Crazy In Love

by Yoshe

  “C’mon, Habib, gimme the fuckin’ money!” Shamari ordered in a stern voice. Beads of sweat broke out all over his forehead. He was nervous as hell. “I want it all out of the register and wherever else you got some cash.”

  The man gave Shamari the money in the register and just stood there. Shamari smacked the person at the register in head with the side of his gun. “What you waitin’ for? Where’s the rest of the money, motherfucker?” Shamari asked.

  The man stumbled toward the back of the store, holding his bleeding head. He opened a small safe that was concealed in the wall of the store. He pulled out two stacks of big bills and handed them over to Shamari, whose eyes were bulging out of his head. He knew that this was going to be the money for his package that Peeto was going to hit him off with and he could fall back from the robbing spree.

  Unfortunately, that thought couldn’t be further from the truth. Police officers ran up in the store and caught Shamari red-handed with the bloody gun and the money. When Shamari walked into the store, he didn’t realize that the owner was in a back room of the store. The owner was watching the cameras and called the cops. He emerged when the cops came in and handcuffed Shamari.

  As Shamari lay on the bare mattress, he tried to make sense of everything that was happening to him. He wasn’t ready to change yet. He had to regain his reputation while he was on the Island and let these dudes know that he wasn’t nobody’s sucker. I’m out here robbing motherfuckers for self, so jail shouldn’t be any different, he thought. The cut on his neck was going to be a constant reminder that he was supposed to do the time, not let the time do him.

  Later that day, Sean made his way up to Five North during his lunch to talk to Born. He entered Five North and greeted the male officer at the desk, who was engaged in a heavy conversation over the telephone. Sean walked to the back of the housing area, where Born was occupied with a game of spades with some other inmates. Everything appeared normal from what Sean could see. Born noticed Sean and instantly got up from table to greet the officer.

  “What’s up, Dee?” Born said, extending his fist to give Sean a pound.

  “What’s good, Born?” Sean replied, as he returned the pound. “Yo’, what up with you threatenin’ Wallace and mentionin’ my name, all in the same sentence?”

  Born laughed. “Oh, man, I was just tryin’ to man that little nigga up! I see that he ran and told his mommy like a little bitch!”

  “I know you tryin’ to scare him, but Born, you gotta remember that nigga is only nineteen years old. He’s not his father, Maleek. He’s new to this jail shit!”

  Born sucked his teeth. “Man, fuck that nigga! After yesterday, I really don’t like his ass anyway! I was gonna give him a pass until he started cryin’ about it. I never even put my hands on his young ass, neither! Shoulda slapped the shit outta him, now that I think about it!”

  Sean shook his head. Born was already institutionalized, so he could not rationalize like a normal person. Not every person who came to jail was built for those walls and Shamari was one of them. Born had seen it all, in prison and out. He’d been through jail riots, gang fights, and shootouts, you name it. Born’s mother forced him to start hustling at nine years old in order to help her at home. Being the eldest often children, he wasn’t in the streets for recreation. Unlike Shamari, he had to do whatever he had to do for survival.

  Sean looked around and noticed that Shamari’s cell was empty. “Yo’, where is he at, anyway?”

  Born looked around. “Oh, that nigga got transferred outta here to Five West.”

  Sean blinked. “For what? What the fuck is he doin’ in Five West?”

  Born was visibly annoyed. “Nigga, I dunno! I ain’t his damn keeper. Take your ass over there and find out.” Born eyed Sean with a suspicious look on his face. “Why you takin’ a sudden interest in this lame anyway, Dee?”

  Sean smirked. “Go ahead with your twenty-one questions, Born!”

  Born burst into laughter. “Oh, shit! I know why now! I saw his moms on the visit yesterday. Brandi, that’s it. She’s a sexy bitch, too! She had that sweatsuit on, fittin’ that ass real good, and yes, that ass was fat as hell! Wifey was madder than a motherfucker ’cause she caught me starin’ at her when she walked in!” Born slapped Sean on the back. “Damn, Dee! You that nigga, you sneaky bastard! Fuckin’ with shorty moms on the low!”

