by L. E. Newell
The coldness of his eyes shocked her and she finally lay still. He’d certainly gotten her attention now. “Now whodafuck you stole this shit from?”
Her eyes misted over and a lump ran down her throat as she choked a reply. “I took it from some Jamaicans. Those funny-talking bastards were talking about ripping your boy Rainbow off.”
He gave her a curious frown and sat back, disregarding the expulsion of air from her mouth when he pressed his full weight on her stomach. “I thought you told Violet they didn’t want the trouble that would come from behind a move like that.”
Her condescending look returned to one of defiance after she wiggled from under all his weight. He tried, but there was no way that he could hold back from smiling. This was more like the fiery Joyce that he was accustomed to and he definitely preferred that one over a fake crybaby.
Her voice transformed back into gangsta as well, as she grabbed his collar and pulled his face closer to hers. “Sweet-ass nigga, this is what I do and I’m good at it.” She blew him a kiss and fluttered her eyes. “I saw, I played, I took, and then I called your sorry ass. Well, I actually called Violet because she’s down with whatever and you, aw fuck it, I got you to come because I figured you’d be down and wouldn’t give a fuck. Like you do when you scam folk.”
“Yeah, but I don’t scam folk that go on the hunt with machine pistols and machetes.”
“Mmh, like those niggas you did time with in prison be joking with their homemade stickaniggas. Hell, if a bitch’s game ain’t tight enough to get away with it, she shouldn’t be doing it. I’m a pro, nigga,” she countered.
There wasn’t too much he could say, so he shook his head. “You right about that.”
“Damn right, I’m right about dat.”
He smiled down at her. “You know what?”
That conniving look glittered in her eyes as she licked her lips enticingly. “What, you don’t want any of it?”
He rolled off of her and lay on the bed, then looked up at the ceiling with his hands folded under his head. After a moment, he snorted, turned his head sideways to face her. “You something, oh yeah, you really something else.”
She smiled at him. “Yep, I know.” She sat up on the bed and started bouncing up and down like a little girl playfully pushing at his shoulder. “Shit, playa, whaddafuck; let’s get blitzed up in this bitch. This here be some of that super-good, pink, golden-flake shit.”
She had certainly gotten his attention then because that Peruvian golden flake was the best coke hands down. It had him puking his guts out from smoking it. She had said enough. They got busy. About three hours later of constant blooping, they finally hit I-20 on the way back to Decatur. They had just passed the East Lake exit when he looked over at Joyce fumbling in her oversized handbag.
“Ain’t no way you gonna find whatever you looking for in all that junk.” He smiled.
“Ah ha, for all you know.” She grinned as she lifted a glass shooter up and waggled it in his face.
“Girl, I know damn well you ain’t about to hit none of that shit right now. No telling who was pushing wheels on this road.” He grimaced.
Joyce acted like she hadn’t even heard him, as she reached under the seat and got the grocery bag. Digging inside she untapped one of the bricks of coke and stuffed the shooter. With the bag still in her lap, she lit the shooter, took a long toke and passed it to him.
“Ah what the fuck, why the hell not?” he muttered as he accepted the shooter and put it to blaze. When he handed it back to her, she absentmindedly grabbed it by the hot end.
“Oooow, muthafucka, shit!” she screamed as she snatched her hand away and dropped it in his seat. He raised up trying to swap it from under his ass, where it had rolled.
“Aaaaah, crazy-ass bitch, watch where you fucking going, man.” She screamed again and reached over to grab the steering wheel, her face full of shock. Cocked sideways in the seat, he looked at the road in time to grab the steering wheel in a death grip and sway the car from crashing into speeding cars on the side and in front of him. As he swayed halfway onto the shoulder of the road, he felt a big bump and a loud bang as the car hiccupped and started fishtailing on him. He continued to struggle with the steering wheel and pumped the brakes like a madman until they lumbered to a halt.
He sighed heavily and dropped his arms to the seat before looking over at her. She had hung her head lazily over the grocery bag she had squeezed tightly to her body and wheezed. “Damn.” That was all she could get out.
