For the Strength of You (9 page)

Anshon smiled. His heart felt content from hearing her voice.

The message continued: “See ya when I see ya.”

The second message started to play.

“Anshon,” Fe-Fe said, breathing heavily. “Have you seen Tammy? Please get a hold of her. I think someone is trying to set her up.”

Anshon felt like his heart stopped. He paced the floor back and forth for two hours. He kept calling Tammy's phone, but there was no answer.

The six o'clock news was just coming on. Monica nervously sat in front of the TV, watching her man pace back and forth.

“Baby,” she said as the news continued, “please come sit down. Baby—”

“Monica, be quiet,” Anshon snapped. The news broadcast caught his attention.

“This just in,” the newscaster said, clearing her throat. “There was a vandalized white Mercedes truck found in the woods of Nashville. An anonymous caller reported this to police. The police are still trying to trace where the call came from. If you have any information on who this vehicle with North Carolina license plate EID987 belongs to, please contact the authorities.”

“I gotta go,” Anshon said to Monica, grabbing his heat.

“Anshon!” Monica jumped as the phone started to ring. She reached for the phone and snatched it off the receiver.

“What!” she screamed. “You're the police? Yes, we're on the outskirts . . . yes, that's our address.”

At the same time that Monica was confirming the address with the police, Fe-Fe was knocking at the door.

“Did you hear from Tammy?” She was hysterical. She took her car keys and clenched them tight. She felt as if she were holding on for dear life.

“No,” Anshon said.

Fe-Fe ran into his arms and cried into his chest.

He stroked her hair. “It'll be okay, baby. I promise it will.”

Monica was a little taken aback. She was trying to be strong for Anshon, but here he was being strong for Fe-Fe. Seeing her crying in Anshon's arms with him stroking her hair was a bit much. Then she remembered that Fe-Fe and Tammy were the best of friends, so she swallowed what she was feeling for the moment.

When the police came, Anshon and Monica gave them all of Tammy's information and confirmed that it was her truck.

An hour after the police left, Monica looked at her watch. Shit, she was running late for work. She had already missed too many days and was in jeopardy of getting fired. She turned to Anshon, who seemed to catch the way he was holding Fe- Fe, and pushed her away.

“I'ma call out of work,” Monica said.

“No, baby, don't. It'll be okay. Tammy will be fine,” Anshon said.

Monica turned to Fe-Fe. “Don't let him out of your sight. Please. Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. And call me if something goes down.” Monica grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

After Monica left, Anshon felt as if his whole body was in shock. He went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of gin and two forty-ounces of Old Gold.

Fe-Fe sat on the couch with tears in her eyes as Anshon sat at the table. After the gin and two forties were gone, he stumbled to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20.

Fe-Fe started to worry about him. “Anshon, that's enough,” Fe-Fe said, standing in front of him. “Please.”

He looked at Fe-Fe, pulled her close, and started kissing her. Just then, the phone rang. It was Monica.

“Hello.” Fe-Fe answered the phone.

“How is he?” Monica asked.

“Drunk as hell!”

“Maybe I should come home,” Monica insisted.

“No, no, stay at work. Everything will be okay.”

Fe-Fe hung up the phone. “Let's go sit down, Anshon.” She struggled to hold him up, but they fell against the sofa. He started calling out Tammy's name and crying.

“It's gonna be okay,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him.

He cried out Tammy's name again and then struggled to his feet.

“Gotta . . . go . . . get my sister,” he slurred, staggering toward the door.

“No, Anshon!” She grabbed his shirt. “No, Anshon!” She moved in front of him, looking up at him.

He stopped, swayed to the side, then looked Fe- Fe dead in her eyes. “Move. I gotta get my sister.”

“No!” She stood her ground, placing one hand on his chest. “I can't let you outta this house, boy. I can't do it. Go sit down!”

“I . . . need my heat.” He turned and staggered toward the bedroom.

Fe-Fe knew she couldn't let him get his gun. “Anshon, no!” She ran after him and caught him just as he entered the bedroom.

He was heading for the closest as she tossed her body against him. The beer and wine already had his equilibrium fucked up, so Fe-Fe's body on his back caused them both to tumble on the bed.

Fe-Fe held him down as best she could. Every time he tried to roll out of the bed, she would pull him back by the neck.

“Damn it, Anshon!” she said as he pushed her off, causing her body to roll to the floor, banging the door shut.

Since the hallway light was no longer filling the room, it was now dark. Fe-Fe shot up and jumped right back on his ass as he headed for the closet once more. She grabbed the back of his pants then pulled back with all her might.

When he fell back, he started crying heavily. He wrapped his arms around her.

Fe-Fe knew she had to stay in his arms to keep him calm. Monica's words advising Fe-Fe to do anything to keep Anshon in the house rang in Fe-Fe's ears as Anshon continued to cry.

When he kissed her neck and moved his hands down to her waist, Fe-Fe froze up and pulled away.

“Please don't leave me,” he sobbed.

When he rolled over, pinning Fe-Fe on her back, she tried to push him off. He lowered his mouth to hers then kissed her.

Fe-Fe couldn't believe her present situation, in bed with her best friend's man, kissing him as if he belonged to her.

Anshon's hands started to roam under her shirt. He moved from her lips just as his hand reached her soft breast.

“Anshon.” Tears filled her eyes as he slid her shirt up. Her lower back arched from the bed as he sloppily started to suck on her breasts. “Nooo!” she whimpered as he started to tug on her pants.

