Life After Wifey

by Kiki Swinson

  “Yo, Nikki, I ain’t trying to hear that shit right now. Just get word to Q. and let ‘em know that I’m gon’ call up to the car wash at one o’clock

  on the nose. So, I’m gon’ need for him to be there.”

  “No problem.”

  “Well a’ight, I’mma holler back at you tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  “What time you getting off work?”

  “I don’t know. Rhonda is leaving so I’m gonna be really busy until I can get shit on a system around there. Just call me about the same time you did tonight.”

  “Yeah, a’ight, I’mma holler at you tomorrow then.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I responded, unenthused, because it was becoming pretty apparent that this nigga was starting to turn on me. He never appreciated anything I did for his crab ass. But, it was cool though because I had a trick for his ass!

  Disgusted by my conversation with Syncere, I put my phone away and took another sip from my glass.

  “You okay?” Quincy asked me.

  “I was until I got that phone call.”

  “What he say?”

  “Nothing worth repeating.”

  “What did he say about me?”

  “He just wanted to know what time I met up with you today. He said every time he tries to call you, you ain’t never around.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, he thinks that you’re ducking him for some reason.”

  “I ain’t ducking him!”

  “That’s what I tried to tell him. But he told me to mind my fucking business!”

  “Yo, that nigga is bugging out! He’s too fucking paranoid for me.”

  “That’s your partner.”

  “Yeah, sometimes I wonder about that, too,” he commented as he poured himself another shot of liquor.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Why didn’t you want me to tell Syncere that I was over your crib?”

  “Because first of all, I knew he was going to want to talk to me and I ain’t in the mood for that right now. And secondly, he would not have understood that you were chilling at my house while he was in jail.”

  “I see your point now. Let me ask you question, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Have you and him ever had to go head to head with each other since y’all started working together?”

  Quincy hesitated and looked at me really weird. To make him feel a little more at ease, I said, “It’s okay, Q. I promise I won’t ever mention this conversation to him.”

  “You sure?”

  “After that dumb shit he just said to me over the phone, he’d be lucky if I make another trip downtown. I damned sure don’t feel like signing my name on the line to bail his selfish ass out!”

  “Oh, you just talking. ‘Cause as soon as that nigga tell you to jump, you gon’ ask him how high.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  “Nah, Shorty, that’s what I know. I see your type every day: The nice, pretty type who doesn’t know shit about the streets. So, as soon as she gets a little taste of a hood nigga, she gets all blinded and let ‘em take complete control over her life.”

  “Is that so?”

  Quincy nodded his head.

  “Well, I sure hate to break this to you, but I’m far from being the type you just described.”

  “I hope you’re not in denial.”

  “No, not at all. But, I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re trying to avoid my question.”

  “What question was that?” he knew which question is was though.

  “The question was about whether or not you and Syncere ever had run-ins since y’all been working together?”

  “Yeah, we have.”

  “How many times?”

  “A couple.”

  “How did y’all settle the dispute?”

  “I don’t remember how. We just did. I mean, men do things different from women. We just let shit be what it is supposed to be, because the most important thing is the money that needs to be made. All that other bullshit is put on the back burner.”

  “How is y’all’s relationship now?”

  “It used to be all good until recently.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing major. Everything’s cool,” Quincy replied, giving me a feeling he was trying to brush me off. I respected the fact he was the type of man who wasn’t into running his mouth like a gossiping-ass chick and left the subject alone.

  “That’s good. Now, tell me whatcha got in here to snack on ‘cause, I’m getting kind of hungry right now.”

  “I got a can of Pringles over there on top of the refrigerator, but that’s it.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. Can’t say that I won’t eat the whole can,” I warned him with a smile as I got up from the chair to retrieve the can.

  “Do your thing, Nikki.”

  Meanwhile, his Blackberry started ringing and he answered it. I remained quiet because I didn’t want to cause any problems, just in case it was one of his lady friends on the other end. I had too much drama already. About two minutes later he said, “Yo, I’mma handle it. Just give me

  a couple of days.” And then he hung up.

  “Want to take a trip with me tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Where to?”

  “D.C.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go. But, whatcha gotta’ go there for?”

  “I got to take care of some business.”

  “I hope you ain’t trying to make a pick up,” I said to him with caution.

  “Oh, nah, I don’t make trips like that. But, I do have to see somebody very important.”

  “So, why do you want me to go?”

  “Because I wouldn’t mind having some company.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Right after we get there, I’m gonna turn around and come on back down the road.”

  “Okay then, I’m down,” I assured him.

  “Yo, you’re tearing them chips up.”

  “I told you I was starving.”

  “Want me to order a pizza?”

  “Yeah, do that. Make sure they add extra cheese to it.”

  “No, problem. I got it covered.”

  After we ordered the pizza, the time flew by and before we knew it, we were diving into it. The pizza was cooked exactly the way I wanted it, not to mention it was even tastier than it looked. With the constant flow of Rémy Red, I was beginning to feel the effects of it. I believed Quincy was feeling the effects of his liquor as well because he started asking me some really weird questions.

