Authors: K. Elliott
Tommy’s phone rang several times but he didn’t answer. He needed time to think. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. What had gotten into Summer? How did she and Angie meet? Had they met? Would Angie have his baby now that she had heard him say that he loved another woman? A woman who obviously didn’t love him or else she wouldn’t have set him up like that. Were Summer and Angie together? Were they friends now? Who initiated the conversation? Which one of them was out to get him? Had they both gotten fed up with his B.S.? The phone rang. It was Summer. He sent her straight to voice mail. It rang again. This time it was Angie. He didn’t answer it either. Summer sent him a text message…
Tommy call me I need to talk I’m alone.
He responded.
What the fuck do we need to talk about?
He didn’t believe she was alone. Those bitches had to be in this together.
t was 2:00 a.m. J-Black drove the Dodge Magnum down I-77, headed to the Waffle House. He would get some breakfast before turning in. It had been a long night with little reward—two home invasions that netted him $3,000. “Broke-ass drug dealers…” he mumbled to himself.
“Hey, baby. I want to see you. Can we get together?” she said.
“I’m not meeting with you unless I’m getting some pussy.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to take care of you,” Tangie said.
“But yesterday you said you were on your period.”
“It stopped today, and I’m just so goddamn horny.”
“Where you at?” he asked. Suddenly Waffle House wasn’t that important. He would get the bitch to cook him something right after she gave him head.
“The Pointe Apartments on Tyvola.”
“Yeah? What the fuck you doing over there?”
“My auntie’s house.”
“Your auntie’s house? What the fuck do you mean, your auntie’s house? I know your aunties; both of them, and don’t neither one of them live on no Tyvola.”
“Not my mama’s sisters, silly, my daddy’s sister. My aunt Jene.”
“She got food? Because I’m hungrier than a motherfucker.”
“She cooked some baked chicken today. I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Enter from the back gate, the Nation’s Ford Road entrance.”
J-Black pulled up to the gate. A security box was at the gate, which required a code for entrance; one that he didn’t know. He called Tangie. She didn’t answer. He dialed again. Still no answer.
Where in the hell is she? Why ain’t she picking up the phone? Maybe the bitch is in the shower. Damn, that baked chicken sounded good. Some rice would be nice with that, and a glass of iced tea,
he thought. Then he would fuck the shit out of Tangie. She wasn’t much to look at, but damn, she could fuck. Had been fuckin’ since she was fifteen, so she had told him.
He tried dialing her number again. No answer. When he put the Magnum in reverse, he looked in the mirror. That is when he saw the first man behind him. The second man he didn’t see until he was next to the driver-side door.
Shots came through the back window first, shattering it. J-Black tried to duck. He reached for the gun on his waist. That is when the second goon opened fire, shooting him twice in the side. J-Black slumped over.
The man shot two more times, once in his thigh and once in his lower leg.
The first goon was now on the passenger side. He fired two times, both shots hit J-Black—in his shoulder and in his back.
The goons then ran to a blue SUV that awaited them. The truck sped off. Nobody saw a thing.
J.C. offered his truck keys to Scottie in exchange for a quarter of an ounce of cocaine.
“I’m keeping it until Monday and then you pay me. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“Make sure you have my money or else you ain’t getting this nice-ass Range Rover back.”
“I will have the money, no problem.”
“Okay. Here you go. Pure Fiscale.”
J.C. grinned, examining the bag. He couldn’t wait to get home,
Shantell picked up the phone. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Hey baby, I got something for you.”
“What you got?”
“I got some skittles,” he said, using the street term for Ecstasy. “What else you got for me?”
“What do you mean?” J.C. asked. He knew what she wanted.
What she always wanted—money, and he didn’t have any. “You know what I want, Daddy.”
“No, I don’t,” J.C. lied.
“Daddy, I need some help with my bills.”
“Shantell, I don’t have any money.”
“Daddy, I only need $200.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Aw, Daddy. Why are you treating me like this?”
“Come see me,” he said. He didn’t want to hear her whining. “I don’t want to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because you ain’t got no damn money.”
“So, is this all this relationship been about?”
