Eviction Notice (20 page)

“Don’t sweat it, I know how it can be when duty calls,” Porsha told her. “How are you gonna get back to the city?”

“King gave me some bread so I’m gonna hop in a cab.” Sahara held up the hundreds.

“You sure, ma?”

“Yeah,” Sahara said, sounding unsure of her decision.

“Okay, I’ll see you back at the crib.” Porsha gave her friend a tight hug. “You make sure you text me to let me know you made it in safe, okay?”

“I got you,” Sahara assured her.

“C’mon, li’l ma, I’ll have one of the bouncers make sure you get in the cab safely.” Kat took Sahara by the arm and led her toward the exit, leaving King and Porsha alone at the bar.

“So you’re Sahara’s other roommate, huh?” King James eased closer to Porsha.

“Something like that,” Porsha said, while she busied herself straightening out her singles.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, then?”

Porsha stopped her counting and looked up at King. “Just because you’re a trifling asshole doesn’t mean that I am too, so I seriously doubt that.” She flipped her wig and sashayed off, with his eyes glued to her ass the whole way.

CHAPTER 28

After what felt
like a trip OT, Sahara had finally made it back to the projects. The driver of the Green Cab that had brought her from Newark tried to charge her a hundred dollars and she told him to eat a dick. He looked like he wanted to get out of the taxi and argue about the money, but thought better of it when he saw the dark project building looming. He spat something at her in a language she didn’t understand, and Sahara flipped him the bird and kept it moving into the projects.

For the most part, the block was quiet for the weather to have been so nice at that time of night, when Sahara got out of the Green Cab on Columbus Avenue. There was a sprinkling of people still out and about but nobody that she fucked with like that, which meant that her night was officially dead, and she wasn’t happy about it.

She’d been having a good time at Brick City until King rolled in on his possessive bullshit. Sometimes Sahara thought it was cute when King laid down the law. It made her feel special that he was actually concerned enough about what she did and where she went, instead of like a jump-off, which is what she felt like sometimes. Like most men, King did his thing on the side, but he respected her enough not to flaunt it. She knew that she wasn’t King’s main chick, but she was making a strong push to earn that position, and nights like those came with the territory.

She’d been impressed and proud of Porsha at Brick City. They had worked together at a few clubs on the New York circuit so Sahara knew Porsha was no slouch, but there was something that stood out about her at Brick City that Sahara had never noticed before. In addition to being a bad chick, Porsha had the ability to capture the attention of a whole room without even trying, which made her a natural at the art of seduction. Sahara had done well for herself on the circuit too because of her exotic good looks, but she had never had the confidence that she saw in Porsha. Sahara knew her girl was having a ball at Brick City while she was going to find a DVD to watch, so she’d have to be content with getting all the dirty details from Porsha when she came home later that night.

As she was going into the building, Levi was struggling to get out. He had a computer monitor in his hands and a plastic bag hanging from his wrists with a bunch of wires hanging out. “Damn, what’s all that?” Sahara asked, holding the door for Levi.

“Thanks.” Levi stepped out. “Just some stuff I bought off Scatter from the ninth floor.”

“Levi, every time I see you you’re buying or trying to fix something electronic. What do you do with all that stuff?” Sahara asked.

“Come by the crib one of these days and I’ll show you,” he said slyly.

“Nigga, you got me fucked up thinking you’re gonna get me back to the crib so you can get my goodies. You must think I’m Boots,” she shot back.

Levi balanced the computer monitor on the fence. “Now of all the names to pull out of a hat, why that one?”

Sahara looked at Levi as if she couldn’t believe he was even asking. “Please, Boots is like a doorknob and all you niggaz have had a turn. Everybody except Bernie is hip to what time it is with her. Don’t act like you ain’t never been up in them guts.”

“Being the gentleman that I am, I can neither confirm nor deny your accusations. Catch you later, Sahara.” Levi scooped up his electronics and left.

“Only in the projects.” Sahara shook her head and went into the building.

She rounded the corner just in time to see Mitch slipping out of one of the first-floor apartments. He had a small pair of binoculars in his hand and a suspicious look on his face, which was nothing new. When he saw Sahara he stuffed the binoculars into his pocket and tried to act natural.

“What you doing creeping around in the middle of the night, Sahara?”

