“Niecey Girl, call the hospital and see if you can find out something about J-Rock. Then, call his mother for me. I’ll give you the number,” Jay said.
“Okay,” Niecey Girl said, ready to cooperate with whatever the crew might need from her.
“It don’t look good for him, man,” Jay repeated.
“So what the fuck we gonna do, Jay?” Gunner asked.
“We need to find out is this nigga, Bones, out of jail, or is he putting money on niggas or something, because that weak shit he just pulled didn’t make sense. Why hit J-Rock when he could’ve laid in the cut and waited for me or you to come walking out of that muthafucka? Now we know he trying to lay a play down, so… you fucked up by exposing your hand like that,” Jay analyzed, referring to Bones.
Jay knew this incident would bring the beast mode out of him that he tried so hard to contain for the sake of his own freedom and all the lives that depended on him. Sometimes, people don’t understand nothing but blood, his father used to say. He never forgot that valuable lesson.
“They won’t tell me nothing at the hospital, Jay. You still want me to call his mom?”
Jay gave Niecey Girl the number to J-Rock’s mom, and right away, images of J-Rock’s body slumped over inside his car flashed in his mind. He closed his eyes and massaged his temple, trying to ward off the oncoming migraine he felt. Death was always a hard pill to swallow when it’s someone you love.
Lines and Gunner were both rolling weed at the same time.
“If the nigga is out, we don’t even know where to start looking for him,” Gunner complained as Jay began to remove some of his bloody clothing.
“Well, if he’s out here, we about to sniff his ass out.”
Chapter 9
Michelle sighed as she sank into the seams of her Capricorn leather lounge. She had slipped into her gown, and now she was doing something she very rarely did. Stretched out on her side with the remote control in her hand, skipping between Seinfeld reruns and the news, she only wanted to see if her suspicions about Andrea Nelson, a nightly news street reporter, were true.
Andrea started work at the station around six months after Michelle. She was a street reporter also. They’d had some conversations here and there, but never became more than cordial at work. In the conversations that they’d had over the years, it was easy to surmise that Andrea and her had a lot of the same goals, were headed and the same direction, and Andrea felt that made her competition. Michelle didn’t see it that way, because she honestly believed that what God had for her could never be taken away.
The last couple of times she managed to catch the news, it was because she was going to have to do a follow up on a story Andrea ran the night before. Michelle had her own style of reporting that set her aside from the rest of the reporters at the station. She wasn’t the only one with a unique style, but at least she had one. She was beginning to feel that Andrea was somewhat mimicking her style of reporting. The way she liked to use her free hand for effect, gripping her fingers and thumb together, the way she kept the cameraman moving instead of standing still, and the way she over dramatized her dialog in sections. It sounded crazy to her at first, but after she saw it again, it was almost impossible to ignore. This was her final attempt to convince herself that she was possibly wrong about Andrea, and that her ego had just gotten the best of her.
Jumping from Seinfeld, she came back to the news and finally caught Andrea reporting on a murder that happened near Van Dyke and Six Mile. Andrea was already doing it. The free hand thing.
“Witnesses say that someone on a motorcycle pulled up to a stop sign and began firing into the vehicle. This scene was complete chaos only hours ago, but as you can see, the vehicle that crashed into the cemetery gate has been removed.”
Andrea moved in half circle, showing the viewers a shot of the cemetery in the background. It was so blatantly obvious now, that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it sooner. She wondered how long had it been going on. She turned the volume up to tune in on her dialog, and her mouth fell open.
“Oh my God. Is she impersonating me? What the hell?” Michelle exclaimed to the empty room.
She wanted to call Leslie, but it was after eleven o’clock, so she decided it would have to wait. Although she was now concrete solid with confidence in her suspicions, she still had to let some other people see it and process it for themselves before she got herself all worked up about it. To her, it was very big deal. People have made their mark in the fields of journalism and media by standing out in the crowd. This bitch had her feeling like a dime a dozen. She tried to keep herself calm, but inside she was furious.
As the story ended, she thumbed the power button on the television then got up and stormed into her bedroom. She tried her best to never go to bed angry, so she opted to take her mind off it for now so she could go to sleep in peace. Her mind drifted back to the thought that had taken up a lot of her free time that day… Jason. She was seriously considering reaching out to him, but still hadn’t weighed all the pros and cons. Calling a guy felt like she was courting instead of being courted. Maybe. She still had to think about it.
As she went over the enjoyable conversation they had at the fundraiser, she realized he had mentioned that one of his record stores was located in the area of the shooting on the east side. She took it as coincidence and nothing more as she wiggled in the bed getting comfy. She decided to get some rest and she would be able to think more clearly tomorrow about everything.
__________
Bones had Oshiwa traded in his brother’s Lexus for newer model and different color; a 2005 black 460 LS. As he pulled up at the new property he and Skip had acquired, he couldn’t wait to get all the gritty details of the murder from his hired gun, Carlos. He had decided it was wiser to get in contact with Carlos through his sister, Trina. That way, his interest in Carlos wouldn’t raise any antennas. He knew Carlos probably had created some enemies by now, and he wanted to establish himself as ally not the enemy. This would be their second time meeting face to face about the hit.
