Black Gangster (25 page)

"That don't mean shit!" Ruby exploded. She had been trying to stay out of it, but her anger got the best of her. "The stud knew Apeman was one of Prince's men, so he shouldn't have touched him. Now he's going to have to pay for his error."

Racehorse stared at Ruby for a moment before laughing. "What's the deal here, Prince?" he asked sarcastically. "You got a bitch running your business now?"

Ruby blushed scarlet with more than anger. "Just who in the hell do you think you are, Racehorse?"

"Shut up, Ruby!" Prince ordered. His eyes glittered as he stared from one to the other. "We got enough problems without you two squabbling like kids. Racehorse, I don't understand this. You say one of my boys got killed, yet you don't want to tell me who's behind it."

"I didn't say I wasn't going to tell you who was behind the killing, Prince. I just said I couldn't tell you who actually did the job."

Prince shrugged. "I don't like the idea of some butchers coming into my city and killing one of my boys and getting away with it, Race, but if you can put me hip to who wired them up for this, I'll let it ride for now."

Racehorse grinned. "You ever hear of a bulldyker called Frankie?" He waited until both of them shook their heads. "Well, she called the boys in from Chicago. Seems as though she don't like the idea of having to pay for her ladies to work."

Ruby walked over and removed the cigarette from behind Racehorse's fingers. She slowly lit a stick of reefer with it, then handed the reefer to Racehorse. "Here, baby," her voice was husky. "I'm sorry about that little misunderstanding we had. You know you and me are a whole lot cooler than that, Horse."

"You know how that goes, baby," Racehorse replied as he inhaled the sweet-smelling reefer. "Everybody can't be right all the time. Prince," he said, turning away from her, "let me try and straighten something out with you before we go into this thing any further."

"Come on out with it," Prince answered quietly.

Racehorse removed the burned-up joint from his mouth and made a cocktail. "Look here, baby," he began. "These guys never would have called me if they didn't have something else on their minds besides idle gossip." Prince remained silent and waited for him to continue. "The studs want you to toss them some business, Prince. That's the real reason the guys wasted the time getting in touch with me and then pulling my coat to what went down. They say things are kind of slow in Chi right now, and they seem to be catching pure hell waiting on somebody to call them with a decent contract."

Prince laughed ruthlessly. "This stud you've been talking with has plenty of nerve, Race. First he kills one of my best men, then turns around and asks for a goddamn job."

"He acts like he ain't never heard of you, Prince, or else he thinks your middle name is Pussy," Ruby snapped, her face flushed with anger.

Racehorse threw her a savage glance, then spoke to Prince. "That ain't the reason, Prince. The stud's got a good idea of how this thing can be worked out between you and him."

"Just how would he like to handle it?" Prince inquired, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Wait a minute, baby," Racehorse said, well aware of Prince's ways. "You done went and got the wrong impression already, man. You know what kind of business the guy deals in, Prince, so you know damn well he has to be careful. Plus, he don't trust you too much, baby, 'cause of that killing."

"How the hell would he work for me if he don't have any trust?"

"The stud has an idea you might go along with using me as the middle man. That way, neither one of you would have to ever meet."

Ruby inquired sarcastically, "Won't that put a little heat on you, Racehorse?"

"You know it does," Racehorse answered easily, "but I trust this stud, and I'm also going to get me a small commission out of every job he takes care of to make up for the trouble I might have to go through."

A sharp knock on the door ended the conversation. "Who is it?" Prince asked sharply.

"This is Preacher. I got some very important news for you, Prince, or I wouldn't be bothering you."

Prince glanced at Racehorse, undecided. "Don't worry about me," Racehorse said quickly. "Me and Preacher grew up together. Let him in."

The door was opened halfway and Preacher slipped through the crack. "Well, look what the garbage truck dropped off," he said, then grinned at Racehorse. He stuck out his hand and Racehorse jumped from the edge of the desk and grabbed it.

"I hear you been coming up in the world, Preacher," he said as he pumped Preacher's hand. "They tell me you done got to be just about the biggest frog in the pond down in black bottom." He grinned. "How's your wife, man? Last thing I heard, you was on your way to becoming a daddy."

Preacher grinned. "Yeah, man, I got a son." His face brightened slightly. "Besides that one, I got another one on the way."

Prince locked the door. "Whatever you got to say, get it over with, Preacher. We got some important business to take care of as soon as you finish."

Preacher nodded, then blurted out his news. "Man, it's all up and down the streets that the police have found Apeman's body. The wire that's out is that he was shot five times. Now, I don't know how much of this is true, but everybody that comes into the club is talking about it."

"The way this city is right now," Ruby broke in, "we can't afford to have someone kill one of our boys and get away with it."

Racehorse glared at her but remained silent. He understood what she was trying to do. She wouldn't be satisfied until the gunmen themselves were made to pay.

"The people in the know just about know what we are going to do about it," Prince replied. "The only thing they don't understand is how we are going to do it." Prince walked over and opened the door. "Preacher, I want you to have the members of the Rulers put on their outfits, 'cause there is going to be a hit made tonight. I want everybody who heard about this killing to know that we're getting ready to play payback before the night's over."

After closing the door behind Preacher, Prince turned to Racehorse. "This job tonight has got to be done in such a vicious manner, Horse, that even the hardest studs will be trembling at the thought of crossing one of my people."

"It ain't goin' be such a hard thing catching up with who's behind the killing, Prince. Frankie will more than likely be in her favorite bar partying tonight. The thing is, how am I going to get her out of the bar?" Racehorse rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Don't worry about that part of it, Racehorse," Ruby said. "I can handle it, if Prince will give me the okay." She stared at her man, awaiting his agreement. Her eyes traveled quickly to Racehorse, then back again. It would be a long time before she forgot all the bitches he had called her.

