True to the Game I

by Teri Woods

  Ra appreciated Reds’s effort, but it didn’t make Ra feel any better. “Read about Kenny,” he said, handing Reds the paper.

  “Okay, it says: Twenty-year-old Kenny Davis Jr. shot and killed his father, Kenny Davis Sr. with a nine-millimeter semi-automatic weapon last night. Mr. Davis Sr. was pronounced dead in his home at approximately 1:30 AM. He suffered seven gunshot wounds to the chest. Mrs. Julia Davis called the police while the argument was in progress. When police arrived, it was too late. The argument between the father and son had already ended in a fatal shooting,” said Reds, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Kenny snapped,” added Ra, shaking his head, too.

  “Yo, they got a picture of Kenny, looking crazy as hell. Look at this shit.” Reds handed the picture to Rasun. Rasun didn’t like what he saw and handed the newspaper back to him. Kenny didn’t look right.

  Silence filled the room as Rasun and Reds stared at blank empty space, neither saying a word. For a moment Rasun remembered Sahirah. She was so pretty, with her dimples and soft brown eyes that glared an innocence Rasun felt the night they were together.

  Reds sat next to Ra and took in Kenny killing his pops. He knew Kenny was in the zone when he did it. He knew how Kenny got when he drank syrup. He knew Kenny was wishing that he was home, getting ready to meet up with the rest of the crew, hang out and kick it with the ladies, just be free instead of in a cell. Pookey said Kenny had drank two ounces of yella and was trippin’. He felt bad for him because when he slept off his high and woke up to the reality of what he had done, that shit was going to hurt.

  The silence was too much to handle and Reds had to break it. “You can’t control God’s setup. Only God knows why he called for Sahirah and Kenny’s dad. Haven’t you been to a funeral?” Reds finally blurted out.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, the preacher says that God has reasons for everything. I don’t have the answers to why, but I do know that we got business to take care of. Come on.”

  Slim Sammy, a neighborhood piper, had just finished wiping down the BMW, when Ra and Reds went outside. “Did anybody ask you to fuck with the car?” Ra said, snapping on the older man.

  “Chill,” said Reds. Every day Slim Sammy would wipe down the cars. Now Ra was mad at him. Reds knew he was upset and told Slim Sam not to pay him no mind. He gave him five dollars and told him to step off. They got in the car and put the brick in the back seat. Reds put his Geto Boys tape in the stereo and sped down the street.

  Rasun took the park to cut through the north side to West Philly. He made a left on Lancaster Avenue and traveled down the Av. “Yo, there goes Rock.”

  “Where at?” said Reds, looking all around for his gold Mercedes-Benz, but couldn’t see it.

  “Don’t you see him? He’s right over there,” Ra said, pointing at the car.

  “Oh, I see him now.”

  Rasun and Reds sat waiting for the light to change when a black four-door Volvo drove into the bank’s parking lot and pulled up to Rock’s Benz. Reds and Rasun watched in astonishment as the driver pulled out a Uzi. The gunshots came from out of nowhere as bullets flew everywhere. Anyone within earshot felt a surge of fear and panic. All movement on Lancaster Avenue froze, except for mothers, who never froze when their kids were in danger. Quickly grabbing their babies and ducking behind cars, the gunfire ceased. The only thing left to be heard was the sound of screeching tires making their exit.

  Rasun and Reds sat at the light watching everything. Their eyes widened, and both felt so bad for Rock. They didn’t know him like that, but he was Quadir’s people, which meant he was family. Just looking on, the Volvo pulled up out of nowhere and out of nowhere was nothing but gunfire. In the blink of an eye, the Volvo sped away.

  “Damn,” exclaimed Reds, “Rock never even had a chance to see it coming!”

  Everything happened so fast. Before they even knew it, the Volvo was gone and Rock was left slumped in his Mercedes-Benz with two bullet wounds to the head and four to the chest.

  “What are we going to do?” said Ra. He was still sitting at the light. Feeling as if the bullets had just ripped through the metal of the BMW, and into his own flesh, he looked around making sure the drama had ended.

