My Thug Got A Rider

by Onyxx Black

  “What are you going to do?” I didn’t want to know for gossip, but I was curious.

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel so good, so goodnight Ashanti,” she dismissed me and turned her back to me.

  ***

  Kenyon

  Having lunch with Ashanti was the only thing on my mind, after a long ass week of dealing with Geno’s bruised manhood because his girlfriend broke up with him and Tae’s paranoia issues. I was still in shock about TaNeeka when the thought hit me that maybe Ashanti didn’t trust me because she thought that I killed her. It all made sense. The public meeting places, the no rides rule, how jumpy she was. But then again, she brought up TaNeeka to me, calling her my girlfriend, so maybe she didn’t know. Needing a fresh start, I dismantled my entire crew and paid them all off. Now, I depended on my main two niggas to help me get shit done. I was even busier and didn’t have as much time as I wanted to chill with my girl. Well, she wasn’t my girl yet, but I was working on it. I still didn’t even know where she lived and every time I offered to come pick her up, she told me no. I guess it was some independent, feminist attitude she had but I respected it. When I got done with the rest of the pack, I was going to hand the business over to Tae for a week and spend some much needed quality time with Shorty. I knew Carter would beat me to it though and go on vacation before I did.

  ***

  Ashanti

  The first week of April, I was appointed Employee of the Month. The only good thing about that was the free parking spot and having lunch with Kenyon every day. Other than that I was opening and closing, while Carter was out of town on vacation. I turned down the volume in the car to answer the phone for Kenyon. “What are you doing tomorrow? I already talked to Carter and he said you’re not on the schedule, so you can’t play me with the same excuse about working.” He never just said hello, how are you, like normal people. He was so straight forward. “Oh, and before you text her, Shauna already told me herself that y’all didn’t have plans.” I silently cussed her out in my head.

  “What are you trying to do?” I asked Kenyon, but I was sure he didn’t hear me. We had been talking for two weeks now and I still could never have his full attention unless it was over lunch and the food still got more attention than me. He was talking to a man in the background, and I assumed he was handling business. “You sound busy. You should call me back when you have time to talk.” With that, I hung up and pulled my car into the driveway. I was not in the mood for anything or anybody, but my bed. After my day at work, all I wanted was one of Ms. B.’s andouille sausage Po’boy’s and a nap. Unfortunately for me, I noticed someone in my parking spot and when I got out to walk up to the door, I saw the badge before I saw the officer himself. Damn!

  “Ashanti Woods?” I nodded. “Can I ask you to come down to the station to answer some questions?”

  Did I really have a choice? “Can you tell me what I’m being questioned for?” The black officer closed his eyes tight like I was giving him a headache already. My heart was pounding in my chest and I prayed I wasn’t being questioned about anything to do with Kenyon. Yeah, I knew he was heavy into dealing drugs, it’s how he made money, but I hadn’t even been around him long enough to be questioned about shit. The only places we had been together were to the movies and out to eat and I drove myself. I wasn’t into him driving me everywhere just in case I had to or wanted to leave on my own time. “Why am I being questioned? What does this pertain to?” The Hispanic officer rolled his eyes at me, finally tired of not answering my repetitive questions, and pulled a photo from his envelope. I felt my knees going weak as I almost fell down the stairs. I had to go in the house to see for myself but as soon as I opened the door, I saw Brionna on the floor crying and Ms. Greene just standing there looking like she was going to be sick. I felt the same way. Ms. B. came out of her room, with red rimmed eyes and hugged me.

  “I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know why she was apologizing to me, but then it hit me. She thought I did it. I had a reason to go now. I had a point to prove. On the way down to the precinct, I was quiet. I wondered if I was being held, and if I was, what the hell they were holding me for.

  The room that they had me in was small and made completely of concrete. There was one window and a long mirror on one side. I looked at myself and wondered if somebody was looking back at me other than my beat up reflection. My uniform was stained with shoe cleaner that busted all over the stockroom floor and my hair was all over my head. I looked like one of those drug addicts that detectives, Benson and Stabler stayed bringing in the interrogation room on Law and Order: SVU. I sat down in the hard chair that felt like it was leaning to one side. The table felt unsteady too.

