On a more serious note, I had to fit the part when I rolled out to Reggie’s spots to handle my business. Mostly everyone in the ’hood knew me, but that’s not who I was worried about. From time to time, the narcotics detectives would bribe their way into the apartment of one of the elderly tenants in the buildings of the project and set up surveillance operations. So if I ever went there looking as if I didn’t belong, then I’d immediately become their next target. And I can’t have that. I had invested too much into our operation to have one slip up such as that fuck up everything. And it was equally important because one day very soon I had planned to take all the money I had saved and leave the country for good.
On my way out of my luxury apartment, I grabbed my keys, my Yves Saint Laurent sunshades and handbag, and marched on to the elevator. Down in the lobby area of my building, the doorman saw me approaching the exit door and rushed to open it.
“How are you doing this morning Ms. Foxx?” he asked.
“I’m doing great Sam. Thanks for asking,” I replied as I made my way out of the building. Like clockwork, my vehicle was parked out front and ready for me to get on the road.
I’m a huge fan of Lil Wayne, so I hit the power button for my eight-disc CD player and turned up the volume on How To Love. The hook on this track had my head rocking from one side to the next. And when it ended I hit the repeat button and listened to it three more times until I got to my destination, which was Harlem, my old stomping grounds. The block surrounding the Polo Grounds was crowded with cats trying to get their paper. I recognized a few of the locals and smiled at them after I exited my car.
“Can you keep an eye out for my baby?” I asked no one in particular, referring to my new midnight black Mercedes GL550 SUV.
“You know we gotcha’ ma,” I heard one of the guys say. I couldn’t call any names, but I knew their faces all too well. And they knew me, which was what counted most. They also knew that I wasn’t to be fucked with. Being a Foxx gave me recognition and status, which meant I could leave the car running and no one would touch it. My brother Reggie laid down the law from day one and every one of these cats who patrolled the Polo Grounds knew the consequences if his law was broken. I was certainly off limits. No one could harm one little hair on my sweet ass body. Not to mention they also had to ensure no one else from the outside of this compound fucked with me, my whip or anything I was transporting. Or they had hell to pay.
The compound consisted of four buildings that we called the Four Towers. The Towers had been there ever since I could remember. As a child, my mother and hustler father used to warn us about hanging out at the Towers. It was where the action was, and that action at some point over time had moved from one tower to the next.
After one of the guys assured me I had nothing to worry about, I proceeded to make my rounds. The first stop was to this chick’s apartment that was in first tower. Her name was Candie and she lived on the sixth floor. When I entered the lobby, I was met by two of Reggie’s marksmen, or shall I say the lookout patrol. Each building had its own lookout patrol. Ben and Dre’ were both big guys standing around six feet tall and not easy on the eyes. But who cared how they looked, they weren’t paid to stand around and look pretty. Their job was to make sure no one came into the building that shouldn’t be there while I made my rounds. Reggie made sure his men were fully armed with heavy artillery when I entered into each of the four towers. And after I made my presence known, they greeted me and moved out of the way.
“Be back in a minute,” I told them and then I headed for the elevator. I was lucky the elevator was working. Most times the elevator would be out, and I hated those days when they came. I was in excellent shape and did my share of walking getting from point A to point B in the numerous airports I had traveled through. But walking up six, seven or ten flights of stairs was not my idea of fun or staying in shape.
As I approached the elevator door, it opened and out came a very familiar face. This familiar face was Angel. Angel was a chick Reggie once used to hold his dope packages until she messed around and allowed her twenty-year-old baby brother to steal several grams out of each package so they could sell it to make an extra profit. When Reggie found out about it, he made sure her brother never walked again and she only walked with one arm. Thank God he listened to me and didn’t have them killed. He did make an example out of them though. After I smiled and said hello, I continued onto the elevator.
