Tabu, page 13
“I have feelings for you, Charlie Mann. I know I shouldn’t, but I do and have for a long time.”
C-Mann had never been more shocked in his life. Not even hearing that his beloved father had fucked and killed his own cousin. But this was surreal. Whatever a man had going on he had to stop to consider this woman as a serious candidate for love.
Connie continued, “I always kept it professional but not now. No more. I can’t. I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to never see you again.”
C-Mann knew he had to say something. But he couldn’t get the words together and get them out.
She said, “My father had told me not to fall in love with a gangster. He told me gangsters live for the action. The closer to death, the nearer to the heat, the more alive they feel. Women are a dime a dozen to a gangster; they cannot afford to give time to love.”
Her father didn’t want her to be serious with a thug because, as he would say, gangsters would rather succumb to a barrage of bullets from a roomful of sworn enemies than to the debilitation of old age, dying the death of a lame.
It was a life she lived and got a kick out of. But she craved the love and devotion of a devoted man, and quiet as she kept it, she wanted to be married.
She often dreamed of being C=Mann’s woman because he was a sweet mixture of both kinds of men; he was both fearless and gentlemanly when away from the nightlife...until now.
Now he was ready to die in that glorified manner.
Connie was too strong to cry in the presence of another human being. She tightened her arms around her chest and bowed her head. It was more than she could bare.
“I am being so stupid right now. Letting a good lay cloud my mind. And it was so good.”
Fuck it, C-Mann thought. He got up and took Connie into his arms and her body responded, resting in his tender embrace as if she was weightless. She had been waiting for him to hug her for a long time.
She asked into his chest, “Have you ever thought about getting married?”
The question was like a kick in the groin. His love was being held captive, shit she may even be dead, and here he was making love to another woman.
She wanted to say so much more, after all, she knew he’d be dead soon.
She snapped the silence between them. “I know. Go ahead. The real world awaits you.”
“Yeah,” C‐Mann said, the tenderness gone from his voice, “I gotta go.”
CHAPTER 32
The morning it was all supposed to go down Tippy was nervous.
She was a man down and the living man was itching her nerves with his worries. He was being such a pain in the ass that she couldn’t have any sexual fun with Penny.
She wasn’t feeling guilt though or changing her mind about the final move and seeing it all come to fruition. But she was coming to the realization that the blood she shed was not enough. The revenge might be sweet, but it isn’t fulfilling.
Maybe she should alter the plan.
Maybe she should kill C‐Mann and leave no witnesses.
Maybe that would make her feel better.
She stepped out into the smoldering heat. The concrete sidewalks were steaming. Too hot to die, she considered. People were moving about, too many people. She hated that there seemed to not be anywhere to go in this city to be alone, she thought.
Her thoughts were on success and the riches. No mistakes. See it, be it. She could see herself on 95 on her way home by the next daybreak and all the Manns dead and gone.
The power of positive thinking, she sighed.
Tippy came back into the apartment and found her hired killer punching their hostage.
“What the fuck?”
Fred let up and the sound of Penny whimpering and crying filled the air.
He said, “She was fucking looking at me.”
“Oh my God.” Tippy was shaking her head. The positive thoughts slipped away and were replaced by an influx of worry. “Just get shit ready, please. You’re freaking out. Relax. Please relax.”
Miami and Shout were observing Tippy putting her final plan in effect.
Shout had to ask. “You think Bernie Mann is in that box they carrying?”
Miami shrugged. He was watching in kind of awe because they weren’t carrying the box. The lone man with the two women were dragging the box down the stairs and then he heaved it in the back of the Explorer.
“Yeah,” Miami said, “he’s in there.”
“Dead?”
“What you think?”
Shout looked at Miami and then back at the box. Miami shook his head. “First, why you worried about a motherfucker we would have had to kill anyway? And second, don’t ask me any more questions. Just drive.”
Miami’s cell rang before Shout could defend himself.
“I bet it’s Rosa again,” Shout giggled. “You need to go see that.”
“You need to shut up and look out for the chocolito.”
Miami looked at the Nokia and saw it was his bosses.
“Que?” he groaned.
“Where are you?”
“So busy.”
“Do you have the old man?” “That ain’t my style.”
“You cash that check yet?”
“I don’t need the money.”
“Asshole. The son is still alive? What are you
doing?”
“Watching it unfold.”
“You saw the explosion? It had to be the son because it was closed early the night it blew.”
“What?”
“It’s gone. Tabu blew up.”
“Shit.”
C-Mann was ready to die. But he was determined that Tippy was not going to leave that Bronx park alive, no matter what.
C-Mann stopped at Bernie’s secret apartment in the Bronx to see if his pop’s stashed loot was still intact. He parked up on the main street and took a second to get his nerve right. He got out slowly and saw all about him, worried about an ambush in wait.
The moonless night air was still and the darkness was rich, like Colombian coffee without cream. He walked down his dad’s quiet, suburban block with his gun in his pants. He was itching to hold it in his hand. He just didn’t want to get run up on without a gun right here, in hand.
