Cheaper to Keep Her part 3 (More Money More Problems)

by Unique, Kiki Swinson presents

  I thought for a second before I answered him. And when I realized that I hadn't, I told him no.

  “Are you sure?” he pressed the issue.

  “Yeah. I'm positive. Why?”

  Bishop hesitated for a moment as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell me what was going on. So I gave him this look of reassurance, as if to say, whatever you tell me will not leave this room and that I had his back when he needed it most.

  “I just found out from my homeboy that the Feds ran up in Manuel's spot about an our after we left.”

  “Really?” I replied.

  “Yeah. And I just heard they had the rental truck towed away.”

  “Oh, my God! Is that why you asked me if I had left something in the truck?”

  “Yeah. I would hate for you to get pulled into some shit you ain't got nothing to do with. The police up north are different from the police down south. If they had the slightest idea that a nigga is making some serious money, they will run up on you like they're about to rob you and split your motherfucking head right open in the process.”

  “They are all the same to me,” I commented.

  Bishop tucked the folded bag underneath his armpit and said, “Not to me. The fucking crackers up here are so grimy that they go after family members and began to turn everyone against each other to create division. And then the next thing you know, you’re left with the choice to either kill your loved one or let them live. And I don't like that shit! I was raised on the principles that family is all you got. And when that's gone, you ain't got nothing else. So, it's down hill from there.”

  Chills ran through my body after Bishop's indirect confession about his sister Bria. But what was even more chilling was the fact that he didn't blink when he opened up how he felt about his family. I could say that I saw a genuine spark in his eyes that declared his feelings concerning his family versus his freedom on the streets.

  “And do you wanna know what's really crazy?” he pressed the issue.

  “What?”

  “Remember when I noticed that those two crackers were following us from New York?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yo, I will bet you every dollar I got in my pocket that those motherfuckers was following us because of that bust they had at Manuel's spot. I mean, it couldn’t be a coincidence that Manuel's spot got shutdown and then an hour later we’re being followed. Shit just doesn't happen like that Lynise.”

  “Well, in my experience, I’ve never seen the police follow somebody and then leave them alone and then go into another direction. Usually, if they follow you, it means they want to make you nervous enough to make a traffic violation to give them grounds to stop you. And then from there they got probable cause to do what the hell they want. And those white guys you said was following us didn’t do any of that. So I think you’re reading too much into that whole Turnpike situation.”

  “Look, I’m not saying you ain’t right, but something on the inside of me is telling me that the heat is on. So I’m gonna have to be extra careful because it could’ve been anybody that set Manuel up. And I swear on everything I love that if I find out who it is, they’re gonna end up in a cold and dark place. And they will never see the light of day again.”

  Oh, my God. The death I saw in Bishop’s eyes was extremely scary. And not only that, I couldn't believe how fast Bishop was starting to put two and two together. I knew he was quick on his feet, but I had no idea he would associate one thing with the other. I just hoped that since our conversation was being recorded by Sean and his other agents, maybe they would step back a little bit before this whole thing blew up in all of our faces prematurely.

  Watching Bishop felt as if I was living in the twilight zone. “I'm going to need you to hold the fort down until I come back,” he told me.

  “How long are you going to be gone?”

  “I can't say right now. I've got too much shit on my mind and too much shit to do with little time to do it. So I'll call you once I get a minute.”

  “Alright,” I said to him and then he left.

  Today had been one fucking rollercoaster ride for me. And to know that because of my wiretap, niggas were getting locked up left and right. Shit! Who knew Sean would go out and secure arrest warrants and bag up Manuel and his boys? I mean, I kind of knew, but I didn’t know for sure if that makes any sense.

  I had heard that the difference between the Feds and local cops was the Feds moved faster. They would sit back and make the case like cops, but when it was time to make a move, they did exactly that—they made a move with arrests and warrants and everything else.

  I was officially a snitch now.

  As far as how far this whole thing was going to go, I really couldn’t say. I never signed up to get another cat and his boys locked up, but of course, Sean had his own way of doing things and he had made it painfully clear that I had no say so whatsoever.

  What would satisfy my curiosity was if I knew how Sean and the other agents planned to take down Bishop and his crew. I also wanted to know where in the hell was Bria. In so many ways, Bishop had made references that she was gone. Any subject pertaining to her was always stated in the past tense.

  I hoped and prayed that her body wouldn’t turn up in the back of an alley somewhere. That would have really devastated the hell out of me.

  Another thing that would have devastated me was if Sean used me to work his case and still turned me over to Detectives Whitfield and Rosenberg. Those doughnut eating sons of bitches weren’t worth shit! They didn’t care about anyone unless they were feeding their dumb asses with tons of information so they could make their arrests. And the same could be said about the Feds around here. I wished I could pile all of them up in a boat and set all of their asses on fire and let them burn to death. That would be the best thing ever. But I had to chill and be on my best behavior.