Bones met Carlos at the still empty house with no blinds or shades on the windows because it was an area neither of them frequented and they didn’t want to be seen together.
Ten minutes later, Carlos pulled up in a late model Buick.
Bones stood in the window peeking outside. The car was probably a rental, Bones thought, because the first time they met up it was the same car, but a different color. He let Carlos in through the front door and their voices bounced throughout the empty house as they greeted each other. Carlos was of mixed race and had softer features. He didn’t resemble the killer he had come to be.
“Where the champagne at, nigga? You supposed to be celebrating right now,” Carlos joked, knowing he had completed another job with deadly precision.
“Not yet, I got a long way to go,” Bones shot back as he fired up his first blunt of the morning.
“Yeah? I hope so, ’cause I been unemployed for nice little minute. I need some work.”
“Oh, them bitch ass niggas bout to feel me,” Bones assured him as he took a seat on two crates stacked on top of each other. “I wish I would’ve been there to see the whole play go down and seen the look on that sucker ass nigga Jay’s face when he heard the news.”
Carlos began reenacting the whole murder for Bones, and he ate it all up with a sinister grin on his face, enjoying every moment. Murder was always an uplifting topic for him.
“I tossed the bones in his lap, pulled the lid down on my muthafucking helmet and skirted the fuck off,” Carlos finished.
“They gonna stop hanging at the record store now, we gotta catch ’em in the streets.”
“Hell yeah they gonna stop hanging out at that muthafucka. They bet not hang out at either one of ’em and let me catch ’em.”
Carlos was so money hungry, he was ready and willing to commit his next murder less than twenty four hours after he’d just shot J-Rock. Bones went into his pocket and pulled out
a ten thousand dollar stack wrapped in rubber bands tied the long way. He gave it to Carlos as the balance he owed on the twenty thousand dollar hit.
J-Rock was worth more dead than he was alive.
Chapter 10
Jay took it the hardest when the call finally came confirming J-Rock’s death. The days leading up the funeral were chaotic because everyone was running around trying to locate the people responsible. Jay closed the eastside location, supposedly for remodeling. He didn’t want to put anybody in jeopardy while things were so undetermined. He parked his Benz and hopped in a rental car from Avis so he could move about undetected. He knew J-Rock’s death was in retaliation for something he had done years ago. He felt responsible, although he knew J-Rock was playing in a dirty game along with the rest of them.
Jay and Gunner had goons all over town trying to find out what they could about Bones from Puritan Ave. It was tricky situation trying to draw information from people. Ask the wrong question to the right person about the wrong person and you could easily find yourself starring down the barrel of a gun.
To take his mind off things, if only for minute, Bake suggested he and Jay go fishing. The weather was nice on a mild spring day, and Jay thought it was a good idea since they hadn’t done it in a while. They pulled up in Bake’s Cadillac at Angel Park and found their favorite spot was wide open. Bake always said it was the ‘mouth of the river,’ whatever that meant. The atmosphere was extremely peaceful and serene. Seagulls soared through the air, showcasing their wings and God given ability to rise above it all. The sun was magnificent in exhibiting its face to the world.
“I told Gunner to let me know the minute he get some info or whatever,” Jay said, his mind still on the situation in the streets.
They set up shop near a maple tree with snacks, lawn chairs, and a six-pack of Bud Light for Bake.
“Shit, we just gotta be patient. Truth gonna come to the light,” Bake said.
“It gonna get ugly for whoever is involved in this. Shit couldn’t have come at worse time either. Nigga just beat a murder case and trying to get back to business, and now this shit. I ain’t think the nigga Bones would ever come back though. My daddy always said, ‘dispose of all enemies, or they gonna come back to haunt you,’ and he was right.”
Playing chess and fishing were two of the few things Jay got to enjoy with his father growing up. Jay’s father was a gangster who went by the name BeeBop and lived by the code of the streets. After he realized his son was a natural born hustler, he began to give him the game as he knew it, furnishing him with all he would need to last in the cold-blooded streets of Detroit and every other hood around the nation.
Jay understood the laws that had to be applied to the streets in order to be successful, as well as the laws that had to be applied in any walk of life to make your way in America. Money and fear were powerful, a happy team is a competent team, and women could be the key to success or failure at any given moment. These were just three of the many jewels that were embedded in Jay’s head at an early age.
When Jay was twenty-two, his mother died of cancer only few years before his father would pass away from heart failure while serving a life sentence on a federal conspiracy charge. Being from a small family, all he had now was Niecey Girl and some uppity cousins he chose not to deal with. Van Dyke Down was his family, and he was godfather to Gunner’s first born and one of E’s children.
Jay continued to vent, just as he had done on the ride all the way there, and Bake just listened, not really wanting to add fuel to the fire. This trip was supposed to take their minds off things for a minute, but Jay was making it hard. Finally, he decided to speak his mind, hoping Jay would see things the same way.
