Eve (29 page)

She imagined herself running into the restaurant and putting a bullet in each one of them, but she wasn't in a rush to see the inside of a jail again any time soon. They would get theirs in due time. She checked her watch and went back to her spying. She had been following them all night, trying to find a kink in their armor.

A few minutes passed and the men were joined by two young ladies. Eve watched the girls flirt and fawn all over Carlo and his gang. The brown-skinned one stepped to Steve, leaving the dark-skinned one for Carlo. He was smiling and flashing his jewels like he was king shit. The chickenhead girls cackled like he was Eddie Murphy every time he said something. Carlo was quite the show-man and Eve took it all in.

Eve watched for another half hour or so, until the girls decided to take leave of their new friends. She saw Carlo hand one of the girls what looked like a flyer. After saying their good-byes, the girls went their way and Carlo's crew went theirs. Eve was about to tail them when the text-message alert went off on her phone. She looked at the screen and nodded her head in approval.

The night of the party seemed like it took forever to get there. Felon normally shunned the whole club scene, but this was business to him. He was finally about to get next to the man. Neither he nor Carlo knew it yet, but Felon had big plans for the operation.

Butter being out of the picture was both a gift and a curse. He missed his crime partner dearly, but the hood was quiet. The crew was putting up numbers and there wasn't so much heat. Felon had warned Butter time and again about his rash temper; now he was under the gun because of it. Felon hoped that the situation could be mended over time, but for now, Butter had to leave town. Once he was sure it was safe, he was putting Butter on a plane.

Felon leaned against the bar, sipping a rum and coke. For the event, he was dressed in a black suit and rimmed glasses. He was going for taste, so the only jewelry he rocked was his platinum bracelet and the matching pinky ring. Carlo never specified a time for them to meet, so he popped in early to case the joint. Zero's was an up-and-coming club that Carlo had an interest in. The crowd boasted everything from upper-class whites to Hip Hop heads. It was definitely a happening place.

Felon tried to post up and look cool, but his nerves wouldn't let him. He couldn't help but think about Eve's assessment of the situation. If Carlo and Steve had something to do with Cassidy's murder, things were gonna get real hectic along the way. He had grown up with Cassidy, and her death couldn't go unpunished, but what could he do? He had a strong arm, and loyal soldiers at his disposal, but he wasn't about to fool himself into thinking that they were any match for the mob.

It didn't take long for Felon to spot De Nardi's crew. Big Steve cleared a path through the crowd, while Tony's eyes swept back and forth for signs of trouble. Sal brought up the rear, with Carlo in the center. Carlo spotted Felon leaning against the bar and directed the group in his direction.

“What's up, buddy?” Carlo asked, shaking Felon's hand and patting him on the back. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Come on. Got someone I want you to meet.” Carlo led Felon and the rest of his entourage toward the back of the club. Making their way through the sea of bodies on the dance floor was like trying to swim in syrup. Club-goers danced, fucked, and rioted to the DJ's mixes.

In the rear of the club, just off the bathrooms, was a large iron door. A trunk of a man, wearing a black suit, inspected the group as they approached. Upon recognizing Carlo he stepped aside and held the door open for them. The inside of the office contained a desk, a couch, and a computer. There was a man stationed behind the door and one sitting at the desk. Franko occupied the couch.

He glanced from his son's face to the Black man at his side. Franko's sagging jaw folded up into a slight frown as his cold eyes examined Felon. Felon tried to fight off the natural intimidation he felt being in the presence of Franko De Nardi. He knew that the mob capo could have a man's life snubbed out on a whim. Franko wielded a power reserved only for the legendary in the underworld. A power that Felon craved.

“Dad.” Carlo stepped forward. “This is Felon.” He motioned toward him.

Franko sat up slightly. “I heard a lot about you.” Clouds of cigar smoke wafted into his face and eyes, but he didn't seem to notice. “My son tells me that I have you to thank for the success of our little venture?”

“I'm just trying to do my part, sir,” Felon said humbly.

“This guy,” Franko chuckled. “It's a good thing you're doing, kid. The moves you're making show that you know how to sling poison, but can you hustle? I mean, what do you really know about crime?”

“Mr. De Nardi, I like to think of myself as a businessman. Whatever the hustle, I'm gonna do what's necessary for my family to eat.”