“I’m grown and grown people don’t creep, but I could ask you the same thing. What’s up with the binoculars?” she asked.

“Nothing, just fucking around,” Mitch lied.

“Coming outta Snoop’s apartment, I can believe that.”

Mitch looked at her as if she were crazy. “Don’t play yaself, I wouldn’t fuck that girl with my enemy’s dick.”

“Yeah, right. You and Scar will stick your dicks in anything wet.”

“Ain’t neither one of us stick our dicks in you yet,” he said slyly.

“And you never will, Negro,” Sahara capped and got on the elevator.

Sahara walked into her apartment and was greeted by silence, which was rare considering the hours her roommates kept. Of the three of them, Sahara was the only one who had a normal job, if you called working in a braid shop normal. It wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world, but she was good at it and for the most part she kept her bills paid. There was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen counter, so she knew that Frankie had been there. She didn’t understand how Frankie turned her nose up at champagne but could down straight whiskey.

She went down the hall to give Frankie the rundown on what had happened but when she tried the knob to her bedroom door it was locked, which was unusual. Frankie never locked her door unless she was entertaining company and it had been months since she had come home with a man. Sahara knocked, but there was no answer. She listened to the door, but all was quiet. It was the middle of the night and there was no sign of Frankie, nor had she called, which made Sahara begin to worry.

“Where the hell is this girl at?” she wondered aloud.

*   *   *

Frankie leaned against
a parked car in the parking lot behind her building, smoking a Newport and nervously watching everyone and everything around her. She had been a drug dealer for only a few hours and already her nerves were shot. How some people did it day in and day out was a mystery to her, and as soon as she scraped up the rent and Cutty’s money she was retiring.

After Lulu had finished cooking the coke for Frankie, she had taken it back to her apartment to start bagging it up, which turned out to be more work than she expected. Though the work Cutty had given her didn’t seem like much in its powder form, it was quite a bit once it was rocked up and chopped. Bagging it up had been a chore in itself, so she’d packaged half and stashed the rest in her bedroom. Armed with her product and a mission, Frankie took it to the streets.

Frankie wasn’t the only dealer in the hood, but she was the newest so she had to be mindful that she didn’t step on anyone’s toes. She knew from experience that hustlers could be very territorial over turf, and her being a woman didn’t help to tip the scales in her favor, so she had to keep a low profile about it. Her initial plan was to go to the other side of the projects and set up shop, but that plan went out the window when she heard that one of the buildings got raided. She knew the jump-out boys would be crawling all over the Amsterdam side so Columbus was probably the easiest place to do it. She chose the parking lot because it was familiar territory to her and it’d be hard for the police to trap her off if they rolled up. For an extra piece of rock Lulu had agreed to route some of her friends to Frankie’s location, so she was all set. Now all she had to do was get her product off without getting locked up.

Frankie spotted the shadows moving behind a parked car to her left and three words popped into her mind:
stick-up kids
. She quickly moved to the grass where she had her pistol hidden and prepared for battle. Her fingers had just wrapped around the grip of the gun when the person who had been creeping came into view. It was fiend from the next building over named Scatter. As usual, he was dressed in a wrinkled business suit and overcoat.

“Dude, you almost got popped creeping up on me like that,” Frankie said seriously.

“My bad, baby girl, but you know you gotta tread light when you walk on the wild side.” Scatter flashed a checkered grin. “You know, I thought Lulu was bullshitting me when she told me you were out here trapping.”

Frankie shrugged. “I’m just trying to do me.”

“So I see,” he said, scratching the side of his face. “Check it, though: I need some of that butter you laid on Lulu. She let me taste it and that shit is outta sight!”

“You like that, huh?” She smiled.

“‘Like’ is an understatement. Frankie, there ain’t been no rock out here like that in years. You got some boss shit on your hands, girlie. Play your cards right and you’re gonna be one rich muthafucka.”

“I ain’t trying to get rich off this shit, Scatter. I’m just trying to get where I need to be and I’m leaving this shit alone.”

“Well, if you ain’t out here trying to come up, what the hell are you doing out here hand-to-handing poison?” he asked.

“It’s like I told you: I’m trying to get where I need to be. I’m in and out like the Flash.”