He met with no drama while cleaning out his dad’s money ‐ three million dollars. Worn from countless hands and smelling of booze and weed, the bills were soft and off‐color.
Despite his dad’s stash and the money from the club, he was still short of the ten mil his sister wanted. So he decided to count out five hundred grand and left it at the apartment. If he somehow got his family out alive and somehow lost the money, they’d still have a bundle of dough to get gone from New York and start over.
CHAPTER 33
The big exchange, all that cash for his loved ones, was to go down at Van Courtlandt Park.
The highway got bottled up and C‐Mann mindlessly got off and went for the short cuts he knew.
He took in the sight of the crowded streets with eager young faces moving with purpose and older folks navigating through the crowd. This was a sure sign, C‐-Mann thought. No matter what your drama might be, life always goes on.
He arrived early and‐of course this still being New York‐had a tough time finding a parking space. Fuck this, he thought after circling the park and upper Broadway in search of a spot. He zoomed the Caddy into the park, banging the front end up into an opening that wasn’t for vehicle use anymore.
He calmed himself, getting New York traffic out of his head. This had to be done right; he had to be in the right frame of mind. Then he thought this whole situation was fucked up.
The meeting spot was a fountain deep in the park. It was surrounded by trees and made for an ideal locale to sit and talk on a hot, sunny day and a nice place to make out at night with the thick trees making for a serene darkness that the lampposts couldn’t battle. In its heyday the ancient fountain was a romantic enough spot to be a famed location to propose marriage.
Now it was bone dry and decaying. C-Mann knew that spot well; he had played on a football team that called Van Courtlandt home and had taken many chickenheads back there to be intimate.
The fountain was deep into the park, far away from the street and far from humans at that time of the morning. The path it was on no longer led anywhere and the concrete on its walkway was cracked and had grass growing out of it so daybreak joggers rarely turned down that way anymore.
An icy lick of fear returned as he stepped out in the clearing.
The money was short, and he depended on his belief that his sister didn’t care about the amount. With that in mind, he hid some of the money in case he got out of there alive.
He walked down to the showdown with a little more than a million dollars. The tall grass swished around C-Mann’s knees, camouflaging his Tims. Jesus, it was dark out. Even the orange moon didn’t want any part of the shit that was about to go down. The moon was hidden behind a gaze of clouds.
The sound of leaves rustling off to his left sent him to alert. He spun around and shot a stream of light from tree to tree. Was there movement? There, in the brush? He could have sworn a shadow ducked from the light. Or was it just his imagination.
C-Mann strained to see beyond the thick branches.
He held his breath and listened. Nothing. A shiver caught him off guard, and he wished he had brought a jacket. This was crazy.
Behind C-Mann, and away from Tippy, a twig snapped. He spun around ready to fire. A male figure was standing in the darkened clearing.
C-Mann called out, “Friend or foe, nigga, speak.”
“Fuck you, asshole. You in my house.”
C-Mann noticed it was an older guy looking much like he was a man living in the park. He had on ragged clothes and overgrown hair all over his face and head.
“Fucking bum.”
“Your momma liked me like I am.”
“If you don’t want to be dead, get the fuck on.”
“Fuck you. Do your drug deal somewhere else.”
Fuck this nigga, C-Mann thought. He looked back for Penny, well prepared to put the homeless dude out of his misery if he got in the way.
C-Mann moved on. He got to the fountain area and got a good spot to hide, in a ditch by a thick tree and some bushes. He saw that his sister was early and ready. A full moon, Tippy and Penny were sitting on top of a black box about the size of a trunk.
It was right then he knew his father was dead, and in that box.
Tippy heard rustling and knew the night was getting interesting. It was all about to go down. Her revenge and her life of luxury. Sheʹd take her daddy’s money back down South and flip it into enough money so she’d never have to work another bullshit job in her life. She began daydreaming that quickly, in the midst of murderous thoughts, about investing in the drug game, buying and reselling houses in South Carolina and being a rich bitch.
Tippy snapped back to now when she saw her brother walking a straight line to her. She stood. He got closer and looked like he wouldnʹt be stopping until he was in touching distance.
Penny’s eyes widened as she saw her man. Now she knew everything would be okay.
“Stop right there.”
“Fuck you, bitch.”
“Stop.” Tippy pulled Penny up. “I am going to shoot her first then you. Stop!”
“Fuck you.” C-Mann stopped maybe twenty yards away. Shouting distance, but close enough to see the angles in the trees behind and to the sides of his adversary. He said, “This ain’t TV. Where’s my father?”
“Our father you mean.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your hurt. We even. We both lost our mothers. If you killed my father, you ain’t leaving this park alive.”
She laughed a devil‐may‐care chuckle although her heart was beating in her throat. “You can’t sell no wolf tickets here, you soft bitch. I know you a lame so you can kill that noise.”
“Know this, bitch.” C-Mann started blasting shots in her direction, popping pieces of wood off the tree she was nearest.
The gunfire pulled out her backup. Fred returned fire at C‐Mann. C‐Mann dropped the money, went to one knee, fought off excitement and shot twice at the man. The killer went down in a face first lump.
