Eve (14 page)

Eve looked at Cassidy in total disbelief. Even though Butter wasn't her man, to fuck with someone he did business with was a bad move. If what her friend was doing ever got out, and it probably would, it could land her in a world of shit. Eve didn't know Carlo personally, but she knew his name. His father and grandfather were tied into one of New York's five families. She had never seen either of them, but remembered reading about them in the paper.

“That's some snake shit,” Eve said coldly.

“Call it what you want, but I'm trying to get mine,” Cassidy said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Besides, Butter ain't my man.”

“Yeah, but you're fucking him,” Eve pointed out.

“Sweetie, don't be so dense. Me and Butter are cool, but it's more of a business arrangement than anything. He pays to play. Same as everybody else.”

“Cassidy, you know that boy is gonna flip if he finds out. You're dead wrong!” Eve said.

“Let me hip you to something, before you start that preaching shit.” Cassidy snaked her neck. “I'm my own woman. Ain't no nigga out here got a claim on this pussy. That means I'm free to fuck whoever I want. Butter does him and I do me. Ain't nobody tell him to catch feelings. He knew what it was from the gate.”

“Cassidy, this shit is gonna blow up in your face. You're playing a dangerous game,” Eve protested.

“No more dangerous than you running around strapped while you're on parole,” Cassidy shot back. “Don't start with me tonight, Evelyn.”

Eve wanted to wring Cassidy's neck. True, she was single and free to do whatever she wanted, but this situation was different. Butter wasn't just some nigga, he was fam. They all grew up together and she should've had more respect for him than that. Luckily for Cassidy, Jasmine came walking up the block before Eve could dwell on it further.

“I'll be back,” Eve said over her shoulder to Beast. She strolled down the block and met Jasmine halfway. Jasmine had abandoned her whore outfit for a simple pair of jeans and sneakers. Gone was the paint around her lips and eyes, giving way to her clear skin. She looked more like a little girl now than the streetwalker she had been that morning.

“Hey,” Jasmine said sheepishly.

“You look much better now,” Eve said, touching her face.

“Amazing what a nap and a shower can do.” She smiled. Jasmine paused for a moment before continuing. “Eve, I spoke to my mom a little while ago. She told me that Jack is moving out. I just wanted to say—”

“Save it,” Eve said. “I told you, Twenties take care of there own. Go on home, Jazzy. I think you and your mom need to talk.”

Jasmine didn't want the older home girl to see her cry, but she couldn't help it. It was the first time someone had ever done anything for her and didn't ask for something in return. She didn't know why Eve did it, but she was glad that she did. Jasmine hugged Eve as tight as she could, then turned and left.

Eve was awakened by the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at the clock and saw that it was barely ten o'clock. She wondered who, other than her PO, would have the gall to be ringing her phone at that hour. She picked up the receiver with the intention of flipping, but calmed down when she heard the voice on the other end.

“What up, Eve?” Keisha said.

“What's popping, Twenty?” Eve replied.

“Listen,” Keisha said, “I know you was probably still sleep, but this was the only time I could get away to call you. Remember the cat we discussed?”

“Yeah. The nigga from Brooklyn who you want jacked. What about him?”

“Well, I've been with him for the last day or so. Poor fool is trying to make a hoe a house-wife, but that's his bad. Tonight is the night, ma. You ready?”

“All day,” Eve assured her. “What's the plan?”

Eve stayed on the phone with Keisha for about ten minutes while they went over the details of the setup. It would be tricky, but Eve knew she could pull it off. Robbery was her craft. After hanging up the phone with Keisha, she decided that it would be a waste of time to go back to sleep.

In her mind she went over the things that would need to be done before her meeting that evening. She rolled out of bed and took out an outfit for the day. The first thing she had to do was find something to wear. She still had some paper left from what the homeys had given her, but she needed something to go on top of that. When her hand brushed against the pistol under her pillow she knew just how to get it.

 

Sean sat on the dingy bed in his motel room, smoking a cigarette. His nerves had been shot ever since Butter had forced him to participate in Spooky's murder. He hadn't slept in days. Every time he closed his eyes he saw himself helping Butter put Spooky in the ditch. Spooky was wrong for stealing, but Butter had no right to kill him. The sick bastard got a thrill out of watching him die. Sean's hands were just as dirty. He could've refused, or maybe even gone to the police, but he hadn't done either. Even if he had tried to alter Spooky's fate, it would've sealed his own. The walls were beginning to close in on Sean, and he couldn't take it.

After swallowing down another mouthful of vodka, he stubbed what was left of the Newport into the ashtray. Overhead, a light flickered in its socket. Dragging a chair to the middle of the room, he climbed up and inspected the bulb. It blinked once more, then held its illumination.

