The Fix 3

by K'wan

  “Morning, sunshine!” Christian waved the umbrella.

  “Good morning to you too. What brings you up to this end of the ghetto?” Meeka asked, surprised to see him in front of her house unannounced.

  Christian turned his face upward and spread his arms, basking in the sun shining overhead. “It’s a beautiful day, so I thought I’d come out and water my garden.” He opened the Corvette’s passenger door. “Take a ride with me, little rose.”

  “I’m not really dressed to go anywhere,” Meeka said, motioning toward her outfit.

  “You look fine, love,” Christian assured her. “Besides, where we’re going how well you pay attention will matter more than what you’re wearing. Now get in.”

  Meeka tossed her cigarette and got in the passenger’s side, while Christian got behind the wheel and they peeled off. As they drove Meeka kept casting curious glances at Christian.

  “What’s on your mind, sugar?” he asked, noticing her looking.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking how much different you look when you’re dressed down,” Meeka said. “You look so . . .”

  “Manly?” he finished the sentence for her. Christian laughed. “Let me let you in on a little secret: for as much as I love to glamour up, it’s not my everyday thing. Believe it not, I enjoy a comfortable pair of Tims and jeans more than I do leather and silk.”

  “Really?” Meeka couldn’t hide her shock.

  “Yes, really. Why do you seem so surprised?”

  “You don’t seem like the type.”

  “What you really mean is I don’t strike you as butch enough to dress like an everyday street nigga. It’s okay to say what’s on your mind. You’re family now,” Christian told her.

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect. Whatever your sexual preferences are ain’t none of my business. You’re a good dude and that’s all that really matters to me,” Meeka said sincerely.

  Christian laughed hysterically, banging his hand on the steering wheel. He was laughing so hard that tears were coming out of his eyes and he was having trouble catching his breath.

  “What’s so funny?” Meeka asked, not picking up on the joke.

  “Did you think I was gay?” Christian asked, trying to compose himself.

  “Maybe not gay, but at the very least bisexual,” Meeka admitted.

  “No, I’m not. I got a kid, a girlfriend, and two mistresses. I’ve never lain with a man or had the urge,” he informed her.

  “My bad. I just thought that with the way you dress, the wild parties with trannies . . .”

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for fine fabrics and fabulous people.” He chuckled. “But seriously, don’t be so quick to believe everything the world shows you. Most of it is just smoke and mirrors, baby.”

  “So you go through all the theatrics just to throw people off?” Meeka was still trying to process it.

  “Not entirely. He is me, yet he is a stranger.” Christian waved his hand over himself like he was pulling down a curtain. Meeka looked even more confused now, so he elaborated. “The vibrant and strikingly handsome piece of man meat you girls fawn over in the clubs is but one side to a coin. I’m a mama’s boy through and through, and I make no apologies for who I am. I picked up more game catering to the hags at my mother’s Saturday night poker games than I ever could standing on a corner with the other boys my age. These neighborhood women, who had less than we did, would dress up in all their finery and prance into my mama’s house like it was the Ritz-Carlton. When you looked at them, you didn’t see a woman living under harsh conditions; you saw a lady of wealth and influence. If only for one night they could forget who they really were and be whoever they projected. It was these women who planted the seeds in my head that would grow and take me to the top. See I was never the toughest kid on the block or the biggest, so brute strength was never an option for me. I would have to find another way to get where I needed to be. This was where the art of perception came into play. I didn’t want to be just a player in the game or a boss. I wanted to be a god. But Christian Knight was no deity; he was no different than your average hood nigga trying to get a dollar. If I wanted to be praised, I had to give people something to worship.”

  “Principe de La Noche.” Meeka finally caught on.

  “The smart girl gets a cookie.” Christian nodded approvingly. “The man my mother birthed is plain and unassuming, but the one those old women at the poker game spawned is larger than life. He is the lover of fine clothes, fine women, and fine drugs. More importantly he is the last person you’d expect to walk up on you and put a bullet in your head. An enemy who’ll never see you coming is an enemy who doesn’t have a chance to mount a proper defense.”

  Meeka had to admit she was impressed by his logic. Dolled up in his fine clothes, with his big words and colorful hair, you were more likely to mistake Christian for a queen than a cold-blooded killer. It was a brilliant strategy and she had a whole new respect for him. “So, who is the real Christian?”

  Christian gave her a sly smile. “Stick around long enough and you might find out.”

  He drove them farther uptown and turned down a dead-end street. He parked his Corvette by a hydrant and grabbed the umbrella from the back seat. He tested it to make sure it was working properly before getting out and motioning for Meeka to follow him. Christian led her into the courtyard of a run-down building where several women were loitering. From the way they were scantily dressed Meeka knew they were working girls. Their eyes all followed Christian curiously as he passed them.

  Sitting on the bench at the far end of the courtyard was a man who looked like he had just stepped out of a seventies movie, dressed in a crushed red velvet suit and matching apple jack hat cocked on his head. Hovering behind him was a dark-skinned man wearing a too tight T-shirt and a scowl. He must’ve been the pimp’s bodyguard. The dark-skinned man whispered into the pimp’s ear, causing his head to snap up. When he saw Christian, his body tensed and his hand drifted to his jacket pocket. No doubt he had a weapon hidden there. Ignoring the hostile gesture Christian continued to approach.

