Eve (19 page)

The thought was laughable. Him being anything other than what he was seemed like wishful thinking. The grind was where it was for him. He didn't relish the thought of working for twenty or thirty years, just to retire on a pension. His family needed things, and the streets provided him with the means to provide for them. The life of a hustler was a cold one, but Felon would rather be cold and rich than broke and warm.

 

Teddy leaned around the back of the truck and started dumping. Before Knowledge even knew what was jumping off, his shoulder exploded. As if that wasn't bad enough, Butter laid into him with a straight right. The whole world went woozy and Knowledge found himself on his back.

People were running left and right, but Teddy brushed through the crowd like he didn't even notice them. Knowledge had managed to make it to his knees when Teddy pressed the .357 against his temple. Knowledge looked into Teddy's eyes and saw only malice before his brains hit the sidewalk. Butter and Teddy forgot about the girls and headed back to the truck, never even noticing Johnny Black still leaning against the wall.

The next morning, Teddy sat in the folding chair, thumbing his PS2 controller back and forth. To his right sat Spoon, toggling the other controller. Vinny and Mike stood near the door, awaiting instructions. Felon paced the floor, trying to make heads or tails of what he had just been told.

“These muthafuckas got nerve,” Spoon said with a bit of venom in his voice. “How they gonna try to come at son?”

“That shit was crazy, Felon. Homey just came up and tried to pop him,” Teddy added.

“Shit!” Felon cursed. He should've seen it coming. Butter was the kind of cat who couldn't get money and fall back. He had to flash. He had to have the biggest mouth in the room, and the most girls on his dick. Felon constantly warned him about his cavalier attitude, but the boy was hardheaded.

“What we gonna do, chief?” asked Teddy.

Felon paused momentarily and glanced at Teddy. It was a damn good question. The money was rolling in, so the last thing he needed was a war fucking up the flow. Yet he couldn't let a crime like this go unpunished. Butter was like a brother to him. Any man who tried to lay hands on his family had to be dealt with. But the fact still remained that no one knew who was behind it. The shooter was dead, so he wasn't telling. Felon needed time to devise a game plan, but he had to throw the wolves a bone to calm them.

“We gonna handle this shit,” Felon said, slamming his palm. “Spoon, y'all niggaz hit the streets and see what you can dig up. Teddy, I want you to stay close to Butter. I'm gonna put some guys on y'all as extra muscle until we get to the bottom of this shit.” The men prepared to leave and carry out their various assignments. Before Teddy left, Felon called after him. “That nigga is like my brother, Teddy.”

“I got you, fam. You know how I do.” He tugged at the gun in his pants. Teddy saluted Felon and left the man to his thoughts.

 

The store on Seventh was crowded with people buying water and ice, trying to beat the heat. It was unseasonably warm that day and everyone was feeling it. Kids darted in and out, stealing or tossing their money on the counter without bothering to wait their turn. Beast stood patiently on the line waiting to pay for his purchases.

Three brawny men came barging into the store, knocking a path through people as they went. They were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, all covered in plaster. They rummaged through one of the freezers, retrieving forty ounces and bottles of water. Two of them took their places on the line, but the cockier of the trio bullied his way to the front of the line. He cut right in front of Beast just as he had reached the counter.

“Ah, excuse me. I was here first.” Beast said as politely as he could. The man, who was almost a foot taller than Beast, ignored him. “Sir?”

“Fuck outta here!” the man barked, never bothering to turn around.

“I don't want any trouble. I just wanna pay for my stuff and go,” Beast pleaded.

Now the man did turn around and size Beast up. His cold brown gaze bore down on the young man, challenging him to lock eyes. When Beast turned away, the man figured him for a coward. With nothing better to do, he decided to embarrass the mentally challenged young man and try and make himself look like somebody in the process.

“Yo, can't you understand English?” The man cocked his head. “I said, get the fuck outta here, retard!” The man poked his finger into Beast's chest to punctuate his last remark. Mistake.