  “Ms. Woods we would just like to ask a few questions. Please note that everything is being recorded.” I watched as an episode unfolded in front of me in real life.

  “Do you have any questions before we get started?” The tall Hispanic man asked from the two-way mirror. I frowned up my face at him. There was something about him that I didn’t like or trust.

  “No.”

  “For the record would you please state your name?” the short, bald black officer asked me from across the table.

  “Ashanti Renee Woods.” I wanted to keep my answers short, sweet and to the point.

  “How old are you, Ashanti?” the bald man identified as Officer Roosevelt asked as he scribbled in his legal notepad.

  “I’m eighteen years old.”

  Finally, the other officer, Gonzales, walked over and sat down on the edge of the table, letting it all out. “Ms. Woods, can you tell us where you were on the night of March 21, 2015 at around 1:45am?” He asked. I left the club around 12:15am, that morning so I knew I had nothing to worry about.

  “At the Westin Hotel.”

  Again, Officer Roosevelt scribbled, looking tired. “Can you tell us who this young lady is?” He pulled out the same picture of the mangled corpse, causing my stomach to turn.

  “Alexiana Marie Suarez.” I held back the incessant watering in my mouth, urging me to vomit. He took the picture away.

  “How would you describe your relationship with Ms. Suarez?” How could I say that I hated her, but not enough to kill her? Was there a right way to say we fought every day and I slit her jaw, but I never wanted her to die? How effective was it to cry big crocodile tears, but mean everything I was saying? Lexi was young and wild but out there. Not to mention pregnant but as much as I hated her, I really couldn’t see anyone killing her. Beating her ass, yes. Killing her, that was a bit much.

  “We weren’t the best of friends.” I admitted, hating myself for saying that on record.

  “Do you have a receipt for your overnight stay at the Westin?” I had put all my belongings on a conveyor belt to go through the metal detector so I had no way of showing him my texts from my bank, confirming my card transaction. “Check with the hotel. My bank card and my name should show up in their reservations.” I wondered how cold I looked to them with my hair all over my head and my face showing no emotions. “Is that all?” I finally felt the need to ask some questions for myself.

  “Yes. That’ll be all Ms. Woods. You’re free to go.” I hurried up and got up from the dingy room and all but ran out the door. I rode in the squad car so I didn’t have a ride home. I called Shauna and she answered on the third ring.

  “Hey babe, what’s up?” She sounded out of breath and I was almost scared to ask her, what she was doing.

  “Where are you at?”

  “Still in cold ass Colorado. Daddy wanted me to come with him for the weekend and I finally introduced him to Ma. We’re all here, sledding and shit in the mountains. What’s up though? Are you okay?” Damn. I forgot all about their mini vacation.

  “I’m at the police station. They were asking me questions about Lexi.”

  “Wait. What kind of questions?”

  “Lexi’s dead.” I couldn’t find a better way to say it, so I just came out with it. Shauna got quiet. “They think that you d
id it, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, even Ms. B. hugged me and said she was sorry that they were taking me in for questioning. Since they couldn’t hold me they just asked me a bunch of questions.”

  “Damn. Well, did you at least drive? I mean, if you don’t want to go home, you can stay at my place. You got your spare key, don’t you?” I reached in the bottom of my purse. No key. That meant it must’ve still been in my glove compartment from the night of her party.

  “No, I’m about to call Kenyon. I’ll call you back later.” I hung up with Shauna and scrolled past Kenyon’s number, stopped, then scrolled past again and decided to call. No answer. I tried two more times before I finally left a voicemail. “Hey, it’s me, Ashanti. I wanted to know if you could come get me. I really need you right now.” I couldn’t help but get super emotional having never said those words before. My choices were so few. Either go home, where I was without a doubt going to be labeled a killer or go out and spend the day with a possible killer. If he didn’t answer his phone or call me back, I was going to walk home.