  Sean tried to lie but streetwise Born was having none of that. “Yo’, Dee, you can’t fool me. I’m thirty-eight years old and I been around the block and back. But remember what I told you about Brandi. She was a loose cannon. Hopefully, she ain’t like that no more!” he said.

  Sean gave Born a pound and walked out of Five North into Five West. He eyed all the inmates in the area, who looked at him strangely. He still didn’t see Shamari anywhere. He asked the CO at the desk and she pointed to a cell located in the back.

  The cell door was closed when Sean tiptoed over. He looked through the small window. He was able to see Shamari, who appeared to be sleeping. When he turned over, Sean noticed the bandages on his neck and the remnants of dried-up blood that had stained his bleached white pillowcase. He marched out of Five West into Five North again, this time requesting that Born step outside into the stairwell for five minutes.

  “Nigga, what happened to Wallace’s neck?” Sean asked.

  Born pretended that he was clueless. “Dee, what the hell are you talkin’ about now?”

  Sean was getting annoyed with Born’s facetious behavior. He knew that the hardened convict had something to do with Shamari being cut. They had known each other for too long, with Sean having full knowledge on Born’s grimey ways. Born was a slimeball to the tenth power.

  “What really happened, man? You gotta tell me somethin’!”

  Born leaned on the wall and folded his arms. “Looka here, ain’t this about a bitch! Sounds like you gettin’ all protective over this guy. Is he your long-lost son or you tryin’ to be his stepdaddy?” Sean was silent as Born continued. “I’m gonna tell you what. Why don’t you just go ahead and fuck his mama and let this nigga hold his own up in here! He wanna be Billy Badass, that don’t have nothin’ to do with you or his mother. He’s gonna have to go through it ’cause this is jail, this ain’t Daddy Day Care!”

  Sean shook his head in agreement with Born. The problem was he really liked Brandi and he felt partly responsible if anything happened to Shamari. His heart went out to her because she was a single mother who had genuine concern for her only child.

  “So you’re not gonna tell me who did it, huh, Born?” Sean prodded.

  Born looked at Sean. He had a disgusted look on his face. “Nigga, you’re the police! I ain’t tellin’ you shit!” Born rattled the steel door for the CO to let him out of the stairwell. He casually walked back into Five North, leaving Sean standing there by himself and wondering what he was going to tell Brandi.

  Chapter 12

  It was an early Sunday morning and Brandi was in her bed, looking through her planner. She saw that tomorrow was Shamari’s court date. She took off her glasses and fell back against the fluffy pillows. She had spoken with the lawyer, and the judge was offering Shamari a plea agreement of one to three years. The robbery charge had been reduced to attempted robbery in the third degree. Since Shamari was a first-time offender, the judge was going to be lenient, his lawyer had explained to Brandi.

  The lawyer, Mr. Ronald Samuels, who Brandi had paid a pretty penny to represent her son, had managed to get one of his friends as the judge presiding over Shamari’s case. She knew that if Shamari took it to trial, he would probably be facing a lot of time and they couldn’t risk that.

  What Brandi was trying to understand was why her son would try to rob a store in the first place. She jumped up out of her bed and began ransacking his room for clues.

  Since Shamari had been locked up for the last six months, Brandi felt there was something fishy going on with him. At first she was in denial. Brandi didn’t want to believe that her son wa
s guilty of anything. Now that the reality of Shamari’s incarceration had finally hit her, Brandi decided that it was time to get some answers. It was obvious that Shamari wasn’t going to tell her the truth.

  Brandi went into Shamari’s room and turned over his queen-sized mattress. When she did this, she was surprised at what she saw. She saw a .357 Magnum and what appeared to be thousands of dollars in $100 bills. Brandi sat on the floor and counted approximately $15,000 dollars. She was more amazed than upset, wondering what would drive him to have this amount of money in her house. Or period.

  Brandi found Shamari’s old cell phone and turned it on. She never had it turned off when he got locked up, half-expecting him to come home. Brandi began to scan through the list of phone numbers he had stored in the phone.

