When I reached my floor and got to the door of my apartment, I could smell the aroma of sautéed chicken in mushroom sauce. The smell somehow put a smile on my pensive face. I opened the door and could hear the radio playing a welcoming soulful tune by Mary J Blige. Melody emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron and a smile.
“Hey baby bruh, you ready to eat?”
“Not yet, but as soon as I take off my armor, I will be.”
I let out a deep sigh and released the tension from my shoulders and reflected on what a fantastic effect a woman’s smile had on me even if it belonged to my sister. I went to my room, threw on something comfortable and sat silently on the edge of the bed shaking off the long day. When I came out of the room Melody was setting the table. I went in and took a seat and was ready to dig in when Melody stopped me.
“Aren’t you going to say grace first?”
Grace was one of our mother’s rituals. It wasn’t like I was against it; it would just always slip my mind. I recited the only one I could remember then said a silent prayer for tomorrow and dug in.
“Guess what?” Melody said.
My mouth is full; I made a question mark expression.
“I went and enrolled in classes this fall. I’m taking the first step toward finishing.”
Melody was beaming. I was proud of her and a little jealous. She was breaking away from what she had been, in hopes of becoming better. Here I was still deeply involved in street politics, not even concerned with my first step away from it.
After a moment my envy subsided. I dined and enjoyed listening to Melody. I admired her drive and her dream. Melody walked into the kitchen and brought out a homemade apple pie. She said it was her way of thanking me for letting her stay with me. I told her there was no need to thank me, that above it all I enjoyed her company. The apple pie ran a close
second.
August 20, 1996
I woke up to a cloudy Tuesday. I was on my way to the gym. My camera loaded with a full roll of film. Unfortunately, there would be no workout today. My assignment was to take pictures of Angel, some for Mr. Wilkes, but most for posterity.
It was depressing to have to give up spending time with Angel, but this afforded me the opportunity to prove to myself that I could handle this assignment with professionalism.
I arrived at the gym early and parked across the street, awaiting
Angel’s arrival.
I remembered that my two-week trial period was just about up.
If I ever spoke to Angel again, I’d tell her that I decided not to join the gym.
I was lost in thought when a car zipped by me and parked.
I raised my camera ready to snap.
Angel stepped out of the car wearing an olive summer dress. The color of the outfit made her chocolate complexion look delicious.
She stood there with her mouth ajar. Her tongue forming a half moon touching her top teeth looking both ways, trying to time her crossing.
The cloudy morning seemed to be interrupted by the sun, lusting to get a look at this earthly vision.
I was taking pictures. Pausing so I could get a look with my own eyes.
When she began to cross the street, I was snapping away like Angel was a super-model on the catwalk.
I tortured myself; wishing circumstances weren’t the way they were so I could get a chance to taste the sweet chocolate, Angel.
I snapped shots with blinding speed until she was out of sight and inside the gym.
I went and had breakfast nearby and read the morning paper. Then went back to the van to wait for Angel to come out.
It was either telepathy or great timing because as soon as I looked toward the door, she was coming out. I began taking periodic snapshots. She was standing there looking around. She seemed disappointed. She was just about to cross the street when she walked back to the sidewalk and headed up the block toward the coffee shop.
By the time I leapfrogged two parked cars and switched lenses to get a better look she was in the outside seating area pulling out a chair. I raised my camera and fired away as she loaded her cup with sugar. She was still looking around with a melancholy smirk.
I began to feel guilty. I kept repeating to myself “I’m a professional.”
I watched Angel take sips of her café mocha. She sat there looking off into space. After a few more snapshots I put the camera down and watched her. I wanted to be sitting with her, talking, seeing her get excited about being excited. The sight of Marcus running up to the railing spoiled this thought. He was wearing biker shorts and a T-shirt that was purposely too small. He spoke a few words then jumped over the rail, went and took a seat at Angel’s table.
While watching this guy trying to game, I felt a ping of social dislike. I could see the weakness in his eyes and his posture. He might have fooled the girls with the muscles, but in my world where the price of perpetration is the life, he was prey.
Marcus was talking up a storm, but Angel seemed disinterested. I put my camera down. I wasn’t about to take a picture of them together and risk giving Mr. Wilkes ammunition. I even considered jumping out and walking over to interrupt his monologue, but why hate. It was getting close to three o’clock, and I had to meet Priest.
With my adrenaline pumping, I made it across town in no time. When I pulled in front of Priest’s pad, I saw Henny sitting on the step talking to a kid who couldn’t have been more than ten years old.
Remembering what the afternoon had in store, I reached under my seat and pulled out my thirty-eight caliber snub nose. I got out of the van and tucked it into my waistband and pulled my shirt over it.
When I reached Henny, he was barking orders to the little shorty. “Bring me an Optimo, salt and vinegar chips and a pack of gum.” The little dude was paying close attention to every word Henny spoke, nodding his head after each request.
Henny continued, “You bring me back all the right shit, and you can keep the change.”
