True to the Game I

by Teri Woods

  Lita was waiting for them in the hospital lobby. “Come on,” she said. “They got him back here.” She led them to a waiting room.

  “Where’s Black?”

  “Black died, Qua. They was putting him in a body bag when the paramedics took Rik out.”

  “Where’s Pam?”

  “I don’t know, but she . . . she was just standing there until the paramedics took her.”

  “They took Pam?”

  “Yeah, they took her, too,” said Lita. “I haven’t seen Pam since we left the club. They let me ride in the truck with Rik while they brought him here. Qua, they was sticking him with all kinds of shit,” Lita said, as she started crying. Quadir held her as Gena looked on, feeling horrible because they could do nothing.

  “Lita, come on,” said Gena putting her arms around her friend. “It’s gonna be okay. Rik is gonna be fine. Rik is real strong and big. He’ll pull through this.”

  “I know, Gena, but he was bleeding so bad, you know. What if he don’t?” said Lita.

  “You can’t think like that. You gotta be strong, baby. You got to be strong for him.”

  “You call his mother?” asked Quadir.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Well, somebody has to call his family,” said Qua.

  “You can call them,” said Lita, knowing once they got there they would take over. Qua left to find a phone and called Rik’s mom. Within forty-five minutes his entire family had arrived. Gena curled up on a couch and fell asleep. Quadir consoled Rik’s mother while she spoke to the Lord and told the hospital staff at the same time about her precious baby, how good he was, how the Lord couldn’t take him, and begging the doctor to save her baby. Seven hours later, a doctor walked into the waiting room and called out, “Mrs. Smith?” expectantly.

  Tyrik’s mom was up like a shot. “Yes, doctor?”

  “He’s gonna be fine. We removed two bullets, and we moved him into ICU. He lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable.”

  “So, he’s okay?” said Mrs. Smith.

  “Yes. In several weeks he’ll be as good as new. I see no sign of any complications with surgery. The bullets were easy to remove and there was no damage to any of his organs, so he should be just fine. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him for the next couple of days, but I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

  “When can I see him, doctor?” said Lita.

  “Well, I think we should let his mother see him and then I think we should let him rest. He’s heavily sedated. But tomorrow you can see him.”

  “Okay, okay,” Lita said, upset she couldn’t see her man.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you God, for saving my baby,” said Rik’s mother as she grabbed the doctor’s arm.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, liking this woman for recognizing him.

  “Lita, come on,” Qua said. “We’re gonna take you home.”

  Quadir said nothing, just drove thinking about him and Rik laying on the floor in the club together. He was so greatful Tyrik was still alive. But thoughts of Black cut deep. He grew up with the man. It seemed like everybody he came up with was dying or in jail. He pulled up along side of Lita’s Cadillac.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “We’ll follow you home,” said Qua.

  After leaving Lita’s mother’s house, Quadir and Gena drove home. The ride seemed longer than before. Quadir’s mind was racing over and over the minutes and seconds before the gunfire began. People who had looked at him real weird or the guy who bumped him. He was the guy shooting, too. The whole night was a setup. The entire night. The guys standing on the wall, with gators on, no women around, not partying or getting down. He saw all of their faces when the infrared light went on.

  Gena knew the shit was out of control. She knew her man was not safe and neither was she. Both were touchable, both were accessible, and both could have anything waiting for them when they reached home.

  She looked over at Qua; her man was in the zone. Her presence did not surround him, as it usually did. So she just let him sit. Sometimes it’s better to just let a person be. No conversation, no radio.

  As they pulled into the driveway of their lovely home, he finally asked, “Gena, what’s it all for?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t ever want to lose you. Nothing is worth losing you for. Nothing.”

  “You’d give all of this up?”

  “To be with you? Please. In a wink of an eye.”

  THE WAY PLAYERS PLAY

  Jerrell Jackson was riding through Mt. Airy in his brand-new black Jaguar. Mafi-65, read the license plate. He had blown up, and in such a short period of time. He knew he was making enemies, but for some reason he didn’t fear them or care.