“Listen, my nigga, when we find out what’s going on, we gonna do what we gotta do. This the life we chose, you feel me? I know ain’t none of us see this shit coming, but… we ain’t helping J-Rock by beating ourselves up over this shit.”
“You right.” Jay agreed.
“We still here and we gotta live, Jay. That’s why you don’t ever see me stressing about shit, dog, I know we only here for a little while anyway. We gonna get at them bitch ass niggas, but… you know, life goes on.”
Jay respected and valued Bake’s opinion enough to take it at face value. He agreed that although losing a loved one was the worst thing that could happen to a person mentally, it also made sense that they didn’t let the loss consume them. It would surely lead to bad decisions, and Jay had come way too far to slip up again.
“You right, nigga. Let’s catch some fish. And you can finish telling me about your pipe dreams of opening up a strip club,” Jay joked, trying to adjust his somber mood.
As the day went on, they began to get a little luck on the river, and Bake and Jay both caught a few fish. Bake caught two Pickles and a Catfish, and he was super excited about the Catfish. Jay caught three Pickles. On the ride home, both Bake and Jay rode with their guns in their lap. They were in Bake’s car, which was known to everyone, but they stayed cautious, knowing anyone in the crew could be a target.
When they reached Bake’s house, instead of tucking his gun under his Polo fleece, Jay kept it in his hand as he transferred all of his belongings from Bake’s car to his rental. The two said their goodbyes and Jay went on his way. He had plans to make stops at the other store locations, but for his safety, Gunner would have a couple goons arrive first to watch his back. Everyone understood that not only was Jay the target, he was also the most valuable piece of their puzzle.
His business line rang with an unknown number as he got into the car. He frequently received calls from unknown numbers on the business line, so he answered without hesitation.
“Hello Jason, this is Michelle. How are you?”
“I’m okay, how are you?” Jay answered, still thinking it was a business call.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“What can I do for you today?” Jay asked, thinking someone wanted to confirm some orders or arrival times.
“Excuse me?” Michelle asked realizing she didn’t give him enough information. She was already feeling a little jittery, and he wasn’t helping. “This is Michelle Mitchell, we met at the—”
“Oh wait, you did say Michelle, didn’t you? I’m sorry, it didn’t register until now.”
Jay’s spirit lifted at the sound of her voice. For a split second, he forgot about all his current troubles.
“I’m glad you remember me. I was second guessing myself until I dialed your number,” she admitted.
“Really? Why is that?”
“Calling feels like courting,” she explained. Three days had passed since the fundraiser, and Jay was still heavy on Michelle’s mind.
“Well, I think I not only initiated our connection, I followed it up with a second introduction.”
“You can’t take credit for that. That was all Leslie,” she teased. If only she knew how calculated Jay had been.
“I guess you got a point. So how was your day?”
“Hectic. I had to do a story on a plane crashing at the city airport during an air show, with like, no time to prepare at all.”
“Did he die?”
“No, he’s gonna live. It was just a big explosion after he crashed. I was trying to get there while the fire was still blazing, but I didn’t arrive until an hour after it was out.”
“Damn, how’d that happen?”
“Long story, somebody else’s screw up that I ended up paying for, but I managed to pull it off without make a mockery of the station.”
“Hmmph, the city airport is in my old neighborhood. I used to watch those air shows from my front porch as a kid.”
“Really? How cool.”
“It was cool.”
“That reminds me. Did you know the young guy that was shot and killed near the cemetery on McNichols and Van Dyke a few nights ago?”
Jay was completely flustered and caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer
it. But losing a friend isn’t something to hide, he thought.
“Yeah, actually I did know him. I knew him well.”
“Oh wow, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” was all Jay would offer. He wouldn’t go into any other detail about J-Rock, and for a moment, the conversation fell silent.
Michelle didn’t know what else to say, and Jay wasn’t saying anything, so she prepared to end the conversation quickly. “Well, I was just reaching out to touch bases with you and see how your day was going.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” Jay said. His mind had drifted back to J-Rock, and he was no longer a part of the conversation.
Michelle rode out the long pause, expecting some clue that he was actually interested in hearing from her again, but she got nothing.
“Okay, well nice chatting with you. Talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
As soon as Jay hung up the phone, he realized how he must have sounded to her. It was amazingly bad timing that he had met her right before J-Rock’s death. It was also compounded by the fact that she was a news reporter and actually knew about the whole incident. He almost ran a red light as he battled with himself in his mind. The words his friend, Bake, had spoken earlier that day came back to him. We ain’t helping J-Rock by beating ourselves up over this shit. We still here and we gotta live, Jay.
He knew Michelle was the kind of woman you don’t let slip away, hoping you’d run into another like her one day. She was someone who would be healthy for his overall state of mind, especially now. But the timing was ridiculously wrong. He decided to say fuck the time, and he called her back. She quickly answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Michelle. Listen, I had a few things on my mind when you called, but I’m not letting you get away that easily. I would love to have dinner with you one day soon if you’re free. Again, I know you’re not looking for nothing serious right now, but like I said, I’d love to just have dinner.”
The War Report Page 6