  “Let’s get the money he had for the brick,” Reds said thinking about the thirty grand that would go to the police if they didn’t take it.

  “Huh?”

  “Man, don’t sleep!” Reds could hear the sirens all around. Cops would be there with the quickness because it was a bank. “Come on! Pull up next to the Benz.” People had begun to crowd around the car, staring in awe at Rock’s brains, spilling from his skull.

  Ra pulled right up alongside the car, his eyes flicking back and forth at the speed of light as he glanced over trying to get a glimpse of Rock’s dead body. Reds jumped out of the car and dashed over to the Benz. The sirens were getting louder and closer as he opened the door. He knew the people were looking at him. He reached under the front seats and felt a familiar shape; Rock’s gun. He pulled the gun out, stuffing it in his jacket pocket, frightening an elderly woman half to death at the sight of that jumbo-sized, stainless steel nine-millimeter. He felt nothing under the driver’s seat. Where’s the money? He got out and walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. Reaching under the seat, he smelled success. Bam! There it was: a plastic bag filled with money. “Hello,” he said, grabbing it. Once outside the car again, he had to get rid of all the people. “All y’all back the fuck up. Step off, old man. You can’t save him; why you standing there?” He slammed the door and ran back over to the BMW.

  “Flee this motherfucker, Ra.”

  Ra was out before Reds could close the door. He pulled out of the lot and turned right on red. Bam, there was Ola, sirens blaring, red and blue flashing lights, on their way to the scene of the crime. Something about those vehicles that just fucked a brother up. Reds and Ra sat still as all hell, while the police went speeding by them. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” said Reds, thanking God the cops didn’t stop them. Ra drove on, passing more police cars rushing to get to the murder scene.

  “Yo, roll like an ordinary citizen,” said Reds, taking off his baseball cap.

  “I don’t believe this shit. Every day someone is getting killed,” said Ra.

  “Did you see him?” said Reds.

  “No, I couldn’t see shit. Was he alive?”

  “Hell no. He was dead. D-e-a-d. Dead like Fred.”

  “Wait till Quadir finds out,” said Ra, knowing the vacation was over.

  “Yeah, we got to call him now.”

  “I know. I was going to call him after I took care of Rock, to let him know everything was all right.”

  “Well, shit ain’t all right, man. I have never been that close to a body before. I mean, his eyes were open and he was staring at me when I took his money out the glove compartment. And guess what else? He belched. Real loud too.” Rasun sat looking at his friend.

  “Yo, Ock, this lifestyle ain’t healthy for a brother,” Reds continued.

  Reds was looking in the bag at Rock’s money, when he noticed his arm. “I got blood on me,” he said, in a low pitch voice like a girl.

  “How you do that?” said Rasun looking at him.

  “I don’t know. I must’ve brushed up against something in the car.”

  “Was blood all in the car?”

  “Man, Rock’s brains were all over the car. I’m telling you, the whole side of the boy’s head was gone,” said Reds as he looked in the plastic bag at all the money. “I just want you to know, I’m not taking no more money off of dead people or out of their cars or out of their houses, or nothing. It should be a commandment not to take shit from dead people,” said Reds.

  “It is. It’s called Thou Shalt Not Steal,” said Rasun, looking at his troubled friend.

  “Man, I’m saying the boy was looking at me. I think he seen me taking his money. I think he might have still been among the living. If you could have seen
the way his dead beady eyeballs looked at me,” he said, trying to shake it off.

  “I got to call Quadir as soon as we get back to the spot.

  “Yo, what we gonna do with this money?”

  Rasun and Reds took a long look at each other, both feeling the same.

  “The boy Rock died with a tab and owed Quadir. But, Quadir gonna mark it off as a loss because he dead. We didn’t fuck up the rest of the money. Quadir got ninety thousand dollars waiting for him when he gets back, and he only been gone three days. He don’t have to know nothing about this,” said Reds. He wasn’t sure if Ra was feeling him, but he really wanted some of that money. He knew the only way keeping some of it, and not having to worry was if Rasun agreed with him, and never told Quadir.