“That’s what they all say.” Scatter laughed. “Frankie, normally I charge muthafuckas for my infinite wisdom, but since I like you I’m gonna lay some free game on ya ears. Selling drugs is an addiction that burns at both ends of the candle. The same way the addicts get addicted to the product, the pushers get addicted to the money.”

“Well, I don’t plan on doing this long enough to test that theory,” she told him. “Now are you gonna keep running your mouth or do you wanna get served?”

“Sho ya right, sho ya right. Let me get two of them thangs.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Frankie dipped into her bra and handed Scatter two baggies, while taking his money with the other hand. When he held them to the light his eyes got wide. “Damn, these is some boulders. I like how you do business, Frankie.”

“No doubt, and make sure you spread the word to ya peoples that I’m out here. Offer only good while supplies last.”

“I got you.” He stuffed the baggies into his pocket and started to walk off, but stopped short. “Frankie, I know you gonna do what you do regardless of what I say, but let me leave you with something: if you playing for a quarter instead of the whole game, then you might as well stay on the bench, because if them people come calling you’re gonna get the same amount of time as a full-time player. I’m out.” Scatter shuffled back the way he had come.

Frankie was glad to see Scatter go. She had brushed him off, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words and they bothered her more than she let on. Frankie knew she had no business out there in the trap, but she felt like it was the quickest way to get what she needed. Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up and a nervous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She turned around but didn’t see anybody else in the parking lot. She thought she saw the curtain in Snoop’s apartment window flutter, but all the lights were out. Before she could investigate further, another fiend rolled up to get served. She chalked it up as her nerves and went back to trapping.

CHAPTER 29

There were two
VIP areas at Brick City, the upper and lower levels. The lower level was open to anyone who had enough money or clout to get in, but the upper level was reserved for the
special
guests. With its velvet curtains and fancy decor it was reminiscent of an opera-house balcony. The upper level overlooked the main floor, with three forty-two-inch flat-screen televisions that normally showed sporting events, but that night the screens showed four different close-up angles of the main stage, where the girls peeled off clothes and the patrons peeled off bills.

Unlike the lower-level VIP, there were no restrictions upstairs. Girls fucked, sucked, and made conversation according to what the men wanted and could pay for. In a dark corner, a hip young hustler wearing a chain that looked like it weighed more than he did drank champagne from the bottle while two young women, one white and one Asian, took turns pleasuring him. The Asian girl amused herself trying to see how much of his thick cock she could force into her throat while the white girl crawled behind her and began eating her from the back. The young man poured champagne down the Asian girl’s back and watched as the white girl sipped it from the crack of her ass.

“Do you see that shit?” Holiday asked, staring at the spectacle. He, Shai, Angelo, and Swann had a private table in the rear of the VIP, right under one of the flat screens.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, you fucking pervert,” Angelo scolded him.

“Fuck that, it ain’t like they’re putting shade on it. Them bitches is going at it in plain sight. I’m about to go ask if it’s a private party.” Holiday made to get up, but Shai grabbed him by the arm.

“Chill,” he said coolly. His voice was barely above a whisper but Holiday felt the weight of it and retook his seat. “There’s nothing wrong with having a good time, but we have an image to maintain, feel me?”

“I got you, big homie.” Holiday nodded. He still spared the occasional glance over to the corner where the freak show was going on. “I wonder where the fuck this nigga Paulie is?”

“Judging by the crowd in here, he’s probably got his hands full. He’ll be along,” Shai told him. Holiday and his youthful impatience could be frustrating but Shai tried not to be as short with him as Angelo was, because he understood him. It wasn’t that long ago that Shai had been the impatient youngster of the crew who needed a guiding hand.

“Look at this nigga here.” Swann cracked a smile when he saw Don B. and his team enter the VIP.

Angelo frowned. “What the fuck is this, an episode of
Gangland
?”

“Chill out, Angelo.” Swann stood up as Don B. neared their table. “What’s popping, homie?”

Don B. peered over his sunglasses and smiled when he recognized Swann. “Oh shit, what it do, blood?” Don B. greeted him with a complex handshake.

“It do whatever I tell it to, that’s the life of a boss nigga,” Swann boasted.

“Sho ya right, B. Yo, Devil, you remember Swann, right?”