  As the day whined down, I became a little more relaxed. In doing so, I decided to take off the wire. I didn't disconnect it but I removed it from my clothes and hid it underneath my dirty clothes in the bathroom hamper. Bishop never went through my things or searched through my clothing after I've thrown them in the hamper. So I had no worries. From there, I lounged around in the apartment and tried to figure out my next move.

  Working on Plan A!

  Cheaper to Keep Her part 3 Unique

  Making Moves – Chapter Fourteen

  Several hours had passed and there was no word from Bishop. I was the type of chick that wanted to know a person’s every move. It bothered the hell out of me that I was sitting in limbo wondering what was going on outside that front door. The only information I had to go on was that Sean and the other agents had rushed into Manuel’s spot and shut it down. Other than that, I was in the blind.

  While I lay across the sofa, my mind wondered off and I started thinking about my ex-best friend, Diamond, and how close she and I used to be. I wasn’t feeling any remorse about her death, but I wondered why she allowed that nigga, Duke, to come between us. He wasn’t worth shit! But he still managed to interfere with what she and I had. Too bad we couldn’t turn back the hands of time, because not everything Diamond and I went through was bad. We actually had some damn good times together. But that’s just it. Memories.

  In addition to my memories of Diamond, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on back in Virginia. I didn’t have anyone I called friends. Plus, I didn’t have a relationship with any of my family members. So, basically, I couldn’t pick up the phone and call anyone back in Virginia and see what was up.

  Then it dawned on me to call Lil Rodney. I knew he’d have an earful to tell me if I was able to get him on the phone. It wouldn’t be unusual for his cell phone number to be disconnected or out of service. It was normal for cats that hustled in the streets to change their cell phone number every other month. This method kept the cops from wiretaps and unsolicited drug buys from informants. After I dug his number out of my handbag, I dialed it without blocking my cell phone number. It wouldn�
��t have done me any good to block my number, especially if I found out that his cell phone number still actually worked. Blocking it would’ve been a sure way for him to send me straight to voicemail.

  After I keyed his number into the keypad of my Blackberry, it surprised me the phone rang and he answered on the second ring. “Yo’ who dis?” he asked.

  “Hey, Rodney, it’s Lynise. What’s up?” I replied with excitement. It felt good to hear a familiar voice.

  “Who?” he inquired. He made it obvious that he didn’t remembered who I was or recognized my voice.

  “Lynise. Remember, I’m Diamond’s old roommate.”

  “Oh, yeah, what’s good, shorty?”

  “Nothing much. I’m chilling. What’s going on in your neck of the woods?” I asked him.

  “Yo, shit has been crazy around here. Right after that shit happened in your old spot, it’s been hot as fire out here. The police been picking up niggas left and right out here. They figured since ain’t nobody giving them the names of the people who ran up in that spot and put that slug in your home girl’s head, they gon’ be assholes and harass everybody they see on the block.”

  “I am so sorry everybody is going through that dumb shit!”

  “Come on now, you know we soldiers out here. We ain’t about to let them fools run us off our block. Hell nah! That shit ain’t gon’ happen.”

  “Anything else going on? Like, has my name been ringing in the streets?”

  “I haven’t heard it in a while. But right after that shit went down, a couple of the bitches that live out here started running their fucking mouths.”

  “What were they saying?”

  “They started talking about how you set Diamond up and that her family is looking for you. Then I heard a couple of niggas at the dice game last week talking about how some cats named A.C. and T.C. were looking for you too because you fucked up their money.”

  “Who were the niggas that said that bullshit? Because they don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. First of all, I haven’t fucked up nobody’s money. And the second thing is, I don’t even know who the hell A.C. or T.C. is. So, tell those niggas to get their facts straight!” I snapped.

  It was upsetting to know that rumors were being spread around about me and I wasn’t there to confront them head on. Although I had just lied about not knowing who A.C. and T.C. were, I hadn’t had any one on one contact with those guys, much less screwed up their money. So whoever was stirring up that bullshit needed to stop now.

  “A.C. and T.C. are those two brothers that got the whole Norfolk on lock. They own a couple of businesses but they get the most of their money on the streets. And that nigga, Duke, was working for them too.”

  “Oh, really?” I said, even though I knew the inside scoop of that situation.

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard. And I heard that he was supposed to make a half-a-million dollar run to them cats the night he got killed. So they are mad about that shit! I heard they’re making a lot of niggas pay for it.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “I know.”

  “Did any of her family come by there to get her stuff out of the house?”

  “Yeah, I saw a couple of older ladies go in there, but they only walked out of there with her clothes, because a couple of dope fiends from the other side of the park went in there the day after the coroner took her body out and took a lot of shit like two flat screen TVs, a laptop, a blue ray player, her cable box and a toaster oven.”

  “Get the fuck out of here. Who takes a cable box and a toaster oven?”

  “Dope fiends.”

  “That shit is crazy!” I replied as I visualized the drug addicts ransacking my old apartment with Diamond’s blood splattered all over the floors just to find every valuable thing they could sell to get their next fix. That was some bold shit to do.

  “Yo, shorty, I gotta get off this phone. Got some people coming my way to score.”

