Eviction Notice, page 3
“It’s cool,” a soft voice called from the shadows of a doorway. “I can speak for myself.” The darkness peeled back and out stepped a youthful-looking man dressed in black fatigue pants and a black thermal shirt. His long, thick hair was pulled back and stuffed under a black hair net. Hanging from his back pocket was a red bandanna, which fluttered in the warm breeze. When he cracked his perfectly bowed lips to take a pull of the cigarette he was smoking, the streetlights kissed his diamond and gold teeth.
“I hear you talking, li’l brother.” The green-eyed man tried handing him his gun, but the young boy declined, opting for the two-foot knife that he pulled from the leg of his pants.
“Don’t hear me, my nigga, watch me,” the youngster said and knelt in front of Victor, who was trembling. The youngster moved close, causing Victor to flinch. “Close your eyes, and be still.” He placed his hand on Victor’s trembling shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll make sure you go quickly.” In a sharp movement he pushed the knife through Victor’s rib cage and pierced his heart. As promised, Victor never felt a thing.
The green-eyed man clapped his hands and smiled proudly. “Well done, superstar!” he said sarcastically.
“Keep your praises, homie, because I don’t want ’em or need ’em. This li’l thing we got going on here is a temporary arrangement and as soon as the opportunity presents itself I’m outta here, so don’t twisted like we the best of friends. I ain’t my brother.” The youngster spat and walked off.
The dude with the two braids placed his hand on the green-eyed man’s shoulder. “Don’t stress, my nigga.”
The green-eyed man raised his eyebrow. “Stress? I’m not stressed, just a little confused. Seeing how I interrupted his trip to the gas chamber, at the very least you’d think he’d show some gratitude.”
“I’ll talk to him, K.”
“You might want to. You’re one of my oldest comrades, so you should know better than anyone else how much loyalty means to me,” the green-eyed man said and began walking down the alley. “Get at ya li’l brother, Justice. The war is on and it’s only two sides, ours or theirs. Anything that ain’t a Dawg is in the way,” he reminded him before disappearing.
* * *
Detective Brown sat behind the wheel of his brown Buick, sipping a cup of coffee. The cigarette in the ashtray had almost burned itself all the way to the butt, but he hardly noticed as his attention was on the papers spread across his lap. There was a series of reports about suspected drug-related executions from every city along the New Jersey Turnpike, but he targeted the especially brutal ones. His brain swirled, trying to find the connection, if any, between the killings.
“Boo!” someone screamed from the passenger-side window, scaring Detective Brown and causing him to spill his coffee on the reports. Leaning in the window, laughing, was his partner, Detective Alvarez.
“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Detective Brown snapped, looking over his ruined reports.
“My fault, I didn’t know you were working on a case.” Alvarez slid into the car and began helping Brown salvage what he could from the pile. He looked at one of the reports and saw that it was from an old case they had worked together. It had to do with a teacher who had molested the daughter of a man connected to the underworld. When they found the teacher, his eyes had been removed from his head and delivered to his parents wrapped in a kiddie-porn magazine. It was one of the murders they had been trying to pin on Animal back when they had been building a case against him and his crew. “Dude, this case has been cold for years.”
“I know,” Detective Brown said, dabbing the papers with a wad of napkins.
Alvarez sighed. “Brown, when are you gonna stop chasing ghosts?”
“When somebody rips that diamond grille out of his mouth and drops it on my desk!” Brown barked.
“Calm the fuck down, I ain’t your enemy, bro,” Alvarez shot back.
“I’m sorry, J, but I’m still fucked up about all this. We had him, and somebody helps the bastard escape!”
The newspapers called him the Rock Star Serial Killer, but Brown called him trash, and the day he watched a judge convict Animal of his crimes had been one of the happiest of his life, next to the birth of his children. Knowing that Animal was going to die with a needle in his arm made all the shit Brown had to endure over the years worth it, but then the unthinkable happened. As it turned out, there was someone who had a bigger hard-on for Animal than the detectives. The abduction ended with Detective Brown spending three weeks in the hospital and Animal vanishing from the face of the planet. He was on the most-wanted list with several law enforcement agencies, but it had been two years and he was still missing.