Shaking his head he grabbed the doorknob, kneed the door open and got out. Seeing that the car was tilting to her side, he circled the car. Damn, they had a flat tire. He walked to the trunk, opened it and grunted. “Damn,” he spat again when he saw there wasn’t a spare. He walked back to her side to get his cell phone out of the glove compartment. “Let me see, where the fuck we at? Hmmm, my nigga Duke is the nearest. Let me holla at his fat ass,” he mumbled as he punched in his numbers. He kicked it with him through a bunch of bitching and cursing before he handed the phone back to Joyce.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hunters on the Prowl
Sitting in the driver’s seat of his month-old Cadillac Escalade, Joker pulled out both of his Glocks from the double holsters crisscrossed on his chest. He quickly checked the rounds as he looked anxiously around the parking lot of the Red Roof Inn off Candler Road. He was wondering and hoping that his intended victims would have their guards down enough to make this job as easy as possible.
Chopper popping on that damn gum in the backseat was really starting to get on his nerves. He had closed the windows to keep it cool, and it made the popping sound even louder than usual. But was that really it, or was it the combination of fear and anxiety to go up against his own cousin Sparkle and Rainbow? They, along with Johnny Bee, had practically baby-sat him through his adolescent life of learning how to hustle and survive in the streets. Damn, what a dilemma. But his man was the reason he was driving his hot ride and living in the luxury condo out in Ben Hill. Boy, was he ever praying that they would listen to logic and reason, but deep in his heart he doubted it.
The sudden buzzing of his cell phone on his side, brought a welcome distraction to the boredom of the wait. He listened intently to the new orders he was given and clicked off with a grunt. “Aight, girlies, it’s time to earn these big bucks,” he addressed Stack, Percy and Chopper. They all started shifting around nervously in their seats. He pulled out of the parking lot and thought, Finally.
Damn, it was a welcomed sight to see Duke’s car pull up behind his. “Man, you best believe you called when you did, I was headed out the door,” Duke said with a bright smile through the window as Sparkle approached.
Sparkle backhanded the sweat off of his brow and wheezed as he reached for the door handle and growled. “Well, don’t just sit there on your fat ass. Get the spare, man.”
Duke’s head snapped back, surprised that his boy was taking his frustrations out on him. He gave him a body-length stare as he was easing his bulk out of the car. “Damn, bro, you at least could’ve said thank you, muthafucka, for showing up or something,” he mumbled as he headed for the back of the car to pop the trunk. “Sorry, dog, you know I didn’t really mean to come off on you like that.”
Sparkle forced a smile and pat him on the back as he followed to help. “Oh yes the hell you did; you need to get yourself some manners there, buddy boy.”
Joyce displayed a beaming smile before she turned her attention to Duke. With her elbows propped on the fender, she said, “Hey there, big dude, thanks for coming to get us out of this mess; a mess thanks to knucklehead over there.”
Sparkle pantomimed a mug of frustration and gritted. “Me knucklehead, you the one that dropped...?”
Big Duke certainly didn’t have no time for their petty arguing as he interrupted them and pulled the spare out of his trunk. He looked at Sparkle as he rolled it along the pavement. “Listen to the girl. She’s telling you some good, ugh, ugh, ug
h,” he grunted as a barrage of bullets lifted him off of his feet and slammed him into the back of Violet’s car.
Joyce let out a blood-curdling scream when she saw the blood splashing from his thighs and shoulders. “Oh my...”
Sparkle tackled her and rolled with her cradled to his body under Duke’s ride, knocking the wind out of her as he did so. He looked up in time to see several arms jerking back into a shiny black SUV as it roared down the interstate and out of sight. “Stay here,” he said to Joyce as she rolled out from under the car. When he got to his knees, he looked down to see Joyce following him.
“Girl, I told...”