  “You sure you really want to be with that nigga?”

  “Who? Syncere?”

  “Yeah, who else?”

  “Why you asking me that?” I asked.

  “Because you don’t seem like you’re happy.”

  “That’s because I’m not.”

  “So, why you still fucking with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you lonely or something?”

  “Nah, I ain’t lonely.”

  “Well, get it together, then. ‘Cause, to be perfectly honest with you, I seriously don’t think you’re emotionally or mentally built for the type of nigga he is.”

  “And what type of nigga is that?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  He took another sip of his drink and said, “Yo, Syncere is a fucking mad man and he don’t give a fuck about nobody but himself.”

  Sensing that the alcohol was speaking through him, I saw an opportunity to get more information out of him and seized the moment.

  “If you feel like that, then why are you still in business with him?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. This shit I’m doing with him is only temporary. Believe me, I got a plan.”

  “What kind of plan you got going on?”

  “Oh, you’ll see.
And it won’t be very long.”

  “So, whatcha gon’ do after that?”

  “I’ve got some other shit lined up.”

  “Does Syncere know about this house?”

  “Oh, hell nah! And you can’t ever tell him about it either!” he said urgently.

  “I won’t,” I assured him. “But, let me ask you this: How close were you to Mark?”

  “You talking about Syncere‘s peoples?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “Oh yeah, he was cool as shit. But, we wasn’t that close. I mean, he used to come by the car wash and gamble with us every now and then but that was it. I mean, he used to mainly fuck with Syncere. They used to do a lot of business together. So, he would come by like twice a week to pick up the dough Syncere owed him.”

  “Why was Syncere owing him money?”

  “Because Syncere use to cop his shit from him. And sometimes Mark would just front it to him because they was cool like that. But, I remember one time at a dice game when Mark stepped up to Syncere and asked him about a rumor he heard…”

  “What was the rumor?” I asked, cutting Quincy off in mid sentence.

  “There was a whole bunch of Mark’s peoples was complaining about Syncere stepping on the dope and selling them garbage. And the same people also got word to Mark that Syncere was getting high.”

  “You are fucking kidding me,” I blurted out immediately after listening to what Quincy had just said.

  “No, I’m not. So anyway, when Mark approached him at the dice game, he asked Syncere was he smoking that shit! When he did it, he kind of screamed on him in front of everybody. And by doing that, Syncere felt like Mark had disrespected him. So, shit got real heated! And it almost looked like I was about to be in the middle of a blood bath, but somehow niggas got in between them and was able to cool things down.”

  “So, Syncere was getting high?”

  “Hell yeah, that nigga was getting high. But, Mark didn’t know it until some other nigga hipped him to it.”

  “What was he getting high off of?”

  “That nigga did everything from snorting coke, to lacing his weed.”

  “Do you think he’s doing it now?”

  “How can he and he’s in jail?.” Quincy asked and then he laughed. “But, as soon as he becomes a free man, all hell is gon’ break loose!”

  “Do you think he had something to do with Mark getting killed?” I boldly asked, not even expecting a response.

  “Hell yeah! I know he did.”

  Hearing Quincy utter those words out of his mouth made my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. He actually admitted Syncere had something to do with Mark’s murder. This was fucking unbelievable! But, my question to him was, how the hell did he know all of this? And before I could ask him he continued by saying, “Shit, everybody in his crew knows he knocked Mark off. Syncere had it set up to look like a robbery, so the heat wouldn’t come back on him.”

  “But why? I mean, what in the hell could Mark have done to make Syncere put a hit out on him?”

  “With Syncere, it was a matter of control. And if he couldn’t get it, then he was going to eliminate the problem that was preventing that from happening.”

  “Did you know that Kira lost her baby after she got shot that night?” I asked with anger.

  “Yo, she was pregnant?”

  “Yeah, she sure was,” I replied as water filled my eyes.

  “Damn! I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I swear to God, I ain’t gon’ lift a finger to do another fucking thing for that bastard! And you know what? I hope that muthafucka rot in that jail cell.

  “Well, whatcha’ gon’ do when it’s time for him to go to court?”

  “I ain’t gon’ do shit! I ain’t even gon’ accept anymore of his collect calls.”

  “Yo, baby you better be careful. ‘Cause if that nigga knows you know about that shit that went down with your cousin and Mark, he’ll have somebody kill you. So, you gon’ have to play it very easy.”

  “I know I’m dealing with a fucking psycho! That’s why I’m gon’ get his ass before he gets mine.”

  “And how the fuck you gon’ do that?”

  “I don’t know. But, I’ll find a way.”

  “Now, you know you can’t go to the police with this shit! ‘Cause, who the fuck gon’ admit to pulling the trigger for that shit? Nobody. So, it’s going to be your word against his. And then, once he finds out that you went to the police with that shit, you gon’ fuck around and come up missing for sure!”

  My heart started pounding rapidly when told me about the repercussions I would endure if I went to the police about Mark’s murder, so what was I going to do?

  “My life is one big mess,” I commented and sighed.