"You really want part of this job?" Prince asked her slowly.

"I don't just want part of this job, daddy. I've already figured out just how it can be handled, and there won't be any complaints about it after I've handled it, either."

Racehorse glanced at Ruby, then back to Prince. "What kind of crap is this, man? You think I'm going on a job with a bitch?"

"Don't worry about her," Prince replied, smiling slightly. "She can handle her end of it. She took care of that job on Billy without anyone helping her."

Racehorse glanced at her nervously. "If she handled that job I guess it's all right, but I still don't like the idea of workin' with a bitch."

Ruby walked over to Racehorse and stared him in the eye. "Before we're finished working with each other, you'll realize I got a different name than bitch, Race. That I promise you."

THE SILVER DOLLAR BAR was just beginning to get into full swing. The news of Apeman's death had put the bar's steady customers in a mood of gaiety, and the pimps and prostitutes were celebrating by buying out the bar.

Frankie could be heard over the roar shouting loudly and cursing. "Rack 'em back, goddamnit," she screamed at the top of her voice. "Give everybody a fuckin' drink on me."

Three older pimps at a table in the rear watched the proceedings with misgivings. "I don't know what the hell they're celebrating," one of the men said. "Just because that stud got waxed, that ain't goin' stop us from having to pay protection dues."

"That ain't the half of it," one of his friends replied. "Somebody's going to have to pay for that killing." He hesitated briefly, then added, "I hope to hell it ain't us."

The pimp who had started the conversation nodded in agreement. "I wasn't thinking about it in those terms, but now that you mention it, it's going to cost somebody more than a little piece of money."

The third man kicked the speaker's leg under the table. "Look what's coming through the door, man. You might just get an answer to your question faster than you realized."

Preacher, followed by four men wearing Ruler uniforms, came into the bar and stopped at the entrance. His eyes fell on Frankie, pounding on the bar with a beer bottle.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam?" she screamed at the bartender. "Didn't I say for you to give everybody in the joint a drink on me? Now let's get busy back there and serve it up if you want to make some money."

Sam hurried up and down the bar as fast as his short legs would allow, pouring drinks. "Okay, okay," he yelled back, "I can't work any faster, so take it easy."

"The hell you say," Frankie yelled. "If you can't work fast enough, I'll send one of my girls back there to give you a hand."

Sam stopped what he was doing and glared at Frankie. "The hell you will! I don't allow whores behind my bar. Bad enough my bar's full of them. If you want to get served, just hold your damn horses, you ain't in that much of a damn hurry."

Frankie noticed Preacher, and the whiskey caused her to throw caution to the wind. She glanced briefly at him, then said, "We don't get a chance to celebrate a punk's death every day, Sam, so hurry the hell up or I'll take my business across the street."

"You can take your girls any damn place you like, Frankie, only don't try rushing me."

Preacher spoke up suddenly. "Don't blow all your money across that bar, Frankie, 'cause you got to pay dues for them girls of yours if you're planning on sending them to work tonight."

A sudden silence fell over the barroom. Preacher turned away from Frankie and spoke to the crowd. "Because of that accident, everybody will be expected to pay double dues tonight."

Frankie flushed angrily. "You better hope you can collect the regular dues, boy, instead of talking about somebody paying extra."

Preacher grinned at her coldly. "You don't have to pay a penny, Frankie, if you don't want to."

"I know damn well I don't, and I ain't about to pay any either."

"Is there anybody else in here who feels the same way about this as Frankie?" Preacher asked, glancing around the room.

The silence had become so thick that you could hear the heavy breathing from a drunk in one of the back booths. Sam glanced around nervously. He knew just what was going on. He paid his protection dues, too, only they showed him a little more respect, like coming around early before many customers were in the bar. It was cheap, so he went along with it. He stared at Frankie and shook his head.

Preacher nodded at one of his boys with a notebook in his hand. "In that case, since no one feels like Frankie does, we can get on with our collection."

As some of the girls whose men weren't there lined up to pay off, pimps began to fall in line behind them. When one of the collectors came up to a tall, dark pimp, the pimp asked sarcastically, "How long are we supposed to go for this extra amount you guys have added on?"

Preacher spoke to the boy collecting the money. "Give him his money back."

The pimp stepped back from the collection table as though there were a snake on it. "Wait a minute, Preacher," he stammered, "that ain't what I meant. I don't want no money back, all I want to know is how long are we going to have to pay double rates."

Preacher looked at the man steadily. "If you want me to, Sonny, I could call up Prince and let you ask him yourself."

"That's all right, man," Sonny replied. "I don't want no trouble I can't handle myself."

Frankie's loud laughter rang out. She stared at Sonny as though he had just come from under a rock. "If that's what you whores call a man, this city is in real trouble."

Suddenly, the old-time saloon doors swung open and a tall, ebony-skinned woman walked in. The plat inum blonde wig she wore bounced on her shoulders as she crossed the floor with the stride of an African queen. She was noticeably young under her brazen whore makeup, but she carried herself like a thoroughbred.

Frankie moved to the front of the bar and blocked her path. "Come on, honey, and join me. I'd hate for one of these lightweight punks to try and fire at you and end up running you away."

Preacher glanced twice at the girl before he realized that it was Ruby. To cover his astonishment, he spoke sharply to Frankie. "If I was you, Frankie, I'd make sure didn't none of my girls try and work tonight, 'cause they might run into anything if you don't come up with that money." He waited, then added, "You know what I mean, something like a sadist or some other kind of nut."