“I need a few winks,” Eric said as she walked into the house heading toward his bedroom.
“All right big man, but you can’t sleep all day. We’ve got to book our flight to San Tropez,” Sophia sang while grabbing the newspaper.
Hours later, when he finally awoke Eric was greeted by an evil glare from Sophia. Despite her obvious anger, Sophia looked resplendent in her Channel skirt suit.
“What’s the matter, hon?”
“You didn’t want me to read about you being a damn mafia earner and all the other names they were calling you. You have some nerves, Eric sweet-talking me to go on a vacation with you,” Sophia said accusingly. “What you were planning, have me on the lam, running from the law? Cause that’s who will be coming after you, Eric. Why can’t you be honest with me?”
“There’s nothing honest about that. The article dealt with two bad cops who got killed. In fact it referred to them as rogue cops. Whoever took the picture was only trying to link me with Maruichi by saying what? I’m part of their organization. I’m not a member of the mob. You know you can’t believe anything in the news. You know those people only give partial truth.” Eric looked serious and concerned.
“Eric this is very serious. Can you please tell me why you’re under investigation.”
“I make good music and they have to know where all the deadly sound coming from.” He responded lightheartedly. His fear and his need showed plainly through his attempt at an awful joke. He watched Sophia sadly shaking her head.
“I don’t understand that if you love me, why can’t you just trust me and tell me what’s really going on, Eric?” She asked sobbing.
“This shit all started when I ah… well you know how close me and Busta was? Before he got killed we had ah… taken out this contract for the ones who raped Deedee. I told him about the rape and he was mad. He’s Deedee’s godfather. Then bullets started flying. Before you know it, he’s dead and the cops...”
“Eric wouldn’t it have been better cooperating with the police in the first place?”
“Yeah, maybe, I mean in retrospect I should’ve, but what’s done is done,” Eric said in a flat, bored voice.
“Why didn’t it stop there? Why was there bloodshed? There are men chasing you…”
“Maybe it’s connected, maybe it’s not. Like I said, I really don’t know the details of what Busta did. I know the first one turned out to be the wrong guy and eventually we got the right guy.”
“I don’t want to hear anymore. Eric, you could go to jail for life. Conspiracy to commit murder, solicitation to commit murder, and at least about two counts of murder, oh my God! How could you Eric? Now you’ve aligned yourself to… Ah these people with mobster connections and you actually think things are going to be easier? I’m an attorney. How do you think this makes me look? I could get disbarred.” Sophia angrily stated.
“That’s it,” Eric said in the flat voice of defeat.
“I don’t want to hear from you until you resolve this Eric. You cannot be serious about getting married under these conditions. Call the car, Eric I’ve had enough.”
TWENTY-FOUR
It had been three weeks since Lil’ Long had been hauled into solitary confinement. The place was dark and it stunk. He smelled himself and felt sick. Blood had leaked from his stomach and was caked on his belly. His thoughts were churning when he heard the metallic scraping of the early warning system.
CO’s on the floor. The light struck Lil’ Long’s eyes forcing him to shield them.
“All right, come with us,” a guard said. They hosed Lil’ Long down in the shower. From there they issued a change of clothes and escorted him to the infirmary. “Oh I’m so sorry you got caught by those rat hunters. It’s amazing how word gets around real fast, huh?” Igor stopped by to see Lil’ Long.
“Look man, I don’t care about anything. I want out of here, today if possible.”
“That’s good it must mean that you are prepared to cooperate with us?”
“Yeah, man you da muthafuckin’ boss,” Lil’ Long answered.
“We’ll make the arrangements. But first there’s the matter of a certain chess championship that must be returned as part of the tribute…”
“Say no mo’, man. Just tell me when and I’ll take the dive.”
“We’ll arrange it for next week. Shortly after that, you’ll be free to go. We’ll have a job for you.”
“Ahight, man, whateva you say.”
The most fragile weapon in a mobster’s arsenal is his ego. Lil’ Long appeased Igor’s in a return chess match, where he allowed the Russian to win not just once but even in the rematch.
