Promise Kept, page 29
Zod doubted that anybody, including Tone, knew the Don secretly kept files on them all. Inside the safe, Don B. documented the lives, personalities, and potential weaknesses of everyone he proclaimed to love. There was all kinds of damning information about Don B.’s entire inner circle. Zod had even found three life insurance policies on Big Dawg artists that listed Donald Bernard as the sole beneficiary. He had initially taken the collection of this information as an indication of what people were saying about Don B. slipping deeper into his paranoia as his company faded and bank accounts dried up. But Zod came to realize that what he was really looking at was a testament to his uncle’s genius. He had protected himself from enemies both foreign and domestic, considering almost every eventuality except the one that had almost knocked him out of the game for good. It was sheer luck that he had survived the assassination attempt, but even alley cats only had so many lives, and his uncle had wasted eight of his nine.
Devil had been one of several people on Zod’s list who he had planned to pay a call on, and who had proven to be the easiest to manipulate. This was thanks, largely in part, to one of the first lessons that Don B. had taught Zod when he brought him into the fold. No one was easier to manipulate than someone who had something to hide. They’d pretty much go along with anything you said if they felt like it would bury their secrets deeper. Zod had only been fishing when he engaged Devil back at the office, but the fact that he had so willingly bit the hook, confirmed what, until then, Zod had only suspected. The fact that such a loyal dog was suddenly willing to keep secrets from its master told Zod that they were on the same page. The winds of change were suddenly picking up speed.
Reflecting, Zod realized that he wouldn’t have been able to get as close as he was to his ultimate goal had it not been for the man he had come to affectionately call his Perfect Patsy. He’d discovered him quite by accident, meeting through a dude named Vaughn that Zod copped pills off from time to time. They didn’t know him as Don B.’s nephew, only a disgruntled executive at the label who Don B. hadn’t been playing fair with. Saud saw this as an “Enemy of my enemy is my friend” type of situation, and Zod used this against him. Saud was so blinded by his hatred of Don B. that he didn’t think twice when Zod made him an offer that was too sweet to pass up. Zod had given him one job. One simple task and it would’ve been a win for all parties involved. Saud had fucked it up and now Zod was forced to alter his plans. It was time to clean house.
Zod’s ruthless nature was the main reason why Don B. had named his nephew the heir to the Big Dawg throne. He was willing to do what most wouldn’t to ensure the survival of the label, but even the Don had no idea how far Zod was willing to go in order to get what he wanted. He was truly the flesh of Don B.’s treacherous flesh. The current leadership of Big Dawg was the reason for the once mighty label’s rapid demise. They were echoes of Big Dawg’s dark past, and it was now up to General Zod to march them into a brighter future. There was only one more domino left to fall; then, the usurping of his uncle would be complete. In his mind, he rationalized his actions as not a betrayal, but a cleansing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Promise sat at a small table in the back of the Upper Westside Café. It was probably one of the tiniest tables in the place and sat too close to the bathroom for comfort. Every time someone went in or out, she was able to pick up on the scent they had left behind. It wasn’t the most ideal seat in the house, but it gave her the best vantage point of the street beyond the window. Sitting with her back to the window was a habit that she had picked up since running with Sin. Whenever they went somewhere, he refused to sit with his back to the windows or door. It didn’t matter if they were in church. Sin would receive the word of the pastor over his shoulder because he would be facing the door. This paranoia was born of a lifetime of doing dirt.
She had learned quite a bit from Sin in her short time running with him, but the most important thing was probably the content of his heart. Sin was an outlaw, and his first loyalties would always be to himself. Promise held no illusions about this, but Sin also had a big heart. She saw how hard he went, not only to take care of his crew, but anyone around him who he saw needed a little help. Promise was proof of that. He had picked her up at a time when she had been flat on her ass. Of course, Sin benefited from Promise’s services as well, but the gesture itself counted for something. Sin was the definition of a real nigga, one of those dudes who would go above and beyond for those he cared about. That was the kind of man that most chicks would be grateful to have, and he had offered himself to her, only to be rejected multiple times. What was wrong with her?
That was a question that she already knew the answer to. The line she had been running on him about not wanting to mix business and pleasure had been half-true. Promise fumbled every opportunity ever presented to her and was hesitant to do anything to affect the flow and Sin’s rhythm. Not even from the money aspect, just from finally being able to find a dude who was down for her. Like really down to see her win! The moment she laid down with Sin, it would all be shot to hell. Not because she didn’t believe they could be good for each other, but because she doubted she could ever give herself to him completely. She would always have one foot in and one foot out of their relationship, while certain doors to her past remained open.
Her cell phone buzzed on the table. She looked to the caller ID expectantly, but that quickly died away when she saw that it was only Mouse calling. She decided to ignore the call. Mouse would likely ask where she was, which would lead to her having to explain herself. It was a conversation Promise didn’t feel like having right then. Staring down into the bottom of her second cup of green tea, she heard her mother’s words in her head: “The definition of insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results.” Was she insane? Had to be if she kept setting herself up for the bullshit.
