Promise Kept, page 19
Asher not only heard but felt Atilla’s statement. Any reservations he may have previously had about how useful the man could be to him were erased. Atilla was a weapon of mass destruction, of which Asher now had his finger on the button. Asher paused for dramatic effect before speaking. “Before I share this with you, I gotta know you can be cool about it. At this stage of the game, the only way to win is to be able to compartmentalize our personal feelings when it’s time to stand on business. Can I trust you to see the bigger picture?”
“Asher, you can’t count on me to do nothing but react accordingly to whatever it is you’re playing cat and mouse with me over,” Atilla said seriously.
Asher could tell, by the way Atilla’s brows furrowed, that he was boiling to hear whatever it was that he was about to reveal. Asher wouldn’t have had it any other way. Atilla’s volatile nature would be the glue that bound him to Asher, which is what he had counted on before inviting him to take the ride. “If we being honest? Us coming over here wasn’t really about no bitches, but some bitch-ass niggas. You might’ve been onto something with that rumor we spoke about. The one where Ab’s death was more than a random overdose. I just need to look in this nigga’s eyes before I can believe the things I’m hearing.”
“A homegrown hit?” Atilla said with disgust. He was already going through his mental Rolodex of men who could’ve made Ab comfortable enough to let them rock him to sleep like that. “Since we’re being honest and all, let me lay something out for you. I knew from the minute that I asked you about what happened to Ab that you knew more than you let on. I just needed to hear you say it, so I could decide whether to deal with you with an open hand or a closed fist.” He held up one of his scarred knuckles for emphasis.
“What? You don’t trust me?” Asher asked, half-joking.
“This ain’t got nothing to do with me trusting you. This is about me seeing you,” Atilla said with a wink.
Asher didn’t have to read too deep in between the lines to get his meaning. Apparently, Atilla was sharper than Asher had given him credit for. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it was unexpected. This revelation definitely gave Asher something to consider when he next moved that piece on the board. There were no more questions for the rest of the ride. Atilla had sent his message, and Asher had received it. Atilla would be a willing companion on his slow walk into hell, so long as he could eat his fill of souls along the way. And Asher planned to shove lives down his throat until he was good and bloated.
The minute Asher pulled up to the small bar Shelly had directed him to, he immediately got a bad feeling. It was getting late, so by then dudes were out front parking lot pimping, trying to catch the stray girls who hadn’t made enough money during their shifts to turn down any side offers of pay for play. Asher turned a few heads when he and Atilla slow-coasted by the spot in his pretty Benz with the New Jersey plates. Mostly from dudes trying to figure out if he was a lick or a player. The wolves were circling, but Asher was no sheep.
He parked the car a block and a half from the spot, and he and Atilla walked back. He tried calling Saud again, just to check his temperature, but still no response. He had spotted Saud’s Cutlass parked on a side street, so he was certain that he was there. Everything in Asher’s gut told him to turn around and go back to Jersey, but this was a time-sensitive matter. He needed to look into Saud’s eyes before deciding whether or not to turn Atilla loose on him.
“I don’t like this shit,” Atilla said as if he was reading Asher’s mind.
“We in and out, bruh,” Asher assured him.
“I still think you were tripping about leaving the gun in the car,” Atilla said. He didn’t like being that far from home unarmed.
Asher didn’t respond. He skipped the line and went straight to the door where he whispered something to the doorman before slipping him $200. The doorman let them in with no hassle like they were VIPs. They slipped inside and found themselves a position at the bar, where their backs were protected by the wall and they had a clear view of the entire joint. Asher scanned the crowd but couldn’t seem to pick Saud out. He ordered two drinks, a Corona for himself and Henny with ice for Atilla. Atilla threw his glass back as if it were a shot, while Asher sipped his beer and studied the different faces. The bar/strip club was filled to near compacity, which was odd considering Asher wasn’t too familiar with the rapper who was advertised on the marquee. He better understood when his eyes drifted to the private booth sitting in the shadow of the DJ. Sitting with the unknown rapper was a man who was almost as infamous as the diamond-flooded Rottweiler chain swinging from his neck.