“Brown, they got the drop on us and there was nothing we could do about it. Look at it like this: Animal had a lot of enemies and for all we know that could’ve been somebody he pissed off that came for his ass. Let’s just be thankful that we’re still alive to argue about it. Let it go.”
“You’re right, J, I am too wound up about it, but the way it played out between us and them has just never sat right with me. I’d love to know that little shit bird was maggot food by now, but my gut doesn’t say so.” He picked up a newspaper clipping that had been among the reports and placed it on the car’s heater to dry. It was an article about the execution of two police officers in Puerto Rico.
CHAPTER 4
After what seemed like a wave of never-ending rain, the sun had finally decided to show its face. It was only eight A.M. and the weather was already a balmy eighty degrees in New York City. The dry voice broadcasting over the radio on 1010 WINS warned that there would be a heat advisory for that day and people should stay in doors for safety reasons. This might’ve applied to the squares but it meant nothing to those forced to get it how they lived.
Happy’s two-hundred-plus-pound frame sat wedged behind the wheel of his Dodge Magnum; he was sipping McDonald’s Sweet Tea from a large Styrofoam cup and eating a jumbo bag of pork skins. Even with the air conditioner on full blast he still found himself sweating. The doctor had diagnosed him with high blood pressure due to his recent weight gain and advised him to start taking better care of himself, but it was a task. Happy had a thing for fried foods, fresh pussy, and money. It was the latter that had him out and about so early in the morning.
For the fifth time in as many minutes Happy looked down at his diamond-encrusted watch, then to the window of the check-cashing spot he was parked across the street from. “What the fuck is taking this bitch so long?” he asked no one in particular.
“I hope she ain’t do no stupid shit, you know the bitch is slow,” said Levi, who had been sitting in the passenger seat. He’d been so quiet the whole time that Happy had almost forgotten he was in the car. Levi was good at making people forget he was in the room. He took a deep pull from his Newport, killing it and tossing the butt out the window. “It’d be just our luck if she doesn’t pop and we miss out on this cheese.”
“Man, why you always gotta think negatively?” Happy snapped at Levi. Levi was a true pessimist and rarely had anything good to say.
“Why you getting mad at me?” Levi asked, adjusting his custom Prada glasses. They were black with chrome frames and that bulged out a little because of the one-carat diamonds on the ends. It was rumored that the odd-looking glasses were fitted with small spy-cams that Levi would use to secretly tape women, but he would neither confirm nor deny this rumor. “Just kick back, son. It ain’t been that long.”
“Dumb bitch.” Happy huffed and took another swing of his tea.
“Speaking of dumb bitches”—Levi lit another cigarette—“did I tell you what happened the other night with that one bitch from the strip club?”
“Which one?” Happy raised an interested eyebrow.
“You know the one, the big-butt dark-skinned chick I was drinking with the other night.”
“Oh, you mean your new wife?” Happy joked.
“Fuck outta here,” Levi said defensively.
“Man, you was up on her so close that at one point I thought you were gonna start tonguing her down.”
“C’mon, son, you know better than that. And don’t start acting like you ain’t cuff master. It’s been a few times when I wanted to go in on something you had and you wouldn’t give me the green light,” Levi accused.
“Man, them must’ve been my personals because you know ain’t a whore in the world that I wouldn’t share with my brother.” Happy smiled.
“Whatever, nigga.” Levi exhaled the cigarette smoke. “Like I was saying, after the spot closed, me and shorty slid back to the telly and shit. We negotiated everything in the club so it wasn’t no misunderstanding. A’ight, so I roll an L and me and shorty have a few drinks, before she stripped down and got real nasty. Shorty is popping herself, giving that porno head and the whole nine.”
“Word? Did she spit on ya dick, too?” Happy asked excitedly.
“The spit and everything else. So just when I’m hard as a rock and ready to fuck, this bitch looks at the time and stops.”