  Ra stole a glance at Reds, and realized the man needed a cheering section.

  “We could come up with this money,” said Ra.

  “That’s what I’m saying, me and you, baby,” said Reds grasping Ra’s hand.

  Ra took his time driving back to North Philly. He went to the apartment. Reds grabbed the bags out the car and both of them went inside. Ra went right to the phone, picked up the receiver and called Quadir at the number he’d left. Reds opened up the bag of money, stuffing some in his pocket, as Ra concentrated on phoning Qua.

  The hotel operator connected the call to his room. As the phone began to ring, Rasun thought of what to tell him first. He knew Gena would be upset to hear about her roady and figured he wouldn’t tell Quadir about Sahirah until he came home. Qua would be real upset about Rock and even more distraught to hear about Kenny’s arrest.

  Ra let the phone ring about six times when he hung up and called back again. The hotel operator answered and again connected him to the room. Again, the phone just rang and rang.

  “Damn, where this nigga at?” he said, slamming down the phone.

  STICKIN’ AND MOVIN’

  Quadir admired himself in an oval-shaped mirror hanging on the wall. The island was doing him good. For the first time in a long time his ulcers weren’t bothering him and he slept with his gun on the nightstand instead of under the pillow. His face had no blemishes and the island sun gave his skin tone a chocolaty-bronze glow. He zipped up his pants and buckled his belt.

  “Where you think you’re going now?” asked Cherelle, as she stood there in the middle of the hotel room floor with her hands on her hips, butt naked and angry.

  Quadir looked at her, wondering why she was even there. Why did he bring her along? She could have stayed back in Philly. The only reason she was there was in case things didn’t work out with Gena.

  “Where’s your plane ticket?” he asked.

  “Why? It’s on the counter.”

  Quadir studied her and realized that the girl couldn’t hold him, let alone handle him. She didn’t have the mentality level. He had been messing with her for three months now and was bored with her. She continuously annoyed him. She was unlady-like to the fullest extent and had no class. The more time he spent around Cherelle, the more he wanted to be with Gena, who, on the other hand, went with the flow with a smile and without a hassle. Plus, with Gena, there was no offering wanting something in return, and Quadir appreciated that.

  Looking at her reflection in the mirror, as she continued to yell, he knew he was about to step off from her, permanently. Why did I bring her? he kept asking himself. He couldn’t find one reason to fuck with her, and while she stood there making an embarrassing scene, he was silently thinking of making his exit. He stood face to face with Cherelle trying to figure out what she was talking about.

  Quadir dug into his pocket and pulled out a knot of hundreds, peeling her off ten of them.

  “Is that for me?” She jumped right up and held out her hand. He threw it on the bed and whispered in her ear, “Don’t go nowhere; I’ll be right back.” With that, he was gone. Feeling comfortable that she could get back to Philly, he left with no intentions of returning to her.

  Back at the hotel Gena was in, Quadir headed upstairs on the elevator. He knew he was late. They had dinner reservations at seven thirty and he still had to get dressed. He went in his room, showered and changed, knocked at the adjoining door to Gena’s room and made his entrance. Gena wrenched her eyes from the mirror to inspect him as he opened the door to her room.

  “You look so handsome,” she said, taking in his Armani Raiment. Hmm. Linen, she thought. Hmm. Eggshell. Hmm, it brings out his . . . dick.

  “You look good too, baby doll,” he said, nearing her to give her a hug. “You really look good.” His hands traveled the outline of her figure, letting Gena know her power over him. Smiling ear to ear, she whispered, “You ready?”

  “I was born ready.”

  Gena grabbed her purse and looked in the mirror at her face one last time. He said he would take her on the cruise ship that sailed out to sea for dinner, and he kept his word. Quadir pulled a knot out his pocket, and put it back in.

  “Come on,” he said, closing the door. They didn’t hear the phone ring as they walked down the hall to the elevator.