The bathroom door swung open. A chubby young man with thick glasses and starter-kit dreadlocks came out adjusting his pants. The smell he left in his wake told Promise that he had obviously eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him. That was all the motivation Promise needed to abandon her foolish experiment. Lightning had struck twice, and she was a fool to think that it would hit for a third time. She threw her sunglasses back on, collected her purse and her phone, and stood to leave. She was upset, but more at herself for showing up than the fact that she had been stood up. The universe was sending her yet another sign, and this time, she would take heed.
Her cell phone rang. It was Mouse again. She had just decided to answer when the bell above the café door jingled, announcing someone had just come in. When she looked up and their eyes met, she forgot about her phone, Mouse, and everything else. The only thing that existed in that moment was him.
Asher made his way into Manhattan from the Bronx. He was feeling pretty good about himself, all things considered. This changed when he received a call from Cal. Asher almost crashed his Benz when Cal told him that he was back in New Jersey. Apparently, something had happened with his sister, and he’d hopped on a plane back to Newark. Cal didn’t go into detail about what had brought him back, but he sounded pretty upset. If Zul or any of his boys spotted Cal, Asher would be fucked with a capital F. He told Cal not to do anything rash until they had a chance to talk. They made arrangements to meet at one of their trap spots, where Asher planned to lay everything that had happened on the table to his friend. By that point, he no longer had much of a choice. He couldn’t keep him in the dark any longer and risk him getting caught slipping. Asher didn’t want that on his spirit.
Cal popping back up unexpectedly complicated things, and besides that, he knew he would have to still deal with the fallout from what he and Atilla had done to Milk and Fangs. Things were still quiet on the streets, but they wouldn’t be for long. The shit was going to hit the fan, but before that happened, Asher needed to make sure he had all his ducks in a row. This meant getting everyone he cared about out of harm’s way until he figured out how to deal with Zul.
His first priority was his mom. He needed her not just out of the house, but out of Newark. At least until he got everything sorted out. Normally, getting Linda to take days off from work would’ve been like pulling teeth, but luckily, she had a birthday coming up, and he was able to use that to his advantage. As an early gift, he surprised her with three tickets for an all-expenses-paid cruise of the Southern Caribbean for her and two of her closest friends. Because of the history Zul shared with Asher’s mother, Asher doubted Zul would make good on his threat to hurt her. He’d likely only said it to scare Asher because Zul knew his old bird was the only person in this world that he truly loved. Zul was a nut, but he was also honorable when it came to such things. Still, Asher wasn’t about to take any chances. Linda would spend the next eight days drinking herself silly and soaking up sun in tropical paradises, while Asher tried to clean up the mess he had made in Newark.
By the time Asher made it to his destination in New York, he was already thirty minutes late. Of course, he couldn’t find any parking on the west side, so he took a chance and left his Benz parked near a hydrant. If he happened to get a ticket, he would just eat it. The hundred and something dollars the city of New York would hit him for would be well worth it if things worked out as he planned.
Asher paused just outside the café, giving himself the once over in the window’s reflection. He had ditched the hoodie and smoothed out the wrinkles in the button-up he wore beneath as best he could. He popped a fresh piece of gum in his mouth before stepping inside the café. The patrons consisted of mostly older white folks and a few college-aged looking kids on their laptops. He scanned the faces, yet none of them looked familiar. He did, however, lay his eyes on a beautiful blond who was standing near a table in the back peering at him from behind a pair of dark glasses. She was checking him out, and under different circumstances, Asher would’ve entertained her, but he wasn’t there for that. He was focused on his mission. He glanced at his watch again. He was forty minutes late and knew she had probably tired of waiting for him. He couldn’t say that he blamed her. He was disappointed, but he understood. This wasn’t the first time he had left her dangling in the breeze, but apparently it would be the last. Asher was about to turn and leave when he heard someone speak his name.
“Really, Asher?”
He turned and found the blond glaring at him, arms folded and lips twisted. Asher was confused at first as he was sure he didn’t know her, but then he took a closer look and realized he did! “Promise?” He didn’t recognize her in the blond wig and draped in designer. She looked like a totally different person than the girl who used to watch him from afar back in Newark, begging for his affections. No, this wasn’t his Broken Promise, but a well-kept young stallion.
“And who else would be fool enough to sit around and wait for your ass for nearly an hour?” Promise asked.
“My fault, I just . . . I didn’t recognize you in all this.” Asher motioned toward her disguise. “You look different.”
“I am different.” Promise flipped her wig confidently. She’d actually forgotten that she was still wearing the getup, but seeing his reaction to the image Sin had curated made her feel good. It felt like, for the first time since they’d known each other, he was actually seeing her.