Six weeks after going inside, Lil’ Long was released and slipped back easily into the community. The first thing was to get money. Lil’ long stayed in and slept all day playing with his toys: Play station, and his guns of choice, twin Desert Eagles. He cocked and un-cocked the weapons numerous times, aiming and dreaming of the moment. Other times he would slip out to the corner store, disguising himself in wig and make-up. He read the newspaper and followed the news of Eric Ascot’s connection. He can be touched, Lil’ Long thought as he stared at pictures in the newspaper.
Six O’ clock the next morning, Lil’ Long heard the loud banging on his door. Grabbing his guns he was about to jet.
“Open up!”
He heard and then the sound of the door coming off the hinges and falling on him. Lil’ Long was knocked out. Later, he awoke in an office with no windows. He was shackled to an iron desk and chair in a corner. A putrid odor emanated from the area.
Lil’ Long sat on the floor of the city parole office. His gut was aflame with the pain of being repeatedly hit with the flashlight of a disgruntled parole officer. He ran his hand over the stitches in his stomach. He gritted his teeth trying to hold back the urge to scream.
“See what you done cause? Ripped ma goddamn shirt, you son of a,” Ward started.
“Easy, easy remember you’re representing the system, I-”
“Shuddafuckup you bastard! Before I seriously violate your ass!”
“See there you go wid your cheap threats. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’m a be here when you retire, nah mean?” Lil’ Long’s face carried a smirk.
“Keep talking that yang and I’ll send your crippled ass straight upstate, right now. I know some people who would be very happy to welcome a crippled bastard like you back into penal confinement. Ya heard me, maggot. They would like nothing better than to welcome you back to the joint,” the angered parole officer said grabbing his crotch.
“For what though? What you gon’ violate me for? I ain’t done nothing wrong. So, whatever man. It’s not like they let me out and… I… I… I be out there wilding and all. I’m saying, listen, ask the big cat. I’m not doing nothing. Just cooling, holding shit down and all.” Lil’ Long gazed up and realized the parole officer was in his face.
“One of my orders states that you must report your tired, crippled ass up in here every Thursday to my office for your drug testing. Now, when you come to see me, if I want to rip another asshole in you, then I do. You understand me scumbag?”
Lil’ Long refused to acknowledge the question. It was then the parole officer grabbed him by the collar and asked the question again, this time he counted the words, the way mothers do when scolding a child.
“Do we understand each other?”
Lil’ Long waited a little too long. The parole officer’s breath was hot in his face. “I say, do you understand?”
Lil’ Long tried to turn his head but the grip tightened, he felt like choking and the words came tumbling out.
“Y-y-e-e-ah man, I hear you. N-n-now c-c-can you get up off m-m-ma muthafuckin’ neck,” Lil’ Long said with a stutter. The parole officer slowly released Lil’ Long’s neck and shoved him back into the chair.
“No exceptions. Now I don’t give a damn who you know, or who knows you. You’re mine. You follow my orders to the letter. Now, if I have to drive out to the hood and get yo
u when you are supposed to be here, your ass is grass. Cause as far as I’m concerned, you ain’t nothing but a fuck-up. Screw up. I will violate you.”
The parole officer was standing over Lil’ Long and pointing his finger.
Six months ago, everything was different. Lil’ Long held the key to the gangster’s empire. He knew respect brought in a lot of money, and he had the always livelier, Vulcha. He had juice and props. He was the man. Then Vulcha was gunned down in an ambush. Now, he was being hauled around like a common parolee, a sack of garbage. Now everyone spat on him.
“I still got it. I just need a couple of months to do my thing, heal up proper you know?” Lil’ Long words came in almost a whisper.
“Huh?” answered the parole officer with a puzzled look.
“I’m saying, look at me, I still got it. Things ain’t really the same but I can make it that way again. I’m saying nothing’s change ‘cept the way I fucking walk. I still got a chance to rep…”
“That’s what you think. Here’s the facts. You ain’t got a chance to do nothing. The medical people, they don’t have no faith in you, boy. They don’t even think you’ll ever regain your coordination. Your partner in crime is deep-six. You got no future as a gangster. I’ll be right here to make sure you follow the rulebook like any parolee. That’s right, I’m gonna be your worst fucking nightmare, sweetheart. Just sit in the chair and fill out the form,” Ward said.
