Cracked Dreams

by Michael Daniel Baptiste

  “That’s absolutely absurd, Clifton,” Chistov said. “We will remain focused. We cannot screw this up, too, boys. We won’t let another one of these career criminals slip through our hands. It’s all we have now, and we will follow through.”

  I got back to Ginger in Hawaii the next afternoon. After making sure once more that Rachel would make a successful recovery, I chartered the next available flight. As much as I wanted to stay with her, too many things were pulling me in the opposite direction. First of all, no one could even find out that I had gone to California with all of the things that had happened out there. It would be too easy to put two and two together. The only people that would ever know were Ginger, Rachel and Red. At that point, Red was my mu’fucka. I loved that dude for what he’d done for me. I basically owed him my sister’s life, so he could be trusted with my life as well. On top of that, I’d spent almost two days of my vacation with Ginger out in California, and it was now Christmas Eve. Ginger would never have forgiven me if I’d left her all alone in Hawaii through the holidays when it had been my idea to go away. I had anticipated her feeling lonely and spending the entire time in the room alone, but I should’ve known that wasn’t Ginger’s style at all. When I got back, she was ecstatic to see me but she had kept herself very busy in my absence. She greeted my arrival at the door as I entered, and first inquired as to Rachel’s condition. When I told her that everything would be fine, she went on to show me how she’d occupied her time alone. She led me to the bedroom, and as I walked in, it seemed like she had a shopping bag for every hour we’d spent apart. I simply smiled and kissed her on her forehead. I spent the remainder of the afternoon on the bed while she modeled all of the clothes and jewelry she’d bought. I would soon forget about all of the things that had happened in the past two days, but that wouldn’t last long at all.

  Ginger never knew of anything that had taken place while I was in Cali, and that’s only because she didn’t need to know. That’s how it needed to be. I simply told her that some guys had broken into my sister’s apartment and tried to kill her when she found them there, and that she’d be fine. It was true, except of course for the part about guys breaking into her apartment and her finding them there.

  I just overlooked the part about it actually being my best friend, Trigger, that had done that shit to my sister, simply because she was pregnant with his baby and he was afraid of what I might do when I found out. His panic led to his death, and now I neglected to even think twice about what I’d done. I preferred to believe that it had been a stranger that had done those things. It was easier for my mind to conceive that as a reality. That bitch-ass mu’fucka deserved exactly what he’d gotten. He should’ve been a businessman instead of a fuckin’ playboy. Fuck ’em!

  As my mind began to wander from the fashion show that I was receiving, Gin started to realize that something clearly must’ve been upsetting me. She came over and sat on the bed next to me. She got her arm around me before I came back to reality. I attempted to shake off the ill feeling that kept my attention divided from Ginger, but it didn’t go away. She kissed my cheek and that forced a small smile to my face.

  “She’s going to be fine, baby,” she said, referring to Rachel. “You don’t have to worry about that. She’s a strong girl. Nothing can ever take that from her.”

  I wanted to tell her that Rachel’s condition, although very important to me, wasn’t the only thing on my mind. I wanted so much to relieve some of the stress I was putting myself through, but I wasn’t able to bring it to the surface. It’s better that she not know, is all I kept telling myself, but it was getting harder and harder to conceal the frustration. “I know, baby,” I said, trying to lift some of the pressure she felt to cheer me up. “I only have one sister, though . . .you know what I mean?”

  “I understand, baby,” she answered. “But she wouldn’t want you to be here worrying yourself, baby; especially when you’re all this way from home. You know what?” she said, taking a peek at the clock on the nightstand. “I know what’ll make you feel better. I was going to wait until twelve o’clock to give you this, but whatever. It’s already a quarter after ten, so it’s Christmas in New York already.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering that it was Christmas Eve. “I almost forgot all about that.”

