Pearla didn’t mind. “Let’s go then.”
April jumped into the driver’s seat, and Pearla sat in the passenger seat. A sudden calm came over Pearla as April drove them to see her cousin Ricky, a weed dealer in the Van Dyke houses in Brownsville.
***
Since Bimmy had given Avery and Dalou the five grand, they went crazy spending it on drugs, booze, and whores. Every day was a party in their motel room. After smoking and drinking, they got down to business—following Pearla around—but barely doing a good job at that.
Sky high on weed laced with cocaine, their eyes glossy and bloodshot, they had been following Pearla all morning, from place to place, leading them to the River Café. Dalou started the car and continued to trail Pearla’s Benz in Brooklyn.
The men were so high, they didn’t realize that Pearla wasn’t driving her own car.
Twenty-Eight
April navigated Pearla’s Benz to the Van Dyke Houses on Blake Avenue, a sprawling twenty-two-building complex bordered by Mother Gaston Boulevard, Powell Street, Sutter Avenue, and Livonia Avenue. The day was still young, and that meant people roaming around everywhere.
April parked the Benz right across the street from the projects, looked at Pearla and said, “Give me ten minutes. We gonna get high today.” She hopped out of the car and went into the projects.
Pearla just sat back and chilled. She reclined in the seat and pulled out her smartphone to peruse Twitter while waiting for April to come back out with the bomb weed from her cousin Ricky.
After that, she did the unthinkable. She called Cash, but he didn’t answer. His phone went directly to his voice mail. She left a message: “You need to call me back, ASAP!”
She waited a few minutes, and Cash still didn’t call her back. She sighed. She needed to speak to him and give him the heads-up. So she decided to text him. The last thing she needed was for Cash to call while she was with April. She texted: HASSAN AND BIMMY KNOW ABOUT US. DON’T CALL! I’LL FILL U IN L8TER!
Right after sending her text message to Cash, Pearla saw April leaving the project building and walking back to the car with a long smile on her face. So many things were going through her head. Could she trust April enough to get high with her? Was this part of a ruse? She did relent easily, and now it appeared that they were best friends again. But what about Bimmy? As far as Pearla knew, it all could be a ploy to get her to let her guard down and then bang!—She gets fucked! She released a temper sigh. Now she was having second thoughts.
Parked nearby were Avery and Dalou, with Dalou in the driver’s seat as the getaway driver.
Avery, high like a kite, followed April with his gun in hand. He moved briskly her way, and when he got close enough to her, he raised the gun to the back of her head and fired without an ounce of hesitation. Bak! Bak! Bak!
The bullets pushed her body forward violently, and immediately, April fell to the concrete, where she died on the spot.
Before anyone could process what had happened, Avery was sprinting back to the car. He leaped inside, and Dalou took off like he was a driver in the Indy 500.
Pearla looked at the murder in disbelief. Her mouth was open like she was about to scream, but nothing came out. She was in utter shock. It seemed like a nightmare. There was no way April had just been shot. Nah, that was Bimmy’s baby mama. What fools had the overconfidence to pull off such a suicide mission?
The people in the area were caught off guard by the gunfire too. It happened so fast. A few had seen the shooter flee from the scene on foot and get into a Ford Focus. They ran toward the body, which lay face down, and saw two holes in the back of her head and one in her neck.
***
Bimmy sat in a black Escalade in the parking lot of Rikers Island. He was smoking a cigar whilst he waited patiently for Hassan’s release. He couldn’t believe it. The nigga actually pulled it off. He got Lamiek to confess to all the felony charges. The young nigga ate the gun and murder charges like soul food. Of course, he had no choice, since Hassan had offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse.
The prosecution went haywire. They didn’t know what to do with themselves. They wanted Hassan to remain in jail, being the drug kingpin and more of a threat on the streets. But his lawyers were the best, and they were adamant in pushing for his release. Hassan played chess with the system and hit checkmate with his case.