  “Sup, Red?” Christian extended his hand, but Red didn’t shake it. A sad look crossed Christian’s face. “Looks like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

  “Don’t you be worrying about what side of the bed I woke up on, snake. What you doing ’round here?” Red snapped.

  “I came to pay a call on an old friend and hoped that we could do some business,” Christian said.

  “Christian, we ain’t never been friends. The one and only time I was ever fool enough to break bread with you, you had me drugged and made off with two of my bitches. I should smoke your larcenous ass for having the audacity for even coming to my place of business on some funny shit,” Red spat.

  “Red, you can’t fault me for the decisions your girls make. You know the rules of the game. And as far as you doing even the slightest bit of harm to this gorgeous body of mine, I think we both know that if it were that simple you’d have tried your hand ages ago. You can front for people you don’t know, but you can’t front for someone who has heard the dirty little whispers of your heart. You’re a pretty chatty fellow when you’re on that Mind Candy,” Christian said, referring to the pills Red had been on that night. “Now can we skip the pissing contest so I can make my proposal and get out of this cesspool you call a ho stroll?” He looked around distastefully.

  “Speak your business and be gone, freak!” Red demanded.

  “Very well.” Christian twirled his umbrella. “Beatrice and some of her lady friends have decided they’re ready for a change of scenery and would like to explore the greener pastures of my organization,” he said flatly.

  Red opened his mouth to protest, but Christian raised his umbrella to silence him.

  “Now,” Christian continued, “before you go into giving me the whole pimp speech about trying to knock your bitches, let me just say that I didn’t come to her. She and some of her girls came to me and w
anted to join my circus. Now I understand that as well as this being a bruise to your ego it’s also going to hurt your pockets, so I have come prepared to compensate you.”

  Red frowned at the word because he didn’t know what it meant.

  “It means I’m willing to pay you, Red.” Christian sighed at his ignorance. “I think paying you the sum of five thousand dollars for Beatrice and, let’s say, fifteen hundred per head for each girl who defects with her is fair. This way when word gets out that they’re with me it won’t look like you got knocked for your ladies; it looks like you sold them. It allows you to save face and make a few extra bucks for your trouble. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like you been taking them happy pills you sell,” Red capped. “You’ve got some nerve coming over here and spitting in my face, dressing it up like you’re doing me a favor. That he-she bitch Beatrice makes more for me on a weekend than you’re offering.”

  “Indeed, so. Beatrice’s client list of businessmen makes her quite a valuable piece on the chessboard, which is all the more reason you should’ve taken better care when she was with you. See, the problem with niggas like you is that you think you’ve got to keep your foot in a chick’s ass to make sure she stays productive. Ain’t nobody gonna be a punching bag forever, man nor woman.”

  Red stood. “And the problem with niggas like you is you can’t seem to keep your nose out of other people’s shit.” He jabbed his finger into Christian’s chest. “First you’re a stick-up kid, then a drug dealer, and now you wanna be a pimp! Nigga, you can’t even make up your mind which sport you wanna play! You think because you got them team of killers running with you that you can muscle your way into other people’s rackets, but I ain’t going to be muscled by nobody, especially your sugary ass!” He jabbed him again. “Now I’m gonna let you prance on outta here only because I need you to deliver a message to Beatrice for me. You tell that abomination that his asshole is mine to rent out until I say different. Now get the fuck from around here before I put you in a dress and have you selling your shithole for me too.” He popped his collar and strutted back to where his bodyguard was standing. They slapped each other five and laughed.

  Christian let out a deep sigh. “I was really hoping we could’ve put our past differences to the side and handled this like gentlemen, but obviously there’s no reasoning with you.” He opened his umbrella, and held it over his head.

  “Damn right there ain’t no reasoning with me. Now fly your ass away, Mary Poppins,” Red dismissed him.

  “Meeka, you may want to stand a little closer so you don’t ruin your clothes.” Christian pulled her under the umbrella.

  Meeka wasn’t sure what Christian meant until she heard something whistle by her ear and a split second later Red’s head exploded. Christian tilted the umbrella just in time to keep blood and brain matter from splashing on them. Red’s bodyguard took off running, but he didn’t make it very far before something slammed into his back and he too fell over dead. When Christian lowered the umbrella, Meeka looked up and saw Boogie perched on the roof holding a rifle.

  “You should’ve taken the money,” Christian said to Red’s corpse before strolling back to the center of the courtyard. He climbed up on one of the benches and addressed the stunned prostitutes. “As you can see by the mess over there, Red is out of business. Those of you who want to go rogue or choose someone else are welcome to do so, but those of you who wanna get your shit together and make some real paper get with Beatrice. You bitches are now liberated and I am your messiah!”

