Lost Boy, page 17
Diplite knew he had fucked up, but still figured he had all the cards in his hands, mainly Nikki herself, so he played them. “Well, I mean, suppose she spoke to someone.” Damn, he’d fucked up again. He was losing, giving Hulie more leverage, more info than he wanted to. He had to somehow put Hulie in a position so that they could be on equal ground. He had to spook him in some sort of way and find a balance.
Still, Hulie didn’t say a word, he just casually played it off, smiled and waved at some of the local hustlas that came through, occasionally winking at a trick or two. He turned his head slowly towards Diplite who was now handing on his every move, trying to feel Hulie out. So, far he was fucking up and Hulie knew it, now he had to play the game.
“So, uh...you seen your sister?” Hulie got on that emotional, manipulation shit.
Diplite didn’t anticipate that question, he relaxed, maybe he thought he hadn’t figured it out, yet. “I heard from her the other night. She said she was going to go see moms later...”
“No...not that.” He was dead wrong, and he’d have to pay.
Hulie pointed towards the back part of the block, on Disco Street going towards the subdivision. “I mean on the hoe-stroll!” He shook his head. “Mom...naw, I don’t get down like that. I really don’t give a fuck. Hell, I just wanted to know why on this pretty ass day with plenty of fuckin’ money comin’ through she ain’t out sellin’ that good pussy.” He turned towards him crossing his leg. “Kna’mean, oh, yeah that’s right. I mean all this money, cuz, damn she could be suckin’ pretty dick right about now...besides mine.” He slapped him playfully. “But, yeah, I understand she gots to see mom-dukes e’er now and then...that’s right.” He started laughing, knowing that this was the dagger he was gonna stick through Diplite’s heart. “Them lips gotta rest sometime...but you think after suckin’ all that dick, she kisses her own mother when she sees her? That’s just nasty...”
“A’ight...that’s enough!” Diplite said about to go off.
“Whoa, my man, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He saw that he had him where he wanted and got up. “Look, I’ll talk to you later on, okay.” He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and unsnapped a twelve-jewel encrusted, gold watch and tossed it at him. “Here you go, a little present, okay.”
Diplite caught it and examined it. “Naw, I’m alright.” He started to toss it back at him.
“No, no...keep it. It’s cool! I apologize for what I said. Didn’t mean to hit a soft spot, but...” He turned to walk away, then glanced back around. “Seriously, though, when you do see your sister, tell her...” He fixed his fingers into a phone and put it by his ear. “...to call me!”
Diplite sat still, fuming as he watched Hulie pull off. He was definitely feeling some sort of way and wanted to kill that muthafucka. He knew now more than anything he’d have to get that money from Nikki, one way or another. If she wasn’t willing to do it voluntarily, he’d have to pry it from her cold, dead hands.
Hulie drove a little-ways down Liberty Hill towards the Height snickering to himself about how he played Diplite and how weak he was. Now, he knew for sure that the chick wasn’t dead. She’d be easy to find, a little money on the street could do the job perfectly. He also knew that she must have had the money because Diplite knew about it. Hulie had never told him that he didn’t get the money that night.
‘Punk, muthafucka trying to play me,’ he thought. “I got a trick for his ass.”
He stopped by the Jamaican restaurant on River’s Avenue after leaving Diplite. He stayed there for a good minute eating bean pies and drinking ale. He stepped out back at one point and smoked a blunt with one of his homeboys, it was good weed, too. When he got good and high, he dipped. It all seemed pretty intense as he turned off of River’s Avenue on Reynolds past Spruill Avenue. He could see his house from a distance, beckoning him, calling him like it had been violated, something just didn’t look right. He shook it off, placing the blame on paranoia, especially after the episode he had with Sunshine earlier, she had him shook.