  “Yeah, wait right here, baby,” she said, leaving the room to locate the gift she’d bought me. She reentered the room with a box in her hand wrapped in red with a white ribbon. She handed me the box and I actually felt like a little kid again as I anticipated what might be inside. As I gave a tug at the ribbon, and pulled back the wrapping paper, I saw a black box that looked as if it contained jewelry, but it was too big and heavy for that. I looked up at Ginger suspiciously, and proceeded to open the case. When I opened it, there was a gleaming chrome studio microphone, with the words “Time Bomb Records” engraved on the handle in script.

  I had only told her about my idea for starting a record label once in passing, and she’d remembered. I absolutely loved it. It was perfect. Ginger was good for making a shitty day seem like the best.

  CHAPTER 21

  When it came time for Ginger and Spits to return home, they had reached complete and utter tranquility. Everything Hawaii had to offer them was accepted by them one hundred percent. They had the best time possible in this beautiful villa in Maui but, unfortunately, they’d come to the end of their dream vacation and it was time to go back to work.

  By the time they landed on the East Coast, it was a little past 11:00 p.m. From the airport they took a cab to their home where they found a truck in their driveway. Before they were completely pulled into the driveway, Spits realized that it was El Don and Poncho that were parked in front of his house in Don’s black Toyota Land Cruiser. As soon as Spits realized who it was, he knew the only thing that could have brought them all the way out to New Jersey from the Bronx was the one thing that he had been avoiding the entire time he’d spent in Maui since he’d returned from Cali. They were immediately approached as they exited the cab with the news of Trigger’s death.

  “Yo, dog,” Poncho began as Spits and Ginger approached the door where they had been awaiting his arrival. “I don’t know if you know this yet, but if you don’t, we got some bad news just recently from the West Coast. It’s about Trigger.”

  “Something happened to Trigger?” Ginger blurted out before Spits gave her a look that suggested she leave them to talk amongst themselves. “Him, too?” she said, still baffled as she turned toward the door to enter the house.

  When Spits and Don P. were alone, they continued.

  “What happened to Trigger?” Spits asked as he made an attempt to express obvious confusion and concern. “He got knocked, or some shit?”

  “Nah, son,” El answered. “He’s dead. Somebody bodied him.”

  “What?!” Spits said, raising his voice. He looked into the faces of the persons that brought this news to him. The information that they provided was so upsetting, they couldn’t even return the glance. They were avoiding the eyes of Spits, and found themselves staring at the ground until it was safe to make eye contact. “I can’t believe this is happening. Who the fuck did this shit? That mu’fucka gonna die. Who the fuck did this shit?!”

  Although Don P. shared Spits’ distress, they were even more hurt that they couldn’t answer the question that could’ve possibly brought some light to a rather dark, fucked-up situation. It would’ve made them feel so much better bringing this news if they could also deliver news that whoever was responsible for it was somewhere leaking out the rest of his brains onto the floor. They wanted to say that they’d found out who’d done it, and that they’d been torturing his ass for the past two days waiting for Spits to come home to finish him off. They wanted to say, “Yeah, we got the nigga in the trunk right now, son!” But they couldn’t do that. All they could do was stand there in silence staring at the fucking ground. All they could do was wait for Spits to break the silence. So until that happened, they
just stood there.

  Unfortunately for Spits, he didn’t share the same distress and confusion that Don P. had regarding the news. He knew exactly who it was that had splattered Trigger’s brains all over the interior of his truck, but he wouldn’t be able to let them know that at this point. The events surrounding those tragic circumstances would never be revealed to anyone besides Rachel, Red, and Spits himself. There were things that nobody needed to know that led to Trigger’s death, and that would eternally be between him and Trigger. It was nobody else’s business.

  When the silence was finally broken, Poncho said, “Yo, we got them niggas over there looking all over the place trying to find out who did this shit, but we haven’t heard anything yet. That nigga Red said that this situation will take top priority.”

  Spits heard that and knew for a fact that if they were waiting for Red to give them an update about this shit that they would be waiting forever. “This bitch-ass nigga that did this shit will not live a day past the day we find his ass, you hear me?”

  “No doubt,” Poncho replied.

  “Word up!” El Don agreed.