  Meeka was silent during the ride back to her block. It amazed her how Christian could turn from sweet and fun-loving into a cold-blooded killer in the blink of an eye. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. What he had done to Robbie the night before had shown her how much value he placed on human life, and it wasn’t much. Christian had ordered the deaths of Red and his bodyguard with a simple gesture, which further demonstrated the kind of power he had in the streets. He said he wanted to be a god, and Christian was certainly playing the part.

  Christian made a sudden move and Meeka damn near jumped out of her skin. She looked down to see he had produced a lavender handkerchief and was handing it to her. “You’ve got a little blood on your cheek,” he pointed out.

  “Oh.” Meeka looked in the mirror and saw the speck of red just below her eye. “Thanks.” She took the handkerchief and wiped her face. Once she’d cleaned the blood off, she busied herself staring out the window. Christian was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.

  “Something is obviously on your mind, so you might as well spit it out,” Christian said, picking up on her mood. “You’ve been through quite a bit over the past twenty-four hours so the least I can do is give you the courtesy of some candor.”

  “What the fuck was that back there?” she asked.

  “A power move. Red was standing in the way of progress,” Christian said as if it was nothing.

  “That was about more than the purchasing of some whores to fatten your stable. You never intended on making that deal with Red. You planned on killing him all along,” Meeka accused him.

  Christian raised his hand. “Guilty as charged, your honor. We went over there under the guise of brokering for Beatrice’s freedom but I was really collecting the contract that had been placed on his life. Beatrice and the girls scraped up a nice chunk of change, but couldn’t cover my normal retainer. Luckily for them I never cared much for Red so I didn’t mind eating the loss.”

  Meeka sat up in her seat and looked at Christian. The revelation caught her off guard. As far as she knew Christian made his money running girls and selling drugs. She had seen him at work so she knew he was more than capable of murder, but would never have pegged him for a paid hitter. Her new boss was proving full of surprises.

  “Don’t look at me like the girl who just went home with the guy at two a.m. and then gets offended when she realizes that he just wants to fuck. Niggas take lives for free to hold drug corners, so why shouldn’t I turn a profit from it? The name of the game is get rich by any means necessary and I’m doing just that.”

  “I ain’t no killer,” Meeka told him.

  “You’ll be whatever is necessary if and when the need arises, or have you already forgotten Robbie?” he sneered. He pulled the car to a stop in front of Meeka’s building and threw it in park. “Listen, honey, I like you, truly I do but this game me and mine are playing isn’t for the faint of heart. If you don’t have the balls or the desire to be remembered, then you best get your cute ass out this car and be forgotten.”

  Meeka remained seated.

  “That’s what I figured. Look, if you’re worried about me having you running around clipping people, you needn’t be. My vices are my vices, and I’d never expect you to take a life unless it was absolutely necessary. What I had you do to Robbie was about trust. I couldn’t very well fully let you in on my business unless I had something to use as insurance that you’d never turn on me if you were ever pressed.”

  “I’m a loyal bitch. I’d never turn on you,” Meeka said, offended that he would even think such a thing.

  “I’m not a man who believes in taking chances or blind trust. We are a family bound by blood and secrets, and now you are too, little flower.”

  “I’m so over this.” Meeka made to get out of the car, but Christian grabbed her about the wrist.

  “Before we part company, I need to ask a small favor of you.”

  “What, do you need me to drown some puppies or something?” Meeka asked sarcastically.

  Christian chuckled. “That was cute, but no, nothing quite so extreme. It’s just a small task.” He ran his finger down her arm. Christian leaned forward and whispered something in Meeka’s ear that made her recoil.

  “I can’t do that,” she told him.

  “Oh, but you can. This is far too delicate of a situation for me to entrust to Boogie or Frank. In fact you’re probably the best person qualified for the job because of your
familiarity with the parties involved,” he told her. Meeka still looked unsure. “Whether you agree or not, it’s still going to happen. I just thought I’d give you the courtesy of letting you know and maybe helping this all go a little smoother.” He ran down his plan to her.

  Meeka sat there contemplating what had been asked of her while Christian watched her, waiting to see how she would answer. If she refused he’d likely just have Boogie or Frank take care of it and there was no telling how they would handle it, but it would likely end up messy with a lot of unnecessary people getting hurt. Going along with Christian’s request was likely the lesser of the two evils and the safest course of action. “Okay, I’ll do it,” she agreed.

  “Excellent.” Christian smiled. “Thank you, Meeka. I won’t forget how much you’ve done for this family.”

  Meeka didn’t reply; she just got out of the car. “Christian.” She leaned in the window. “After this, no more bullshit. I’m about getting money, not playing these sick-ass games of yours.”

  Christian placed three fingers over his heart. “Scout’s honor, baby. Now go on upstairs and get pretty for me.”

  Meeka walked up the stairs of her building with mixed emotions. Her grandmother had always told her that nothing in the world was without costs, and for her place among the beautiful people she was paying a heavy price. The irony of it all was no matter how much she tried to escape her past it always seemed to catch up with her.

  CHAPTER 16

  Persia’s night had been a fitful one with very little sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Ramses. Bumping into him at the steak house had been unexpected and frightening. The whole time he was at their booth Persia kept thinking that she was going to die and take Vaughn with her for the ride. She had never been more relieved than when he left.