  Chapter Nine

  Kenyon

  I had been running behind all day because of Tae. I don’t know what that nigga has been on lately, but if he didn’t get his shit together he was going to get his ass beat. The only reason I hadn't capped his punk ass was because he was my top money-maker. He told me that he was on his way to re-up and that he’d be there in a few hours. I filled most of my client’s needs while I was on that side of town and waited for exactly three hours before my phone died and I bounced. I made sure to send Ashanti a text and ask her to let me pick her up for our date tonight, but she didn’t answer. She had hung up on me earlier because she heard me arguing with Tae about him being on the same side of town, yet he had niggas hitting me up asking for nickels and dimes. I don’t know what the fuck they thought. I really lost it when some dirty ass Slim Shady looking nigga walked up to my car window. I loaded the clip and pointed it at him through the window while I rolled it down real smooth. You would’ve thought ‘ol boy had seen a ghost.

  “What the fuck do you want?” My gun was still pointed at the center of his forehead.

  “I-I-I was coming to see if you had some blow, man. T-T-Tae told me I could find you here. Please don’t kill me.”

  Tae? That nigga had to be out his mothafuckin’ body, sending niggas up to my car. If he had the shit, and he swears he’s selling it but if he has niggas asking me for it, who the hell was he selling it to? My number one rule was no new customers. When I put the gun down I looked homeboy dead in his scary ass eyes. “Get the fuck out my got damn window! I don’t know a nigga name Tae.” I had shit to do and he was in my way. Riding down West 10th street, I didn’t know if it was fate or if the drop I needed to make was just in the right place at the right time, but I could’ve sworn I had just seen Ashanti walking down the street looking messed up. I made a wide illegal U-turn in the middle of the empty street. It was definitely her. She was still fine as hell, but I knew she was having a bad day. I pulled up on her real slow to mess with her. Her mean ass kept walking, but I guess she couldn’t see me through the tints.

  ***

  Ashanti

  I walked nearly half a mile before an all-white 2015 dodge charger pulled up beside me. The windows were tinted so I kept walking. I hated when niggas did that lame shit. Especially when they rolled the windows down and are busted as fuck. “Excuse me Shorty. What are you doing in my neck of the woods? Shouldn’t you be at home getting ready for our date tonight?”

  I turned my head around so hard I thought I was going to snap my neck. “Who the fu--” I realized I didn’t recognize the voice when I saw Kenyon smiling from the driver’s seat.

  “Are you going to get in or get me a ticket for driving too slow?” He parked the car beside me and waited until I made up my mind. I walked around the car and got in. It was nice and plush on the inside. The red velvet material gave it a modern, yet vintage look. I was feeling it and I wanted him to press on the gas so that I could feel the horses under the hood. Having a fascination with fast cars, something told me the one I was sitting in could do some damage on an empty freeway.

  “New car?” I asked, looking at the tag on his keys.

  “Naw, I just had to get a paint job. Smell new?” I wondered what he needed a paint job for and if it had anything to do with hiding from the police. “Why you out here walking this late? I can tell you not from this side of the tracks. Don’t you drive?” I didn’t know how to answer that so I just nodded. I wanted to tell him if he had answered his damn phone, he would’ve seen me calling him but it was getting dark and much colder outside. “You didn’t answer my first question. Did you even get my text about our date?” I looked over at the thugged out nigga across from me. I didn’t get not one text about a date. Maybe he was trying to be smooth. My phone buzzed in my pocket, letting me know it needed to be charged. I looked at it and smiled. His text was there, waiting on me to read it. I figured he must’ve sent that while I was on the phone with Shauna. “That your nigga calling you? Tell him we’re busy.” Kenyon glanced over at me. Arrogance could only be so sexy, and in his case, it was.

  “Nah, my phone is dying. I haven’t heard yours go off yet. Did you turn it off so your girl couldn’t blow you up?” I was playing the hell out of him, knowing she wouldn’t be calling or checking up on him ever again.

  “I need to talk to you about that. Later though.” We pulled to a stop in front of some abandoned house.