  “Yo’, you gon’ be a’ight. Just hold your head up.”

  “How can I do that, when I know I’m fucking with a nigga who’s a killer?”

  “I wish I could answer that, but I can’t. I mean, all I can tell you is that you gon’ have to find a way to leave him alone.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, tell me why you decided to tell me all of this?”

  “Yo, let me explain something to you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Nikki, in spite of what transpired in my past relationship with Kira, I still got mad love for her because she was a cool chick. So, when I heard about her getting shot behind some beef Syncere had with Mark, I was mad heated. I honestly wanted to put a bullet in that nigga’s head myself. But when I found out she was all right, I kind of pushed my emotions to the side.”

  “Kira told me why y’all broke up. But I want to hear it from you.”

  “What she said was probably true. I mean, what can I say other than the fact that I was cheating on her?”

  “But, why?”

  “I really don’t know why. I just did it.”

  “But, you had to have a reason.”

  “Men don’t necessarily have to have a reason to cheat. We just do it, if the opportunity presents itself. I mean, every man I know gets excited about finding out how new pussy feels. Especially if the chick was nice with a thick phat ass. Yo, niggas love that shit.”

  “So, I’ve heard. But, tell me something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Why don’t you have a girl?”

  Quincy smiled and said, “Because chicks play too many games. And plus, they’re too needy. Always want you to be up under them all the time. And then they’re too damn moody.”

  “Not all of us.”

  “Shiid, that’s a lie. Because every chick I fucked with got all the same characteristics.”

  “Not me.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “No, I’m serious. Because I’m not needy and I am definitely not into a man being up under me all the time. Shit, I like my space. That’s why I encouraged Syncere to keep his place out Newport News.”

  “Well, you know what? You are among the few.”

  “Stop fucking with them chicken heads and you wouldn’t have those problems.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” he commented and then he took the last sip of his drink.

  The night started to wind down while Quincy and I were engrossed in our conversation. And once I realized how late it was and that I was too intoxicated to drive anywhere, I asked Quincy if I could stay the night. He happily obliged and boy, was I happy about that!

  He and I ended up sharing his bed. I slept down one end and he down the other. I was kind of shocked that he didn’t try any funny stuff. I’m guessing it was because he dozed off and fell asleep on me first. To bad though, because I would’ve given him some and felt bad about it later.

  23

  The Next Morning

  Nikki Speaks

  Quincy woke me up around nine o’clock this morning and we jumped on the road. We made a pit stop to my apartment, so I could take a quick shower and change into some clean attire. It only took ab
out thirty minutes to do everything and then I was out the door. On our way up I-95, we made another stop at a Hardee’s restaurant and ordered a couple of combos and back on the road it was again.

  “Ummm, this is good,” I told Quincy, making reference to my sandwich.

  “Yeah, this Philly burger I got ain’t that bad either,” he replied between chews as if he was trying to savor every last bite.

  “You better slow down before your ass gets choked up,” I commented and laughed, but he paid me no attention. Instead, of an episode of clowning me, he continued to devour his sandwich.

  We finally reached D.C. around twelve thirty in the afternoon and it seemed like the closer we got to his destination, the more familiar this area looked to me. And as soon as Quincy drove by the same West Indian Restaurant Kira had that run-in with Russell at, I knew exactly where I was.

  “I ate there before,” I announced to Quincy.

  “Whatcha know about Jamaican food?”

  “I know a lot about Jamaican food,” I assured him.

  Minutes later, we pulled up in front of a grocery store that looked exactly like the one Kira and I came to so she could meet with Papí.

  “Wait, does a Spanish guy named Papí owns this store?”

  “Yeah. How you know him?” Quincy asked me while turning the car ignition off.

  “Well, I’ve actually never seen him before. But, I took a trip up here with Kira about two months ago.”

  Shocked by my response, he asked, “She came up here to see Papí?”

  “Yeah. She said she had to take care of some business regarding Ricky. I stayed back in the car while she went in there to talk to him.”

  “Damn, Kira’s ass was gangsta as shit, huh?”

  “I don’t know about all of that. But, I will say that she knew how to handle her fucking business!”

  “Well, I’m about to do the same thing. So, hold tight and I’ll be right back.”

  “All right,” I told him and then he walked away.

  After he disappeared inside of Papí’s store, I turned back around in my seat and used the lever on the side of my chair to recline it. I leaned my head back against the head rest and closed my eyes to the music coming from the CD player. I began to meditate about everything Quincy and I had talked about the night before. Running everything back through my head was kind of mind-boggling. I mean, who would have ever thought Quincy would volunteer and give me the whole rundown about Syncere? If you asked me, the shit with him was scary. I honestly couldn’t believe I was screwing around with a fucking lunatic. But, I should’ve known something wasn’t right with him when he jumped on me and tried to choke the breath out of me for asking him questions about the shooting. He was acting suspect then but the naïve side of me just wouldn’t allow me to see right through it. Was it denial or what? But I did know this: He was going to pay for the shit he put me and my family through. I just had to figure out exactly how I was going to make him suffer.