I laughed because Bishop was so fixated about whether or not Sean and I were seeing each other that he couldn’t see the writing on the wall. And then I shook my head and mulled over the fact that if he only knew that Sean was an FBI agent and he was his main target, a war would’ve broke out amongst those two.
“You are truly worried about the wrong thing,” I commented, trying to deflect any indication that Sean and I had anything going on, much less knew each other. “Come on, let’s go inside.” I grabbed him by his hand and escorted him into the apartment.
Once we were inside, Bishop went directly to the bathroom and I went into the bedroom to calm my nerves. My mind was still a minefield of thoughts. Having a wiretap was nerve wrecking. Just the thought made me nervous as shit. I wondered if that was how Bishop found out about his sister, Bria—her mind was so fucked up about trying to get information from him and keep herself out of prison that she gave herself away. I said a quick pray to God and asked Him to protect me while I was treading on these dangerous waters. I couldn’t tell you if He heard me or not, but after I said the words, Amen, I sure felt better.
After the toilet flushed, Bishop came out of the bathroom and went straight into the living room area, suspecting that’s were I was. “Lynise, where you at?” he yelled.
I left the bedroom and met him in the hallway. “What’s up?” I asked.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready. But where are we going?” I wanted to know for my own peace of mind as well as for Sean and his fellow agents. Plus, I didn’t know the range of this Chap Stick size bug.
“I want you to make a run with me,” he told me.
Curiosity piqued my interest, so I pressed the issue. “Make a run with you where?” I asked. I needed some answers. One, I knew it was my nerves pressing the issue. Secondly, a lot of stuff had happened in the last week and I was always getting limited information. I was tired of that shit. I wanted more concrete answers.
“I need you to make a pick up for me.”
“What kind of pick up?” I probed.
Bishop gave me an odd look. “What’s up with all the fucking questions? Whatcha’ an informant or something?” he asked.
After Bishop made the insinuation about me being an informant, my entire body was consumed with fear. If I was ten years younger, there’s no doubt I would’ve told on myself and showed him the Chap Stick size wiretap. But since I had street sense and survival skills, I used reverse psychology on his ass and burst into laughter. “If I was an informant, I’d still be in Virginia working for those crackers, instead of up here with your ass,” I commented as I placed my right hand on my hip.
“Well, since you ain’t no informant then stop asking me questions,” he replied and then he walked to the front door and opened it. “Let’s go.”
I stared at the front door after Bishop walked outside and wondered what I had gotten myself into? Bishop had proven himself to be a violent man when necessary. He had also proven himself to be very loyal. So I couldn’t imagine the wrath he’d cast down on me for being disloyal to him. It would be too damaging to my mental state of mind to do so.
I grabbed my handbag and keys to the apartment and then I headed outside behind Bishop. He was standing outside my car with his back facing me while he talked on the phone. I couldn’t hear his conversation so I tiptoed in his direction, hoping I could at least figure out at least who he was talking to. But by the time I got close enough to him to hear anything, he turned around and saw that I was coming and ended his call.
“I ma’ call you back later after I take care of my business,” I heard him say and then he paused. “Yeah, I promise.”
After he finished his call, I couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t business. I wasn’t too happy about his private conversation, because I knew deep in my heart that he was talking to a chick. And from his facial expression, I knew it wasn’t Keisha. He didn’t smile all the time when he talked to her. Hell, I couldn’t remember him smiling once in my presence when he talked to that bitch. That smile he wore had everything to do with a new chick. I would bet every dime I had that it was that bitch Chrissy.
As long as I’ve been old enough to fuck niggas, I’ve noticed that cats got real hyped and giddy when they got a new bitch in their lives. They called it new pussy and every nationality of men went nuts over new pussy. But when the honeymoon phase was over, they started acting like damn fools and the I love you’s stopped coming.
My heart wanted me to lash out at him but I left well enough alone. I knew it would be an argument I wouldn’t win anyway. “Are you driving?” I asked.
“Yeah, hand me the keys,” he instructed.
I tossed the keys his way and after he caught them, he got inside the car and then he unlocked the passenger side door so I could get inside the car with him. Once he got on the road, he went south. I wasn’t too familiar with the route he took, but I could read signs and I had a photographic memory, so if I had to come back this way, I’d remember.
Then I thought, maybe I wouldn’t have to remember. Knowing I had been wired, I wondered if one of the agents besides Sean was following Bishop and I to God knows where. I still didn’t know the distance my wiretap transmitted. I was sure there was no way they’d be able to listen in on the wiretap if I were miles and miles outside of their perimeter. My guess was that it was entirely impossible. But when it was said and done, I’d know for sure.
During most of the drive, our conversation was limited as we listened to Jay Z and Kanye West’s CD. I did, however, get up the gumption to ask about Bria, since he hadn’t brought her up since our last chat.
“Have you found out who has Bria?” I asked. It was important for me to know if he had made any attempt to find out who had his sister. I wasn't doing this to get information for the FBI. I did this for me. I needed to know if in fact he was behind her kidnapping.