His first and only time meeting the notorious Don B. had been at the Robert Treat in Newark. This was back when Asher had been Ab’s unofficial protégé, shadowing him while he was trying to figure out how to turn drug money into rap money. He had a meeting with Don B. to pitch a potential artist to him, a local kid named Keys. Asher knew from that first and only meeting that he didn’t care for the New Yorker. Don B. was brash, arrogant, and disrespectful, but he was also well-connected, which is why Ab was trying so hard to plug in with him. Don B. had peacocked through their city that night like he owned it, and not everyone was happy with it. Some had been so vocal in their displeasure of Don B. being in the hood that, at one point, Asher feared the night would take a turn toward violence. Thanks to Ab, it hadn’t.
Ab stepped in and negotiated an uneasy truce between their crew and Don B.’s entourage. That was Ab for you. He could talk the most volatile men off the ledge, and he often had in his years of being B-Stone’s second in command. He had always been the more diplomatic one of their crew. That was Ab’s thing. He’d rather make a dollar than war. There was no telling who Ab could’ve gone on to become if given the opportunity to have a longer run in the game. But Asher didn’t have time to wait for Ab to recognize his greatness when he was already so familiar with his own.
Asher had continued watching Don B. as he spoke a few last words with some folks in the section, gathered his entourage, and prepared to leave. Asher considered approaching him to try and see if he could pick up where Ab had left off. Technically, Don B. was an enemy of the state, but Asher was about a dollar, not gang politics. In the end, he decided against it. There was no question that, had he been able to cut into Don B., the record executive could’ve opened doors to Asher that would’ve taken his new business venture to new heights. But at what cost? From the stories Asher had heard, he was just as likely to catch a bullet standing too close to Don B. as he was a break.
Reluctantly, Asher let that ship sail and turned his attention back to the current order of business, which was Saud. There was still no sign of him, and Asher was beginning to think that Shelly had fed him bad information. She and Asher were cool, but Shelly was more about a dollar than loyalty. It wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea that maybe Shelly had woken Saud up to Asher’s bullshit and had directed him to the bar as part of a trap. The more Asher thought on it, the less comfortable he felt. He had just opened his mouth to tell Atilla that he was calling the whole thing off and that they were leaving, when he spotted someone crossing the room that derailed his train of thought. The club was dark, and she had grown her hair out and put on some weight, but she had a face that he would never forget. How could he when he dreamed of that face more often than not since the night she had fled from his life?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Promise checked her phone to see how long she had been sitting in the dressing room. It had only been about a half-hour or so, but it felt like far longer than that. She had planned on waiting outside for her ride to show up, but to get there would require her going back out on the floor, and the prospect had given her anxiety. It would mean having to face Larry again, and after the way she had styled on him, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have some choice words for her. She had gone big on Larry, but he deserved it. There was no way she was going to keep allowing him to talk crazy to her like she was one of his whores. For as much as she valued her job at Dirty Wine, she valued her self-respect more. Fuck Larry and his country ass! If she never saw him again, it would be too soon. Larry, she was sure she could deal with, if necessary, but it was the prospect of possibly crossing paths with Don B. again that gave her pause. What if he had recognized her from that night in Newark and decided to play a game of connect the dots? If the wrong people found out that she was now living in New York, it could make an already complicated life downright dangerous.
Several of the girls had just come off the floor and gone into the dressing room. Among them was Lita. She was stuffing singles inside a Crown Royal bag. When she noticed Promise standing there, she flashed her a dirty look and shook her bag. It was stuffed, but it was chump change compared to what Promise had made just off Sincere’s group. Promise shook her head and chuckled. It was time for her to get out of there before she did something crazy, yet deserving.