Devil scrolled through his mental Rolodex and placed the name with the face. “What’s popping, li’l homie, or should I say big homie now?” Devil cut his eyes to Shai.

“Ain’t shit, B, out here trying to live like everyone else,” Swann told him.

“The way I hear it, you’re living real good.” Devil gave Swann the once-over, paying special attention to the heavy chain around his neck.

“Putting in work eventually pays off for some of us,” Swann shot back. He and Devil were from two different generations of the same set, but had never quite seen eye to eye. Swann represented the new regime while Devil was a walking reminder of a bygone era.

“You’re Shai Clark, right?” Gotti asked.

Shai looked up at him with a blank expression. “That all depends on who’s asking. Do we know each other?”

“Nah, we don’t know each other but we know some of the same people. My homies Li’l Red and Dee put in some work for ya peoples a while back,” Gotti name-dropped, trying to cut into Shai.

Shai shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, but I don’t know them cats or what you’re talking about. It was nice meeting you though, fam.” Shai turned his attention to the screen to watch the floor show.

Gotti felt slighted and it showed on his face. “It’s like that, huh?”

“Straight like that,” Holiday answered for Shai. For a long moment he and Gotti glared at each other across the table.

Sensing where it was about to go, Swann interjected. “Don, it was good seeing you, my G. We gotta hook up soon.”

Don B. immediately picked up on what Swann was doing. “Fo sho, fo sho.” Don B. dapped him up. “C’mon, fellas, let’s head over to our table.” Don B.’s group fell in step behind him. Gotti and Holiday continued to shoot daggers at each other but nobody made a move.

“I don’t like that one-eyed muthafucka,” Angelo said once Gotti was out of earshot.

“Neither do I,” Shai agreed. “He was either wearing a wire or dumb as hell. Either way, I don’t want him around us.”

“Say no more, Shai. He step wrong and Ima give you his kufi as a birthday present.” Holiday patted his waist.

*   *   *

“Where’d you disappear
to?” Lakim asked when King resurfaced. One minute he had been with the group and the next he’d vanished and they’d all been worried.

“Had to handle something right quick,” King said in an easy tone.

“You was getting a lap dance from one of these fine honeys, huh?” Dump smiled.

“Nah, I saw one of my shorties in here and had to set her straight,” King told him.

“You fuck with one of these strippers?” Alonzo asked, surprised. He knew that King James was very particular about the kind of women he dealt with.

“You know better than that, Zo. Just some li’l joint from the P’s in here playing herself, so I sent her home.”

“Go so we ain’t gotta worry about none of ya li’l chicken heads following you around while we in here trying to get our swerve on,” Dump teased him.

King twisted his lips. “C’mon, sun. This is my court and everybody in the kingdom knows their places, ya heard? Zo, where you know that kid from that you were talking to?”

“Oh, that was my man Tone. He runs with Don B. and them Big Dawg niggaz,” Alonzo said.

“Pussy-ass rappers,” Lakim spat. He disliked the new breed of rappers like Don B. because he felt like they were movie stars trying to play the roles of gangsters.

“Nah, Tone is cool. He invited us upstairs to get a drink later on,” Alonzo said.

“Whatever,” King said. He wasn’t big on handouts, or on Don B. He didn’t know Don B. personally but had heard enough about his exploits to know that he didn’t like him or what he represented.

Lakim tapped King’s arm. “You peeped ya man?” He nodded upstairs to the balcony, where Shai and his entourage had just been seated.

“Yeah, I see him.” King James zeroed on Shai. He was flanked by several men and from their body language he knew they were strapped. Getting close enough to Shai to confront him would be a little trickier than he had expected. Suddenly an idea sprang into his head. “Ayo, Zo, let’s go take ya man up on that drink offer.” King marched through the club, ignoring the strippers who were trying to get his attention, focusing on the man he had come to parlay with. One chick jumped in front of him and tried to drape her arms around his thick neck, but King swatted her aside with a sweep of his powerful arm. They climbed the stairs to the VIP entrance and their way was blocked by a beefy bouncer.

“Sorry, fellas, this is a private party. The public VIP is downstairs so you’re in the wrong place,” the bouncer told them.

King James locked eyes with him. “Nah, we’re in the right place. We were invited. My name is King James, ask about me.”