“Everything could be the same again. I got a kite the other day, sez my man Nesto, be coming home from soon.”
“Another damn loser! He’s nothing but a plantano. A loser like yourself,” Ward said with disdain.
“We can set shit up again—”
“Yeah maybe. If I gave you chance. But I don’t think I’m in a generous mood. You can’t work for me. To tell the truth, Lil’ Long, you’re finished in this town. You’re no longer useful to anybody. You pissed a lot of good people off when your stupid ass started killing for selfish reasons.”
He brusquely ushered Lil’ Long out the office.
“Hall, our man is on his way out,” detective Kowalski said. His partner shifted his head from the coffee cup.
“Your man. If it was up to me, his ass would be in a pine box already.”
“He still got some mileage left.”
“Here we’re trying to solve crime knowing he is a criminal. Man, I can’t understand who is running this shit.”
“Our job is to recruit him, sit back and wait. If you don’t like it…”
“It’s not a matter of if I like it. It’s I don’t understand the damn thing. This is not law and order.”
“Hall, Hall, you sound like a pissed off rookie, who can’t make a damn mook. Come on we’re bigger than that. Just sit-back and enjoy the movie. Hey, hey look at that cute Spanish number coming over there. Ah, that brings a smile to your face, huh?”
“That ain’t enough ass for me. She sure got some nice lips,” Hall said staring. “Maybe she could do some justice with them lips.”
“You and me both brother,” Kowalski whistled.
“Where’s that lil’ prick, dammit?”
“Taxi!”
“There he is. Our man has arrived…”
A gray sedan pulled to a stop in front of him. He hesitated then opened the car door and jumped in the back seat.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous about this little trip.” Hall greeted him.
“No I think he doesn’t like our whip. Not your usual style, huh Michael?” Kowalski asked.
“Seat belts please. We are just in time, huh? Great and we know where you’re going,” Hall said.
“Wait up muthafuckas, all I was doing was trying to get a cab. This ain’t no fucking cab—”
“You bet your bottom dollar, homey. We’re giving your crippled ass a free ride home. Just sit back and enjoy. This one is on us,” detective Kowalski said.
“So what da dealie, man? Why y’all rushing me for? Y’all arresting me or sump’n? If it ain’t like that, y’all need to fall back! Just let me da fuck out, right now.”
“I’m so sorry, it seems like our mannerisms does not seem to be getting the kind of reaction we thought we should get, Hall. Now let’s try my plan. Plan B. Listen you fucking jerk, we’re running this show. You are a nobody. And we’re not gonna let you turn this into some sort of funky revenge for my dead brother’s sequel. You’re not gonna go around shooting anyone. You’re not gonna rip the drug dealers off. No more extortion. Get my drift? And you’re certainly, certainly not gonna take any more protection money from them. We will handle all that now. Our turf. Your job, I’ll spell it out, is very important.” Detective Kowalski barked at the passenger’s fuming mug. Kowalski removed a cellular phone from his pocket and shoved it at the agitated passenger.
“What da…”
A fist to the backseat rider’s mid-section ended his protest. The blow left him coughing.
“Hey don’t you fucking mess up the upholstery. We’ll have you clean it with your tongue.”
“Can’t follow instructions,” Kowalski said, looking at his fist.
The passenger turned to see the car pulled to a stop under an overpass. The door was flung open and the driver got out. His hand gripped his weapon. Then the detective was in his face shouting.
“Un-coach able, that’s what’s gonna be written on your tombstone,” Hall said, peering down at the passenger wrenching in pain, then falling limp on the pavement. A boot made contact with his groin.
“What’s it gonna be, my bitch or my nigga? Hold it a minute before you make your choice,” Hall said, jumping between Kowalski and the passenger’s hobbled body. “There is one more thing I want you to know before you make your choice. He’ll do anything to kill you.”