“Sure ya do, kid. Let me tell you something. There's a lot of money in Harlem, and I don't just mean in drugs. In the old days, Harlem generated a mint for the family. Liquor, women, numbers. You name it. Most of the guys I came up with have given up on it, but not me. I believe there's still millions to be made in Harlem and I intend to cash in. How would you like to be a rich man, Felon?”

Felon smiled. “Who wouldn't?”

“I'm telling you, Dad, he's the one,” Carlo said.

Franko silenced Carlo with a look and continued speaking to Felon. “As my son is always so quick to point out, I hear that you're a man who knows how to get things done. I need a man like you at the forefront of the new renaissance. You're large now, kid, but I'm talking about putting you in orbit. What I would like to know is, can I count on your continued support in the near future?”

Felon looked him in the eye. “It's like this, sir. I'm just trying to do my part and see some of this money. Carlo can tell you, I can smell a dollar. Anything you need, just call on me. All I want is an opportunity.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman.” Franko smiled. “Felon, I think you're going to see a lot of money. Each of us is. You'll be a welcomed addition to the family, but not just yet.”

“Excuse me?” Felon did not like the look Carlo was giving him. He knew the man was thinking something sinister, but the kind of power he was offering was too tempting not to at least hear him out.

“Before you can be welcomed into the fold, you have to prove yourself. A problem has been brought to my attention and I think it only fitting that you handle it. Call it a show of good faith.”

“I don't have a problem proving myself,” Felon said, trying to sound cooler than he was. “What do you need me to do?”

“I'm sure you heard about the murdered police officer?” Franko studied his face. “By your expression, I'm sure you have. Anyhow, there were several fingers pointed at your partner, Butter.”

Felon looked over at Carlo, who wouldn't meet his gaze. “I've heard about the murder. Carlo brought it to my attention, and I assured him I'd look into it. Butter being the shooter is unlikely, though.”

“Well, my sources tell me otherwise.” Franko leaned forward. “Andy Lapelsky was one of mine! Someone has to hang for this.”

Felon matched Franko's stare. “With all due respect, Butter is a friend of mine. I've known him since we were jerking off for kicks. These accusations don't even have merit. I'm giving you my personal guarantee that the police will get their killer, but it won't be Butter.”

Franko clamped down on his cigar. “You cocky little bastard. Do you know I could have the both of you whacked out and squash this whole beef?”

“Yes, sir,” Felon said coolly. “I'm very aware of who you are and what you can do, but you have to understand my position in this. Butter is like a brother to me, and I am loyal to my family. I can't hand him over for a murder that he might not have even committed. Even if he did, I would be more inclined to clean it up, rather than hang my friend.”

“Do you believe the balls on this kid?” Franko asked one of his bodyguards. “Felon, you've got balls of steel. You know I could kill you where you stand, yet you remain loyal to your friend. I like you, kid.” Frank grinned.

The wave of relief that washed over Felon was so strong, he almost collapsed. The whole time Mr. De Nardi was speaking, he kept seeing his life flash before his eyes. He knew this would be his last night on earth, but he was still alive.

“Tell you what.” Franko stood. “You get this mess cleaned up and Butter gets a pass. Something like this happens again and you both go.” Franko reached out and patted Felon on the cheek. “You're gonna be a star, kid. You watch what I tell you.”

There were smiles all around the room. Carlo leaned against the wall, smiling at Felon. His moving up in the ranks would be a boon for Carlo also. He had brought Felon in and had a stake in the operation. When they opened the books, Carlo could convince the old man to sponsor him for membership. He would have the best of both worlds.

 

As Felon was making his way through the club to the front door, his cell went off. With a finger on one ear and a phone on the other, he tried to make heads or tails of what the caller was saying. As the message became clearer, Felon's smile broadened. An interesting turn of events indeed.

 

Dre exited the bar, accompanied by a young lady in a miniskirt. From his uncoordinated steps anyone could tell he had been drinking. He staggered toward his car, with the young lady helping him keep his balance. No sooner had he taken the key from his pocket than an unmarked van skidded to a halt a few feet from them.

The back of the van slid open and Teddy hopped out, holding an AR15. Spoon and Vinny followed, holding two silenced .22s. Vinny stood outside the bar door while Spoon and Teddy approached Dre from opposite sides. By the time the drunk and his girl realized what was going on Teddy had the AR trained on them.

“Bitch, if you scream, I'll blow your head the fuck off!” Teddy warned. The scream immediately died in the woman's throat.

“Fuck is going on!” Dre shouted.

