Anything for Profit 2: Nothing to Lose (3 page)

“
Now here is where the details began to get a bit sketchy,” continued Jennifer. “Some witnesses say there were only two men in the shooting vehicle; others say they’re certain they saw four black men in the sedan. Also, there are different accounts as to exactly how many shots were fired. Some are saying that they only heard five or six shots, while others are adamant that they definitely heard more gunshots than that and possibly machine gun fire.”

“
What about the occupants of the Escalade, Jennifer? Any word on their condition?”
asked David from behind the desk in the News 4 studio.

“
Yes, David. The police haven’t released the names of the victims as of yet, but we do know that there were two African Americans on the receiving end of this vicious act of violence; one a man and the other a woman that may possibly be pregnant. Both sustained multiple gunshot wounds and are in extremely critical condition at Greenville Memorial. Doctors say that they both are still in the operating room and it’s questionable as to whether either will make it through the night... This is Jennifer Henderson reporting live for WYFF News 4 at six.”

“
Wow; definitely some very disturbing news this evening. Our prayers go out to those victims as well as their families. We’ll have more details about these disturbing events for you at eleven. Thanks, Jennifer”
said Kathy Coulter
,
David’s busty, blond haired co-anchor, who sat behind the News 4 desk with him in the studio. Kathy turned to face David Whitmore.
“David, many residents are outraged at this latest act of violence and are calling for immediate action. We interviewed some of those residents and here’s what they had to say…”

A thin, bespectacled brunette who looked as if she could be an elementary school teacher came onto the screen and began talking. “
I think it is absolutely ridiculous that these… thugs are turning our peaceful city into a warzone! I’m scared to even go out with my children because you never know when bullets might start flying!”

“
Well, I’ll tell you what,”
drawled one heavyset red necked man gripping a shotgun in his hands. He had a high powered rifle slung over his shoulder.
“I’m a law abiding citizen, but I knows my rights. If dem there people come on my yard wit’ dat craziness I’ll put a hole in their ass so fast they won’t know what hit ‘em!”
He cocked his shotgun for effect before he spat tobacco juice out the side of his mouth onto the street.

“
I think there’s always been violence in the city, but now it’s gotten out of control due to the high unemployment rates among a group of frustrated people who are uneducated and live in poor, destitute neighborhoods,”
said a white professor from Greenville Technical College.

“
Do I think crime outta control? Huh? Is that what you asked me?”
laughed a skinny African American man as he looked into the camera. He was jumpy and kept looking around as he spoke. It looked as if he hadn’t washed in months and if you got close enough to the T.V. you might be able to smell him. His eyes were bloodshot and it became evident as he spoke that he was missing most of his teeth. The ones he did have left were rotten. “
Well, hell yeah crime out of control! Shoot! Just the other day these dudes jumped me and beat me up bad! They said I stole something from them, but I ain’t no thief! Thief?! Do I look like a thief?! Shoot! I called the po-lice and they said I was crazy! Crazy?! Do I look crazy?! You got these drug dealers selling fake drugs and just the other day…”
The man rambled on, determined to take full advantage of his fifteen seconds of shame.

Despite the fact that blacks were more likely to be the victims of the violent crimes being discussed, the majority of the people interviewed for this piece were Caucasians from the middle and upper class. Greenville was the second largest city in South Carolina (and still growing) with a substantial black population and a large influx of Mexicans, but let’s be real; this was still the Deep South. Residents were still very much divided along racial lines. Political power, as well as the news media, remained predominately in the hands of white bigots whose mentality was very racist. The first state to secede from the Union had changed… but not much.

“
More residents weighed in with their opinions and if you want to hear what they had to say about the surge in crime, please log on to WYFF4.com. But I will say that the overwhelming majority of them are calling on the Sherriff’s Office and the Mayor for action. Some are starting to take matters into their own hands and are beginning to arm themselves. Gun stores are reporting an estimated thirty-five percent increase in sales from this same time last year. So far, the Sherriff’s Office has declined to comment but said they will be having a press conference to address this matter and allay the community’s fears. News 4 will have more details on this story as it develops. Kathy…”

“
Today in the Middle East–
” Sylvia aimed the remote at the television and pressed the mute button.

“Man, y’all believe this bullshit?” asked Sylvia. “Y’all hear how them muhfuckas talk ‘bout us? Niggas
been
getting robbed, stabbed, shot, and err’thing else in the hood and you never hear nothin’ ‘bout that shit. But all of a sudden it’s
big
news ‘cause it happened Downtown?” Sylvia shook her head. “Then, out of all the black people wit’ some sense they had to go and interview that crack smoking ass nigga Do Dirty?! Them crackers be killin’ me wit’ that bullshit.” The rest of the salon all ‘umm hmmed’ and nodded their heads in agreement while simultaneously pulling out their cell phones to share what they had just seen on the news.

“Girrrrrrl, was you watchin’ the news?” Greenville was the type of place where news (especially hood news) traveled fast, so it wouldn’t be long before the streets would be abuzz with all types of gossip and misinformation about the events that had transpired earlier that day…

CHAPTER
3

Later that night, across town, in an undisclosed location, two men met in secret to discuss the ramifications of the day’s events. Of course, outside of this room, neither man would ever acknowledge that this meeting had ever taken place. They spoke briefly. “My boss appreciates your… contributions but ummm, frankly you’re becoming more of a liability than an asset. We just can’t have people getting shot Downtown in broad daylight! Tomorrow afternoon we’re holding a press conference and in that press conference we will announce that we have apprehended the criminals who were responsible for that shooting today.” It wasn’t a question this man was asking. It was a not so subtle order. He was giving an order to a man who wasn’t accustomed to listening to anybody… but himself.