  “Listen, we gonna have to talk about this shit later when my head is on straight, my niggas,” Spits said, trying to quickly get rid of them before Ginger caught wind of this news before he had a chance to let her know. “I’ma holla at ya’ll cats when I get a little settled, you know?”

  “Yeah, I feel you,” Poncho said. “This ain’t exactly the kind of shit you want to hear coming home from vacation, and shit. Just holla, dog, and we there for whatever.”

  “Word up,” El added. “All you gotta do is holla, son.”

  As Spits let out a deep sigh of relief that he was able to successfully complete his first confrontation regarding Trigger, he walked toward the door before he was stopped by Poncho’s call. When he turned back unsuspecting of what was left unsaid, he found out that there was more that he didn’t know.

  “Yo, in case you ain’t talk to Cee, ain’t nobody seen that nigga on the Block in a couple of days,” Poncho said. “He had put us on to a situation about some beef, and we handled that shit, but we ain’t seen the nigga since. If you hear anything from him, let us know.”

  “All right then,” Spits said. “One.”

  “One.”

  Spits used the five seconds it took for him to insert his key in the lock and open the door to try and figure out how he would explain what had happened to Trigger to Ginger. Although nothing had come to his mind yet, he opened the door anyway. Upon entering the house, he realized that those five seconds were wasted as Ginger had never left the front of the door and had been listening to the entire conversation. When she’d left them alone to come into the house, her curiosity kept her behind the door where she could hear what they were talking about. When she’d heard what happened, she’d taken a seat on the floor on the left side of the door, and had begun crying into her own lap. It wasn’t until Spits heard her sniffles that he turned back to find her there. He bit his top lip and took a deep breath. As he walked back to where Ginger was sitting on the floor, she looked up at him and they shared a bewildered glare.

  Ginger looked as if she needed further clarification. She needed for Spits to tell her what was going on in a way that made sense to her. Everything that was happening all at the same time was too much for her to handle. There were so many blanks in the story that didn’t make any sense. There were so many questions to be answered. While her mind thought of different circumstances and scenarios to try and put these events together, all Ginger could do was stare at Spits with an incomplete look on her face.

  The look that Spits returned was similar, but it wasn’t the same. The expression that Spits wore on his face was more like suspicion. He thought that Ginger was only looking at him the way she was because she had figured out what had happened, and she was only waiting for it to come out of Spits’ mouth. He thought that she had put two and two together and knew that Spits had something directly to do with Trigger’s death. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach that would just get worse and worse. He was at a loss for words. There was no explanation that could justify his wrongdoing. He could do nothing but stare at Ginger with an incomplete look on his face.

  “How did this happen?” Ginger asked.

  Spits didn’t want to answer too quickly because he was still not sure of what she had already put together in her mind. “What you mean, Gin?” he asked, so that she could further clarify her question.

  “How could these horrible things be happening to everybody that is so close to you? And all at the same time?” she asked. “I don’t understand how, first, this awful thing happens to your sister Rachel. Then, once that’s under control, it’s like . . .life just throws another curve ball your way. I feel so sorry for you, baby. I don’t understand how so many bad things could happen to someone with a heart as good as yours.”

  All Spits could do was gaze into her eyes. Everything she was saying was coming from her heart. He’d had the complete wrong impression of her attitude. She wouldn’t dare think anything negative about him. The only thing that was confusing to her was how he would be able to handle it. That’s it. The thought brought a tear to his eye. Her words actually started to make him believe that he was the person she was describing. She loved him so much that the thought that he had anything to do with Trigger’s death wouldn’t even cross her mind. That’s the level of dedication she had for him.

  Although Spits was unable to control his first reaction to the statements that Ginger had just made, he knew that if she was going to recover successfully, she would have to know for a fact that he would be all right. In order for him to accomplish that, he would have to be strong and control his emotions. He wiped the tears from her face and sat next to her on the floor. He put his arm around her so that she could lay her head on his shoulder. There they sat for the next thirty to forty-five minutes, just thinking in silence. From there, they would make their way up to the bedroom for a well-deserved rest.