When I reached the sixth floor, I was met by two more of Reggie’s patrolmen. Lucky, the patrolman I was very familiar with held the elevator door open as I stepped out into the hallway. Then he prevented the elevator door from closing to prevent anyone else from getting on the elevator. This was a precautionary measure Reggie instructed them to take to protect me and isolate me from riding in the elevator with anyone else while I made my rounds to pick up his dough. You never know if he had enemies out to interrupt his business or worse, hurt someone close to him—namely me. So far it had worked as advertised.
“Lucky, you look like you’re working hard?” I commented.
“Most definitely. I do this all day, every day,” he smiled. Reggie gave him the name Lucky because his short ass had been shot twice and both times he escaped death. Now he had a metal plate in the back of his head. Although he pretended the plate didn’t bother him, I knew it did. I had caught him go into a zone. His eyes would glaze over and you could tell he was in another world. And during this time, he would go the fuck off, most times for no reason at all. I witnessed him beat the hell out of his babymama for no reason. It’s rumored that he received a disability check every month for his condition. So regardless of his short height, a lot of cats out here didn’t fuck with Lucky. We all knew he really was certified crazy.
The other brother was Walter, Walt for short. Reggie had just put him on the payroll, so he was new to our team. He was kind of cute, and he was definitely my type. But he was the help. And I didn’t fuck the help. Equally, and probably more importantly, Reggie didn’t play that. Too bad for Walt, because we probably would’ve made some serious chemistry in my king-size slay bed.
Like clockwork, as soon as I knocked, Candie opened the door to let me in, then she closed the door behind me. We proceeded directly to the kitchen of her small apartment and she handed me a manila envelope filled with cash. Different day, same procedure every time.
“It’s all there,” she assured me.
“I’m sure it is. But you know I always count the money in front of you just so we can be on the same page. But when you tell me that everything is here and then I go behind you and find out that you are short, then that’s not a good look.”
“I understand,” she replied in her childlike voice.
Candie wasn’t your typical ghetto chick. She was a very pretty Puerto Rican, a mother of one, who spoke very good English, and she was very ambitious. With a five-year-old son, she managed to find a way to hustle for Reggie during the wee hours of the night and pursue her Bachelor’s degree in marketing doing the day. I was shocked when I entered her place over a year ago and noticed she was doing homework. It completely blew me away. And from that day on, I had mad respect for this chick. She was a twenty-four year old mother handling her business, who also had plans to pursue her Master’s degree. From previous conversations, I knew she was saving money so she could move out of this place and give her and her son a better quality of life. She was all right in my book.
After I finished counting the money, I winked at her and said, “You're right. It's all here.”
She smiled back and said, “I told you so.” She escorted me back to her front door and I stuffed the envelope inside my handbag before I made my exit. I never left out of anyone’s apartment with the money in my hands. That’s a big no-no. After I reentered the hallway, Lucky was front and center while Walt stood by the elevator with his hands holding both sides of the sliding doors.
“You a’ight?” Lucky asked.
“Yeah, I’m cool,” I replied.
“You ready for me to escort you back downstairs?”
“I’m ready as ever.”
“Well, let’s do it then,” Lucky smiled as he walked alongside of me towards the elevator. Walt held both doors of the elevator open until Lucky and I were safely inside. Once inside, Lucky assured him that he’d be right back as the doors closed.
Lucky pressed the button for the first floor and I actually admired the seriousness in his face. He took his job to heart. I was his mission for now and I felt safe in the elevator with Lucky.
When the top door of the elevator was snatched open and two masked men jump down inside of the elevator, one after the other, tumbling down on top of Lucky, I damn near pissed myself. We were both caught off guard. I screamed as loud as I could and got hit in the mouth with the butt of one of the guy’s pistols. I fell hard against the elevator wall.
“Stop the elevator,” one guy instructed the other, as he took Lucky’s Glock from him. I looked down at poor Lucky. He was knocked the fuck out. I was all alone in this fucking elevator with these two motherfuckers and had no idea what was about to happen next.
