Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose (11 page)

Still in denial, Sandra was asked to take a ride down to the morgue and simply confirm that the young woman they had identified as Nikki Jones either was or wasn’t her daughter. Begrudgingly, she agreed. When she arrived, she was led inside of a freezing cold room. A body, covered in a sheet was pulled out horizontally from a drawer. The sheet was pulled back to reveal the face of a corpse. Silently, tears began to stream from the corners of Sandra’s eyes which was all the confirmation Deputy Greggs needed. Unfortunately, she had more bad news for Sandra… Nikki had been three months pregnant. Sandra cried out in anguish before she fainted and fell to the floor.

When Sandra came to, she was in a hospital bed. She immediately began to shriek at the top of her lungs. “Y’all killed my baby! Y’all killed my baby!” she screamed out over and over again. When the orderlies and nurses were called to her room, she kicked, scratched, bit and fought them all frantically, like a woman possessed.

She was beyond hysterical. She kicked one orderly in the groin, causing him to double over in pain. Another one, she bit on the hand. After many attempts to get her under control, the orderlies were finally able to restrain her long enough for the nurses to stick her with a needle that contained a mild sedative. When she continued to struggle and fight, the dosage was increased. As the medicine began to take effect, her violent attacks became noticeably more subdued, until at last, she was completely out of it.

Now, as a black veil covered her weary face, Sandra was extremely calm (thanks to the help of a large dose of Valium) as she prepared to lay her first born to rest. Nikki’s little brother, Damien stood beside his mama and tried to be as strong for her as possible. But he just couldn’t help the tears that silently slid down his teenaged face as he looked at his big sister lying in that casket. She didn’t look like she was dead, just sleeping. He wished that he could run over and shake Nikki until she woke up and yelled at him to get out of her damn room. But she wasn’t sleep… she was dead.

Sandra and Damien were joined at the church by their family and many of Nikki’s closest friends. Some, like Vicki and Tasha had known Nikki since her days at Serene Elementary. Others hadn’t known her as long, but they had all been touched in some way by Nikki’s beautiful heart and spirit. She was a very popular girl who had a smile that could light up any room she entered. Nikki was the type of girl that loved to joke, have fun, laugh and enjoy life. She’d had so many dreams, hopes and aspirations for the future, but in a blink of an eye, those hopes and dreams had been permanently deferred.

No one who had known Nikki could honestly say anything bad about her. She didn’t have any enemies. Even the girls who’d initially thought she was stuck up and were jealous of her beauty, eventually got cool with her and came to realize that Nikki was one of the sweetest, most genuine people you’d ever want to meet. And now she was gone.

There wasn’t a dry eye in attendance as Pastor D finished delivering a touching eulogy for a beautiful young woman that had been taken from her loved ones far too soon. “…And so we say our farewells to Nikki; a beautiful spirit who God saw fit to call home to be by his side in his Kingdom. May we smile while reminiscing on the memories she’s left behind and rejoice in knowing that she is truly in a better place; resting peacefully in the bosom of the Lord.” Pastor Dillinger concluded with a commonly quoted verse from Genesis 3:19: “For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return… Amen.”

After Pastor D finished the eulogy, two of Nikki’s closest friends, Brandy and MoNique, who used to sing with Nikki in the choir, began to belt out a soul stirring rendition of “I’m Missing You” from the movie Set It Off. “
Though I’m missing you (although i’m missing you)/ I’ll find a way to get through (I’ll find a way to get through)/ Living without you. Cause you were my sister, my strength and my pride/ Only God may know why, still I will get by…
They managed to get halfway through the song before they both broke down in tears, unable to finish.