  The night was a dream, and she just knew they belonged on the cover of a magazine. Numerous candles softly glowed, bringing a romantic vibe to the ship. They sat together, enjoying live entertainment while waiting for dinner to be served.

  Quadir reached under the table and put his hand on Gena’s leg, prompting her to turn to him. Starring at her he realized for the first time just how beautiful Gena was. Her skin had a coppery glow from bathing in the sun all day. And her eyes were a tranquil light brown. He thought of how he was feeling as he moved his hand up her thigh. He was so damn princely, so inviting. How could she stop him?

  When his hand got to where it was aiming, his intent was to ever so gently touch what would have been her panties. Just to see if they were lace. She blushed purple.

  “You . . . You’re . . . Where’s your . . . ”

  She tried not to let him notice how hard she was breathing, but she couldn’t do anything about her eyelids, which were now at half mast with lust. “Oh. I forgot to put some on.”

  “So,” he said, realizing he could have lent her his own breath, which was coming in short pants. “Do you always forget?” He moved his chair a little closer and continued playing. Gena was looking around, hoping that the tablecloth would hide their game from the rest of the patrons. Well, okay, the waiters, too.

  “Qua, where are your table manners?” He paid her no mind. “Qua, stop,” she pleaded, wet, but wanting to be proper. Of course he paid her no mind and continued until the waiter served dinner. After dinner, some of the other patrons started ballroom dancing. However, neither could see themselves joining in.

  Quadir took her by the hand and led her to the deck of the ship. “Come on, let’s look at the water.” They could see their ship heading into the dock, the night lights brilliantly reflected off of the water. It was breathtaking. The island was beautiful, as were the people. It felt good to be away from Philadelphia. For Gena to be where she was, and to be in the company she was in, was like a dream come true. “I can’t believe we are here,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  “I can’t believe I haven’t had to answer my pager; no one has been bugging me. I can sleep. My mind hasn’t played one trick on me since I been here,” he said looking out to sea.

  “Is it that bad, Qua?”

  “You have no idea what it’s like, having people run up to you, asking for money, all day long.”

  Gena didn’t say anything that would have reflected her jealousy, that he probably did give his money freely. “I’m going back inside.” As she walked back into the dining room area, Quadir turned to look out at the water. Women, he thought. Bitches, young girls, even old heads, they were all the fuck the same. Confusing as all hell. Pushing himself from the rail, he followed her back to the dining room.

  They walked through the dining area and up a flight of stairs where the other passengers were waiting to depart from the ship. Feet back on the ground,
they took a cab back to the island. The Bahamian musicians were playing on. The hotel lobby was bright and the patio doors that led to the beach gave them a glimpse of people dancing and partying to the sound of the island music. The pool was lit with torches of varying sizes. There were people in the pool, sitting by the pool, dancing by the pool, and running around the pool. It was a rowdy bunch, too; a little too rowdy for Qua, which prompted him to lead her toward the beach.

  Gena and Quadir sat on the sand smoking a spliff as they watched the ripples of water bouncing off the moonlight. Each ripple formed a tiny wave before crashing on the shore.

  “Thanks for taking me on that ship tonight,” she said.

  “It was nice, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to throw you on that table and fuck the shit out of you,” he said, smiling this boyish but devilish smile.

  “I know that,” said Gena. “I could tell when your hand was under the table,” she said with one eyebrow in the air.

  “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ to you. If I was, it would feel like this.” He moved gently, but swiftly, under the front of her dress and eagerly directed his hand to the place he wanted, tickling her silken leg on the way, and his fingers found the split of silky, moistened flesh surrounded by velvet.

  “Qua, what are you doing?” Gena asked, looking around to see if any people were close enough to see.

  “I’m doing exactly what you want me to do,” he said, very politely.

  “Qua, stop,” she whined.

  “You don’t really want me to do that,” he said stopping for a second before he kissed her, his tongue caressing every corner of her mouth, from her top lip to her bottom. Qua kissed her in the mouth like he had never kissed anyone. He took his other hand and held her behind her neck. He was holding her so tight that she couldn’t back away. All she could do was submit to him.