“You’ll have the necessary information and evidence to make your arrests so you can make your boss look good in front of the cameras tomorrow,” said the man standing in the shadows. He was a master chess player and understood that a few pawns had to be sacrificed every now and then in order to make a strategic advance. What he refused to sacrifice though, was his self-respect. “But I think it’s very important for you to understand one thing… The next time you ever speak to me in such a manner, your kids will be orphans.” The shadowy figure said this in such a calm, heartless tone that it literally felt like somebody had stuck ice cubes down the back of the shirt of the man he was addressing. Chills went down his spine. Silence.

“C-c-could you just
please
just make sure we have something by the morning?” The first man pleaded. His voice no longer held any sense of authority in it. In fact, he had completely changed his tone in lieu of the latter’s threat, which he knew wasn’t a threat at all. Damn, he hated this part of his job!

$$$

“
What should we name him?” asked Nikki, as she and Mike watched patrons exit from a popular Downtown eatery called Joe’s.

“
What you mean what we gon’ name him?” Mike asked jokingly, looking at his bride to be. “He gon’ be named after his daddy.”

They both laughed. Nikki said, “Ok, ok, you get this one but the next one I’m naming.” She laughed again.

Mike rubbed the slightly protruding stomach of his future wife and could’ve sworn he felt his son already kicking inside of her womb. “You feel that?” he asked, with awe in his voice.

“
Yeah, I feel him baby. He’s just like his daddy. Already fighting and starting trouble…” Nikki laughed. A truly beautiful, contagious sound that always seemed to melt away at the iceberg that Mike’s heart had become over the years.

Mike noticed some movement out the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a Chevy Impala pull up alongside them. In what seemed like slow motion, men with black ski-masks on leaned out of their windows and opened fire. Gunshots violently pierced the serenity of the afternoon as well as the doors of the SUV they were sitting in. Nikki, who was sitting in the passenger seat screamed out in pain and then—

Mike woke up abruptly in his hospital bed and screamed out. Fragments of his nightmare remained embedded in his mind. It had to be a terrible nightmare... didn’t it? But it had seemed so real; so vivid. He was drenched with sweat. His vision was blurred. He tried to move but his bandaged body cried out in pain. It was excruciating. He moaned. His thoughts were racing incoherently inside of his mind and he couldn’t think straight. He tried to sit up again but the effort drained all of his remaining energy. Michael Smith fell back onto the bed, beyond exhausted.

Drifting in and out of consciousness Mike fought for his existence as scenes from his short life played in his mind like a High Definition movie. A life of abandonment, poverty, pain and violence was all he’d ever known. It seemed like he’d always been fighting. Just to live. He was tired of fighting, tired of the pain; tired. That word kept echoing over and over again in his head. He just wanted to sleep and be in peace. Moments later he flat lined...

CHAPTER 4

“How much this is?” asked Ant D, as he held the clear plastic baggy full of that white girl in his hand. He had become infatuated with her ever since they had been formally introduced a few months back by a stripper named Chanel. It had happened when he and his best friend Mike had taken some freak bitches that stripped at Platinum Plus back to a hotel suite downtown. In the midst of an orgy, Chanel had convinced Ant that it would make his sex game better and increase the pleasure. Not wanting to seem like a lame, he took a small line up his nose and she had placed a small amount on the tip of his dick. That was the beginning of a not so beautiful relationship. Ant D wouldn’t admit it of course, but he was in love and it was becoming increasingly impossible for him to go a day without his new bitch.

“C’mon Ant, you already know that’s an eight, my nigga” responded Mont. Mont was a midlevel dope boy who got his work from the Mexicans who were not so quietly taking over the drug trade in Greenville. Their prices were cheaper than Zulu’s and their coke was more pure. This meant their product could be stepped on more for a better stretch. Ultimately, this meant more profit. So Mont had started coppin’ heavy from them and trappin’ out of his baby mama’s apartment in Piedmont Manor.

Ant looked at the baggy, and then held it up to the light. “I don’t know Mont. This shit lookin’ real Gary Coleman, right here nigga!”

Mont was used to customers trying to get a little extra weight by saying slick shit like that, but he wasn’t new to this, he was true to this. He’d been hustling since childhood. Mont kept a handheld digital scale on deck just for situations like this. He put the small, but extremely accurate, device on the counter top in the kitchen. Then he took the baggy from Ant and placed it flat on the scale. It read 3.5 grams.

“You said you wanted an eight ball. You see the scale Ant. You been fuckin’ wit me long enough to know my points always add up nigga.”

Begrudgingly, Ant handed Mont three hundred dollars and took the baggy back. He opened it up and used his pinky nail (which he’d let grow long just for this purpose) to take a snort up each nostril.

“C’mon Ant, you know I got my ol’ lady and my baby up in here,” said Mont, asking Ant to leave, without actually saying the words. Ant started to make his way to the door when Mont’s cell phone chirped. The phone was his throwaway so he didn’t bother answering it. He already knew what it was. Somebody was tryna cop.

As they exited the apartment, it dawned on Mont what he’d been hearing all day and night from different people. The streets were talking. “Yo, you ain’t heard the news nigga?” he asked.

Ant D looked at Mont incredulously.
What the fuck is this nigga talking about
? He wondered. The coke already had him in a zone.

“I forgot to even tell you, man. Muhfuckas sayin’ they seen Mike’s truck on the news and that bitch was swiss cheesed up! Shay said she seen that shit too, and knew it had to be Mike’s truck ‘cause ain’t nobody else got no Escalade like that but him. Then they started talkin’ ‘bout how there was a pregnant female passenger in the truck so I knew—“