Hassan was taken to the male booking area, where he signed his release papers. He was given the street clothes he was arrested in and was allowed to dress out. After a half-hour process, he was taken downstairs, his personal items in hand, and was able to walk out of the jail. Hassan wanted everything to be hush-hush. The only people who knew he was coming home were Bimmy, his lawyer, and Lamiek. Also, he wanted to sneak up on Pearla and finally get to the bottom of things. He certainly had unfinished business with Cash, Kwan, and some other ignorant goons that weren’t loyal to his organization.
Bimmy was on edge as he waited. The man was coming home today, and yet Pearla was still alive. He started to regret hiring them two fools to pull off the job. He frowned with a fire stirring inside of his belly. For certain, after his business with Hassan was done, he was going to the motel Avery and Dalou were in and raise hell. He wanted all of his money back, and if those two fools spent it, then they were dead men.
Just then, his cell phone rang. It was Avery calling. He answered right away, hoping against hope. “What, nigga?” he answered roughly.
“It’s done,” Avery said.
Bimmy couldn’t believe his ears. He was sorry that he’d doubted them, and that he had thought about killing his own cousin. “Okay, y’all niggas just sit tight and chill,” he said. “I’ll bring what I owe tonight.”
He hung up. He didn’t want to say too much over the phone, especially a cell phone. He felt a huge sigh of relief. Finally! Now that Pearla was gone, his boss should be able to think straight again.
He sat practicing his facial expression in the sun visor. How should he react once news got out about Pearla? He didn’t want to underplay or overplay the scene and make Hassan suspicious.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Bimmy felt he had his reaction down pat. He got out of the truck and stood watch for Hassan’s arrival. His phone rang again. He already knew the deal. People were calling him to tell him Pearla had been murdered. He didn’t know the details yet, but he needed to wait until he was with Hassan, so his reaction could be more authentic.
Hassan stepped off the city bus casually and saw Bimmy posted up against the truck waiting for him. Hassan walked his way.
Bimmy was feeling ambivalent about his friend’s sudden release. The shit was about to hit the fan and spread everywhere. He took a deep breath and greeted Hassan with a dap and a brotherly hug. “Welcome home, my nigga,” he said.
“It’s good to be out finally!” Hassan exclaimed. The man was hyped and ready to carry on with business as usual. He climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and was already on a mission. “Yo, take me straight to see Pearla. I wanna surprise my bitch,” he said.
Bimmy nodded his head as he drove away from the jail. He offered Hassan a cell phone. “You wanna call her now?”
“Nah, I came this far, and I definitely want to see the look on her face when she sees I’m out.”
Bimmy wondered how Hassan was going to react when the news of Pearla’s murder came. “You decided what you gonna do wit’ her?” he asked. “I mean, if you find out that she’s fuckin’ with that nigga Cash?”
Hassan lingered on his answer, staring out the window as Bimmy headed toward the highway. “What you think I should do with her?”
Bimmy felt it was a test. “At the very least, cut that bitch off, my nigga. Make her penniless. Pardon me for calling her a bitch, but you know what I mean. I got nothin’ but love for you, Hassan, and I’m glad you home, because these streets weren’t the same without you around.�
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Hassan nodded. “It’s cool.”
Bimmy was trying to be respectful and a real nigga all at once. If he played it too soft, there was a possibility that Hassan would catch on, and, if he went too hard, then Hassan might wonder why the sudden animosity. Bimmy had his own little chess match happening inside the Escalade.
Bimmy’s cell phone rang again. He allowed the call to go through his Bluetooth and through the speakers in the truck. He wanted Hassan to listen in on this certain call.
“Yo, it’s Bimmy. Speak to me.”
Big Dee’s raspy voice sounded through the speakers. “Bimmy, it’s Big Dee. Yo, you alone?”
“Nah, nigga, I got Hassan wit’ me.”
“He home?” Big Dee asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, the nigga home. We ain’t told anybody.”
“Oh shit!”
“What the fuck, nigga? Talk to me!” Bimmy shouted.