Promise kept her head down when she came out of the dressing room and began making her way across the floor. She spared a glance at the area where the rappers had been sitting and found that the group had thinned out. She didn’t see Don B., thankfully. He was either gone or in the back crossing the line with one of the girls. Didn’t matter to her, so long as she didn’t run into him again. Larry was at the bar, barking instructions at Big Sally. His back was to her, so he didn’t notice her, but Odell did. His thick lips pulled back into a grin as if he had a secret that he couldn’t wait to tell. Odell had always been nice to her, but his presence still creeped her out, and she was happy that she wouldn’t have to see him again.
She moved through the crowd in a blur. Over the loud music, she thought she heard Sin calling her name. Promise didn’t bother to look back or stop. She wasn’t in the headspace to deal with him right then. She was just focused on getting the hell out of Dirty Wine. Promise breathed a sigh of relief when she pushed through the side door and the cool night wind washed over her face. She couldn’t remember a time since she had been living in that cursed city that she had been so happy to smell its stale air. Promise huddled in the shadows, wishing that her ride would hurry up. The last thing she needed was to bump into anyone else she knew. No sooner than she had the thought, she heard something that would shift her night from bad to worse.
For a long while, Promise just stood there, gawking. A million things to say ran through her mind, but she was too stunned to speak. There was a time when her heart would’ve been aflutter at the sight of him. She would find herself flushed to the point where she would sometimes get dizzy, but that night, there were no butterflies. Back then she had been a silly girl in love, but what she was feeling at that moment wasn’t love. It was fear.
“What’s up, Promise? You gonna keep standing there staring at me like I’m Jack the Ripper or show ya boy some love?” Asher moved in for a hug, but Promise backed away. It occurred to him that she was afraid of him. “Damn, it’s like that?” His eyes flashed genuine hurt.
“What are you doing here, Asher?” Promised asked in a not-so-friendly tone.
“I was supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t think they’re gonna show,” Asher told her.
“One of your bitches stood you up?” Promised asked smugly.
“Nah, it wasn’t a female I was supposed to meet. I was getting with one of the homies about some bread. That’s the only thing that would’ve brought me to this shit hole,” Asher said, and regretted it when he saw the look on Promise’s face. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t know you danced here.”
“I don’t. I’m a waitress. Well, I was,” Promise corrected herself. “I quit tonight.”
“Good on your part. A girl like you ain’t got no business in a place like this.” Asher motioned at the bar. “Shit is a far cry from the dreams you used to tell me about, going to college and all that. What happened?”
“You happened!” Promise said emotionally. “Why are you standing here trying to pretend that my life in New Jersey wasn’t burned down and it wasn’t your ass who lit the match?”
“Promise, I heard what B-Stone tried to do to you, and I’m sorry it happened. That’s on my mother. But I wasn’t the one who hurt you. You can’t put that on me!” Asher argued.
“Can’t I? It was you who brought me to that party! You who strung me along and had me caught up in that twisted-ass love triangle with your crazy girlfriend Ruby, and it was you who looked the other way while your people were trying to have me and Mouse killed for defending ourselves when your boss tried to rape me!” Promise spat. “I have nightmares about it almost every night. Did you know that? I can still smell the stink from him when he had me pinned down and was forcing himself inside me. And where were you while all this was happening?”
Asher didn’t respond.
“Oh, let me remind you. While B-Stone was taking something from me that I wanted nothing more than to give you willingly, you were in the next room trying to make sure your other bitch was okay.” Reliving the memory of that night caused the tears to flow down Promise’s cheeks in rivers.