Mourners solemnly filed past the coffin to get their last look at Nikki before her casket was closed and she was placed into the wintry December ground. Among them was News 4’s reporter Jennifer Henderson who had shown up not as a reporter looking for a scoop, but as a compassionate black woman who felt the overwhelming need to be there and share her condolences. Veteran reporters always advised against getting psychologically attached to a story, but she
needed
to feel some type of emotional connection to
this
story. A daughter and a sister who had been carrying her own child had been brutally murdered; and for what? She needed to know. Not necessarily for herself, but maybe
, just maybe
she could help give this grieving family some closure, she thought as it was her turn to file past and look inside the casket. Jennifer looked at the beautifully serene face of Nikki Jones and felt the tears begin to well up in her own eyes. It was one thing to report the facts of a story. It was something entirely different to see the aftereffects of what she reported first hand.

“Fuck y’all doing here!? Get y’all asses the fuck outta here!” Nikki’s cousin Gregg yelled out, causing the entire church to turn toward his voice to see what the hell was going on. Gloria had just entered the church along with her children, Meka and Ant D to pay their respects. They hadn’t known Nikki that well, but they knew Mike had loved her enough to want to marry her. And after finding out the day before that Mike was still alive, they felt obligated to show up on his behalf. However, Gregg wasn’t trying to hear that shit. Only twenty-three himself; his ear was still firmly planted to the streets and it was common knowledge that those bullets that had torn Nikki’s body apart weren’t intended for her. She had just been an innocent victim who’d gotten caught up in the middle of Meka, Ant D, and Mike’s bullshit.

Gregg’s brother O.T. came to his side. “What? Y’all muhfuckas ain’t hear what my brother just said? Y’all ain’t wanted in here.” His voice hadn’t been as loud but his tone conveyed his seriousness. His calm demeanor belied the mean mug displayed on his face.

“Young man, we just came through to show our—“

“Fuck your respects!” spat Gregg, interrupting Gloria. “Y’all the fucking reason my cousin’s lying up in that casket now!”

“So you can either walk outta here or get the shit beat out your asses and get carried out,” O.T. said, in a menacing tone. Other family members of Nikki’s had begun to gather around Gregg and O.T. like an angry mob. They looked on like they were just waiting for the wrong word to be said so they could pounce all over Gloria, Ant and Meka. They needed someone to direct the anger and frustration of their loss at.

“
Muthafucka
, I don’t care how many of you niggas it is up in here,” said Ant. “The next time you disrespect my mama, I’ll put a hole in yo’ head so goddamn big the coroner will be able to see what the fuck you was thinkin’ before I killed yo’ bitch ass.” Ant pulled up the front of his shirt to reveal the butt of the all black gun he had tucked in his waist. Ant hadn’t even thought twice about bringing a weapon that was designed to take lives inside of the church. He had very little faith that there was a God anyway. On top of that, niggas was trying to wipe him off the planet. And it wasn’t like funerals didn’t get shot up. So House of the Lord or no house of the Lord, he had that thang with him and was ready to use it. The church fell silent. The tension in the air was palpable.

Pastor D quickly stepped in between the two families and spoke up, hoping to defuse this bomb before it went off and he had to deliver another eulogy for somebody else.“People,
people
! Please, everybody just calm down. Haven’t we seen enough violence? Haven’t we seen enough bloodshed!? Have we not learned anything from this senseless tragedy? This is exactly what the devil wants; to sow even more disharmony and confusion at a time when we’re already grieving the loss of a life. If any of you have any type of love and respect for the young woman lying in that casket then I’m asking you all not to do anything to dishonor her memory.”

“All we wanna do is bury my cousin in peace, Pastor.” said O.T., without taking his eyes off of Ant D. “And there won’t be any violence
if
you simply explain to them that they ain’t wanted here.” Ant returned O.T.’s glare with a wild, crazy look of his own.

Pastor Dillinger knew Gloria was a regular parishioner at New Life Ministries so he walked up to her in an attempt to reason with her. “Sister Davis, this family is grieving and mourning the loss of someone very close to their hearts. I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here with any malice or ill will, but for whatever reason, the family doesn’t want you or your children here. So I’m respectfully asking that you all leave so that we can peacefully put this young lady to rest.”