She cut him off with the quickness. “Fuck dat there, what, who the fuck was that? Aw, man...” She cut her own self off as she sprinted over to Duke. Sparkle immediately followed her with his eyes scanning the area for any other gunmen. Seeing none, he helped her grab Duke’s arms and pull him to a sitting position up against the rear bumper. Duke was grimacing in pain from their efforts.
“Where you hit at, man? Don’t worry, we can get you to Grady Hospital in a short...” Sparkle said as he stood up and made a step toward the car to get his cell phone.
But Duke halted him in his tracks. “Naw, dog.”
A bewildered Sparkle stared at him like he was losing his mind. “Naw!!” he repeated in shock.
Duke shook his head. “Naw, dog, I’ll be aight and the cops will get me to the hospital. Uggggh... That ain’t what’s bugging me because if they had hit something vital, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you right now.”
“Man, you delirious; I’m going to call Grady,” Joyce spoke over him as she stepped past Sparkle.
“No, wait a minute, girl,” Duke grunted as he grabbed his bleeding shoulder.
“What?” She looked at him like she was missing something.
“I’ve got a shit load of powder under my seat. Y’all have got to disappear with it before the five-o show up.” He moaned as his voice started showing signs of weakening. It was evident that he was getting weaker from the lost blood.
Joyce took one last look at him and headed for the front of Violet’s car.
Sparkle snatched his head back as she walked away not wanting to believe that she could possibly be that cold to leave his boy for the police to gather up. Duke grimaced again in pain and Sparkle leaned down toward him. “Man, you got to muster up some strength from somewhere because we can’t leave you out here like this.”
“Come on, man, he’s right, ain’t no need for all of us to get a dope case to go along with explaining this shit here,” Joyce yelled at him as she sprinted for Duke’s ride with the grocery bag folded in her arms. “Get the keys, nigga.”
Sparkle was still frowning at her, astonished when he felt Duke tugging at his arm. He looked down to see the keys dangling in his other hand.
“She’s got the right idea, dog. You know damn well the five-o is gonna search the ride, especially with my ass getting all shot up out here on the interstate, so go man, get the hell out of here, now.”
“You heard the man, Sparkle. We got to roll, man!” Joyce shouted from the passenger window, her voice filled with desperate fear and anxiousness.
Sparkle didn’t want to leave his boy, but from the look on his and her face he knew that he had to. He sighed, gripped his boy by the shoulder really hard and headed for the car. There was really nothing to say nor was there any time to be wasting. He pulled onto the highway eyeing Violet’s car in the rearview mirror until it disappeared as he headed down toward the Flat Shoals exit ramp.
Sparkle took several turns down different streets and then headed back toward Candler Road. He turned into the road that led to Candler East Apartments and looked across the seat at Joyce, who was still clutching the grocery bag to her body. She was staring off into space with a blank look on her face. After they had parked in the lot that led to his sister Debra’s apartment, they finally looked at each other and said, “Damn” in unison.
The persistent rapping on the frosty glass window of Beverly’s office door on the sixth floor of the Atlanta Police Headquarters on Pryor Street, interrupted the discussion she was having with her longtime friend and secretary, Sarah.
They had been going over the list of police deployment for the upcoming Fulton/DeKalb County Festival. For the first time the extravaganza was being held in Inner City Park on Peachtree Street downtown. With the likes of T.I., Ludacris, Young Jeezy, Keyshia Cole, Soldier Boy and a variety of other up-and-coming rappers performing, a young rowdy crowd was certainly expected.
With the blinds drawn that she had recently installed to keep any and every one from staring at her every move, she nodded toward Sarah to open the door. Being in a pretty good mood, Sarah smiled and sprung up with a pep to her step as she went to open the door. That smile dissolved like an Alka-Seltzer when she ran smack dab into the smug expression of Lt. Woo. The solemn look on Woo’s face caused both Sarah and Beverly to momentarily forget all about the festival.
Woo tooted her nose up and rolled her eyes, ignoring whatever Sarah was about to say and stepped to Beverly’s desk. She waited for her boss, who had stood up when she entered, to sit back down before she took a seat in the cushioned high-back chair in front of her desk. “Sorta hate to disturb you, chief, but I just got a report, from a reliable source that some real serious drug takeover activities are about to go off along the motel strip on I-20.”