“You know it. I mean, what else can it be about, old man? I
J.C. bit down on his lip. He didn’t know what to say. He knew that Shantell had only hung around him for money, but it just hurt so much to hear her say it.
ommy was staying at the Microtel Inn on Billy Graham when he received the call from Scooter. “J-Black got shot last night, and the doctors are saying that the nigga might not make it.”
“What?” Tommy said more out of surprise than hurt or anger. For a brief moment he wished that J-Black would die. He had robbed him in the past, raped his ex-girlfriend and killed one of his friends. He was not somebody Tommy was very fond of.
“Yeah. He got shot last night entering the gate of some apartments. Some man discovered him slumped over in his car.”
Tommy stood and began pacing. He wondered if Q had him shot. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to go to the hospital to see J-Black. They weren’t friends. He looked on the bright side, if J-Black died, there would be no chance of a murder-forhire charge. Though he never thought it would come down to that anyway. Nobody knew J-Black had killed three niggas for him. At least he hoped they didn’t.
“Damn. So, they have any idea who did it?”
“No, you know how it is. This guy had plenty of enemies. It could have been anybody.”
“So they saying that he might not make it?”
“Yeah, man. This shit’s crazy, man. Shit is going from bad to worse.”
“You can say that again,” Tommy said, thinking about all his problems. J-Black was the least of his worries.
“I think I might go to the hospital to see him,” Scooter said.
“Keep me updated.”
Friday night, and the AMC movie theater was full of teenaged kids. Q met one of the goons in the parking lot. The man was about five foot nine with a full beard. He was from Philly. That was the only thing Q knew about him. He’d been sent down by his cousin Eli from Norristown, Pennsylvania. The goon said, “The job is done.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, got that nigga good.”
Q handed him a Nike shoebox stuffed with cash. The goon looked. “I ain’t got to count it, do I?”
“No. The money is good. You can trust me.”
The man pulled his beard, contemplating. “No, I can trust Eli.
I don’t know you, nigga.”
“How many times did you shoot him?”
“I don’t know, maybe six or seven.”
“Are you sure he’s dead?”
“If that nigga lived, he’s Superman.”
Q shook hands with the goon.
Before the bearded man left, he said, “If you need me for anything else, just let Eli know. This is what I do.” With the box still under his arm, he continued, “I’m also in the collection business.”
“The collection business? What are you talking about, the collection business?”
“Yeah. You need me to collect some money, just let me know. If I don’t come back with the money, you ain’t got to pay me shit.”
Q smiled, thinking there were a few outstanding debts out there. But it really wasn’t worth hurting somebody over.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Q walked back to the SUV. Country fired it up. “Nigga said J-Black is dead.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah. Said they hit him up seven times.”
“Dayum,” Country said, pulling out of the parking lot. “We gotta take care of that Tangie, and then we’re done. Right?”
“We have to take care of one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We have to send Tommy’s fat ass a message,” Q said. Country pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto South
Boulevard.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’ma shoot his house up,” Q said, pulling out a chrome nine. “Why didn’t you get those Philly niggas to do that?” Country
asked.
“Because we can do that shit ourselves.”
“Okay, when you wanna handle that?”
“I want to handle that shit right now.”
“It’s only eleven now.”
“Well in another two hours.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“Yep, I got a bitch that work at the highway department to run
his name.”
“Damn nigga, you’re a cold ruthless motherfucker.” “You already know this.”
ommy was at the Microtel sound asleep with CNN playing in the background when his phone rang. The caller ID read Angie. His gut told him something had happened. He answered the phone on the second ring. “What?”
Tommy sat up in the bed. “What you mean, somebody shot your house up?”
“Just what I said, Tommy. The police are here now asking me a bunch of questions and shit.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Hurry up, Tommy, hurry,” Angie said with her voice full of emotion.
Tommy stood, still half asleep, and then he sat on the bed. He slipped into his pants and put his Jordans on thinking about the payback. He knew it had to be Q, and with J-Black in the hospital he would have to do it himself.
When he got there Angie was walking around in her robe, hair disheveled, showing the crime lab detective where the shots went. Tommy attempted to hug her.
“Do you live here?”
“Yes.”
“But you weren’t here tonight.”
“No.”
“Okay, do you have any idea who might have done this?” “No,” Tommy lied. There was no doubt in his mind that Q had
something to do with this.