“Pastor, I honestly didn’t mean to come here and start any trouble or cause this family any more pain. I simply wanted to pay my respects; that’s all. I’m a mother and as you know I came very close to losing my only daughter myself just a few months ago,” she said gesturing towards Meka.

“They shoulda killed that trifling ass bitch,” a female voice murmured, loudly enough to be heard.

“Whoever said that can go choke on a horse dick,” Meka shot back.

Gloria cut her eyes at her daughter, before continuing. “I can only imagine how Sandra might be feeling right now and I definitely don’t wanna add to her pain, so we’ll go.”

“Thank you so much sister Davis,” said Pastor Dillinger, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Meka and Gloria made their way to the door of the church before they noticed Ant wasn’t with them. He and O.T. continued to stare at each other, neither willing 2 back down. Finally, Meka came back and grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him towards the exit. “C’mon Ant, let’s go.”

Sandra Jones stood in front of the many family members and friends who had gathered together at the cemetery to see Nikki finally laid to rest. She held a white rose in her hand and stared blankly as the closed casket carrying her only daughter was slowly lowered six feet deep into the cold, hard December ground. Throughout the whole funeral service, Sandra was probably the only one who had yet to shed a tear. The Valium had numbed her to the pain. Whenever the anguish she felt attempted to break through to the surface of her consciousness, Sandra would simply pop another pill to push it back down.

After the casket was finally at the bottom of the grave, Sandra walked slowly over to the opening, accompanied by her son, Damien. She stopped at the edge and carefully peered over into the grave, at the mahogany casket that inside of it held so many dreams that would never be realized. She let the white rose drop from her hand. It seemed to fall in slow motion until it finally landed soundlessly on top of the casket.

CHAPTER 11

Club Money was a strip club that was frequented by dope boys who liked to be seen tossing cash around and blowing money fast. There was a pool hall on one side of it and the latest version of club 864 on the other. 864 used to be
the
spot. Everybody from Gucci Mane and Young Jeezy to T.I. had come through and turned that muthafucka
out
! Even back in the day when it was called the Ghanas it had been the place to be. But like most clubs that catered to the hood, 864 had gone through several changes. Those changes usually happened after attention from the media or the authorities cast a negative light on the club. And
this
usually occurred once somebody was stabbed, shot or killed in the club or its parking lot. The owners would shut down for a few months and then open back up under “new management.” Unfortunately, after a mysterious fire burnt 864 to the ground, it was forced to move to another location and now it really did have new management. But it would never be the same.

Though the latest version of 864 was lame and nobody really fucked with it, Club Money stayed jumping on Saturdays. Hustlers (some of them female) weren’t the only ones that came to the strip club to make it rain and see the voluptuous women shake their assets though. There were also the regular working dudes who came to Club Money and ended up being talked out of their whole paychecks by some stripper whose words were sweeter than honey. For ten dollars a song, that sucker’s favorite stripper would sit in his lap and listen to him pour his heart out about his nagging wife, bad ass kids, and boring ass job until he was tapped out. Then she’d hang around for some small talk before giving him a kiss on the cheek and moving on to give her seemingly undivided attention to another sucker. Then you had the lames that paid to get in, bought a couple of drinks and just watched the action.

“Did you see that new girl’s ass? Got
damn
, that shit was craaazy! And that bitch got a pretty ass face too. You seen how she was sweatin’ me right?” said Mario excitedly, as he and his friend J.R. staggered out of the festive, lust filled atmosphere of Club Money. The chilly December air had a slight sobering effect on the two members of M.B.M. as they walked unsteadily to J.R.’s peanut butter (tan leather interior) and jelly (candy painted purple exterior) Chevy.

“Here you go with that T-Pain shit again. Fallin’ in love wit’ a muhfuckin’ stripper and shit,” said his homey J.R., laughing. “Which girl you talkin’ ‘bout anyway?”

“The lil short light skinned one with the fat ass,” slurred Mario. He was twisted.