“Shut the fuck up!” Spoon hit Dre in the head with the pistol. He tried to collapse, but Spoon held him upright.

The sounds of shouting brought one of Dre's people out to investigate. As soon as he stepped from the doorway, Vinny put a bullet in the back of his brain. Seeing that the men meant business, Dre calmed himself.

“Take my money, man. Just don't hurt me,” Dre pleaded.

“We don't want yo money, nigga.” Teddy grabbed him by the arm. “We gonna have a little chitchat.” Teddy and Spoon half dragged, half walked Dre to the van. Vinny motioned for the woman to follow, and fear made her do as she was told. Vinny joined his peoples and the van sped off.

 

Felon stood outside Zero's, smoking a cigarette. His mind was spinning with the possible opportunities his new alliance with Franko De Nardi would bring. In addition to stepping it up, he had successfully bargained for his friend's life. He decided to ring Butter and tell him the good news.

Felon dialed Butter's cell and got his voice mail. He tried the number again with the same result. He wondered why his friend wasn't picking up. Even if Butter had been hardheaded enough to leave the safe house, he would've still had his cell on him. Felon was about to dial Teddy when a feminine voice caught his attention.

Sheeka, Rah, and another girl Felon didn't recognize were coming toward him. Sheeka and Rah were working their fits, but their friend could only be described as eye candy. Most of her round face was obscured by the cat-eye Gucci frames she wore, but her crimson lips were inviting. She had blood-red hair that hung down to her shoulders and feathered out at the ends. The red dress she wore hugged her hips but dipped low in the front, showing off her full breasts. Felon could feel himself harden just at the sight of her.

He smiled. “Sup, ladies? Y'all going in the club?”

“You know that,” Sheeka said. “We heard this spot is jumping.”

“It's a'ight.” Felon was talking to Sheeka, but looking at the redhead. “Mixed crowd and the music is okay, but you know I don't do the club like that.”

“For someone who doesn't do the club like that, I see you in enough of them,” the redhead said.

“I'm afraid you've got me mistaken,” Felon told her.

“I've seen you around a couple of times.”

“Baby, I think I'd remember if we'd met.” Felon stared at the girl's face and did see a resemblance to someone. He flipped through his mental rolodex of faces and tried to place hers. Just as she lowered her frames, it dawned on him. “Eve?” he asked, shocked.

She smiled. “It's Evelyn tonight.” Her hair was dyed brighter than her natural red, and her makeup made her skin appear darker, but it was Eve.

“What have you done to yourself?” he asked, still stunned by her appearance.

“You like?” She spun around for him. “Sheeka did it.”

“You know I had to hook my girl up,” Sheeka said, fixing Eve's hair.

“Wow, you look good.” Felon grinned. “I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you tonight, huh?”

“I guess we can have a drink or something,” she said nonchalantly.

“Oh, it's like that, Eve?”

“Listen, boo. No disrespect, but I didn't come here to hang at the bar and reminisce. I came to take care of business.”

“Business? Eve, I know you didn't come here to get into it with Carlo. Don't do this.” He said in a pleading tone.

“Felon, I appreciate your concern, but I don't need it.” She fixed her shades. “We spoke about this already and you told me how you felt. Cool. I'm gonna handle mine.”

He grabbed her by the arm. “Eve, I'm not gonna let you do this.”

“Really?” she said, looking at his hand like it was dirty. “Let me tell you something, boo. I'm gonna do what I gotta do. Anybody who tries to get in the way of that is food, straight cheese.” Eve jerked loose and stepped into the club, followed by her friends.

 

“I don't know nothing, man,” Dre pleaded through a busted lip. For the last half hour, he had been strapped to a chair inside an abandoned apartment while his inquisitors grilled him for information. Somehow they got it in their minds that Dre was involved with the attempt on Butter's life. They weren't wrong in this assumption, but he couldn't figure out how they had come about the information. Other than himself and Johnny, the only other person who knew of his involvement was the man who paid for it.

“Muthafucka, we know you was down,” Spoon said, punching Dre in the face.

“You got the wrong dude!” Dre shouted.

“We might as well kill this muthafucka,” Vinny said, chambering a bullet into his .22. “He ain't gonna talk.”

“That's because we haven't been employing the right methods,” Teddy said, standing near the stove. When he turned around, he was holding a hunting knife. The end was scorched from his holding it over the open flame. Teddy walked over to Dre and stood beside him.