“You have any enemies?”
“Not that I know of.”
The man scribbled in the pad. A short Asian cop walked
up with some casings. “Looks like one of the guns was a 40 caliber.”
Tommy said, “One of the guns?”
“Yeah, there were at least 25 shots fired, and there are two different size holes in your wall.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, looks like somebody is trying to send a message to you,” the Asian cop said.
“Hey, it could have been the wrong house; I don’t have any enemies.”
The white cop shrugged. “Yeah, it could have been the wrong house, but highly unlikely. My experience tells me that it’s somebody that you know.”
Tommy looked the man in his face. Damn cops always think they are so goddamn smart. He walked away before the cop called out to him. “Sir, I need to ask a few more questions.”
Tommy turned and faced the man.
The cop was still scribbling on his pad. “Where were you tonight?”
Tommy looked confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer the question.”
“I was at the Microtel on Billy Graham.”
“Who were you with? Can anybody prove you were there?”
Angie stared at Tommy.
“I was alone.”
“Why were you there in the first place? You live here.”
Tommy looked at Angie. “Me and my girlfriend are not on good terms.”
Angie said to the officer, “That’s true.”
“I don’t know, maybe the front desk clerk,” Tommy said, remembering that he’d lost his key and had to get a replacement around 11 p.m. “Yeah, the front desk clerk. I don’t remember her name but she was a short little redhead.”
“Sir, where do you work?”
“I don’t.”
The officer looked at the Range Rover that Tommy had just pulled up in.
“My pops sued the state and received a lot of money.”
Angie said, “It’s true.”
“So, no job?”
“Well, I invest in real estate.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” the man said, then handed Tommy his card. “If you hear of anybody talking in the street give me a call.”
“Okay.”
After taking more pictures and walking around the entire house twice, the officers interviewed the neighbors and then left.
Tommy walked inside the house behind Angie.
“Tommy, you know it’s over now.”
He saw the seriousness in her eyes. He attempted to put his arms around her. “Get the fuck away from me, Tommy.”
“Hey, baby, I’m sorry. I am really sorry.”
“Yes, I hate you.” She burst into tears.
“I don’t know who did this but I’m going to find out.”
“Find out? Tommy, do you know I could have been killed?”
He was silent. What she was saying was right. He wanted to argue but what would be his point?
“Somebody wants you dead, and God obviously wants you alive, Tommy. You need to take heed and get your shit to-gether.”
He put his arms around her. “I know, baby, I’m going to do better. I’m through with this lifestyle.”
She looked up at him. “And who the hell is this Summer girl?”
He took a deep breath but didn’t respond.
“You love her, Tommy? Do you fuckin’ love this bitch?”
“No.”
“You’re lying, Tommy. I heard you say that you loved her. Do you know how hard it was for me to listen to you say that you loved this girl?”
“I know, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Tommy, you said that shit out of sincerity. I heard the truthfulness in your voice.”
“No I didn’t. I love
you
, and I want you to have my baby.” He attempted to feel her stomach, but she pushed his hand back.
“Tommy, I don’t think there’s going to be a baby.”
“You’re not pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Still haven’t taken the test?”
“No.”
“What’s taking you so long?” he asked, and then he began pacing.
“I don’t want to find out, Tommy. I don’t want to know if I’m pregnant. I told you I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of raising a child by myself.”
He looked confused. “Raising a child by yourself? What the hell are you talking about?”
She held the palm of her hand up to his face. “Tommy, can you just go please? You have done enough.”
“You want me to leave?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Why? I want to stay.”
“I don’t think I’m going to stay here, thanks to you. I mean, some of your hooligan buddies have shot up my goddamn house. Do you know how embarrassing this shit is?”
He looked her directly in her teary eyes. “Hey, I’m really sorry this happened.”
“I know you are. You’re always sorry, but how in the hell can I live here now? My neighbors are going to be looking at me thinking somebody is after me and wondering what kind of shit I’m involved in.”
He grabbed her hand and held it.
“It will never be the same, Tommy. You and I will never be the same.”
He let go of her hand and held her face, forcing her to look at him. “I love you.”
“Yeah…maybe so, but you love that bitch Summer as well.”