“I wouldn’t care if your name was Prince Albert, I can’t let you in here, fam.”

King James shook his head. “I gotta give it to Brick City for their equal opportunity employment program, because all y’all niggaz act like you just fell off a yellow bus.”

The bouncer puffed up. “How about if I bust you in the jaw, funny man?”

“My nigga, if you even think about laying hands on my fam, I’m gonna snap you like a fucking twig.” Dump stepped up. The bouncer was big, but Dump was bigger.

“Now, you can let us in so we can spend some bread and pop some bottles, or keep being a dick and we can pop you.” King James folded his arms. “How you wanna do it, sun?”

*   *   *

“Fuck is good
wit ya peeps?” Gotti asked Don B. once they were settled at their table.

“Who, Swann? He’s a good nigga, a real street nigga,” Don B. told Gotti.

“Nah, not him. The pretty boy, Shai.”

“I can’t call it, B. I met his pops a few times, but I don’t know Shai.”

“Well, he might wanna show a li’l respect with him being so far from home,” Gotti said.

Devil laughed. “Shai is a pissy li’l fuck, but he’s still the boss of bosses. The boy is protected from on high. He’s untouchable.”

“Everybody is touchable,” Gotti said.

“Fuck all that suicide talk, where’s ya man Lord Scientific?” Don B. cut in.

“He should be here in a few. I spoke to him a li’l while ago and he said he’s on his way from East Orange. While we’re waiting, let’s get some drinks.” Gotti waved one of the waitresses over and put in an order for five bottles of champagne, a fifth of Rémy, and some waters. His attention wandered over to the entrance of the VIP, where he noticed security exchanging words with a husky cat rocking a big chain. “Fuck is good with these niggaz?”

Tone looked over and recognized the man as King James. “Oh, that’s my man and his homies. Give me a sec.” He got up and walked over. After a few quick words, security allowed King James and his crew into the VIP. Tone led them over to their booth and made the introductions. “Fellas, this is my man Zo and his team.”

“Peace, peace.” King gave everyone at the table dap.

“We got some bottles on the way, y’all wanna join us?” Tone offered.

Alonzo opened his mouth to accept the invitation but King cut him off. “Nah, it looks like y’all are in the middle of something and we ain’t trying to intrude.”

“It’s all good,” Tone assured him.

“We appreciate the offer, but we’re gonna grab a table and fuck with some of these bitches. Good looking out on that business with security, though. Let’s motivate,” King ordered his crew, and moved toward an empty table not far from where Shai was sitting.

Alonzo stood there for an awkward moment, not quite sure what to say. “Sorry about that, Tone.”

Tone made a dismissive gesture. “It’s all love, Zo, don’t worry about it. If you decide to take me up on that drink offer, I’m here.”

“Fo sho.” Alonzo gave him dap. “Lap dance on me though, ya head?” Alonzo promised before leaving the men to their business.

“That kid Zo is a’ight, but King James ain’t got no class,” Don B. capped before putting his feet up on the table.

The waitress came over and set the bottles and some ice buckets on the table along with some plastic cups. “Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked.

“Nah, we’re straight, baby,” Gotti said, handing her several hundred-dollar bills. The waitress thanked him, but continued to linger around. “Something else I can help you with, sweetie?”

“Ah, I’m sorry … I don’t mean to come off as a groupie but I was wondering … could I have your autograph?” she asked Don B.

“Bitch, get on with that shit,” Gotti snapped.

“It’s all good, my nigga, the Don always has time for his adoring public.” Don B. smiled. “You got a pen, baby?”

The girl handed him the pen she had been using to write down drink orders. “Thank you so much,” she squealed. “Make it out to Tasha.”

“No problem.” Don B. looked around for something to write on, but she saved him the trouble when she popped her breasts out of the bikini top she was wearing.

“You can sign right here.” She squeezed her breasts together. All Don B. could do was laugh while scribbling his name on her ample breasts. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“It’s nothing, baby,” Don B. told her.

The girl leaned in to whisper to Don B., “I go on break in twenty minutes. Meet me in the parking lot and I’ll show you that Superhead ain’t got shit on me.” She grabbed Don B.’s dick through his jeans. The girl moved on to the next table, leaving the group shocked and Don B. smiling.