  Early the next morning, Spits would be awakened by the sound of music playing in the bathroom. He got up and found Ginger in the shower.

  “I didn’t mean for you to wake up so early, honey,” she said. “I found a message from my mother on the voicemail and she said that I should be on my way to her place as soon as I get back. We have a long way to go to get to Florida. Are you going to be okay, baby?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be cool, Gin,” he answered as he washed his face. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sorry I woke you up, baby,” Ginger said. “I would’ve only woken you to say bye when I was on my way out. I already called a cab to take me upstate.”

  “It ain’t nothin’, Mommy,” he said as he brushed his teeth. “I’ma be i-ight, sweetie.”

  “I’d hate to leave you if you didn’t feel better,” she said.

  “Please.” Spits shrugged off her comment and walked back toward the bedroom. “I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Wait!” Ginger said, calling him back. “I’m going to miss you a whole lot, baby. Give me a kiss good-bye.”

  They kissed and Spits made his way back to the bed after saying, “Have a good time, baby. And, umm . . .I’ll be missing you, too . . .more than anything, sweetie. Love you.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Yo, you ain’t heard shit from this nigga Cee yet?” I asked Poncho while in my car on the way to meet up with him and El.

  “Nah,” Ponch responded. “He must’ve bounced after that hit, or some shit. Maybe he thought it was gonna be too hot in the streets, ya na’mean?”

  “I don’t know about that, dog,” I said. “Sounds kind of thin, you know. Why wouldn’t he holla to let us know what was up?”

  “I can’t call it, dog.” Ponch still was unable to satisfy my curiosity. “Probably he got a bad vibe, or somethin’.”

  “Bad vibe like what? What you mean by that? Ya’ll niggas ain’t never mention nothin’ about that whole Roscoe situation, r
ight?”

  “Nah. I mean . . .I don’t know. I ain’t like you, dog. I can’t just be around a nigga that I can’t trust and be one hundred percent comfortable, and shit. I’m not the actor type.”

  “What?!” I spat as my temper started to rise. “Yo, we ain’t never get to the bottom of none of that shit this nigga Roscoe was talkin’. Ain’t no actin’ over here, dog. He’s still my man, you know? I ain’t just gonna shit on him off the strength of some bitch-ass nigga that would’ve said anything to save his own ass.”

  “I-ight, fam,” Poncho said, trying to calm me down. “Relax. All I’m sayin’ is that I ain’t trust that nigga since that shit went down. I don’t know for a fact, but maybe that is why he just disappeared like that . . .ha-ha . . .if that’s what’s up, that mu’fucka’s a bitch-ass nigga!”

  “Yo, son!” I yelled. “Just remember that this shit here was poppin’ way before you, nigga! Don’t ever forget that shit!”

  “My bad, nigga.” Poncho tried to conceal a small nervous chuckle. “I was just talkin’ shit, you know.”

  “Yeah, whatever! Just meet me at the spot, i-ight. One.”

  A few days had passed since Ginger and I had gotten back from Hawaii and things had just started to calm down as far as that whole Trigger thing, but you could tell that there was still some tension in the air. Besides the shit with Trigger, nobody had seen or heard from Ceelow in a week. If you let Don P. tell it, he either left ’cause he thought we was gonna do him, or ’cause he thought the streets was too hot. Either way, the shit just didn’t make any sense to me. First of all, if it was something as mediocre as him fleeing from the heat in the streets, he would’ve known that he could holla at me to let me know what’s up. Secondly, if I knew Cee like I thought, finding out that we was about to murder him would have just made him jump off first. One thing about Cee, he wasn’t no bitch-ass nigga. That’s probably what made Poncho act in a funny way with me. They must’ve thought I was scared of the nigga, or somethin’. Ever since that Roscoe shit had gone down, they’d been different. It was like I was just supposed to take him out with no questions asked. On some real shit, I knew that Cee was a hard-head nigga, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could just take on the entire family. Just the thought of it sent a shiver through my spine. I wasn’t afraid of Cee . . .but, I was afraid of what might happen if we had to get it on.