  She saw mostly girls’ names and numbers but when she arrived at one name, she froze because she had not heard that name in years. Peeto. He was one of Maleek’s cronies from back in the day and was the only dude she knew who was still hustling, with nothing legitimate to show for his money but cars. He was always a certified clown and Brandi never could stand his ass. What in the hell was Peeto’s number doing in Shamari’s phone? Smelling a rat, she dialed the number instantly. Peeto answered the call on the first ring.

  “Yo’, Shaki,” Peeto shouted into the phone, calling Shamari by his nickname. “You home, little nigga?”

  Brandi was livid and went into street mode on Peeto. “Nigga, what the fuck is my son doin’ with your number in his phone?”

  Peeto was quiet. “Who is this?” he asked, pretending not to recognize the familiar voice on the phone.

  “You know who the fuck it is, motherfucker! Why is your number in Shaki’s phone?” she screamed. She resorted back to her ghetto ways for a moment.

  “Brandi, calm down, let me explain—” he began.

  “Peeto, I’m givin’ your fat ass two minutes to tell the truth. I ain’t how I used to be but you know I can always go there. So be a man about yours and fuckin’ tell me what’s goin’ on!”

  Peeto took a deep breath. It was fortunate he never had the opportunity to front Shamari the drugs because this was what he was afraid of and that was Brandi finding out.

  “A’ight, Bee! Chill out. Shaki came to me for a package, a start-up package. I was gonna front him half and I wanted $20,000 dollars for the other half. To be honest, I really didn’t think he was goin’ to come up with all that money but when he told me he had most of the money for me, I was like ‘Wow’!”

  Brandi wanted to throw the cell phone across the bedroom. “So how did he get the money, Peeto?”

  “Well, I heard through the grapevine that he was out here robbin’ niggas and whatever else to get the money. He probably was havin’ a hard time gettin’ the last of it ’cause that’s when I found out he robbed the bodega on Stanley Avenue. He kept comin’ to me, asking me if I could give him some work on consignment and I sent his ass walkin’! I really thought he was bullshittin’, though!”

  It was 1989 and Brandi pulled up in front of Peeto’s building on Gates Avenue. Peeto was one of Maleek’s cronies and Brandi’s drug supplier. She knew that Peeto had a huge crush on her. Unbeknown to Maleek, she would use sexual favors to get him to come down on the prices of the drugs that she copped from him.

  “Yo’, Peeto!” Brandi screamed from downstairs. She was sitting in front of Peeto’s Quincy Street building, waiting for him to bring the package she wanted to cop from him. “Bring the shit down here, man! I been waitin’ for the last twenty minutes, you fat motherfucker!”

  Peeto stuck his head out of the second floor project window. “C’mon, Bee, you don’t have to talk to a nigga like that!”

  Brandi laughed and shuffled back into her Land Rover and waited for Peeto to bring her brick outside. Looking at her Fendi watch, she rolled her eyes up in the air. It was exactly three o’clock in the afternoon. She had to meet up with some Queens cats at Carmichael’s on Guy Brewer at four o’clock and Peeto was bullshitting.

  On the other hand, Brandi couldn’t deny that Peeto probably cooked up some of the best work on that side of Brooklyn. This was one of the reasons why she always went to him. Peeto would cook up the cocaine and his product went far; it made Brandi and Maleek a lot of money. The only problem was that he was just slow as hell.

  As Brandi sang “Let’s Chill “ by Guy, Peeto ran out the building and slid into the passenger seat. He was sweating bullets and his breathing was heavy from running. Peeto’s eyes immediately became fixated with Brandi’s perky titties and she laughed.

  “Excuse me! My face is up here!” she said, pulling his face up to meet hers.

  “I wasn’t—” Peeto stammered.

  Brandi waved him off. Her low-cut Yves Saint Laurent blouse worked. Now maybe Peeto would give her better prices. “Whatever. Just tell me the damage, Peeto.”

  He pulled the crack-cocaine out of the bag. It was half a kilo. “Um, how much you got?”

  “Look, tell me the damn price so I can pay you and bounce! I gotta get on this Belt Parkway to meet these niggas by four o’clock!”

  “You goin’ by yourself?” Peeto asked, as his eyebrows shot up.

  “Yeah. I do that sometimes. Why?” Brandi asked.

  “Maleek ain’t scared to have you meet up with these cats by yourself?”