Connected to a thin beam next to the light fixture was a leather belt. Sean checked the double knot to make sure it would hold, then looped the other end around his neck. Adjusting the noose, he pulled the buckle against his Adam's apple. He knew he deserved to be punished for his role in the murder, but wondered if he could do it to himself. The cheap folding chair gave under his weight, not letting the question linger in his mind for very long.

 

Maria Chin moved casually through the aisles of the tiny grocery store, checking the stock on the shelves. She turned cans of peas and moved on to the creamed corn. Her husband had already done the stock as he did every morning, but she still moved from aisle to aisle as if it hadn't been done yet. She kept one eye on the shelves and the other on the group of school kids who had come into the store.

The children from the local junior high school always came to the store to buy their lunches and supply of junk food for the day. Every so often kids would shoplift, so the Chins were cautious of young people. Especially Blacks.

“Yo, they got the new Mystic, son,” proclaimed a young man sporting an Afro. The two boys rummaged through the drink cooler, clowning and examining the different flavored beverages. One boy almost dropped a bottle as his friend shoved him.

“You break, you buy,” Maria said nastily.

“Damn, ain't nobody gonna break nothing.” Afro sucked his teeth.

“Hurry up and buy,” she insisted.

No matter how much money they spent in the store, it was always the same thing with the Chins. They catered to the white kids, but treated all the Blacks and Hispanics as if they were going to steal. The two boys laughed at the lady's accent and continued what they were doing. After a bit more deliberation, they took their items to the counter and waited for her husband, Artie Chin, to ring them up.

“One fifty,” Artie said, placing the Mystic into a paper bag.

“One fifty? These joints is only a dollar uptown,” Afro protested.

“Then you go uptown and buy,” Artie said, not bothering to hide his dislike for the colored children.

“Y'all always on that bullshit,” the second boy said, “Ching chong muthafuckas.”

“You watch you mouth.” Artie pointed a crooked finger. “You no like, you no buy. Get out!”

“Fuck you!” Afro shouted, knocking over a candy rack. The two boys laughed at the damage they had caused and ran from the store.

At the moment they were making their exit, the Chins noticed a young man coming into the store. He was wearing a fitted cap and a bright red bandanna tied around his neck. Before Maria could position herself to spy on the young man, he pulled the bandanna around the lower half of his face and produced a large pistol from his hoodie.

“Y'all know what it is,” he said, aiming the gun at Artie. “Empty the muthafucking register!”

“We don't want trouble,” Maria pleaded.

“Fuck that! Bitch, get yo ass over here by this old muthafucka!” he demanded, waving her over to the register. Maria cautiously did as she was told.

“You Blacks always give trouble. We all oppressed,” Artie said, trying to be diplomatic.

“You trying to be funny?” the young man asked, pressing the gun against Maria's temple. “Fuck that oppressed shit. You better get that muthafucking drawer open before I pop this bitch!”

Artie nervously fumbled around with the register keys until the bell sounded and the drawer popped open. He stuffed the bills into a paper bag and handed it to the young man. After taking a brief glance into the bag, the young man looked at Artie like he was stupid.

“You trying to be funny? Fuck this chump change. Set the real shit out,” the young man said, hopping over the counter. His braids flapped back and forth as he looked from Maria to Artie. After frisking Artie, he found a large roll of money tucked in the older man's sock. “See,” he said, holding up the roll for Artie to inspect, “you almost made me pop yo dumb ass for this shit.”

“Please, just go!” Artie tried to keep from shouting.

“Yeah, so you can hit the panic button on me? Y'all slant-eyed muthafuckas must think I'm stupid.” the young man ran his hand along under the counter until he found what he was looking for. Using a pocket knife, he pried the panic button from its mount and cut the wires. The Chins looked on in shock as they realized they weren't dealing with a run-of-the-mill stickup kid.

“This how we gonna do this,” the young man said, making his way back over the counter. “Me and this bitch are gonna take a little walk. Now you keep your cool and I'll let her go, but if I hear the police on my heels, this hoe is gonna get one in the brain.”

“Don't hurt my wife!” Artie shouted.

“Fuck is wrong with you?” the young man said, slapping Artie with his free hand. “You trying to bring the heat, son? I don't want this bitch. She's just gonna make sure I get off the block without a problem. Now, let's go, bitch.”

Artie and Maria Chin had been robbed before, but never like this. The young man with the braids knew just what he was doing. Never before had Artie felt so helpless as when he watched Eve walk out of his store, clutching his wife about the arm.

 

“Cassidy! Cassidy! Girl, you gotta see this shit.”

Cassidy reluctantly pulled her head from under the pillow to see what her sister was shouting about. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon and she usually didn't get up until one, when the stories came on. Sheeka knew she was dead wrong for breaking her rest.