  “Alright. Handle your business. But this is my number that came through on your phone, so call me if you hear my name ringing on the streets again.”

  “A’ight. I gotcha,” he assured me and then we both disconnected the call.

  I sat back and thought about our entire conversation and came to the conclusion that I could never go back to Virginia. Not only was the police looking for me, but so was A.C. and T.C. They were literally accusing me of them losing their money because I was the motivating factor of Duke getting killed. Were they fucking insane? Duke was killed because of his involvement with Neeko and Katrina’s deaths. So why use me as a pawn in their blame game?

  Thank God I had Rodney’s cell phone number. He was definitely a trooper and a lifesaver. Without him, I would have gotten railroaded a long time ago. I just hoped he’d keep his nose clean while he’s in the streets, because niggas don’t play fair. So it would be a travesty if he became a fallen soldier. That would fuck my head up for sure.

  Approximately forty-five minutes after I hung up my call with Rodney, I got another unexpected knock on the front door. I knew it was Sean, so I got up from the sofa and opened the door without peeking through the peephole. Just like I figured, Sean was the person behind the knock.

  He smiled at me, so I asked him what did he want from me now?

  He answered, “What's going on? How come we're not able to hear what's going on in this apartment?”

  “Because I took the wire off my clothes.”

  “Where is it?” he asked, and then he stormed by me and entered the apartment.

  I turned around and watched him as he stood in the middle of the living room floor. “It's in the bathroom tucked away in the dirty clothes hamper.”

  “Why is it in there?” he roared.

  “Because I had to take a shower. And I just forgot to put it back on since Bishop wasn't here,” I lied. I could tell he sensed that I was lying too.

  “That's bullshit and you know it!” he snapped. “Do you know that you are tampering with government evidence? And that you could get some serious time for that?”

  “First of all, who the hell do you think you're talking to like that? When I was pressured to wear that fucking wiretap you never said that I would have to go through this verbal abuse. And then on top of that, you're acting like I disconnected the damn thing.”

  “It does not matter if you disconnected it or not, any time you take it off to take a shower or to change clothes, it is very imperative that you put it back on. We cannot risk you leaving it hanging around and Bishop finding it.”

  “He wouldn't go looking in a dirty clothes hamper for anything.”

  “There's a first time for everything. Now go in there and get it. And when I put that wire back on you, you better not take it back off until you and Bishop are seconds away from fucking each other’s brains out. ”

  Inside, I laughed at Sean’s thunderous display. But I wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his tone, nor was I afraid of him. However, when an unexpected voice tore through the atmosphere, I damn near wanted to faint.

  “Lynise, who the fuck is this? And why he about to put a wire on you?” I heard the voice say.

  It seemed so unreal. And I instantly closed my eyes and said a quiet prayer in my mind, asking God to please let this be a dream. But when I opened my eyes back up and looked into Sean's face, I knew the voice I had just heard was, in fact, real . . . very real.

  In slow motion, I began to witness Sean as he pulled his gun from the holster inside of his jacket, which, in turn, led me to believe that we were in deep trouble and shit was about to hit the fan. My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach when I saw Bishop’s right hand man, Torch, through my peripheral vision.

  When I saw Torch pull his gun from his waist, I tried to take off in Sean’s direction, but before I could move one inch, I was snatched backwards and lost my balance in the process. Torch grabbed me around my neck with his left arm while he buried the barrel of his gun in the back of my head.

  Here I was
standing in the middle of two men with guns drawn. Before I knew it, my life had flashed before my very eyes. “Put your gun down and let her go now, before I shoot,” Sean threatened.

  “Fuck that! You put your motherfucking gun down!” Torch demanded.

  “Torch, please let me go,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I was literally shaking. The pain behind the force Torch put behind the barrel of the gun he had pointed at my head was beyond excruciating.

  “Nah motherfucker! You put your gun down!” Torch roared back at Sean. I couldn’t believe I was in the middle of a fucking standoff. Who would’ve thought that I’d be standing between two niggas with guns? Not to mention that I’d be one bullet away from meeting my maker.

  “Torch, please let me go,” I managed to say again with all the yelling back and forth.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Torch growled as he pushed the gun further into my head. Spit was shooting from his mouth with every word he uttered.

  I couldn’t believe this shit was happening. I don’t know how long it had been, maybe a minute or two, which seemed like forever, Torch realized Sean wasn’t putting his gun down. So he began to step backwards out the front door, dragging me along with him. When I realized he was about to make a run for it and bring me along as his hostage, I knew that that was a bad idea. Having Torch take me away and hand-deliver me to Bishop and expose me as the snitch would end in a bloody murder—and I would be the victim.

  I couldn't let that happen, so while he dragged me across the door seal of the front door, I grabbed the doorknob and tried to hold on to it for dear life. Of course that didn't work. Torch was much stronger than I was. With one pull I had to let the doorknob go. From there, I saw my life slipping away.

  “Help me!” I began to cry out to Sean. I knew what Torch was capable of. And it was nothing good. I witnessed him, along with Bishop and Monty, kill those people back in Virginia. So I refused to be his next victim.