s my Gino?”
Ace raised his hand in the air and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry but I’on’t know where the fuck Gino’s at, and I’on’t know shit about nothin’ personal between you and G! Word. I’m just saying…it ain’t right to be laughing because the man got killed.”
Salida laughed again and her voice sounded like a whole bucket of ice cubes clinking together.
“That niggah better be dead,” she said, coldly. “Taking my baby away from me. I wish whoever shot him would have shot him twice. Once for whatever he did to them, and once for all the shitty little things he did to me.”
They rode in silence after that. When they finally arrived in Brooklyn Ace passed Salida a fat envelope stuffed with money.
“This is just a lil sumpthin’ to hold you for a minute,” he told her. “It ain’t a whole lot considering how long you been gone, but you should be able to get you an apartment or a lil car or whatever you want.”
Monique could tell by the look on Ace’s face that he was mad as fuck, but he told her to go ahead and take Salida upstairs while him and Pluto waited in the car.
Salida’s sister lived on the fifth floor of a big apartment building. They were a large family of Puerto Ricans, and some of them looked like they were mixed with Black. After dragging Salida’s suitcases up the steps, Monique niggah-knocked on the door. When it opened she saw a room filled with people who were sitting around eating, playing dominos, and talking shit in both Spanish and English real loud.
