Dirty Work, Part 2

by Erica Hilton

  Everyone got settled into the rooms. The girls showered and rested, while Papa John lingered outside the motel with a cigarette. His phone was keeping him busy, texting back and forth with Dina.

  Devon laid his arsenal out on the bed and prepped his weaponry like a Boy Scout shining his medals. He wanted to put the gun Kid used to kill Jessica up on his wall as a trophy, but The Kid wanted him to get rid of it. He had big plans for the gun they would use to kill Maserati Meek—maybe get it dipped in gold and keep it as a souvenir.

  The Kid sat in his wheelchair in the room with Devon and looked out the window. There were a lot of things he couldn’t forget. What Maserati Meek did to his home—the Manhattanville projects—and the innocents that lost their lives that night, he couldn’t let it go. Then there was Jessica. He couldn’t get her out of his head. It was haunting him to some extent. For years he had liked her, loved her even. He thought she was someone special. Now this—he had taken her life. There was some regret inside of him, but he knew that he had to do what he had to do. He had to bury that regret and become someone else. It wasn’t back in the day anymore—they’d all done changed. He had to live with that nightmare.

  As The Kid lingered by the window, staring off into space, a knock at the door brought him back to reality. Always cautious, Devon picked up a .45 and moved toward the door. He glanced through the peephole and then relaxed, realizing that it was Eshon. He opened the door and she walked in.

  She looked at Devon with the gun by his side and then stared at Kid. “How long is this gonna last?”

  “Until Meek is dead and rotting in the fuckin’ ground,” Devon replied.

  “Where’s Brandy?” The Kid asked.

  “Sleep,” she said.

  “What’s up?”

  “I can’t sleep,” she said.

  Devon went back to tending to his guns. His guns were like his children, and he inspected them like they were his little soldiers ready to go to war and he was the general. He sat on the bed and took apart an M-16 with ease, and Eshon was somewhat stunned to see him do it.

  “Where’d you learn to do shit like that? You were never in the Army.”

  “I got my ways.”

  “You’re starting to really scare me.”

  He smirked. “Fear is what I’m lookin’ for.”

  “Well, I’m tired of living in fear. I just want things to be normal again,” she said.

  “When was shit ever normal in our neck of the woods? This is what we do and who we fuckin’ are— fuckin’ criminals and dangerous people. We robbed and killed niggas for profit. It was like that with Kip, and it’s gonna be like that after Kip,” he proclaimed.

  “It’s why Kip is dead,” she retorted.

  “Kip knew the risk, Eshon. He was the main nigga that got us into this shit. Shit, my nigga being dead don’t make him a Boy Scout now.”

  “But all this death—”

  “What, you scared now? I’m not! A nigga can blow up a thousand fuckin’ buildings, and my heart still won’t be timid. He came for us and missed. Now we go for him and fuck his shit up!” Devon growled.

  The madness in Devon’s eyes and in his soul was swelling like a tumor. He was a man on a mission, and there was no deterring him. He was going to avenge Kip’s death or die trying.

  “I need to go for a walk. I need some air,” Eshon said.

  “You strapped?” Devon asked.

  She shook her head.

  Devon picked up a .9mm and handed it to her. “Take it. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I don’t think I’m gonna need it right now.”

  “Take the pistol and watch your back out there. I don’t care if we are in New Rochelle, death is everywhere, Eshon. You should understand that.”

  She was reluctant to take the pistol, feeling that it was not needed. Besides, where was she going to hide the gun? It was a balmy summer night with a full moon in the sky. The Days Inn was nestled in the gentleness of the New Rochelle suburbs. Who would recognize them in the area? Eshon turned and went to exit the room.

  The Kid wheeled himself closer. “Wait, I’ll join you.”

  He needed some fresh air, too. She welcomed the company. They passed through the hallway, into the elevator, and breezed through the quiet lobby. Stepping out into the summer air felt energizing.

  Eshon lit a cigarette and then pushed Kid down the quiet boulevard. It was just the two of them—friends out on a walk. For a moment they were silent, taking in the calmness of the area. Few cars passed by, and the twenty-four-hour McDonald’s was starting to form a long line going through their drive thru. They traveled half a block.

  They wanted to forget about their troubles behind them and the quandary ahead of them, but it was difficult. They were at war with a terrorist group, something completely unexpected—and these suicide bombers weren’t just a threat to them, but to their country. What would they attack next? And how long would it go on? It was a question that had crossed both of their minds, but now didn’t feel like the appropriate time to talk about it.

  The Kid held the keys to the legacy his brother had left behind—a vessel floating aimlessly at sea and armed with lots of guns. He was steering the ship, but to where? So far he seemed to be doing a good job keeping everyone alive and pushing forward against very dangerous enemies, but could he completely fill his brother’s shoes? Was he a thug like them? Could he carry on with this lifestyle and die for it like Kip had died for it? He had already proven himself to be a killer. It had to be in his blood like it had been in Kip’s. His kills were increasing, Jessica being his latest coldhearted act. But how soon until he found himself on the other side of the gun or blown to pieces by one of Maserati Meek’s suicide bombers? Was he smarter than them, or was it just luck on his side?