It took him at least thirty seconds or more to answer my question, which, of course, didn't sit well with me. Who hesitates to answer questions about a loved one in trouble? I couldn't tell you why he did this? Was it to shield me from the gripping reality of what she was going through? Or because he was the one actually behind her getting snatched up? If so, was it because he found out she was working with the Feds? But come rain or shine, the truth would come out. Or that was the lie old folks told us young folks.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” he finally said.
“Why not? She was just kidnapped a couple of nights ago and you don't want to talk about it? That's crazy.”
“What do you want me to say? We got her back and she's all right.”
“That's exactly what I want to hear,” I expressed.
“Well, I'm sorry. But I can't tell you that,” he replied.
“So what are you going to do? Just leave her there? I mean, it’s getting close to 72 hours, so somebody has to do something.”
“Don't you think I know that?” Bishop snapped. “I loved my sister. She and I used to be really close growing up. She was closer to me than she was to Neeko. So don't ever question me about what I need to do concerning her. Leave that situation alone, unless I bring it up to you.”
I sat there and listened to Bishop chastise me concerning his relationship with Bria. I became numb. I was thrown for a loop when he used certain words in past tense . . . like she was gone. I wanted to interject to get a better understanding about what he meant when he said he loved her. But I didn't for fear of him becoming suspicious of me.
I wonder if Sean or the other agents had our conversation recorded. In my mind, Bishop had said some incriminating things. I guess I would find out sooner than later.
Am I my sister’s keeper?
Cheaper to Keep Her part 3 Unique
The Replacement Courier – Chapter Eleven
Bishop and I drove in silence after he put me on blast about Bria. I heard the rage in his voice when he instructed me not to ask him any more questions concerning
her. For the first time, I feared him. I feared that whatever he did to her, he’d do to me without hesitation. Suspecting this, I knew I needed to re-group and come up with another plan. The plan the Feds had strategized for me wasn’t conducive for my well-being and I was going to take my life into my own hands.
To my surprise, Bishop pulled up behind a white, late model Cherokee Jeep parked in front of an old, gray townhouse in a run-down neighborhood on the north side of Newark. When I looked at the bumper and noticed the green bumper sticker, I realized the truck was a rented vehicle.
After Bishop put the car in park, he reached down in his front pants pockets and handed me a set of car keys. “I need you to get in that truck and follow me to my people’s house, so we can drop it off,” he instructed me.
“Okay,” I said and got out of the car.
As much as I didn’t want to drive the truck, I was too nervous and too damn afraid to raise hell. Bishop watched me while I got into the truck and cranked the engine. Once he realized I had started the vehicle, he pulled out in front of me and led the way.
Before I pulled into the road behind him I looked over my shoulder to make sure there wasn't a car coming. That’s when I realized that Sean was indeed on our tail. He was parked behind at least seven vehicles behind us. As soon as I pulled out onto the road, he made his way onto the road too. I was shaking my head at the stupidity. This motherfucker, Sean, should have realized that Bishop had seen him in the parking lot. Why take the chance and be spotted again? One of the other agents should have conducted the tail.
Then I found myself making excuses for Sean. Like Newark was damn near all-Black and a white agent would stand out anywhere in this junky, smelly ass city. With the exception of the business areas in Newark, the place was one big ghetto cesspool.
Since I was wired and I knew Sean could hear me, I wanted to mention that Bishop made the comment about how he used to love his sister. And how I was now on board with the FBI of suspecting Bishop as the cause of Bria’s kidnapping. I had even wanted to say something about the possibility of her being dead. However, the Feds already thought she was dead. And that thought made my mind once again think about the chap stick sized bug I had on my person. Was it the same kind that Bria had on when Bishop figured out she was a snitch? If so, why didn’t Sean and his crew come to her rescue?
My mind being all over the place wasn’t helping my nerves. I had to chill or I may get myself killed. When I thought about how deep this situation was, I elected to keep my mouth closed. If Sean was close enough during our drive to pick up the truck, I was sure he heard my conversation with Bishop. All I wanted right now was to get out of this thing alive. I didn’t think that was asking for too much.
While I followed Bishop I noticed he had at least fifteen Black Ice incenses dangling from the rearview mirror of the truck. There was no doubt he had them there to cover up the smell from something he had hidden in the truck. As a matter of fact, the incenses were so strong I had to roll down the window to get some ventilation. It seemed like the longer I was in this truck, the more alarmed I had gotten. I mean, there had to be at least ten pounds of weed in this vehicle. The thought of me being in possession of it made me a little upset. Why the fuck he couldn’t get Keisha’s dumb ass to transport this shit? Am I more dispensable than her? Okay, granted, I was a ’hood chick and I didn’t have a lot to lose, but I was still somebody and he needed to recognize that.
Before we reached our location, Bishop called me on my cell phone and gave me final instructions. I pressed the speakerphone button so Sean could hear it as well.
“We’re getting ready to pull up to a brown, brick two-story house on the right side, so I want you to pull up into the driveway and park the truck as close as you can to the back of the house. And when you’re done, take the keys to the back door of the house and ask for a dude named Manuel. When he comes to the door, he’s going to hand you a black bag and after he does that, hand him the keys to the car and tell him that it’s in the glove compartment and then you come back and get in the car.”