“Oh hell nah!”
“Word to everything, my nigga. Put the breaks on my whole wave. Now I’m confused because I know she said a buck-fifty at the club and I paid her before we left, so off the back I know some funny shit was going on. You know what this bitch had the nerve to tell me?” Levi gave a dramatic pause. “That she meant it was a buck-fifty per hour.”
“Oh hell nah.” Happy laughed, slapping his meaty palm against the dashboard. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and he was wheezing so badly that he had to take two hits off his asthma pump. “Man, that’s some bogus shit. So you just let the bitch beat you outta your scratch?”
Levi looked at Happy as if he should know better. “Never that. I told the bitch to hang loose while I ran downstairs to use the ATM. Not only did I leave that bitch stranded in the Bronx, but I stole her pocketbook on my way out.”
Happy shook his head. “Youz a stone cold dude.”
“Nah, the illest part about it is that I taped the bitch giving me head. As soon as I got back to the crib I uploaded her shit to my Web site. I got over fifty thousand hits off that dick-sucking whore.” Levi grinned wickedly. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before a bitch can put one over on Levi Brown!”
“Church.” Happy gave Levi dap. The smile on Happy’s face melted away when he spotted the blue-and-white patrol car in his rearview mirror. They rode by slowly, looking into the car, and kept going. Happy breathed a sigh of relief until the patrol car got to the light and made a U-turn, pulling to a stop right in front of the check-cashing spot and going inside. By the time they came out with the girl Happy had sent in, he was ten blocks away.
* * *
“Damn,” Happy cursed as his truck crept through traffic.
“You think they made us?” Levi asked nervously.
“I doubt it; we could’ve been any two niggaz on that block. I’m just worried about shorty running her mouth.”
“How long have you known her?” Levi asked.
“’Bout fifteen years or so. She’s my baby mama’s oldest daughter.”
Levi looked at him in shock. “Hap, you sent your stepdaughter in there to pull a lick?”
“She ain’t no kin to me by blood. Besides, I don’t recall putting no gun to her head; she came to me wanting to get down. Before me she was selling pussy to them broke-ass niggaz uptown, so if you look at it I was doing her a favor,” Happy reasoned.
Levi shook his head sadly and went back to looking for police on their tail. A chick that was crossing in front of the truck caught his attention. She had a mean shape and moved like a stallion, turning the heads of damn near everyone she passed. Her swag was on a thousand, and from all the designer bags she was carrying, Levi knew she was holding. “Hap, pull up on this bitch so I can holla.”
CHAPTER 5
Francine, known to her friends as Frankie, pushed open the exit doors of Macy’s and stepped out into the warm morning air. She was dressed in a loose-fitting business suit and lightweight Burberry raincoat that matched her heels and sunglasses. She had shopping bags in both hands, which made her stumble a bit, but she still made good time getting as far away from Macy’s as she could. She was thinking about hopping a cab, but with the way traffic was she would probably make better time on the subway. After burning down the stores on Thirty-fourth Street all morning, she was anxious to get out of Dodge.
Frankie was a jack-of-all-trades, but her most lucrative source of income was boosting. It was a skill she had acquired at a young age from her now-estranged father. The old con would take Frankie to all the high-end fashion stores and let her explore all the aisles while he plied his trade. Frankie loved the outings and developed an early love for fashion thanks to her father, but not until she was older would she come to realize his motives for taking her. Security in the stores was less likely to watch a dad out shopping with his kid, so Frankie made the perfect front while he relieved them of their goods.
The art of theft was the only thing Frankie’s father had ever given her, and she cherished and perfected her gift. Frankie could make it in and out of a clothing store in less than ninety seconds with hundreds of dollars’ worth of merchandise without anyone even realizing she had been there. She was a master thief and it made her very popular in her hood. If you wanted the latest in designer wear, you went to Frankie to fill your order; there was nothing she couldn’t steal. She had even pulled off a few armed robberies when the price was right, but there was less risk and less time in boosting so she mainly kept it to that.