The kid didn’t even smile at the prospect of keeping the change.
He just stood up straight and nodded like a soldier receiving his mission. Not only was this a chance for the little dude to make some pocket change, but this was also his induction to street politics. Forging friendships with older cats that walked these streets with no fear would allow him to do the same when he got older.
The little guy stuffed the money in his pocket and whizzed past me on his way to the store.
I took a seat next to Henny on the steps.
“What’s happening, Mo?”
I got straight to the point.
“Henny, you ever run into Playboy or Rock?”
“Sometimes, I mean they’re hard to find. Whatcha’ plotting?”
“I need you to find out if they’re rolling with Rico. You think you can find out for me tonight?”
Henny looked at me like I was crazy.
“What! You think you’re the only one with a private eye. Shit, I got my ear to the street. I can find out.”
“Well then find out tonight. Is Priest upstairs?” I asked.
Henny nodded, I left him on the steps and buzzed my way up.
The apartment door was open. When I got to the top floor, the stereo speakers were emitting a dangerous slow blues.
Priest had his back to me, putting on a Technicolor-playa shirt and fixing his slacks. He turned around expressionless.
“What’s up, baby? You ready to get down?” Priest said as he grabbed his pistol off the table.
“No doubt.”
Priest tucked his colossal firearm near the small of his back.
“Let’s go.”
We jumped in the Caddy and were on our way.
“Check it out Moses; we go in there like always, just as if it was
Slims. I am not going in there to prove that they didn’t throw me out.
I never even heard that shit. I told a few clients to meet me there to place bets. Keep your eyes open.
I don’t want to pop any of these motherf
uckers, but if I have to, I wanna be able to plead self-defense.”
Priest’s speech was a relief for me. It was what I had in mind. I just hoped Rico and Steel felt the same way.
We arrived at the Bar. Priest was amused at his first look at Rico’s Lounge.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Priest said laughing.
As we stepped through the door, Priest and I started making up the conversation to avoid looking like we were swinging the doors open at the O.K Corral.
“I told’em small money don’t multiply,” Priest said, throwing out cliché’s to appear like he had no agenda.
“I hear that,” I responded.
Dimples greeted us.
“Hey Moses, Priest, good to see you big brah.”
Priest did a double take at her new outfit.
“What’s the deal Sis, you got a drink and a booth for us?” Priest said.
“You know it,” Dimples said with undying enthusiasm.
We took a seat in Priest’s usual booth.
Priest sat with his back to the hallway that led to the office. I danced my eyes around the room, and then returned them to the table. One of Rico’s crew was staring in our direction. Everyone else I saw was a customer and of no consequence. I kept dude in the corner of my eye so I could qualify his moves.
Priest casually checked his watch.
“I should be getting some action any minute,” Priest said.
Dimples came over with our drinks.
“Don’t drink it all at once.” Dimples said, referring to Priest last drink-a-thon.
Priest just looked puzzled and tipped her. I nodded to let her know I remembered, and then she walked off.
Priest looked toward the door and smiled, then pulled his small notepad from his pocket; I turned to the door to see who was coming. It was Ryan, one of the white college students who placed bets with Priest regularly. I got out of the booth to let him get on the inside so that I wouldn’t be trapped and could still keep my eyes on Rico’s dude, who was now interested and uptight.
“Wow, what the fuck dude, they changed this place around.”
Ryan said.
He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money and handed it across the table. That way, everyone in the joint would know that he was back in business and as soon as they went home and told two friends the rumors of him getting kicked out would be squashed.
Ryan began reeling off games and odds and the amounts on each.
My eyes swam around the room. We had everyone’s attention.
Priest was steady jotting down numbers. I saw Rico’s flunky get up and go to the office. This time I glanced around the room and saw people peeking trying not to look nosy. I knew the last thing we needed was an audience. The delicate egos involved in this would explode from that kind of pressure.
I saw two figures coming out of the office hallway. I tapped Priest's foot, signaling him that something was up. Priest interrupted Ryan.
“Hey, Ryan, why don’t you break out? I’ll get the rest from you later.”
At first, Ryan looked confused until he noticed the hardened faces around the bar. He then got right up and exited.
I didn’t want to see him go. I thought he would make for good leverage. Rico wouldn’t be stupid enough to start some gunplay with a white boy around; it would bring too much heat. I knew Priest was going to protect his college clientele. They were his most reliable source of income.
Out of the dark hallway emerged Rico and his flunky. I was glad I didn’t see Steel. Fresh out of the joint, I figured he wouldn’t have a diplomatic bone in his body. Rico would at least negotiate first.
Priest was still writing when they reached our booth.
“What’s up Priest? Let me talk to you in my office,” Rico said like he was trying to control his temper.
I tried to weigh the options fast-pace. Who knows what’s waiting in the back room? Could be Steel firing point blank when we opened the door. But then again the first refusal to negotiate could break Rico’s fragile ego in front of the bloodthirsty on-lookers. From my read, it was a toss-up. I’d back whatever Priest decided.