  He checked the time. Forty-five minutes late, he thought, thanks to some girl he ran across at the bus stop needing a ride. He gave her a ride, too. Went inside the house, talked to the girl for a few minutes, had his way with her, then stepped off into the sunlight. It didn’t matter, though. Girls would sit around and wait for him all day if they knew he wanted to see them. And they did want to see him. Be it for the money, be it for his car, be it for who he really was: for whatever reason, they was trying hard to see the boy. Jerrell had a magnificent home up in Monticello County, complete with marble floors and waterfalls.

  Jerrell pulled into the long, narrow driveway of perfectly landscaped grounds. Everybody was there. He could tell by all the foreign vehicles sitting in his driveway.

  “Yo, I’m here,” he said, coming through the door.

  “What’s up?” Khyree said. They were surrounding a pizza, which had just been delivered. Everybody shook hands, as usual, and Jerrell sat himself down and grabbed his slice.

  “What’s up?” Ran asked.

  “Man, I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “Everything is rolling smooth.”

  “Money’s right,” Sam added.

  “People are buying weight,” Ran informed.

  “Everything is fine,” said Khyree, taking a bite of pizza.

  Jerrell finished the mouthful he had and told them about Quadir’s retirement. “He was just trying to get rid of the last little bit of stuff he had. That’s why wasn’t no coke moving, remember? The motherfucker was selling keys for ten geez.”

  “Quadir ain’t quitting, is he?” asked Ran.

  “That’s what the word is on the street.” Jerrell took another bite.

  “Now,” he said standing up, “If Qua has stopped, that means you-know-who is going to take his place,” he said, pointing at Ran.

  “Rik!” Ran shouted, as if he scored points for the right answer.

  “Exactly, which means Rik now has his, plus Quadir’s piece of the pie.”

  “Rik supposed to be real upset about Black. He told Lita that we was behind it, so now she talkin’ ’bout, don’t call for awhile. She’ll just bring Khyree to my mom’s house. Man, I don’t know what Rik is calling himself doing with my son, you know?”

  “Wait a minute. What did he tell Lita?” Ran asked.

  “He told her that we was behind Black’s party and Black gettin’ killed,” said Khyree.

  “Like he know something don’t nobody else do,” Ran laughed. “What else he say?”

  “That’s it. I doubt if he would tell Lita anything he was gonna do, with her having my son, you know,” Khyree said.

  “Man, he would tell her. The question is would she tell you?” Jerrell interrupted. Khyree just looked at him. Jerrell looked around the room like a general commanding an invasion. “Let’s kidnap Forty.” Jerrell waited for the repercussion.

  “Kidnap! Why do you want to kidnap him?” Khyree asked.

  “Who is running this shit?’ Jerrell just looked at him. He hated the way Khyree always had something to say behind him.

  Khyree, as well as the others, sat around in silence trying to figure out what Jerrell was talking about. There was no need in asking, ’cause if he wanted you to know he would let you know.

  It was Christm
as Eve. Club Phoenix was packed. Everyone was dressed to impress and the champagne was flowing. The night was going well. Rik was out with Lita, of course. Rik didn’t travel far. Lita didn’t let him. Amin and Zafa were there; Charlie and Forty were standing in a corner talking to Jamal and some girls. Rik couldn’t help himself; he had to walk over. There were girls there. The Muslim brothers arrived like the mob in long coats and brim hats, surrounding Amin as if they were his bodyguards. Brother Ramzidin, Brother Ramier, and Brother Muhammad were all there. Winston and Blair were over at the bar. Tracey had called Gena to see if she was coming to the Christmas Eve party, but she and Qua had decided to spend the evening at home. Tracey, being as single as she was, couldn’t have stayed away from that party if she wanted to. Everybody was there, even the city’s football and basketball players. The radio personalities were transmitting live from the party. Andrea, Veronica, Bridgette, and Kim were standing together at the open champagne bar, trying to get with somebody else’s man. Tracey knew Lita couldn’t stand none of them, especially Veronica.