C-Mann swerved and retreated low to a thick group of trees. He sat on his butt and reloaded. He patted his bulletproof vest and sighed. He had hoped Penny would take off and get away in the crossfire.
“Run Penny! Goddammit run!”
Penny had been frozen in fear, scared to duck or dive, afraid she’d move into the path of a bullet, afraid she was next.
Tippy moved to her, pointing that big gun at her. Tippy told her, “You run and I’ll put a hole in your back.”
Penny could barely understand the simple command; Tippy’s country grammar came out in her anger.
She shouted out, “You bitch-ass, witch-ass, nigga!”
“Shut your country‐ass up!”
“Fuck you fuck you fuck you!”
“What’s the matter? That was your boo?”
“Fuck the money and you!”
Shout was on edge.
Miami and Shout had been watching from the same hill that C-Mann had parked on. He would have seen them in the Navigator through the trees if he had looked to his right when he got there, but he wasn’t even considering somebody else would be up there.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Shout wondered aloud.
“Taking the fight to them.”
“Shit, but yo, he basically just killed his girlie.”
“Oh, no doubt.”
“We gotta do something? We can’t let them get C-Mann like that.”
“Why not? She ain’t gonna kill him; she after money. That’s what this is all about, kid. Why else is she fucking up the whole family? And right after she gets the coins, we get it.”
Shout nodded, but he wasn’t feeling the plan. It seemed pretty cowardly for men of their stature to be hiding out in a gunfight and then rob the winner. He had never disobeyed Miami, but watching an ambush of a man he respected was making him itch.
“So, we not gonna do nothing?” he asked again. Miami calmly shook his head.
Tippy was furious at herself and her snub nose forty‐ five.
It was a nasty handgun the way it jumped and stung your hand, but it wasn’t any good at long range.
She shouted into the predawn air, “You fire again and I am going to shoot your ho.”
“I want to see my father rise out that box like Jesus Christ.”
“Asshole, you won’t see nothing but your death. This is my show.”
“Fuck you and your show.”
The park fell quiet for a second, and then C‐Mann could hear the man he shot moaning.
Fuck him. C-Mann was calculating his next move, his mind a bit frazzled.
“You asshole,” Tippy spewed. “You are so spoiled. You don’t know what I had to go through while your father spoiled you, you faggot.”
“Fuck your sad story, bitch. I am still going to kill you dead.”
The chirp of his cell phone made him flinch. He could feel his heart hammering as he reached in his pants to get his phone.
He looked around for danger before looking to see who the fuck was calling him at this point.
It was another New York cell phone, a 917 number.
He answered it.
“How you doing, little papi?”
It was Miami.
“Motherfucker. What you want?”
“Yeah, I’ll be that motherfucker to a dead man.”
Miami laughed. “Listen, bro’, you not getting out of this alive so just drop that money you holding with me and run. I won’t tell nobody you ran like a bitch.”
C-Mann listened to Miami and one of his boys giggling like bitches at his imminent demise.
“Fuck you stupid motherfuckers. You here, nigga? Nigga you foul. I’ma get you. You on the wrong side. Watch me do my shit, then I am going to get you like a white woman in a scary movie.”
He hung up adding the situation in his mind. Could that Cuban have been down with his sister from jump? Oh, yeah. He could see that.
He was outgunned and outmanned and the fucking Cubans were overseeing his death, but he was now more angry than afraid for his life.
Tippy had heard the cell phone ring. “You call somebody into this they dead, too, faggot,” she growled into the night air.
“Bitch,” C-Mann muttered.
“Fuck the money and you,” she kicked Penny away from her and clicked back the trigger using her whole hand on the magnum and fired at her twice.
Penny was blown off her feet.
“Fucking, bitch, no!” C-Mann hollered. He opened fire and came sprinting.
“Ain’t shit funny now about a boo, huh brother?”
Tippy dashed to where the truck was parked, about a half a mile away. She drove off kicking up dirt. Once she got on the streets she slowed down as to not draw attention.
C-Mann ran firing at the retreating truck.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
C-Mann was still shaking and sweating when he got to his love’s side.
He approached the body slowly. She looked asleep despite those glossy wide eyes staring up at the cloudy sky. Then he saw she was a bloody mess. Her chest was mangled, the skin ripped open and guts everywhere. That’s when his stomach lurched and his knees caved in.
On his knees he began to cry.
“God, I fucked up.” His hands covered his face, one hand still holding the nine.
He took Penny to his body. He couldn’t stop sobbing. He was too exhausted, too spent and too guilt stricken.
“I wasn’t built for this, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I came all wrong and shit.
“Don’t cry too long, bro’.”
C-Mann recognized the voice. He knew he was about to be in some violence. C-Mann was dead, he was sure, because he was there with an empty gun and no more clips. But getting killed right then was of little consequence, still, he quickly prepared his mind to win. He looked up to see Miami and Shout coming his way. He noticed Shout was carrying the moneybag.
“The cops will be here soon, kid,” Shout was almost smiling. He added, “Yo, you did work, kid.”