A police car bent the corner, causing Frankie to freeze. A lump formed in her throat when the officer on the passenger side looked up at her and studied her for a moment. A part of her wanted to bolt, but she played it cool and just smiled. The officer smiled, then tapped his partner and said something. From the way both of the men smiled, she could only imagine what kind of chauvinistic statement had passed between them. The driver’s attention was drawn to the squawking police radio and after listening for a few seconds they threw on their lights and sped off.
“Jesus,” Frankie said, sighing when she finally released the breath she was holding. Clutching her bag a little tighter, she made hurried steps toward the train station. Just as Frankie neared her destination she spotted an SUV slowing down to keep in step with her.
“Hey, baby, you need some help carrying those bags?” one of the vehicle’s occupants called to her. Frankie kept walking as if she didn’t hear him. “Come on, sweetie, don’t act like that. I don’t bite unless you want me to.” Seeing that Frankie still wasn’t receptive to his advances, he switched his tone. “Well fuck you then, bitch!”
Not able to stomach the disrespect, Frankie spun on him angrily. “Ya mama’s a bitch, muthafucka!” she spat. She was looking for a bottle or something to throw at the SUV when she realized that she knew the vehicle and the young man hanging out the window disrespecting her. “Levi?”
Levi’s squinted from behind his glasses. “Frankie, is that you? Oh shit. Hap, that’s Frankie.”
Happy leaned across Levi and looked out the window. “Damn, that is Frankie. What’s up, li’l mama?”
“Ain’t nothing. Where y’all headed?” Frankie approached the vehicle.
“Shit, we about to roll uptown. Where are you coming from?” Levi asked, looking at all the bags. “As a matter of fact, I already know. What you got, ma?”
“If y’all give me a ride uptown I’ll let y’all get first dibs,” she offered.
“Shit, hop in.” Happy popped the locks. Frankie tossed her bags in the backseat and climbed in beside them. “Man, I didn’t even recognize you with that weave in ya head,” Happy said, admiring Frankie through the rearview mirror.
“Negro, please, you know I don’t do no weaves.” Frankie pulled the wig off and exposed her shoulder-length black hair beneath, which was neatly cornrowed going to the back. With the wig gone you could see Frankie’s face clearly. Cunning brown eyes blended almost perfectly with her cinnamon-brown skin. “I gotta keep ’em guessing so I try to change up my look when I go to certain spots. I just came up on some nice Nautica cardigan sweaters that’ll be real wavy with some Nike boots in the winter,” Frankie told them, while rummaging around in the bag. She came up with one of the items in question and held it out for them to inspect. “Hap, I don’t know if I got your size but I’m picking up some Air Max tomorrow and I’ll hold a pair for you if you want.”
“That’ll work, baby girl,” Happy told her.
Levi reached out to touch the sweater, but Frankie snatched it back. “Nigga, you better move away from my merchandise with that cigarette!”
“Stop acting like that, Frankie.”
“I ain’t acting like nothing, but this is how I eat and a burnt piece ain’t no good to me. Now if you’re buying it then you can flick as many ashes on it as you like,” she said seriously.
“You know Levi ain’t buying shit unless it’s pussy,” Happy mocked.
“Then I ain’t got nothing for him,” Frankie said.
“Hap, you gonna cut ya shit, my dude, because I ain’t the only one with skeletons,” Levi warned. “Man, fuck all that. Frankie, I’ll take the sweater. How much?”
“For you … give me fifty cash and it’s a done deal.”
“Fifty?” Levi’s voice went up an octave. “How you gonna charge me fifty dollars and we live in the same hood?”
“That’s the reason I’m charging you fifty, instead of what I’m hitting everybody else. When I shoot to the Bronx with these later on, I’m not accepting anything less than seventy-five,” Frankie told him.
“Y’all muthafuckas be killing me,” Levi mumbled while digging around in his pocket. He peeled off fifty dollars and handed them to Frankie.
“You know you love me, Levi.” She kissed him on the cheek and tucked the money into her bra.