They managed to stop the elevator on the third floor. And before I could blink an eye, the guy who snatched Lucky’s gun from him, pointed the exact same gun in my face and demanded that I give him the money I had just picked up from Candie’s crib. So without hesitation I handed him the manila envelope and begged him to let me live.
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m gonna let you live this time. But the next time you might not be so lucky,” he said. Then he did the unbelievable, he aimed Lucky’s gun at him and shot him directly in his face. His entire head blew up like a fucking melon. Blood splattered all over me and the walls of the elevator. And as I began to scream once again, that’s when both men fled off the elevator.
I swear, I had never been that afraid in my life. Fear had gripped my whole body. I was afraid to move one inch. I wanted to get up and press the button to close the elevator door but my entire body was paralyzed. And all I could do was cry as I watched Lucky’s head ooze blood onto the floor around him. I couldn’t believe I had just witnessed Lucky get killed just like that. He and I were just talking a few minutes before all this shit went down and now he’s dead.
Oh my God! What am I going to tell Reggie? And the police for that matter. I knew they’re going to question me like I was an accomplice. I just hoped that whatever they decided to do, they didn’t put my name in the fucking local new papers or mention it to the media that I was in the center of this murder investigation. This wouldn’t look good for my employers at the airline. They wouldn’t understand why I was out here at the Polo Grounds. Everyone in the state of New York knew the reputation of the Polo Grounds.
That thought, thinking about the airline and my possible firing and overall humiliation brought me back to life. The best way for me to avoid all of the unnecessary drama and publicity was to get a grip and woman up. I wiped my fucking tears, and got the hell off the floor. My mind was on cops and homicide detectives arriving before I could get the fuck out of there. I tried my best not to touch anything. I literally lifted myself from the floor without using my hands and then I used my elbow to press the first floor button.
Then came the waiting—I swear it felt as if the elevator was taking forever to get to the first floor. When it finally stopped and the doors opened, I burst out of the elevator like I was in serious need of some oxygen. Both Ben and Dre rushed towards me.
“What the fuck happened? You been shot?” Dre wondered aloud.
I tried to hold back my tears but the flood gates to my ducts burst out. “No, I didn’t get shot. This is Lucky’s blood. He was shot in the head by two guys with masks,” I sobbed.
Ben rushed over to look inside the elevator. “Oh shit! She ain’t lying. That nigga Lucky’s brains is hanging out of his fucking head!” Ben replied, hysterically.
Dre left my side and rushed to the elevator to see Lucky’s dead body for himself.
I stood there helplessly. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. All I wanted to do was get out of there.
“Who did this shit to him?” Dre rushed back and asked me. I could tell that he was ready to make the guy who did this pay.
“I don’t know. They both wore black ski masks,” I continued to sob.
“Where did they come from?” Ben wanted to know.
“They were on the roof of the elevator. And as soon as we got on the fifth floor, they busted from the door, robbed me for the money I got from Candie, killed Lucky and then they stopped the elevator on the third floor and ran off,” I explained.
“Where is Walt?” Ben asked.
“He’s still on the sixth floor, I think.”
Ben looked at Dre. “Cover her up and take her to her truck and then call Reggie, while I run upstairs to the sixth floor to see where that nigga Walt, is,” he instructed Dre.
“A’ight,” Dre said as he moved towards my truck.
New York’s Finest Kiki Swinson
Chapter 3 – A Bloody Situation
On our way to my truck, Dre got Reggie on the phone so I could talk to him. I briefly explained what happened without saying a whole lot over the phone. And then I told him I couldn’t go home the way I was, so he instructed me to meet him at our secret spot on the other side of the Hudson River.
