When It All Falls Down 3 - Somebody is Gonna Die: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady)

by Tamicka Higgins

  “Wonder if them two niggas was dudes that Byron know or somethin’,” Tramar said, out loud.

  “Man, I don’t know,” Damon said. “I told you, I swear to God. I just don’t know like that. We ain’t even cool like that.”

  Jackson sped up, seeing that another car was pulling up close behind him. “Nigga, shut the fuck up with all that whining,” Tramar demanded.

  As Jackson made his way back in the direction they’d come, it was a quiet car ride. Tramar wanted to jump out of the car and run up to the door, but he feared running into someone who would not react so well should he be at the wrong house. However, there was something in his gut telling him that the photo he saw on Facebook of his terrified stepmother was taken inside of that house. Now that he thought about it, the more he recalled the details of the photo, particularly the look of the furniture and carpet in the background, the more he realized that the picture was indeed taken in a house that once belonged to an older person. There was just no way that a younger guy was going to have a house that looked like that if he actually used it to entertain company or anything.

  As they pulled up onto Damon’s block, Tramar finally put his gun away. He quickly grabbed Damon by the collar of his hoodie and pulled him close. “Nigga, I swear to God,” he said in a very deep and soft voice. “If you say one fuckin’ word about this to anybody, we will know. And nigga, we will be back over here, ridin’ around and shit, lookin’ for your ass. Don’t think we won’t. Now go on and get the fuck outta here. We really not bad dudes, my guy. If you know what we was lookin’ for, you’d be doin’ the same thing too.”

  Damon nodded, ready to jump out of the car and make a run for it. Tramar smiled, reaching out and shaking Damon’s hand before Damon did just that. He calmly got out of the car and Jackson pulled off, not even waiting three seconds for Damon to walk away from the car. Tramar slid back into the front seat and looked back up the block. He chuckled as he watched Damon cut out running like a criminal leading the police on a foot chase.

  ***

  Vivica jumped a little when she heard the front door open and close. As crazy as it seemed to her, she had practically gotten used to this bedroom where she and her husband had been held prisoner for the better part of two days. It was still a hard reality to face, but she was more concerned with her husband. While she would never thank her captors for anything, the two men were decent enough human beings to at least bring her some towels and peroxide. She still wished that she had clothing to put on, but she figured that wouldn’t be the kind of thing she could ask for and honestly get.

  Frank, Tramar’s father, woke up and looked at his wife. He could still feel pain in different parts of his body, as well as one of his eyes was swollen shut. “What was that?” he asked, speaking weakly.

  “They comin’ back,” Vivica said. “They just walked in the door.”

  Before Vivica could go on, she heard the footsteps getting closer and closer to the bedroom door. Then, there was the sound of keys jiggling. That was a sound that now terrified her because it meant that somebody – who, she did not know – was coming back into the room. She quickly held her husband tightly as the doorknob turned and the door opened.

  Vivica looked into the eyes of Knight and Juan as they walked into the room with White Castles. They tossed the bags at them onto the table. “There’s dinner,” Juan said. “He ain’t say we had to get you nothin’, but we figured we would since he ain’t get you enough food for us to give you nothin’ tonight.”

  Vivica maintained eye contact as she reached forward and snatched the bag. “Thank you,” she said, opening the bag and seeing that there was enough food inside for both of them. “Thank you very much.”

  “You welcome,” Juan said, backing out of the bedroom.

  As Vivica watched Juan back out of the room, something told her that maybe he was the one out of the three men that she could talk to. As farfetched as it seemed, she got a vibe that maybe he wasn’t all bad. Sure, he was certainly in the wrong line of work. However, he had thought enough to stop and get them some food when the man in charge, whose name Vivica still did not know, hadn’t made sure there would be enough.

  “Wait a minute,” Vivica said, catching the two men’s attention as they stepped out into the hallway. “What is going on? Why are we here? How long are we going to be here?”