  “Wow. This is your idea of a first date?” The streets were lined with paper, plastic bottles, and disposable syringes that held God knows what. I was so uncomfortable with kids walking by the car, admiring it with no shoes on their feet, dirty clothes on and nappy-looking hair. Most of their noses were running and they were walking around wiping snot on their sleeves. I had been all through Indianapolis from being at all the different foster homes, but never had I been in the ghetto like I was now. Every other house was abandoned or looked so bad it was on the verge of it. A tall, bald man who looked to be about 60 years old stood on the porch of the house we were parked in front of, as if he was waiting on Kenyon to get out of the car.

  “Chill, lock the doors if you’re that scared and no, give me a little bit more credit than that. I can be a gentleman and shit.” I laughed to myself. The only way I’d perceive him as a gentleman is if every sentence he spoke didn’t end with ‘and shit’. “I need to drop this thang off and I’ll be right back. He bent over me and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a .40 caliber glock. My mouth dropped open. It looked exactly like the one I held in my dream. Shit was getting too freaky for me. I watched in silence as Kenyon grabbed two small bags of weed and what I assumed was cocaine from a hidden compartment under the cup holders. “Be right back. Don’t get out of the car.” He locked the door behind him and disappeared into the house. Whether I was more upset at the fact that he brought me on a run with him or that he left me in the car by myself, I wasn’t sure.

  It took longer than I expected for Kenyon to come back out of the house and when he did, I was more than ready to go. My stomach was growling and I was drained.

  “Is this where you used to stay?” I looked around as he pulled off through another alley. The people on the next block looked more like Kenyon, dressed in Roc jeans and Levi’s with long dreadlocks and hats pulled low on their foreheads.

  “This is where I stay now.” My eyebrows shot up. Niggas like him, with the money, the cars and the clothes, usually tried living above their means with three and four story homes that were practically empty. I was shocked that he still lived in the hood. “I stay here to handle business and take care of my people. When I eat, we all eat. Real niggas don’t go live it up while their people are still struggling. I don’t give a fuck how much money we got.” Damn. That was some of the realest shit I had ever heard.

  “Does your family still live here? Like your mama and your daddy?” I looked out the window as we pulled up to one of the
biggest houses in the neighborhood. It wasn’t anything fancy on the outside. “Nah. My Mama was a dope fiend and Pops was the one who gave it to her, he got busted in ‘07 and I been without them since. I see Moms from time to time.”

  “She comes and goes, huh?”

  “Nah. She passed a year or two after my Pops got put in the joint. I still go see her and talk to her at the cemetery. My aunt took me in for a while, but my way of life didn’t fit in with hers, just the money. Eventually I got tired of having to break bread and being chastised for the way that I made it. So I just started running the streets.” He lost his parents around the same time I had lost mine, but I was sure he was a bit older than me, not that it prepares you more, and I imagine it still hurt the same.

  “How old were you when you lost your mom?” He cut the engine and we sat there in the car talking.

  “I had to be about twelve. What about you? Where your folks from? I haven’t heard a peep out of you except to play twenty-one questions with me.” I laughed uncomfortably and shifted in my seat. I didn’t want to cry in front of this man, who didn’t even look bothered talking about his situation. I didn’t want to look weak and I certainly didn’t want his sympathy. Or maybe I did, but I couldn’t tell what I was feeling or what I wanted from him. “Ah, shit. Did I hit a nerve? If I did, we don’t have to talk about it.” He looked over at me with those brown eyes and aside from his permanent scowl, I saw some sincerity.

  “They were both killed in front of me when I was six years old,” I let it all out in one breath, catching Kenyon off guard.

  “Damn baby, I’m sorry you had to go through that. That shit isn’t easy no matter how old you get.” We sat in silence for what seemed like forever.

  “Y’all gonna get out of the car or am I interrupting something?” A young brown skinned girl, who favored Meagan Good, came to Kenyon’s window. “What’s up cuz? Who is she? She’s cute.” The girl waved at me and I nodded. I didn’t have anything against females who liked females, but I didn’t play that shit when it got directed at me.