“Yo, you ain’t heard, Bimmy. Yo, I don’t know how to tell you this. Shit, I hate to be the bearer of bad news . . .” Big Dee’s voice trailed off in sadness.
Bimmy was growing impatient. “Nigga, stop fuckin’ hesitatin’ on what the fuck you gotta tell me. Just say it, nigga!”
“It’s April.”
“What about April?” Bimmy asked, his heart beating like drums in a rock concert.
“She’s dead.”
“What? Don’t you mean Pearla?”
“Nah, it was April. They shot her, yo. Killed her in the Van Dyke Homes. Pearla is still wit’ the body.”
“What the fuck!”
“You need to get out here. It’s crazy hectic right now.”
Bimmy couldn’t stop his tears from falling.
Hassan was completely astonished by the news himself. But he was asking himself, Why did Bimmy think it was Pearla who had been killed? He noticed his friend was becoming an emotional wreck. “Yo, you need me to drive?”
“Yo, I’m gonna kill these niggas!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
Twenty-Nine
The stench of death permeated the air as April’s body lay across the hard ground, covered with a white sheet. Cops had the entire area taped off and secured with yellow crime-scene tape, and marked and unmarked cop cars were scattered everywhere on the Brooklyn block.
A few detectives stood over the body, and some crouched lower toward the victim, taking in everything with their trained eyes. Who had killed her, and why? Was it a revenge murder? Drugs? Or a crime of passion?
A crime scene photographer took clear pictures of the body and the surrounding area. The looky-loos were everywhere, staring at another homicide committed in their neighborhood. To them, it was “another one bites the dust.”
Several detectives combed the area to ask questions and find witnesses, but like in any ghetto, people rarely talked to the police. Mouths got really quiet when the NYPD came around. They didn’t trust cops, and they were scared to get involved, especially once they knew identity of the deceased.
Pearla stood off to the side, still in complete shock that April was dead. She was scared to death. Detectives were in her face asking for a statement from her, but she didn’t know what to say. Just like that, her world was collapsing around her.
“How long have you known the victim?” the tall, suited, pale-skinned detective asked her.
Pearla was in a trance. She heard the man speaking, but she couldn’t hear one word he was saying to her, the image of April’s brain’s being blown out still etched in her mind.
“Can you tell us what happened?” he asked.
It was a horrible thing to witness, and Pearla was the girl who’d been through it all. But she would never forget this. What was going to happen next? What would Bimmy think? Would he blame her?
The detective continued asking her questions, but like everyone else, she shut down. She didn’t want anything to do with the police. She knew nothing, and she saw nothing. She just wanted to go home.
A block away from the crime scene, Bimmy’s black Escalade came to a screeching stop and he leaped from the vehicle and ran toward the scene with Hassan right behind him.
As he got closer to the scene, he saw April’s body sprawled out on the concrete and covered with the white sheet, with dozens of people gawking at the body.
Bimmy flipped out. “Nooooo!” he screamed. He attempted to run to her, but several cops grabbed him and desperately tried to restrain him. But Bimmy wasn’t going for it. He had to get to her. He had to see if it was her. He had to go and hold her in his arms.
The cops pushed him back and cursed at him. “Get the fuck back!”
And he cursed back, “Fuck you!”
Bimmy was raging out of control. The more they kept him away from April, the more insane he grew. Until, finally, he clenched his fist and took a swing at one of the cops trying to restrain him and sent him flying backwards with a painful jaw.
The other cops jumped on Bimmy. He fought back, swinging wildly at a half dozen of them. Anarchy rapidly ensued, with fists flying everywhere.
Next thing he knew, Bimmy was being tasered on the ground, causing him temporary paralysis.
Hassan stood in shock on the sidelines watching them beat down his friend. There was nothing he could do. He had just been released, and he wasn’t about to get locked back up.
Bimmy was taken into custody, but the looky-loos, many of whom had recorded the incident on their camera phones, had witnessed the entire ordeal. They even chanted, “Worldstar! Worldstar!” in their cell phone footage.