  “Maleek? Please! He got his own thing and I got mine. Now gimme the fuckin’ numbers, Peeto!”

  “Gimme 10 Gs.”

  Brandi smiled at the price and took ten piles of one hundred dollar bills from her oversized Coach bag. Peeto handed her the bag with the drugs in it and he got out of her truck.

  “Wait, Peeto, before you go, lemme do something for you for givin’ me such a reasonable price,” she said with a mischievious smirk on her face.

  Peeto got back into the passenger seat and Brandi went straight for his zipper. She pulled out his fat, stumpy penis and began jerking him off right there in her truck in broad daylight. Peeto leaned the seat back to enjoy being touched by Brandi. Her soft hand felt good rubbing against his hard dick. Brandi looked around and chuckled to herself while watching Peeto gyrate in her hand. He must have been very horny because it took no time for him to ejaculate all over her air-brushed fingernails. After that, Brandi opened the glove compartment, pulled out a pack of Shamari’s baby wipes and wiped her hands clean. Peeto finally caught his breath and shoved his stump back into his pants.

  “Thank you, Bee! I needed that,” he whispered. “I just wish you could give me some of that pussy and you can get whatever I got for free.”

  Brandi sucked her teeth. “Nah, this pussy belongs to Maleek, boo. I wouldn’t want to put your ass outta business!”

  Brandi shuddered at that memory. She had long erased those sexual interludes with Peeto out of her mind. She was so different then.

  “Well, he wasn’t and now he’s suffering the consequences. Just stay away from my son, Peeto. That’s all I ask,” she said.

  Peeto sighed on the other end of the phone. He felt bad about Shamari’s situation and partly responsible.

  “Look, Bee, I—” Brandi hung up the phone in his ear.

  Brandi calmed down when she realized that she couldn’t get mad at Peeto. Shamari was completely and unequivocally responsible for himself and he knew better. She was tired of blaming everyone else for Shamari’s stupidity and she refused to have him hurt her any longer. It was time for him to be a man and she was going to show him that starting today. After hanging up with Peeto she put the phone down on the cherry wood dresser in Shamari’s room. Before she could walk out, the cell phone vibrated, startling Brandi. When she looked on the caller ID and noticed a girl named Amber’s name on it, she decided to answer.

  “Sweetheart, this is Shamari’s mother. Shamari is away right now, so he won’t—” Brandi started to explain.

  The woman cut her off. “Just the person I wanted to speak to,” said the adult-sounding female on the other end of Shamari’s Sprint phone. “My dau
ghter, Amber, is about to have a baby for your son. When she told him about the pregnancy, he never called back or tried to arrange anything, just nothin’. Shit, I just found out about him gettin’ locked up a couple of weeks ago!”

  “First of all, ma’am, who are you?” Brandi asked.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m Amber’s mother, Carol Johnson. Please excuse me. I’m just sorry it had to be under these circumstances,” the woman replied.

  “Well, I’m Brandi Wallace, Shamari’s mother. I don’t think I ever met Amber.”

  “You probably didn’t. She said that she wasn’t really a girlfriend of his, just a real close friend, if you know what I mean. I put Amber on birth control when she turned fifteen years old and this year she decided she wanted to stop taking them because they made her sick to her stomach. Can you imagine how I felt when I found out she was pregnant, two months ago?”

  Brandi frowned. “Wait, Miss Johnson, Shamari has been locked up for six months. That would be impossible.”

  “Oh, Miss Wallace, Amber is eight-and-a-half months pregnant! I found out she was pregnant when she was six months!”

  Brandi shook her head. What more could her son have done? “Miss Johnson, I would love to meet with you and Amber. Can I come see you, to talk in person?”

  “Sure. My address is 3302 Bristol Street between Newport and Riverdale. It’s a private house.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way over.” Brandi threw on some clothes, grabbed her car keys, and ran out the door, perhaps to meet the mother of her grandchild.

  Chapter 13

  Upon arriving at the Johnson’s home, Brandi looked around and remembered this same block was one of her old stomping grounds. She had done many transactions there and it was ironic that Shamari was actually seeing a girl that lived there. She secretly hoped that Amber’s mother was no one she knew from the past.