  Juan, who was feeling somewhat resentful toward Byron because of how he talked to him and never shared any women, began to feel a little more open to talking. “I don’t know,” he said. “That nigga don’t tell us shit but what to do day to day.”

  “And why?” Vivica asked. “Why are you doing this for him then? Why?”

  Juan looked at Knight. The two of them knew that with their felony convictions, their employment prospects were rather limited. The money that Byron was paying them was not only tax free, but it was also far more than they’d make working at any job across Chicago. Juan shrugged. “Shit, lady,” he explained. “Just like you, we get up and go to work every day. This is just what we do for a living. I couldn’t get into college and stuff like you and your husband here, so this is what I do. Plus, when you get into trouble when you young, and live in a world that don’t give second chances, this is what happens.”

  Vivica, who quickly recalled her days of working with at-risk youth around Chicago, felt some sort of compassion. While his reasoning certainly didn’t excuse the magnitude of what was going on – kidnapping and holding one against his or her will – she had heard these kinds of stories far too often, especially from inner city youth in the streets of Chicago.

  “Look,” Vivica said, feeling like maybe she could reason with this young man. “I can make you a deal.”

  Juan looked at Knight. The two were intrigued to hear what she had to say. The both of them were tired of being Byron’s puppets and not really getting much in terms of a reward. “Okay,” Juan said, nodding his head. “We listening.”

  “Look, I have money saved up,” Vivica said. She ignored her weak husband’s attempts to push her with his arm, telling her to stop talking. “I have money saved up, and we can offer you whatever that crazy man you work for offered you or maybe even more. Tell me, young man. Tell me. What is he givin’ you that makes it worth what you doin’ right now? I saw the way you brought us food and stuff. I see the look in your eyes that you really don’t wanna do this. And you know you don’t. Just tell me.” Vivica tried to make her face as soft as possible, which was hard considering what she and her husband had been through. “How much he give you and what you want to get away from this life so you don’t have to do this anymore?”

  Juan and Knight stood there a few moments more. The both of them contemplated, both thinking about how laid out their house had been. There was no doubt in their mind that this couple had the kind of money they would need to get up out of Chicago and go start off somewhere new.

  “A hundred thousand?” Vivica offered. “I can get you a hundred thousand dollars, and you two can go do what you really wanna do with your lives rather than whatever that crazy nigga friend of yours wants you to do. I can get it for you and you can just let us go and we all disappear.”

  Juan shook his head. The very thought of Byron finding out that they’d made a deal with his company scared not only him but also Knight. Knight also snapped out of his train of thought, as he too realized that the wrath of Byron coming after them would far outweigh however much money this lady could offer either of them. The fact that the two men were standing here, looking at a couple they hadn’t even known a week ago, in a dusty bed in a dusty house was proof of just how far Byron would go when he felt as if he’d been done wrong.

  “Sorry, lady,” Juan said. “Sounds nice and stuff, but we gon’ have to go ahead and stick with what we got so we ain’t on the run and shit like your boy is.”

  “On the run?” Vivica asked. “What do you mean on the run?”

  “We got something we want you to see,” Juan said. He pulled his phone out
of his pocket and looked at the time. “Actually, we might be just in time to see it right now. It’s ten-oh-three. We got something that we supposed to show you and your husband.” Juan looked at her husband, remembering how the guy had hit him and Knight over the backs of their heads with the chair. He could still feel the stinging from the bump on the back of his head. And for that reason, he could not feel one ounce of remorse for the older dude, who looked as if he’d gotten beat up and dragged down the street by three or four guys.

  Juan stepped over to the television and turned it on, wiping the dust off with the edge of his fingers. He noticed that there was a digital adapter on the side, telling him that this old thing just might work. The screen slowly lit up and Juan pressed buttons until the channels began to go up. He stopped once he got to Fox 32. Every pair of eyes in the room was locked on the television, as the camera zoomed in on newscasters.

  “Bank robbery suspects are still at large tonight,” a Rebecca Howell explained. “And the Chicago Police Department, in joint efforts with local law enforcement agencies in nearby Indiana counties, have vowed to not stop until they have the suspects in custody.”