Pearla couldn’t believe her eyes. With so much happening in one day, she thought she was delusional. There was no way Hassan was home.
The two locked eyes. Hassan stood there, a few feet from her, looking expressionless. She ran toward him and leaped into his arms. She was so happy to see him, tears started to leak from her eyes. He welcomed her with open arms.
Pearla knew there was a reason why Hassan hadn’t told her he was coming home. She figured that April wasn’t the one that was supposed to be killed; those bullets were meant for her. The thought had her terrified.
“We need to go!” Hassan pulled her by the arm away from the chaos in the projects.
As they walked away from the area, Pearla pulled out her cell phone and subtly dropped it down a sewage drain while Hassan wasn’t looking. She had too much incriminating evidence on there between her and Cash, and she didn’t have the time to go through it to make sure that all texts and voice messages from him were deleted. So she thought it best to get rid of the phone entirely.
“Where you parked at?” Hassan asked. “And where are the keys?”
It was then that she realized that April had the car keys on her when she died. She had taken them out of the ignition without Pearla even noticing. Damn, her day kept getting worse.
“April has the car keys on her,” she said.
“Fuck it! We’ll take Bimmy’s truck. He left the keys in the ignition.”
The two walked toward the Escalade parked a block away. Hassan didn’t care about the Benz at the moment. Most likely, he would have it towed back to the house when everything calmed down. He was mostly concerned with Pearla and wanted to take her somewhere safe.
Hassan knew Bimmy would be okay. The nigga had done jail before. And, April, his heart went out to her. For sure, someone was going to truly pay with their lives for her murder.
The ride back to their place was an awkward one at first. Pearla stared aimlessly out the passenger window thinking about April. Was it her fault that she was dead? Where had Hassan suddenly come from, and why was he home? Or more importantly, how did he come home when there was no bail set and he was looking at numerous felony indictments?
One thing for sure, the man knew how to work miracles. She could never underestimate him. Whatever knee-high shit he got himself into, he wa
s able to pull himself out.
But she was worried. Did he have an agenda? Would it be something foul toward her for her affair with Cash, that is, if he knew or believed it? Or was he truly happy to see her?
Pearla thought long and hard. How should she play this—defense or offense? She decided to strike first and go with offense.
But Hassan started to speak first. Doing sixty on the Belt Parkway, he turned and looked at his favorite girl and said, “I fuckin’ missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, baby.” She smiled.
“I swear, if that was you”—He clenched his jaw, glaring straight ahead—“if anything had happened to you, I wouldn’t know what I would do. I would go fuckin’ crazy.”
“I know, baby. Me too.”
“What happened today?” he asked her. “How did you end up with April?”
Pearla sighed. “I went to see April because I was alone and needed someone to talk to. We went and ate at the River Café, we resolved our issues, and it was cool. She wanted to smoke, and her truck was low on gas, so we took my car to the Van Dyke Houses to get some weed from her cousin. I sat in the car and waited, and when she came back out”—Pearla felt herself about to get choked up, and the tears started to trickle from her eyes.
Hassan glanced at his woman becoming emotional. He placed his hand on her thigh. “Baby, I’m home now. Believe me, there’s not a soul out there that’s going to hurt you. I promise you that. You’re safe, baby.”
Somehow, in the bottom of his heart, Hassan knew that Pearla was the intended victim, not April. Was it a coincidence that April was killed on the same day of his release? He didn’t think so. It was all planned deliberately. Whoever murdered April didn’t know Pearla, or they weren’t that familiar with her, so Hassan automatically ruled out Kwan and Cash. So who? It was an inside job—a gun for hire. He knew it. He felt it.
Pearla started to cry her eyes out. Her tears were real, but at the same time, she was concerned. She had to be a bitch and lie. With her eyes teary and red, she looked at Hassan worriedly and said to him, “Hassan, I need to tell you something.”
The House that Hustle Built, Part 3 Page 15