When it was time for me to get into my truck, I hesitated to get inside with my now bloody clothes on. I couldn’t afford to get any of Lucky’s blood inside of my truck so it could come back and bite my ass later. What the cops could get from DNA was amazing today. But then I figured how would homicide detectives know I was here and to check my truck for traces of his blood if they didn’t know I was even here in the first place. So I took a chance and got into my ride and got the hell out of there.
I drove in silence, even turning the radio off, until I got to the destination where Reggie told me to meet him. My nerves were all over the fucking place. I couldn’t believe I had just witnessed Lucky get his head blown off. After all this time he’d work for Reggie, he always was able to walk away from death. But today, God had other plans for him. Damn! I wished I had not been there to witness his death, because he was like a little brother to Reggie and I. And even though he hadn’t been working for us that long, we had that brotherly thing going on. He was the type of cat that would literally give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He was definitely a ride or die type of nigga. And as I thought about how this would affect his loved ones, my nerves became more frayed. I was one thought away from becoming an emotional wreck. And the only thing that would calm me down was my brother. So I pressed down on the accelerator and maneuvered through all the busy traffic in Harlem to get to him.
When I pulled up to Reggie’s hideaway spot across town, he and Damian were outside waiting for me. I exhaled when I saw their faces. I don’t remember putting my truck in park, but I do remember how it felt to be in my brother’s arms. He was like my savior and with him I knew he’d protect me from this point on.
As tears started falling again, I became choked up. In a matter of thirty seconds, I had his shirt soaked and wet. I couldn’t talk to save my life. And when he realized I needed to calm down, he instructed Damian to help him take me inside. Inside of Reggie’s home away from home, which was the place he came when Vanessa got on his fucking nerves, he led me towards the bathroom.
“We need to get you out of these clothes,” Reggie told me.
I nodded my head and allowed him to escort me down the hallway. As he led the way, I realized I was going to be okay. I was in his safe house. This apartment was like his sanctuary. No one knew about it but the three of us. And anytime he’d tell Vanessa he was out of town, nine times out of ten he’d come here for a little R and R. You would think that since his own wife didn’t know about this spot, he’d bring his mistresses or side chicks here. But no way, he didn’t play that. He kept most of his money stashed away in this apartment, so he w
ouldn’t play himself. If he wanted some new pussy, he would take one of those hoes to the nearest hotel. No ifs, ands or buts about it.
After Reggie left the bathroom, I closed the door behind him, got undressed and jumped into the shower. It didn’t take me long at all to get all of Lucky’s blood off of me. When I jumped out of the shower, I wrapped myself inside one of the big oversized towels hanging up and exited the bathroom.
“Your things are in the other bedroom,” Reggie yelled from the living room. I knew what he was talking about. About a year ago, Reggie and I thought it would be necessary for us to have an emergency bag filled with a couple pairs of changing clothes, travel credentials such as a fake identification card, passport and as much cash as we could take. I went into the bedroom to retrieve the carry-on bag from the floor of the walk-in closet.
After I slipped on one of the outfits I had tucked away in my emergency travel bag, I joined Reggie and his right hand man, Damian, in the living room. Reggie was on the phone when I walked in, so I took a seat on the sofa next to Damian. He looked at me from head to toe. Then he placed his left arm around my shoulder.
“Are you feeling a little better?” he asked.
“I’m still a little bit shaken up but I’ll be alright,” I assured him.
“A’ight, well hurry up and see what you can find out,” I heard Reggie bark on the phone. “I want to know who the triggerman was and the nigga who was with him. Oh yeah, don’t let that nigga, Walt, go nowhere until I get there. As a matter of fact, take him to Monty’s girl’s crib and keep an eye out on him, because this shit needs to be handled before the sun comes up tomorrow.”
I knew Reggie was beyond furious about this whole thing. Not only had I witnessed one of his soldiers getting murdered, I was caught up in the middle of the crossfire and I was robbed in the process. So I knew that whoever was responsible was going to die a very slow death when it was all said and done.
New York's Finest (1st of the Trilogy) Page 2