“I’m so sorry,” Asher said sincerely. This was the first time he had ever heard the details of what had gone on that night, and it was tearing him apart inside. He truly did care for Promise, but back then, he had been trying to have his cake and eat it too. His greed had cost not only him, but her as well. “If I had it to do all over again—”
“But you don’t,” Promise cut him off. “To be honest with you, Asher, I can’t even be mad. I brought this on myself. I was a stupid girl in love with a nigga who never saw me as anything but another notch on his belt. Because of me being naive, I was defiled in ways that you can’t even imagine. It wasn’t only my life that was ruined that night, but Mouse’s too. My poor sweet friend who would never hurt a fly now has to live with the fact that she killed a man for the rest of her days. She didn’t mean to kill him, this much I’m sure of. I can only imagine what was going through her mind when she came in and found B-Stone on top of me. She just reacted when she hit him with that lamp. She was just trying to protect me.”
“Lamp?” Asher asked.
“Yeah, she clocked him over the head to get him off me.”
“Promise, B-Stone didn’t die from the head injury. Sure, it fucked him up, but according to the police, B-Stone bled out from his throat being slit!” The pieces had now all fallen into place, and Asher had the whole story. His suspicions had been right, and Promise was innocent of the murder.
“What are you saying?” Promise asked, sure she had heard him wrong.
“I’m saying that you can finally stop running.”
Promise couldn’t believe it. The whole time she and Mouse had been fugitives, they had been under the assumption that the police, as well as the homies, were after them for B-Stone’s murder. She couldn’t count the number of sleepless nights she and Mouse had spent stressing over what they thought they had done in the hotel room. From what Asher was telling her, that wasn’t the case. But if Mouse hadn’t killed B-Stone, who had?
“You hear what I said?” Asher snapped her out of her shock. “The police can’t put this on you, Promise. You can come home!”
Home . . . the word exploded in Promise’s head. She hadn’t had a place that she could truly call home since she had been living with her aunt Dell. That said a lot. Going back to Adell’s house was out of the question, but she could finally go back to New Jersey and get out of the unfamiliar city. Maybe she could even go back to school and stay in a dorm like a normal teenager, instead of crashing on Keisha’s raggedy couch. For a second, she allowed herself to be hopeful, but then reality came crashing back. “I can’t go back to Jersey, Asher.”
“Why the hell not? I just told you that the police can’t pin this on you.”
“It’s not the police that I’m worried about. Word on the street is that me and Mouse were the last ones seen leaving that room before they found B-Stone’s body. They might not be able to prove in a court of law that we killed him, but the courts have no say so in the streets. I doubt that the homies would welcome me and Mouse back with open arms. Ab would have us killed the moment we set foot on that side of the Hudson.”
“That’s the best part. Ab is gone, and I’m running the neighborhood now. I can make sure you’re safe,” Asher assured her.
“Like you did at the hotel?” Promise snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks.” She tried to walk off, but Asher grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” She looked at his hand as if it was a snake that had just bitten her.
“Trying to keep from making the same mistake twice,” Asher said sincerely. “I don’t regret too many things I’ve done in my life, but letting you slip away when I should’ve been holding onto you for dear life is something that has haunted me for a very long time. When I should’ve been there for you, I wasn’t and I’m gonna have to live with that. Things are different now. I’m different.”
“I’ve heard all this shit before,” Promise said with a roll of her eyes.
“I know, which is why I want you to let me show you, instead of telling you,” Asher countered. “The same corners I used to sling work on for Ab and B-Stone now belong to me. I’m finally in a position to where I can set you up with the life that you deserve.”
When Promise looked up at Asher, she was surprised to find tears dancing in the corners of her eyes. There were only three things Promise had ever prayed for in life. To have her mother back, to know her father, and for Asher to love her. Since the first time she had laid eyes on Asher, she had never seen any man but him. She so desperately wanted to believe him. There was nothing that would’ve made her happier than throwing herself into his arms and letting him whisk her away, but that was the old, naive Promise. The girl who had been stupid enough to enter a room full of thirsty gangsters and not pay attention to where she set her drink. That was the Promise that Asher may have remembered, but it was no longer who she was. “I can’t trust you not to hurt me again. And this time, I may lose my life instead of my virtue.”