By the time the man saw the rage building in Beast's eyes, it was far too late. Beast grabbed his finger and snapped it like a twig. The man's shriek and the sound of his bone snapping brought his two friends to Beast's rear. One was foolish enough to smash a bottle against Beast's head, which only seemed to enrage him more. With an animalistic snarl Beast whirled around and grabbed him by the neck. With almost an effortless toss, the attacker was airborne.

The third of the trio pulled a pocketknife. In an act of desperation he tried to cut his way out of the store. Beast caught the knife-wielding hand in one of his massive paws, covering everything except the blade. Using his thumb, he snapped the metal and glared at the man. When he opened his mouth to scream, Beast smashed his fist into it. His face made a crunching sound as the man crumbled. Beast then turned his attention back to the original threat.

“I'm not retarded!” he snarled into the man's face. “Do you hear me?! I'm not! I'm not!”

“Sorry, man,” the construction worker sobbed.

Beast eyed him closely, as if he was trying to decide if he wanted to eat him or not. The man was so terrified that he pissed his pants. Beast looked down at the stream of urine and scrunched up his nose. Deciding that enough damage had been done for the day, he dropped the man on his back and returned to the counter. The store owner was terrified, thinking that the violence wasn't over yet, but Beast did something that surprised everyone in the store. He apologized, paid for his goods, and left.

Eve sat on a milk crate, trying her best not to melt in the heat. She was dressed in a pair of sky blue Baby Phat sweat pants that hugged her curves and a matching baby-doll tank top. Sweat soaked the neckline, giving it an almost transparent effect. Her nipples pressed against the cotton ever so slightly. Her hair was blown out and hung from beneath the Blue Jays fitted cap she wore pulled firmly on her head. The brim did little to hide her from the sun. To her relief, Beast came walking up the block.

“Here ya go,” he said, handing her a bottle of water from the bag he was carrying. “Nice and cold.”

“Good looking, Beast,” she said, accepting the water. Eve turned the bottle up and began to down the refreshing liquid. Beads of sweat began to run down her neck, finishing the saturation job on the tank top. When she finished the water she noticed Beast staring at her with a puzzled look on his face.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, turning away.

“Beast, I saw the way you were looking at me. What's up?”

“You're different, Eve.”

“What do you mean, I'm different? I haven't changed, Beast.”

“Yes, you have. You're prettier now.”

“Thanks, I think. Beast, I'm getting older, so I'm filling out in certain places. Girls do that, ya know.”

“I know that,” he said as if it should've been painfully obvious to her. “I don't like it.”

“Why? Don't you want me to grow up?”

“That's not what I mean. I don't like the way guys look at you now. They look like they wanna do bad things to you.”

“I'll bet they do,” she said, patting his cheek. “That's just how guys look at girls. It's been happening since the dawn of time.”

“I still don't like it,” he said, folding his arms.

The conversation was broken up by a silver Acura pulling up to the curb. Eve couldn't see through the window, so she immediately inched closer to the small pistol stashed in a doughnut box. Ever since her brush, she had been paranoid. If trouble was about to pop, she would make sure her and Beast's asses were covered. She cracked a broad smile when her friend stepped out of the ride.

“What up, my nigga?” Cassidy sang, strutting up to the sidewalk. She was wearing a dress that dropped down in the front, showing off her cleavage. The alligator slip-ons she wore looked like they were fresh off the shelf. Even the scarf she had tied around her neck looked like money.

“C-style, what up, ma?” Eve gave her dap. “I ain't seen you in a minute!”

“I been handling mine,” Cassidy said, spinning around to show off the fit.

“Doing big things, Cas. I can't even be mad at you. That fit is off the hook.”

“Carlo bought it for me.”

“Big spender,” Eve said sarcastically.

“Don't hate, bitch,” Cassidy smiled. “Look at your ass, looking like a lady. Who's dick you sucking that got you open?”

“Don't play with me, heifer. I don't suck dick!” Eve exclaimed.

“Not yet.”

“Forget you.” Eve waved her off. “These is just some sweats. You're killing em though. That dress must've cost a grip.”

“Ain't my money. Who gives a fuck?”