  “Kip didn’t want this life for you,” Eshon said, out of the blue.

  “Who knew what my brother wanted?”

  “He didn’t want this for you, Kid. He always thought you were smarter than this. I did too. He did him out there only to try to give you a better life.”

  “A life without him isn’t a better life,” he said.

  She sighed. “I agree. But Kid, you always had something the rest of us didn’t. You have talent, and you’re smart. And even though you can’t walk, your intelligence can take you places none of us can even dream of. You never allowed your handicap to defeat you. You found a way to defeat it.”

  It was a motivational speech. Kid kind of felt bad for deceiving her.

  “What do I have to go back to, Eshon? Our home looks like Syria, Kip is dead, and Nana’s dead, though I couldn’t stand her . . . and yeah, I’m smart, but my intelligence didn’t help my brother much. He looked out for me, but I couldn’t look out for him.”

  “You think hanging around Devon and Papa John will bring some kind of closure in your life—that they gonna make things better for you? Devon is a monster on a violent warpath. They’re killers, Kid, and you’re not. Those niggas are about that life—they got nothing to lose, but you’re one of the best chess players this city has ever seen. When I watch you play, it’s like watching Michael Jordan on the basketball court. You’re just as unstoppable. I would hate to see something happen to you because of you hanging around with them two fools and their wild crew.”

  Her words made him smile. If only she knew the truth about him, what would her thoughts be then? He was exactly like Devon and Papa John—maybe a lot worse.

  “Right now I don’t know what I want, Eshon. I know I need to be around familiar faces right now. I don’t wanna be alone.”

  “You’re not alone. I’m here for you and I will always be here for you. You’re my friend, Kid, and you’ll always be my friend.”

  “And you’ll always be my friend, too.”

  Eshon continued to push him down the street. The heart-to-heart talk they were having was a b
it therapeutic. Eshon felt that Kid was the only one she could talk to. She could tell him anything. Even when his brother was alive, she could confess her feelings about Kip to him, whether they were good or bad, and he wouldn’t overreact. Kid was never an emotional person, and he didn’t judge people. He had always been reasonable and understanding.

  “You know, Brandy came to me not too long ago about leaving town—packing our bags and starting a new life somewhere else,” she mentioned. “I damn near cursed her out for bringing it up.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I always felt that my life is here, in Harlem and in this city.”

  “Is it still here?”

  A heavy sigh escaped her lips as they crossed the intersection. She looked ahead of him, transfixed on a thought. “My heart was filled with rage. I wanted Jessica dead with a passion. I couldn’t leave New York while that bitch was still alive. But now that she’s dead . . . I don’t know, I thought I would feel better, but I don’t. It’s like . . . I feel a lot sadder now. I just want things how they used to be.”

  “It will never be the same.”

  “I know, but what next? This fight with Maserati Meek, is it my fight?”

  “He killed my brother.”

  “But I don’t want him to kill you too, or us. What are we up against?”

  “You can leave town with Brandy if you want, Eshon. If you’re looking for my blessing, I give it to you. I can take care of myself,” he proclaimed.

  She didn’t truly believe that. “I made a promise to Kip to look after you. It’s a promise that I plan on keeping.”

  “I got my life and you got yours, Eshon. Just live it without feeling you have an obligation to me—because you don’t.”

  “You’re no burden on me, Kid. We’re family.”

  “And I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don’t. Like you said, this wheelchair doesn’t make me a cripple. I’m smart enough to know how to take care of myself.”

  Eshon pushed him along the sidewalk. Their talk felt like it was becoming a lot more turbulent. He wanted to leap from the wheelchair and show the strength in his legs, but it would be stupid of him. If he did so, it would change everything between them. She would see him as a liar. True friends didn’t keep secrets from each other.

  They traveled three blocks with their conversation growing more and more. They continued to talk about Kip. It was one way she was able to find healing—by reminiscing and talking about Kip to someone who knew him too. It felt like he was still alive.

  “If you were to leave the city, where would you go?” asked Kid.

  “I don’t know, maybe out west . . . California. I always wanted to see Cali. The way Jessica would always talk about it, it seemed an exotic and exciting place to see.” The mention of her name made her teeth itch and feel rotten. “I never have been outside of New York.”

  “I haven’t traveled much either.”

  “If you were to leave, where you would want to go?” she asked him.

  He gave it some thought and replied, “I would leave the country, maybe Africa. I’ve been researching Ghana.”

  “Africa?” Eshon uttered, taken aback by his answer. “Why Africa?”

  “It’s a rich and thriving continent, despite what you hear about it from the media—the white man’s media. Africa has a growing middle class, and its urbanization rate is already at thirty-seven percent. I wanna go back to my roots . . . to the Motherland. Like Kunta Kinte.”

  “See Kid, you’re smart. You know shit that I probably can’t even comprehend. Not too many people from Harlem would say they want to go back to Africa.”

  “Kip and I always talked about it.”

  His statement shocked Eshon. “What? Kip was talking about Africa?”