“What would you want me to do if the guy Manuel isn't there?”
“Don't worry, he's there,” Bishop assured me.
To confirm the instructions Bishop gave me, I repeated them back to him. “So all I have to do is drive the truck into the driveway and get as close to the back door as I can and then knock on the door and ask for Manuel?”
“Yup. But make sure he gives you the black bag before you hand him the keys to the truck.”
“I got that part.”
“Okay, well, do your thing. So we can get the hell out of here.”
“Roger that.”
Even though the instructions Bishop gave me were quite simple, there was still a harsh reality that something could go wrong. Any time you are dealing with dope, whether it was marijuana, coke or heroin, things didn’t always go as planned. Look at how Bria got caught up in one of her deliveries. The Feds jammed her up, made her turn against her brother and now she's probably dead with her remains thrown in one of these neighborhood dumpsters. What a terrible way to have your life come to a screeching halt.
In a matter of two and a half minutes, I had parked the rental truck at the end of the driveway and was at the back door knocking and waiting for this Manuel character to make the exchange.
When the door finally opened, a Puerto Rican looking cat appeared before me. He was average height, around five eight or nine, sporting a white tee, a pair of blue denim jeans and a pair of brown Timberland boots. While I was checking him out, he was checking me out as well.
“Are you Manuel?”
“That depends,” he smiled. “Who are you?” he turned the question around on me.
“No disrespect, sweetie. But I was told to drop off that truck in your driveway and wait for Manuel to give me a black bag, now if you ain’t Manuel, then will you tell him that someone is at the door waiting for him?”
He smiled. “Don't get bent out of shape, mommie! I’m Manuel,” he said and then he picked up a black bag from the floor behind the back door and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
Once I had the bag in my hand, I handed him the keys to the rental truck. “This is for you, it’s in the glove compartment,” ensuring I delivered the message Bishop wanted me to, and then I turned to leave.
“Hey, where is my girl, Bria? She’s the one who normally run this route,” he replied.
“I don't know,” I told him and kept walking back towards the front of the house where Bishop was parked.
Half way to the car where Bishop was, I couldn't help but notice how heavy the black bag was. When I rubbed my hand across the side of it, I knew I was carrying a lot of cash. I couldn't tell you how much it was, but it was a lot. And that’s all I needed to know.
As soon as I got back into the car with Bishop, he immediately grabbed the bag from me and stuffed it underneath the driver seat and then he drove off.
I was so excited about the money, I didn’t check to see if Sean was parked down the street watching me walk back to the car. My mind was on money. The entire trip back I was thinking about getting my hands on some of the cash in that bag. I didn’t know what kind of deal he had with Bria. But I did know she didn’t want for anything and she always talked about having her own money. I knew she wasn’t making bank as a beautician, so this was her second job, per se.
Getting a piece of the prize was suddenly on my mind. So much so I didn’t even check to see if Sean was behind us or anywhere in the vicinity when we made it back to the apartment.
Had I fucked up getting in bed with the Feds versus getting paid?
Back at the apartment, Bishop went into the bedroom and closed the door. He stayed in there for about fifteen minutes and then he returned to the living room where I was watching television. He had the black bag folded underneath his left armpit.
“I'll be back in thirty minutes, so be ready to go when I get back.”
“Alright,” I said with little ent
husiasm.
To be frank about the situation, I was kind of glad he left me in the apartment. The way I was beginning to see him was an ugly sight. The thought of him using me to do his dirty work and take the place of Bria was mind blowing.
Manuel definitely confirmed my worst fear. To know that he was unaware of her kidnapping sent chills through my entire body. Why hadn't Bishop told Manuel about Bria's abduction? Did he have something to hide? I swear this picture Bishop was painting of himself was getting uglier by the moment.
While I sat there and tried to piece together this puzzle, there was a knock on the door.
Startled by the knocking, I got up from the sofa and answered the door. I wasn't surprised to see Sean at the door. But I was shocked that he would take the chance to come here when Bishop hadn’t been gone that long.
Paranoia and fear consumed me. “What are you trying to do, get me killed?” I snapped.
“Of course not, I wouldn't let that happen.”
“Do you realize Bishop just left not too long ago?”
“Look, don't worry about that. I've got two female agents a couple of blocks from here monitoring who comes in and goes out of this place. And from what they told me, he's heading north on Mount Prospect Avenue.”
Overwhelmed by everything that was going on around me, I sighed at Sean and said, “Well, what do you want from me now?”
“I came here to make sure that you are okay.”
“Do I look like I’m okay? I mean, I am walking around with a wire stuck to my clothing. Which, of course, has put my life in danger.”
“Lynise, please calm down. You will be fine. We are less than one hundred feet away from you. So there is no way we will let any harm come upon you.”
“I'm sure you said those same words to Bria,” I replied sarcastically.
Cheaper to Keep Her part 3 (More Money More Problems) Page 8