Before Beverly could reply, the buzzer on her desk started shrieking wildly, instantly drawing all of their attention to the urgent message unfolding on her desk. Sarah made a move toward the machine but Beverly held up her hand to stop her and snatched the ticker tape that was spewing out of it.
Her expression turned into one of bleak concern as she read the message. But she quickly regained her composure, folded the message and patted it down on her desk. Wiping some nonexistant sweat from her brow, she eyed Sarah. “Remind me to have you look into this, okay.” She continued to tap on the message. Sarah nodded in reply.
Beverly turned her attention back to Woo. “Now what were you saying?” She had already been told by Woo the latest on the duo drug operation of the Black Cats and Red Dogs. So why was she in here practically repeating what she already had said? Maybe she was there to get her to reveal something, but she wasn’t about to do anything like that, not with her anyhow. Especially since that was the area where her three amigos plied a lot of their trade. She was especially concerned now, because normally they did their thing under the radar, holding violence to a minimum.
Woo squared her shoulders as she prepared to respond. “I think we need to beef up the patrols along the interstate because the violence has escalated to drive-by shootings. And in an area where there is a constant flow of pedestrian occupation.”
Eyeing the message again she asked, “Where at in particular do you suggest we do this?” Woo toyed with the corner of her mouth. “I’d say, ah, between East Lake and Wesley Chapel.”
Beverly blinked as a red flag flashed in the back of her mind. The recent rash of robberies and shootings, in which she had little doubt and less evidence, was initiated by Black Don, who she assumed was trying to gorilla his drug and gambling ventures into Decatur. No way were her boys going to lie down and let him have it, period. She definitely wanted to keep the area under a microscope. Lt. Woo, whose particular informant had been 100 percent reliable, sat in front of the chief’s desk waiting for specific instructions on how to handle the situation. She was really suspicious because of the bad vibes she was getting from the chief concerning this particular case. Something ain’t connecting properly with this bitch. I wonder what it is. I’m gonna find out, that’s for sure. She managed to hold her gut instincts in check and waited.
Beverly excused Sarah from the office and stood up to walk to the window that overlooked the State Capitol Building. She looked down into the parking lot. She was forced to do a double-take when she saw the deputy chief hand a briefcase into the window of a dark-colored SUV.
She turned around abruptly, feeling that she had to be extra careful addressing Woo, whom she felt was already suspicious enough. She blinked several times as she gathered her thoughts and walked back to the table. “I want you to get with the Black Cats’ squad leader to post stakeouts at all the hot spots we discussed earlier. Keep a direct line open to me to keep me abreast of anything that goes down. Oh yeah, I’ll be letting the DeKalb chief know about it. Aaah, you’re excused.”
Woo nodded and got up to leave. When she placed her had on the doorknob, Beverly cleared her throat and pinned her with a serious expression. “Oh, and Lt. Woo, tell Big Bertha that I saw her mother at the Lenox Square mall.”
She looked shocked for a brief moment but didn’t say anything as she opened the door and left. The look of surprise on Woo’s face was enough for the chief. It was also enough to keep her wondering how much Woo really knew. Those thoughts occupied her mind all the way down to the squad room, where her crew was waiting around playing chess and cards. She had given them a brief warning of precaution as they headed out of the building destined for Decatur. Woo also was contemplating which of her crew was the chief’s informant. During the same time, Beverly was sitting in her office wondering how Woo had known about the I-20 incident before it had come over the ticker.
Aunt Rose checked the two young thugs in her rearview mirror, as she headed to her other hideaway at Dunlap Apartments in East Point. There was no way she was going to let these wild bastards know where she actually laid her head. Shit, Don didn’t even know about the spot she had down the street in Dunlap Two. They had been silent ever since she had picked them up at the Waffle House on Wesley Chapel. She had been on her way to open the store when she received the call from Don.