His grimace was met with another fist smashed into sore ribs. He sank to his knees on the asphalt. Detective Kowalski reared back to deliver a right cross. He saw it coming but could do nothing.
“Who did you think called the ambulance for you when you were shot?”
The question lingered for a beat.
“It was me,” came the answer, accompanied by a blow to the side of Lil’ Long’s head. “Me, me you idiot. You owe me your life,” the detective screamed.
“Hey easy, easy,” Hall said as he grabbed Kowalski from behind. “If you break his fucking jaw, he will not be able to talk. We want him to snitch, right?”
“Nah! You know what? Fuck this bastard. I don’t need him to snitch for me. Let him fuck up your account, my man,” Kowalski said holding the gun at his head.
“Aw c’mon who’re you kidding? You’ve wanted… no you have desired him since day one. You saved his life. He owes you.”
“Yeah, but not all fucked up like this, I mean…” Kowalski responded.
“Ya don’t need good legs to be a damn snitch. All you need are headlights. He got them,” Hall said, pointing at Lil’ Long’s eyes.
“Get comfy,” Kowalski said. “We’ve got some demands, bitch.”
He heard the release of zippers and saw Kowalski pulled his dick out trying to shove it in his mouth. Hall massaged his temple with the service Glock while taking pictures with a camera phone.
TWENTY-FIVE
Beaten down but defiant, Lil’ Long dripping blood limped back to the building. It was dark, there were young kids hanging in the front of the building.
“Watch da fuck, where you running, shortie.”
“You don’t have to curse at me you know,” he said helping Lil’ Long to his feet. Lil’ Long brushed himself off. The kid reached down and picked up the phone. He handed the phone to Lil’ Long.
“My bad shortie. Keep the phone. It still got some minutes left on it. Go ahead you can call anywhere on it.” Lil’ Long limped away.
Lil’ Long continued into the building. Blood from his ruptured sutures dripped on his uptown sneakers. Lil’ Long reached his floor and entered his apartment. He rushed to the bathroom, found a towel. He used hot water to wet it then went in
to the bedroom. There, he fell on the bed writhing in pain, the hot towel draped around his wounds. Reaching for the telephone Lil’ Long pressed speed dial #2 and put the phone call on speaker.
“What’s popping, papi?”
“Tina, bust it. You need to get here right now. I’m twisted. These cops be… just come.”
“Daddy, you don’t want me to bring some arroz con pollo, the way you like it?”
“Nah, fuck da food. Bitch, you ain’t on your way yet?”
The pain was so intense Lil’ Long squirmed with each movement. He leaned over to the nightstand and pulled out a glass vial, emptied the contents into a pipe, then lit it. Lil’ Long smoked the pipe until his eyelids were too heavy to keep open.
Tina used her keys to open the door. She walked to the bedroom where she found Lil’ Long asleep but grunting and tossing as if in dream. She tried not to wake him. She searched his pockets and took him for a small amount of cash. Then she made herself comfortable and lit the pipe he once blazed. Once the effect was felt, she lay next to him and curled her body beside his. Remote in hand she switched the television on and channel surfed.
TWENTY-SIX
With the keys to his simple abode in his sweating hand, Rightchus hurried back to his apartment. He palmed a large piece of rock that he had scored and couldn’t wait to light the stem. Rightchus had earned ends from snitching out Lil’ Long and planned to soothe his mind. He pushed his key into the lock pushed on the door and it fell flat inside the apartment. Rightchus gasped and stared around, his eyes widened.
“Who da fuck?” He yelled and backed out the apartment. “If anybody’s in there this is a warning, I got real big guns and I don’t care who I kill…”
He waited, peeped inside, and then entered the apartment armed with a knife.
“What da fuck!”
Rightchus wore a perplexed stare and glanced at the set of keys in his hand. “Oh man, oh shit, those crazy Maruichis. Now the fucking landlord is gonna have ma muthafucking ass. No, he already has ma ass. He’s gonna have my damn life.”
He looked around shaking his head at his scattered wares. “I’ve got to get da fuck up out of here before that jerk, shit-head super finds me here.”
Ghetto Girls 3 Page 8