  Juan and Knight stood there as a clearly stunned Vivica and her husband stared at the television. Juan watched for their reactions, knowing that Byron would sooner or later ask how they reacted to such news that their baby boy and his friend were wanted criminals and on the run. The news station transferred broadcasting to a live broadcast outside of the police station. In the background, police cars were parked in clusters on the street. In front of the brick building, officers huddled in the background as one local official gave the public a briefing of the progress the authorities were making with tracking down these armed bank robbery suspects. Halfway through the report, Vivica and Frank practically choked on what they’d heard, knowing they were about to see Frank’s son’s face.

  The news station showed Tramar and Jackson’s faces, identifying them as the suspects in the robbery of a bank downtown as well as two banks in Indiana. The speaker went over their height, how the police had raided a motel where they were staying, and what kinds of cars they were suspected to be driving. While the description of Jackson’s car was a little vague, especially in a city as large as Chicago, the description of Tramar’s red Charger with rims and special designs on the exterior was a dead giveaway. At that very moment, Frank felt his heart sink.

  “Why?” Frank said, struggling to speak with his swollen, busted lips. “Why would he go and do some shit like this, Vivica? Why?”

  Everyone in the room could hear the disappointment in Frank’s voice.

  “I raised him in a good home and he had a decent life,” Frank said. “Maybe not the very best, but he certainly had it better than I did. He was always after that fast money and girls and stuff.”

  Vivica felt the need to interject. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you showing us this? So, what you’re saying is that we’re never getting out of here? I heard what the other nigga said, something about how things would get bad in here if Tramar didn’t come through with the money. That’s why he’s out there robbing banks and stuff. You all are making him do that shit, aren’t you?”

  Juan shrugged his shoulders. “Lady,” he said, turning away and walking back toward Knight in the doorway. “Nobody made him do anything. He got involved in some shit that he shouldn’t have gotten involved in. That’s all I can really say. Okay, well, y’all niggas got y’all dinner and stuff. We gon’ be out here, okay?”

  Vivica watched, with scolding eyes, as the two men closed the door. They locked it and slammed the keys down onto the small table in the hallway. All Vivica could think about was how she’d do anything to be out of that room.

  Out in the dining room, Juan and Knight sat down at the dining room table. They each grabbed their bag of White Castles and started to eat. Halfway through his second sandwich, Juan stopped and looked at Knight. “Nigga,” he said, “did you notice that car riding down the street when we came walking in the house?”

  “I don’t know,” Knight said, stuffing his face with French fries. “I mean, it’s Chicago, nigga. How many cars you think we seen today and shit? How the fuck you think I’m supposed to have noticed just one car out of the thousands we prolly done seen today?”

  Juan said, “Fuck you.” He then tossed a French fry across the table, watching it hit Knight in the shirt. “Naw, nigga,” he said. “I’m being serious. I mean, did you notice that car that was riding down this block, this street right here, right out front, when we were pulling up and coming into the house?”

  “I guess, yeah,” Knight said. “But, I mean, I ain’t think nothin’ of it. Why? Nigga, don’t tell me that your ass is over there getting paranoid and shit.”

  “Naw, nigga,” Juan said. “I ain’t over here feelin’ paranoid and shit. I’m just being observant, especially if we don’t want Byron’s ass breathing down our necks for the rest of our lives, nigga. I was just askin’ you a question, nigga, because something seemed a little funny. It was like they slowed down after they got down toward the other end of the block or something.”

  “Nigga, it’s dark outside,” Knight said, implying that his buddy should have some reason. “Think about it. It’s night and it’s dark. What are the chances you gon’ be able to look down the street and be able to tell that a car is slowing down from this far up the block? Nigga, I think you trippin’ or something ‘cause I ain’t think nothin’ about it. It was just a car that just so happened to be riding by and shit when we were comin’ up in the house. Just like right now, if we walk outside and stand there for a minute, smoking a blunt or something, a car is gon’ ride by, and they would just so happen to be riding by when our asses is out there, standing and shit. That’s all it was and that’s all it will be. Plus, you heard Byron. He said ain’t nobody been over in this house for quite some time. You saw all the damn dust when we got here.”