“You ain't right, C. Say, what're you doing with that scarf on as hot as it is?” Eve yanked at the scarf, but before she could get it off, Cassidy stopped her. Eve spotted the black-and-blue marks on her friend's neck and screwed her face. “What's that?”

“A'int nothing,” Cassidy said, retying the scarf.

“Looks like something, Cas. Don't bullshit me. That nigga hitting you?”

“Hell no,” Cassidy said, defensively. “That nigga ain't crazy. He just gets a little rough when we're fucking. You know I got that good shit, Eve.”

“Cassidy, I hope you ain't lying to me. You know how I get down when it comes to you. You're the closest thing I got to a sister and the only family I got outside of Uncle Bobby. I'd gladly kill a muthafucka for you, Cas.”

“That's why you'll forever be my ace,” Cassidy said, getting teary-eyed. Just as the water began to fall, a pair of hands covered Cassidy's eyes. She knew from the familiar smell of Cool Water who it was. “Boy, quit playing.” Cassidy spun around.

“Whoa,” Butter said, holding his hands up. “That ain't no way to treat your future baby daddy.”

“Nigga, please. I ain't trying to have no kids with your crazy ass. Butter, you've got too many damn issues.”

“That's the life of a superstar.” He shrugged. “What's up wit you though? I ain't heard from you in a minute.”

“I've been busy,” she said shortly.

“I hear that hot shit. So, what's up wit me and you?”

“Nothing,” she responded.

“Cassidy.” He scratched his head, “I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I sense you ain't feeling me like that.”

“Don't take it personal. A bitch just got a lot on her plate right now. It's still love, boo-boo.”

Eve watched the exchange between the two but said nothing. For all the shit Cassidy talked about not belonging to anyone, she still hadn't managed to tell Butter about her involvement with Carlo. Eve continued to watch Cassidy half answer questions and dodge advances until she grew tired of it.

“What's with the extra muscle?” she asked, changing the flow of their conversation. There were two men whom Eve didn't recognize standing near Butter's truck. Teddy was behind the wheel.

“Just some bullshit,” he said casually. “Some nigga made a move on me, so Felon suggested that I get some baby-sitters. I told him I'm good, but you know how he can be.”

“How is he?” she asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Why don't you call and ask him? The number is still the same,” he said with a wink. Eve responded by giving him the finger. “Anyhow,” he continued, “Cas, we need to hook up, ma. Catch a movie or something.”

“I'll call you,” she said, brushing him off.

“A'ight.” Butter looked at Cassidy sadly. He cared for Cassidy and thought she was starting to get feelings for him, but she was colder than ever. She acted like they had never shared any good times. Fuck her! Cassidy was acting like a typical bitch. He didn't need her; he was a ghetto star and could have any bitch he wanted. Butter said his good-byes and bounced.

“That was some cold shit,” Eve said to Cassidy.

“What is it now?” Cassidy asked, as if she didn't want to hear it.

“You ain't always gotta treat him like that. You know how he feels about you.”

“Come on with that shit, Eve. It ain't happening between me and Butter. Carlo is taking care of me and I care about him.”

“Do you care about him, or what he's doing for you?” Eve asked.

“What's the difference?”

“Big difference, baby girl. All you'll be is a showpiece to him. That dago ain't trying to wife you.”

“Look, all I know is he's getting what he wants and I'm getting what I want. Listen to you trying to explain affairs of the heart to me. What you need to do is go to Felon and tell him how you feel, before one of these skank-ass bitches slide up into your spot.”

“Please, they can have him,” Eve said, folding her arms.

“You can't front for me. I've known you too long. Evelyn.”

One of the reasons that Cassidy irritated the hell out of Eve was that, no matter what type of front she tried to put on, Cassidy could see through it. In truth, her heart ached for Felon, but her mind made her numb to it. Felon had been a good confidant to her for a good number of years. If she took that extra step, things would change. And what if it didn't work? Felon was a man and therefore he could only be trusted to a certain extent. She wasn't sure if she was willing to give up a friend for a shot in the dark.

“Listen,” Cassidy said, cutting into her thoughts, “we gonna stand out here and bullshit, or you gonna come and help me spend some of Carlo's money?”