He felt like he had no privacy. He glanced around and didn’t see her car, but as he came down the block, all eyes were on him, or so it seemed to him, weed still had his head banging. Instead of the hustlas and runners standing on the corner down from him shooting the shit, which was the norm, they were across the street or gathered up the block. He pulled into the driveway, got out and from the corner of his eye, the store’s owner walked out, with a broom in his hand, sweeping, checking him out. He wasn’t sure, but he swore he’d seen a little smile on his face. Now, he knew something was wrong, that fat, lazy ass bastard didn’t do no work, he usually let them crackhead broads do it for him, then he’d take them in the back, pay them and smoke up their dope. The muthafucka didn’t like him cause he never gave him credit.
‘The police?’ he thought. ‘They must be somewhere around, scoping me out? Ready to come out the bushes as soon as I get in the door and all these muthafuckas are ready to see me go down!’
Hulie took out the gun he had underneath the seat and pulled out the clip. A felon with a gun was straight Fed time. When he got inside, he figured he’d go straight to his stash spot and hide it.
“What if they bust in while I am in there? They’ll take my gun and everything that’s not nailed down. Naw, that ain’t gonna work,” he said to himself.
He peeped his head out of the truck looking around for someone he could give it to. A crackhead maybe, it was risky, but he’d give up a cookie, easy. No one was close by, everyone was up the block, watching him.
“Damn, something’s up!” he said.
He glanced toward the backyard. That’s how he was gonna have to do it. He’d have to go around back and toss the gun and clip across the yard to the railroad tracks. He pulled a rag from underneath the seat and cleared off the prints carefully, then wrapped it up and stuffed it in his pocket. He moved cautiously, ready for anything. Once he got out back, he tossed the rag and gun, looked around to see if anyone was looking and headed straight to the back door, pulling out his keys all in one swift motion. The door lock was jammed, he looked closer and it was broken, and all busted up. He pushed at it and it opened slowly.
He eased in a little-ways and yelled out. “Who the fuck is in here...if I catch you, it’s your ass!”
That was definitely wolf tickets cause he didn’t have nothing on him at all, and if they did, he’d be the one fucked up. He needed something just in case, he peeped out back and noticed a bar that he used for weights leaning against the door. He grabbed it and started easing his way in again, this time with the bar raised, he was ready to swing. The place was dark, and he stayed still and low for a minute, waiting to hear if anyone was stirring. He hadn’t heard shit, he felt for the light switch, gripped the bar and clicked it on.
“Aw, shit,” he gasped.
The place was a wreck, glasses and dishes were broken. Drawers were pulled open and tossed to the floor. His refrigerator door was barely hanging off the hinges and the insides gutted. Whoever did that was looking for dope and money. Everything in the freezer was torn apart, they had to be on some old Jada Kiss freezer, popsicle shit. Insulation was all over the floor cut up. He looked up, they’d gone through the vents too. Pots, pans and everything in the kitchen was all over the floor, even the goddamned flour, grits, and muthafuckin’ Jiffy mix.
Hulie stepped into the living room and it was more of the same shit. He rushed over to where his fish tank was and sighed. Whoever hit him up poured Clorox in the tank and all his fish were floating belly up.
“Bastards!” he screamed as he punched a hole in the wall.
His bedroom was the same shit, mattress ripped open, the closet was butchered up, and his clothes were cut up and thrown all over the place. That had to be just plain hate. He looked over on the dresser and his jewelry box was empty. He picked it up and threw it at a mirror, smashing it and scattering little pieces of glass all over. Hulie was pissed off, but he knew one thing for sure. The one place he knew was untouched, had to be his own personal stash spot. No one knew about it, he rushed into the living room and opened the linen closet. Someone had been there already, the faked-out rack holder insert, hiding the concealed wall paneling was pulled opened, crudely, with a pry bar. He got closer and looked, everything was cleaned out, except for a few papers here and there.
“Damn, what the hell...Sunshine!” Hulie remembered she saw him go in there. “It had to be her ass!”
He walked through the house kicking shit out of his way. Then said fuck it, and walked to the front door, swung it open, and stepped out onto the porch. Now, all of a sudden, a group gathered in front across the street, checking the whole thing out.
“Y’all know what it is, anybody see anything?” he hollered.
They all looked at him like he was crazy, then shook their heads no. No one saw shit, so they claimed.