  “I know,” Juan said, looking around. “This shit is the reason I ain’t invited no pussy to come over. That nigga Byron is up in that big ass, nice house with two fat booty bitches, and here we are stuck in some dusty old house and babysitting and shit. This shit is fucked up if you ask me.”

  “I was thinkin’ the same shit, my nigga,” Knight said. “I want some pussy myself.”

  Juan laughed. “Nigga, remember the last time we had a chick over and shit?” he said. “You got all shitty and stuff when the chick ain’t wanna fuck with you ‘cause your dick is little.” Juan laughed out loud.

  Knight, feeling a little insulted, tossed a fry over at Juan. It hit him in the head and bounced off, falling to the table. In a matter of seconds, a full blown French fry fight had erupted between the two of them. They hurled French fries over the dining room table at one another until they realized they were wasting the very food they went to get to eat.

  “Okay, nigga,” Juan said. “Stop, stop.”

  The two of them calmed down. Juan looked around, feeling a little devious since he was more than sure that Byron would not be breaking away from his company anytime soon tonight to come check on them. He looked at Knight with an adventurous look on his face. “You know, you feel like doin’ a little cleanin’ up and shit, nigga?” he asked.

  Knight looked around and shrugged. “Shit, I mean, we can,” he answered. “Why, what you got in mind?”

  “We can get some bitches to come through,” Juan said. “I know some thots that would definitely come through and shit just to have somewhere to get away to. Man, if we clean up that front room and the bathroom. You know, make everything not look so damn dusty, we could get them bitches over here to smash.”

  Knight nodded his head and smiled. “All right then, nigga,” he said. “Shit, let’s do it.”

  Chapter 4

  Jackson noticed that Tramar had been quiet most of the ride back to the hotel. At first, he was just going to let his buddy cool off. However, he could tell that whatever had irked him was building up inside of him.

  �
��Wassup, nigga?” Jackson asked, turning down the radio. “You ain’t said hardly shit since we pulled off that block.”

  “Man, I know what that Damon nigga said,” Tramar said. “But something is tellin’ me that whoever them two niggas we saw going in that house are connected to Byron. I mean, I don’t really know, but I swear to God, nigga, I can feel it in my gut. I mean, for real. Remember the picture he posted of my family and shit?”

  “Yeah, on Facebook,” Jackson said, in confirmation. “But what about it?”

  “Think about it, nigga, damn,” Tramar said, feeling a little annoyed that Jackson wasn’t always the best at connecting the dots. “There was all that old furniture and funny lookin’ carpet in the background, right? Think about it, nigga. I think that was the house because the Damon nigga said that he know that Byron’s grandma used to live there. When he said that, all I could think about was how the background in the picture looked so fuckin’ old, man. I mean, that shit looked like where somebody grandma used to live.”

  “Yeah, you right,” Jackson said. “So, you think that he got them up in that house? Right there, in the middle of the city like that?”

  “Shit, I wouldn’t have suspected it either,” Tramar said. “How many times you think we done rolled through that neighborhood on the highway in the last week or so, man? Huh?”

  “A bunch of times,” Jackson said. “So, what you sayin’ though? Are you really that sure that they could be up in there and shit? So sure that you’d wanna risk runnin’ up in there and finding out that we got the wrong place?”

  Tramar bit his bottom lip. He was sure, but he didn’t want to risk running into a family or people who had nothing to do with this situation. He’d already pulled the Damon dude into the mess, but he knew that he had to. Tramar didn’t want to continue doing that, but when he looked at the clock and saw that it was getting closer and closer to Sunday, he knew that he would have to pull all the tricks if he was really serious about getting his father and stepmother back. He could feel the rage running through his veins at just the thought of what might be happening to his father and Vivica.