  “He was. He would bring it up at times. My brother was many things, even a killer. But he did have some culture in him. He was smart, and he wanted to escape from who he was at times. He would always compare himself to Shaka Zulu—leading his people into battle against indifference and injustice. I remember when we first saw his story on TV as kids, my brother was captivated by the man. A half-naked black man with a spear and courage, having all this power over these people and putting fear in the white man’s heart.”

  Eshon chuckled. “Kip was a warrior.”

  “He was. Sometimes I felt he was born in the wrong era.”

  “Harlem wasn’t ready for a man like him,” Eshon said.

  “Harlem . . . New York City wasn’t ready for him. Kip was ready to take on the world.”

  “And I was ready to be his ride-or-die queen right by his side.”

  They managed to laugh while talking about Kip. They felt some light in the dark. Eshon exhaled somewhat. The emotions started to flood inside of her. The memory of Kip was always welcome. There were so many things she still didn’t know about him. Ghana. If he was willing to move to Ghana, Eshon would have been on the plane with him. If it took relocating to Africa to start a new and better life with him, there would have been no hesitation on her part. Thinking about it brought some sadness to her, though. She could see it, the two of them raising a family in the Motherland.

  “If he was alive you think he would have taken me with him . . . to Africa?”

  “He did love you. I just think he had difficulty showing it.”

  “He used to break my heart a lot, and yet, I always managed to forgive him and let him back into my life. I wanted to give him kids. Sometimes I felt so stupid when it came to him.”

  “You were a woman in love. It’s not a crime,” said Kid.

  “No, it’s not a crime, but it sometimes felt like I was on death row with him,” she said faintly.

  “Hey, we were brothers and sometimes I felt like the invisible man when he was around. Kip had this way of bringing you up so high that you felt you would never come back down, and he knew how to bring you down so low, that you could feel the fires of hell at the heels of your feet.”

  “He did. Shit, I still carry the scars in my soul because of our ups and downs. But you couldn’t help but to love that man.”

  “Yeah, we did. But you were the only one he truly cared about. He never talked about anyone else with me. And you knew how to push his buttons too, Eshon.”

  She laughed. “I definitely had my moments with him.”

  “Quite a few, if I recall.”

  Before they knew it, they had walked six blocks while engrossed in conversation. Their talk was needed, and the laughter was needed between them a lot more. But then the present came up.

  Eshon looked fretful. “Where do we go from here? I’m scared, Kid.”

  “I wish I knew. I’m just along for the ride like everyone else.”

  “I know you are, Kid. Devon worries me though. He has this look about him, it’s almost satanic.”

  “He’s always been like that, Eshon.”

  “I know, but it’s a lot scarier since Kip died. He’s the type of nigga to give the devil the chills,” she said.

  “He is a scary guy.”

  “Too scary. They was Kip’s peoples, not yours. You should just part from them and rebuild somewhere else.”

  “And you need to stop telling me what I need to do. I’m a grown man, Eshon. I may not be Kip, but I’m still able to take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. I guess I worry about you because you’re the only brother I have.”

  “I’ll be all right, Eshon.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise,” he replied.

  They turned around and headed back to the motel. It was getting late.

  19

  The cigarette smoke danced around the SUV as Papa John worked on his third cigarette. He was sitting in the driver’s seat parked on the still and quiet street, and keeping a keen eye on his father’s place. A
.9mm sat on passenger seat, but Papa John had nothing to worry about in Whitestone. The only threat he saw was his father. Having an affair with Dina was risky, but it was worth it. She gave him pleasures and an escape from his turbulent lifestyle. He ached to see her again. He took another drag from the cancer stick and exhaled. Finally, he watched his father’s Benz back out of the driveway and drive off. To be on the safe side, he continued to sit in the vehicle for a few minutes. He dialed Dina and she answered almost immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “He’s gone for the night, right?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “A’ight, I’m parked down the block. Give me ten minutes and I’ll head that way.”

  “Okay.”

  He ended the call and finished his cigarette. Weed and pussy were the only two things that could cool his nerves. He was energized for another night with Dina, and he couldn’t wait the full ten minutes. Papa John exited the SUV five minutes early and trekked toward the house with his head held low and a dark baseball cap pulled low over his brow. He entered the driveway and swiftly moved toward the backyard.

  Dina already had the back door opened and was waiting for him in a black silk robe. He hugged her right away, which was followed by a passionate kiss. The door closed and the fondling began. But before things got too hot and heavy between them, Dina placed her hand against his chest and pushed him back. She stared at him.

  “What’s up? Something wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m worried about you, Papa John.”

  “Worried about me? Why?”

  “These bombings in the city—who’s after you and why?”

  Papa John sighed. He didn’t come to talk about his troubles. He felt stupid for even mentioning it to her.

  “Look, everything’s gonna be all right,” he said.

  “How? Your father is working twelve-hour shifts because the NYPD is going crazy looking for these terrorists, and the man I’m having an affair with is involved somehow.”

  “I’m not involved, it’s just a beef wit’ this stupid muthafucka,” he corrected.

  “You need to tell your father about this,” she suggested.