  As the evening went on, everybody danced and had a good time. Lita mingled while keeping a real close eye on Rik, never losing sight of him for more than a few seconds. Amin and Zafa sat at their table. Occasionally, Amin would talk to a girl, but it must have not been anything ’cause his wife was sitting right next to him.

  Kim was dancing with Jamal. Lord, thought Tracey, Gena really needs to be here. Jamal was all over Kim, and vice versa. Some girls acted like they didn’t care if guys felt all over their bodies when they danced, but Tracey didn’t think it was right. When she was dancing she wouldn’t let no stranger touch her like that. When she was slow dragging and felt their dick getting hard, she would just walk off the dance floor. She hated that, especially when it was some broke-ass nigga trying to get his groove on, on a dance floor. Men, they’re so desperate.

  “Guess who?” a man said from behind her, covering her eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who do you want it to be?”

  “Dr. Dre.”

  “Oh, you just straight played yourself with that one, sis,” Quinny Day said, uncovering her eyes.

  “No, baby. You know I was just joking,” she said, really wishing it was Dr. Dre.

  “No, you wasn’t, but it’s cool.” Quinny Day was standing there in front of her, looking too good.

  “I’m joking, Quinny Day. You know who I’m trying to see,” said Tracey. “You, boy. You, you, you.”

  “Don’t be playing games, Tracey.”

  “Quinny, please. You know I take you personal.”

  “Hi, Quinny Day.”

  Tracey heard a girl’s voice and turned to see Bridgette. She looked horrible. Her outfit was cheap. Her makeup looked worn and she had bags under her eyes. After Quinny brushed her off, he and Tracey looked at each other.

  “Damn, she needs to find another fool, like Black had to be to fuck with her trick ass, ’cause sis is going down,” Quinny said, looking at Tracey real serious.

  “I heard the money ain’t been right since Black got killed,” Tracey said.

  “Her simple, retarded ass should have something,” he said.

  “Like he had a will? He didn’t bequeath nothing to her.”

  “Huh?” said Quinny Day.

  “I said, he didn’t leave her anything.”

  “So, why did he have to leave her anything? She should have saved something for a rainy day. Come on. You females aren’t slow, just stupid. Yo, would Gena be messed up?” Quinny Day asked.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Okay, then. Besides, even if Black didn’t leave her nothing, she got herself. If I was a woman, there wouldn’t be no way my black ass would ever be broke.”

  Rik was on the dance floor with some girl. He was getting drunk, but he hadn’t lost his mind yet. Of course, Lita was walking around looking for him. Veronica, a true blue slut with a capital S on her chest, danced with another guy over to the right of him. She always thought that she was playing somebody, but the truth of the matter was, she wasn’t playing nobody but herself. Rik took a closer look, and damn if it wasn’t Forty dancing with her.

  “Hey, Forty!” he called out. Veronica didn’t look ’cause she had already spotted Rik and knew how he was. They were straight up playin’ on the dance floor. Rik couldn’t help but watch them. Most people couldn’t do nothing but watch them. Veronica and Forty was doing some serious grinding out there and the thing about it was that, while she was dancing with him, another guy on the dance floor came and danced behind her, even pushed up next to her while she was already pressed up onto Forty. Girls couldn’t stand Veronica, and guys were always in her face but talked about her behind her back like she was nothing. Trying to tell Veronica about herself was a waste of energy. She liked getting attention so much that you could tell that’s really what she was after: someone to look at her, and that’s exactly what guys did. Look at her, play mind games on her, and always give her attention, the kind of attention that she really didn’t need.

  Forty was all over her. Rasun thought he was getting ready to pull her skirt up and start fucking her. He’d already flashed her tit to everybody on the dance floor. The girl was drunk and she needed somebody to get her ass home. Andrea and Bridgette, the “friends” she came with, knew that she was drunk ’cause she was at the bar drinking up Forty’s champagne like she never had it before.

  “Forty, I got to go outside. I need some air.” Veronica was flashing hot and felt like she was going to faint.