“Miss, are you still using that table?” one of the baristas asked Promise. She had a spray bottle and some rags with her and was prepared to wipe the table down for the next guests.
“Yeah, we’re going to hold onto it for a few minutes more,” Asher answered for her. After dismissing the barista, Asher walked Promise back to the table, watching her hips sway all the way. This was definitely not the Promise he knew. Something had changed in her, and he liked it. She reached for her chair, but he beat her to the punch and pulled it out for her. Promise smiled in thanks before taking the seat. Asher flopped in the wooden chair opposite her.
“You know I was sixty seconds from saying fuck you and leaving, right?” Promise asked from across the table.
“Then I’m glad I made it here in fifty-nine,” Asher capped. “Blame it on my hectic schedule and not my heart.”
“I see you’re still the same old Asher, out here chasing things beyond your reach.” Promise shook her head.
“See, that’s where you got me fucked up. You act like you wasn’t listening when I told you that I was up. I done caught everything I ever chased except you,” Asher said seriously.
“Cut the bullshit, Asher.”
“Nah, this real shit, and it’s long overdue. How long we gonna keep acting like we ain’t meant for each other?” Asher asked seriously, tiring of the games he had been playing back and forth with Promise since they’d known each other. With the way his life was currently set up, he knew it could end forty years from then as easily as it could end in forty seconds. He was on the clock, and this is what pushed him to place all his cards on the table at once.
“For as long as it takes you to realize I ain’t built to be no side bitch,” Promise countered. She too was ready to push her chips in.
Asher didn’t answer right away. He studied Promise, trying to get a read on her behind the designer shades and tightly crossed legs. “Would it be too cliché if I told you that it was complicated?”
Promise sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes as if to say “cut the bullshit.”
“I’m only messing with you, Promise. Damn, what happened to that sense of humor I loved so much about you?”
“You killed it, along with my spirit.”
“C’mon, Promise. You still on that? How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry?” Asher asked.
“As many times as I need you to. At least, if you were serious about all that shit you’ve been kicking to me since we got back in contact,” Promise challenged.
This was the second time she’d seen Asher since moving to New York, but they’d been speaking and texting quite a bit since the night he gave her his number. Promise didn’t reach out right away, though she desperately wanted to. She had to let him stew for a bit so as not to come off as too thirsty. She’d opened up with a simple “You know I still can’t stand your ass” text. To which he replied: “Allow me the opportunity to change your mind.” They went on like that for a while before she finally broke down and accepted his call. He’d been blowing her up, but she wasn’t ready just yet. Their first conversation was filled with more awkward silence than actual words, but she eventually opened up. Promise did most of the talking, while Asher patiently listened. She told him about her life in New York, and what she had been up to. She didn’t say too much about her business with Sin, but she did share with him her adventures on Keisha’s couch and the events leading up to her untimely eviction. Asher seemed especially interested in Vaughn and his pill business. When Promise questioned him about it, Asher dismissed it as just an opportunity to make a few dollars. Vaughn was a dealer, and Asher was a supplier. Promise shut that idea down. She wanted nothing to do with Vaughn’s foolishness, and besides that, he already had a mystery supplier. Asher didn’t press her further with questions that he already knew the answers to.
“Promise, I can tell you until I’m blue in the face that I’m a changed man, but the only way for me to make you a believer is if you let me show you,” Asher said.
“And how are you supposed to do that?”
“Come away with me. I’m planning on taking a trip to the West Coast on business, but we can make it about pleasure. Like a mini-vacation.”
“Asher, I got too much going on right now to pick up and run off to California with you. Besides that, if I don’t want anything to do with your drug business on the East Coast what makes you think I’ll have a change of heart getting caught up on the West Coast?”
“Nah, it ain’t that type of party. My business in California has nothing to do with drugs. It’s totally legit. Well, for the most part. Think about it. Me and you soaking up that California sun. Eating the best food and smoking the best grass. It’ll be a vibe. We can even hit up Disneyland.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you remembered that.” Promise chuckled. This was something she had told Asher when they were still running around Newark. Promise had always wanted to go to Disneyland. It was one of the places her dad was supposed to take her when he sent for her and her mother to move them to the West Coast. Yet another promise that wasn’t kept. That had been the story of her life.
“Of course I remember!” Asher continued. “I know it might not have seemed like it back then, but whenever you talked, I listened and digested every word. You taught me a lot, believe it or not.”
“Like what?” she wanted to know.
“For one thing, you taught me how to dream,” Asher admitted. “You were the one person from our hood who saw the world as bigger than those run-down blocks we were killing each other over. In a way, I have you to thank for setting my sights west and the amazing thing I’m building out there.”
“And what exactly is that?” Promise asked suspiciously.
“Allow me to show you.” Asher held out his hand.