After another few minutes of coaxing, she got out of bed and slipped on her Baby Phat bathrobe. With all the enthusiasm of a man walking the green mile, Cassidy made her way down the hall to the living room. When she entered, her eyes widened in surprise. Sheeka stood in the midst of three dozen long-stemmed roses, holding a Teddy bear dressed like a bellhop.

“Girl, you must've laid it on this nigga,” Sheeka teased, holding a white card.

“Shut up, stupid,” Cassidy snapped, snatching the card from Sheeka. The card only contained four words and a signature.

Cassidy couldn't fight back the smile that creased her lips. She hadn't spent more than five minutes with Carlo and he was already tricking bread on her. Definitely a plus. Upon closer examination of the bear, she noticed the tennis bracelet tied around his neck. Carlo knew how to do it up. She was so busy swooning over the gifts that she never bothered to realize that she had never given him her address.

 

Eve got off the train on 125th Street, grinning and whistling a tune. After she left the Chin's grocery store, she had pushed Maria down into a pile of garbage and made her escape. The robbery had gone off without a hitch, and she was nine hundred dollars richer for it. Not bad for a few minutes of work. Now she was ready to shop.

She moved in and out of the various stores on 125th, picking out things she needed and things she just wanted. Eve loved shopping, and she got a kick out of the weird looks she was drawing, picking out thongs and bras from a lingerie store. She was still dressed like a boy so she could only imagine how it must've looked.

After she finished shopping, Eve decided to head back to the block. Before going upstairs she wanted to pick up some Cracker Jacks for Beast and a few cans of food for his kitty. Inside the store, Eve bumped into a familiar face. He was tall and muscular, with a scar that ran from his ear to his cheek. His boxed braids hung down to his shoulders and were tied off by red rubber bands. If a person couldn't guess his affiliation by the numerous tattoos on his neck and arms, the red bandanna hanging from his right back pocket was a dead giveaway.

“Brother Bone,” she said, easing up behind him.

Bone reflexively went for his hammer, but stayed his hand when he saw who was addressing him. “Eve? Baby girl, that you?”

“Who did you think it was?” she asked, punching him in the arm.

“Never can tell these days, ma,” he said, ruffling the newspaper in his hand. “Gutter and them fool-ass niggaz from Harlem done turn this muthafucka out. It's open season on anything in red. Most of these niggaz be tucking they flags, but I'm true to my shit. Word to mine.”

“Fuck had you so caught up that I could've snuck up on you?” she asked.

“You ain't heard?” He handed her the
Daily News.
When Eve read the headline, her heart almost dropped.

 

INMATE MURDERS PRISON GUARD AT JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER

 

She already knew what the article would say, but she read it anyhow.

“Damn, he went and did it,” Eve said to no one in particular.

“You knew about this shit, Eve?” Bone asked.

“Yeah,” she said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “I talked to him on the morning I got out. He was going through a thang, so I figured he was just talking. I didn't think he would really do it.”

“Yeah, ma. That nigga went out G style. Pigs took my little man outta here. Me and the crew gonna party it up for the homey. The set had much love for him, ma.”

Eve's mind went back to the conversation she had with Scruggs on her way out. Bone was part of the very same crew that had abandoned Scruggs when he got locked up. Now he was talking about how they were all broken up and how much love the crew had for him. It all sounded like bullshit to her. Eve was so twisted by the news that she didn't even bother to get her items from the store. She gave Bone dap and went her way.

 

The news of Scruggs' death had her shaken, to say the least. The world around her was changing and it wasn't for the better. Black kids were losing their lives left and right, all in the name of nonsense. It was times like those that Eve had thought about hanging up her pistol and going straight, but what would she do? She had gotten her GED, but other than that, she really didn't have any skills. She could always try to make the best out of it and go into one of the job-placement programs that they offered parolees, but she couldn't see herself slaving for pennies. No. She would just have to get it how she got it until a better idea came to her.

She trekked up the stairs to her apartment so she could put her bags away. After what had happened, she needed to get low and get her thoughts together. She had hoped that Uncle Bobby would either be sleeping or too busy to notice her, but no such luck. When she entered the apartment, he was parked in the living room watching a documentary on the World War II. He shot her a suspicious look as she passed with the bags.

“Been shopping?” he asked, chewing on the filter of his cigarette.

“Yeah, I had to go pick up a few things,” she said, trying to keep it moving.

“Don't look like no few things to me. Looks like a whole lot of something.”

“You know how us women are, Uncle Bobby.”

“Sit down for a minute, Evelyn.” She thought about protesting, but the look on his face said that he wasn't trying to hear that. With a sigh she flopped on the couch. “So, what's going on with you?” he asked.