“How about we talk out here?” Priest said with a smile, to take away some evil interest of the nosy customers.
“I’m supposed to be meeting some money here in a minute. Have a seat.” Priest said, gesturing like a magician making a seat appear. I scooted over to let him in the booth. This way he’d feel comfortable that I wasn’t trying to trap him on the inside. Plus it was to my advantage because my right hand was out of his line of sight and free to grab my pistol.
Rico took the seat.
“Priest, Rico said, staring dangerously deep into Priest’s eye.
“You think I’m a fool or something!”
“Look, my dude, I’m not a psychiatrist, what’s your point?” Priest answered.
I was slowly making my way to my piece before Priest could strike a nerve.
“It’s like this,” Rico said. “You ain’t running a book in here unless you are paying me mine,” Rico said preparing for the possibly explosive response.
“How much do you want?” Priest said to everyone surprise, including mine.
Rico grinned with a sense of victory.
“I know you’re getting paid Priest. You’re gonna have to get up off three g’s a month.” Rico said, trying to look like a gangster.
“Three g’s!” Priest complained. “That’s a lot of bread for me,”
Priest said.
“Well then let’s make it twenty-five hundred. That ought to be enough to pay for the renovation on this place,” Rico said.
Rico was trying to throw salt on a wound. He knew Priest wanted the bar and now he would be paying for it and still wouldn’t own it.”
Another one of Priest’s college clients came into place a bet, gaining the crowds’ attention.
Rico got up and walked about ten feet and shouted back so that the whole bar could hear.
“Hey Priest, I’m gonna need that money by the end of this week.”
The story on the grapevine would now be. Priest paid his way back into the bar. Priest turned around and gave an expressionless wink.
We ordered a few rounds and sat in silence as Priest took bets.
After a few hours, we got up and left. I couldn’t wait to get clear of spying ears so I could ask Priest what the deal was.
I waited till we got in the ride and drove a few blocks away when I said, “twenty-five hundred dollars man?”
Priest smiled, never taking his eyes off the road.
“You must be sick! If you think I’m going to pay that motherfucker, didn’t you see the fear in his eyes?
He was terrified!
He didn’t want any problems. So I said fuck it, let him keep feeling like he’s winning. When it’s time to collect, he’ll turn right back into a coward. I’m telling you, Moses. I got’em.” Priest had a wicked look in his eyes.
I didn’t buy his theory of Rico being scared, but I thought feeding his confidence was a good thing. If it came down to confrontation, he would be sound asleep to Priest’s intentions. On the other hand, his plan could have the wrong effect on Steel, seeing he just got out the joint; he wouldn’t be satisfied with Priest fearing him. He would probably want to make Priest his bitch, and there would be homicide before that happened.
When we made it to Priest’s pad, I went up with him to see if
Henny had found anything out.
We opened the door to see Henny sprawled on the couch eating chips and watching cable. As soon as he realized we were there, he jumped off the couch.
“So what happened? You didn’t have to pop nobody did you?”
“Why don’t you sit your ass down somewhere?” Priest snapped then exited his bedroom.
I waved Henny to a seat at the table.
“So whatcha got for me?”
Henny formed a devious grin. “You gonna trip when you hear this. I knew it was going to be hard to f
ind Playboy; he’s damn near invisible with his shit. So I went to Rock’s barbershop. I saw him at the corner store about to buy a brew. Now I haven’t seen him in about two years, so peep how I played it,” Henny’s eyes glowing. He was engrossed in his story while I was anxiously waiting for him to get to the point.
Henny continued. “So I had heard through the vine he just had a baby girl, so before he could pay for the brew, I put my money down and said, “It’s on me stranger, congrats on the baby girl,” that had him open. He hugged me, the whole shit!”
“Henny!” I interrupted. “Get to the point.” Henny looked surprised.
“You know Moses, I thought you would appreciate how I finessed the info outta old dude, but if you just want the made for television version then, fuck it!”
“Henny just tell me the damn story!” I shouted.
Henny smiled as he would always do when he would get me to raise my voice.
“Anyway,” Henny continued. “We shot the shit for a couple of minutes then I said ‘I heard your dude Steel just came home.’ As soon as I said it he started singing like a bird,” Henny paused, either for effect or to get on my nerves.
“So, what’s the deal?” I snapped.
Henny smiled again.
“It’s like this; Rico hasn’t had any dope for about two months. His
Colombian connection got slumped. They called Playboy and Rock
over and was like demanding that they introduce them to their Connect, which might not have been a problem if Steel didn’t act as if he died on the cross for them. He was treating them like they were kids.
I know he was supposed to be a bad motherfucker when you all was coming up, but most of the cats my age never heard of him.”
“So what did they say to Steel?”
“Oh, they played it slick. Playboy told him they would share their connect, but you know that ain’t gonna happen.”
Moses Scriptures Page 13