  “Well, come on.” He helped her fix herself and got her outside. “Come on, here. My jeep is parked right over there. Come on.” Veronica tried to get herself together, but she felt so light, so out of touch, that she just couldn’t walk without holding on to him. Forty’s jeep was parked way in the back of the club.

  “Damn, Forty, I thought you said it was right outside.”

  He took her to his jeep. Once he helped her inside he rolled the window down. “If you start to feel sick, just open the door,” he said, not wanting her to throw up in his jeep.

  “Here, let me move this seat back for you,” he said, playing with the control panel on the far side of her seat. Suddenly, Veronica was prone, but she hadn’t felt a thing. She just thought it was part of the headspin she wished would go away. Everything felt dizzy and when she closed her eyes, it was worse.

  She didn’t feel Forty’s fingers, running along her inner thigh, and by the time she noticed anything, he was already pushing her legs apart, getting her skirt out of the way, moving into place, with a big fat juicy dick sticking into the air. It was too late. Forty had his shit out, her panties down, his condom on and was ready to go to work. Veronica was too far gone to put up a fight. Just to raise her arm and mutter “no” took too much effort. Forty kept his head up to make sure he didn’t get caught doing what he was doing. Veronica wasn’t really moving, but she was breathing, eyelids opening and closing in slow motion, only the whites showing.

  Forty couldn’t believe how easy it was. He was used to having to buy a big ass pair of gold earrings or something, but this was just too fucking easy. Veronica was too weak to hold her arm up, couldn’t tell him to stop, couldn’t hold him off of her. He was pounding her little ass half to death.

  When he was done, he took a rag from the backseat and wiped himself. He tried to get Veronica to get up, but she just moaned. He checked his Rolex. Wasn’t much time left. He pulled her underwear up off the floor and pulled her dress down enough to cover her panties, and went back to the party. Nobody seemed to really miss him.

  “Where’s Veronica, Forty?” said Andrea.

  “She’s out in the car. She didn’t feel good. Hey, I can’t take the girl home, so don’t leave her.”

  “Forty, you ain’t shit!” Andrea said, as she headed for the lobby.

  “Mmm, hmm, whatever. Your girlfriend gonna be assed out if you leave her. Think I’m playin’?” he hollered back.

  Jerrell walked
out into the lobby where Ran was talking to some girl.

  “Yo, what up? You ready or what?”

  “Man, chill. I got this shit under control. There’s a car waiting outside.”

  “All right, I’m out.”

  “What’s the matter?” Andrea asked, sensing something was going on.

  “Nothing, he’s just ready to go, that’s all,” Ran answered. “So, we gonna get together or what?”

  “Yeah,” said Andrea.

  “Well, write down your number so I can call you.”

  “Can’t we go get some breakfast? This is almost over.” Everybody was pairing off for the night, but it looked like Andrea would have to seek a meal somewhere else.

  “I can’t, baby. I got shit to do. I wish I could, but I can’t. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go get a nice lobster dinner, okay?’ he said, slipping her number into his pocket. “I’ll see you later. Don’t give nobody none, either.”

  “Who?” she said, looking confused.

  “You know, that nigga you gonna get to take you to get breakfast.” Wasn’t nothing slow about Ran. “Damn,” he said, thinking about the pussy he could have gotten instead of having to take care of shit for Jerrell.

  Forty caught up with Andrea and Bridgette and walked them over to his jeep to get Veronica. She was out cold. Her skirt was on the floor of the jeep and from the waist down she was completely exposed.

  “What you do to her?” Bridgette asked.

  “I didn’t do that! That was not how I left her,” he said.

  “This don’t make no sense.” Andrea got her friend up and out of the drunken sleep she was in. Veronica didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Andrea pulled her skirt up and put her panties in her pocketbook. Bridgette came around with the car and Andrea helped Veronica get into the backseat. Forty stood a few feet away talking with some girl as if nothing had happened.

  Quadir and Gena were lying together in the living room with the fireplace glowing, listening to Sade, sipping on some Alizé, languid from their lovemaking, appreciating the fireplace for more than its glow.