“Bullshit!” he snarled. “Yeah...I know, but I’ll say this. If I catch the muthafucka or even the muthafuckas that had anything to do with this bullshit!” He fixed his hand into a gun and pointed at them. ‘Pow, you know what it is. You got this one...for now!”
They knew he meant that shit, too. He started to turn away, but there was a face in the crowd that caught his attention. That dude, Q. He left with Sunshine that day, maybe she said something to him. She mighta been looking for the money, thinking he was holding out, that was her M.O. He looked at him and mugged. Q looked off, talkin’ to his boys, then they walked off, ignoring Hulie, playin’ him out like a pussy. Hulie nodded, he knew he had something to do with it.
He looked across the street up over the store and spotted what he was searching for. A window across the street in an apartment, with tan blinds, barely half opened.
Hulie grinned. “Yep...somebody know what went down!”
****
He stood at the kitchen counter hunched over, his head bushy and grey. His brown eyes were strikingly bright white, with crow’s feet around the corners. He’d seen a lot in his long life. Hulie was awestruck by his massive, broad shoulders, arms like Popeye the sailor and a tattoo on his right arm that read: Mom!
The old man turned towards him and sat down a cup. “This that der good coffee, hear me? My gran’baby got it from one dem ‘xotic stores in New York City.” He reached on his mantlepiece and picked up a picture of a big smiley-faced, young girl and beamed. “Luv dat yungen. Luv herself some pop-pop, too!” He put the picture down and picked up the cup of hot coffee in front of him and looked around the rather dimly lit, neat place. “Ya know, I been here at dis here ‘partment for ‘bout ten years now...since me wife died.”
“Yo’ pop...sorry to hear ‘bout that.” Hulie was genuinely sincere.
He’d met the old man a couple of times out back behind his house on the railroad tracks picking up cans. He offered him some money, but the old man turned it down and said he was alright. Hulie got used to seeing him and when he found out he liked coffee, he’d leave him a cup or two out back, and sure enough, it was well appreciated. They got to talkin’ and he told Hulie he once worked at the Shipyards, but long time retired, telling him stories of the places he’d been and things he’d seen. He told Hulie he had a family, two girls, one was in Atlanta and the other left to go to New York recently. They got in touch with him on a regular basis, begging him to move but he wouldn’t, because he was stubborn like that.
Instead, he took all the money he had saved, along with his pension and paid off his grandchildren’s college tuitions. He swore they’d never have to work as hard as he did, ever. Hulie, respected him to the fullest. The old man eventually found out the lifestyle he was into, but he didn’t judge him. He just told him more stories of hustlers gone by, years ago, and gave him tips and pointers like a grand-pops would. He told Hulie he’d watch the house for him when he was gone, and he did just that.
“T’was two of dem boys. One was short and stumpy with dem long braids or sumptin’ in his head. What’s dat name for dem?”
“Dreads...”
“Yuh, dat dem. That other was an ole tall boy, ‘bout a little taller than you. He was skinny, tho...small thing. But he had a nice hair cut, real sharp der. Could tell he didn’t get it round here.” He laughed and Hulie smiled at him. His pretty white teeth and bright red gums spoke volumes. He was Charleston...the real.
Hulie couldn’t remember the old man’s name, he probably told him at one time, but it didn’t matter, he woulda called him Pops anyway. The old fella respected that. He also found out he had a passion for fishing. Hulie didn’t hesitate to pull out the brand-new, shiny reel and rod he’d just gotten and give it to him.
“Didn’t have to do that, son. I’da watched the place for nuthin’. Dem yung boys just can’t be breakin’ in shit, ya know. T’wasn’t like that before.”
“I know, I know, but I remembered you told me your old one wasn’t holdin’ the line like it used to. Hell, I’da brought it over anyway.”
Pops picked it up and examined it. “Reallll nice...spent good money, too. Thank ya!” He got up and opened the closet door, checking out a brand-new fishing outfit he’d collected over time. It was a slickers fishing vest with a brand-new hat, and all the hooks he needed attached to it. He smiled, “Ya’ know, maybe I should make that trip down Beaufort way now.”
“Beaufort? You never told me you had people in Beaufort before.”
“I don’t.” He closed the door and walked over to the pictures posted up on the mantlepiece and picked up one. An old black and white photo of a beautiful, full-haired, brown-skinned woman with the prettiest, whitest smile he’d ever seen. “That’s where me wife at. Been meanin’ to go see her...gravesite and all. Who knows...might stay down der with, her?” He turned towards Hulie and smiled, then looked off out the window with the picture still in his hand. “Yuh might stay down der...” His voice trailed off into a whisper, he was gone.
His mind had left just that quick. Hulie wasn’t mad at him, he’d gotten all the information he needed anyway. It was his cue to leave, he got up and crept toward the front door, but not before he reached into his pocket and pulled out thirty, one-hundred-dollar bills, placed them on the floor, then silently closed the door and left.
The old man walked back over to the mantlepiece and put the picture back down, then kissed it. Afterward, he went over to the door and locked it, then picked up the money and walked over to the table. He poured another cup of coffee and sat down. He reached for an envelope on the counter that had the name and address of a bank on it, then reached into his wallet and took out a picture of a bouncing, cute baby boy.
He looked at it and grinned. “Well, yungen...time for you to get ready for College, too. Don’ have much time, ya know!”
****
Diplite had called his sister, Cleo, she was out of breath when she answered the phone. “I did it!”
“A’ight...a’ight!” Diplite said. “Anybody see you?”
“No, I came up from around the back, behind the railroad tracks.”
“You sound winded and shit. “I know you ain’t do all the work, right? I paid them boys’ good money to help!”
“I’m straight, oh I paid them an extra two bills a piece.”
“Two bills? What the fuck...I thought you was supposed to just give them...”
“I sucked both of their young dicks. Shit, they were glad to get that, and the afterward, they tried to give it back. Fuckin’ suckas!”
“Crazy...but I hear you.” Diplite picked up his head when he saw Dirty-Red’s car come through. He had to take care of business with him, now. He’d already gotten under Hulie’s skin, but it was his sister’s plan to rob him, and she did good too. ‘Punk muthafucka!’ he thought. “Trying to play! That muthafucka too stupid for that.” Diplite got up and looked around. He’d seen enough for today, and enough people saw him for that matter, outside at the same spot. He had a good muthafuckin’ alibi, now he was out. “Hey, sis!”
“Yeah?”
“Keep the money, a’ight!”
“What...why?”
“Cause you gonna need it when you go outta town, anyway.”
“Yeah...you’re right. When?”
“I’m going over to Dirty-Red’s right now. I’ll call you later!”
Diplite hung up his phone and got into his car. He thought about the lick his sister made on Hulie, she’d got at least fifteen thousand. He knew pretty soon, Hulie would be calling him, wanting to get some get back on whoever and asking him for a favor. Diplite laughed, he was going to play Hulie again just like he’d done with T-Black, but this time he was gonna get all his money, that dumb ass, freak Sunshine’s and if Dirty-Red slipped...his too.
****
Q put his foot up on some old chairs as he stood in front of the old Circle A on Spruill Avenue. He was waiting for a call back from Sunshine, finally, the phone buzzed.
“Yeah, what’s going on, babe? You’ve been blowing me up.”
“Trouble!”
“What?”
“Yeah, trouble.”
“What kinda trouble? I can hear it in your voice, cops fuckin’ wit’ you, baby?”
“Naw, it ain’t that.” He looked around. “That dude Hulie just got robbed.”
“No...really! That’s good for his punk ass.”
“Naw, that ain’t good!”
“Why Q? You ain’t never liked him anyway.”
“True, but he thinks I had something to do wit’ it. I know it!”
“Ooh, shit, be careful. You want me to have him picked up...brought in?”
“Naw, that’s alright, I can handle me. We’ll see how this plays out.”
“Cool! You know who did it?”
“That’s the strange thing, no one saw shit. I swear, they musta knew his crib because it was like boom, bam and they was gone. A couple of people heard some noise, but they didn’t think nuthin’ of it. Just thought maybe, he was beating that chick up like he always do.”