Her mind was saying no, but her hips came up off the bed. She continued to cry as she felt him kiss and lick her now naked body. When she felt his tongue between her legs, she covered her face with her hands and pleaded with him to stop as she opened her legs wider.

* * *

Two days passed. Tammy still hadn't been found, and Anshon hadn't spoken a single word. He was sitting on the couch, sucking on the tip of a Cuban cigar, thinking about how he should've packed it with hydro, as opposed to leaving the tobacco in it. Monica was leaning against his shoulders, as all of Anshon's boys, with the exception of Teck and Wallo, sat around the living room, waiting to see what their next move should be.

Breaking the silence was a rattling at the screen door. Anshon jumped up, and two detectives were standing there. Anshon invited the detectives in, and everybody stood up, wanting desperately to hear the words that Tammy had been found alive.

Wood C and Deck lowered their heads as one of the detectives started to speak.

“Mr. Green, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we were able to identify a body found by Neuse River, near Dunn, as being your sister, Tammy.”

Wood C pulled his glasses off, and tears rolled down his face. Anshon stood silently. He was in shock.

The detective continued, “Her body was dismembered, naked, and mutilated. We were able to identify it as being her by her dental records.”

Anshon stared at the detectives. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out.

Monica fell to the floor and cradled his head, trying to revive him. “Come on, baby. Please, come on.”

Slowly, Anshon started to open his eyes. “Why she die, Fe? Why?”

Monica wiped his tears. She was too hurt behind Tammy's death and Anshon's reaction to worry about how he'd just called her Fe-Fe's name.

* * *

The next day, Tammy's two children and Aunt Rosa, who they were all living with, flew into town. They'd caught the first plane to RDU when Anshon had called to tell them. Aunt Rosa went along with Monica to identify Tammy's body. Anshon couldn't do it. There wasn't a wake held for Tammy due to the condition of her body, and the funeral, held at Howell's Chapel in Selma, was a closed casket.

While the day was bright, Anshon's life was bland and colorless. For his sister, he led a 75-car processional over every inch of asphalt in Smithfield and Selma in his '77 Chevy, with the top down as Jay-Z's instrumental version of “Song Cry” played loudly.

Anshon drove slowly, with the hazard lights on, the system on blast, and the song locked on repeat. In his mind, he was taking his sister on her last ride.

When they rolled through Selma down Preston Street, folks stood on the curb, waving or crying. Kenny-Mac's thirty-deep bike club was acting as the traffic stoppers, and Selma's finest had sense enough to sit their ass on the sidelines and be easy. Niggas were grieving for somebody that didn't need to die.

When Tammy's casket was lowered into the ground, Anshon closed his eyes, and for the first time since he was a child, he said a prayer.

“Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray to the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake; I pray to the Lord my soul to take.” It was the prayer that Tammy had taught him when he was five. She told him that it would fight off the devil.

Anshon pounded his chest so that it wouldn't collapse. He held his nephew Q'shon's hand. The little boy was holding his sister Q'mara's hand.

Anshon said to them, “Uncle Anshon got you. Don't even worry about it.”

Anshon's pain was beyond a broken heart and tears. At this moment, he knew that a part of him was dead and there would be no turning back.

He couldn't seem to shake Tammy's conversation with him, when he had begged her to let him deeper into the game. He thought about how she told him, “You can handle your enemies, but you need God to help you with your friends.”

At that moment, it clicked. Teck and Wallo had to have their wigs split. Anshon didn't know how or why they had killed Tammy, but something in his heart told him that they had done it. Now it was their time to pay. Fuck forgiveness, fuck letting it slide; someone else besides Tammy had to die.

To Anshon, the world was nothing without his sister. She was his everything.

Eleven days had passed since Tammy was buried. Everybody else but Anshon was getting on with their lives. Teck and Wallo were nowhere to be found, but Anshon had his hit out.

Fe-Fe continued to work at the bank because Anshon asked her too. He felt she could find out where Teck and Wallo were and how her coworker, Kristi, was involved.

“Anshon, get the door,” Monica yelled from the kitchen. She was baking a cake when there was a knock at the front door.

“Wassup?” Anshon said, giving Deck a pound.

“Nothin'. Wanted to know if you wanna shoot some ball today.”

“Naw, not today. Kinda hot.”

Deck gave him another pound before he turned to leave.

“Anshon, let's go see Q'mara and Q'shon,” Monica said, shifting through eleven days' worth of mail that lay on the kitchen table. “Bills . . .” she mumbled to herself, “mo' bills . . . mo' bills . . . Triple Crown . . . another bill. Wait a minute. Triple Crown?” She called out to Anshon. He came and stood in the kitchen doorway, sipping on a cold one.

“Baby, ain't Triple Crown a publishing company?” she asked.

Anshon frowned. “Hell yeah, they're a publishing company. Shit, they write about the shit we live. Tammy used to read their books all the time.”

“Well,” Monica said, holding the envelope up, “they sent her a letter.”

Anshon's face lit up. “Big sis was writing a book.” Anshon laughed. “She practically cussed my ass out because I laughed when she told me. Oh, shit! Give me the letter.”

Monica handed him the letter and he ripped it open. He read it and looked at Monica. “Baby, they offered Tammy a book deal! They wanna publish her book!”

“All right, baby! All right!” Monica yelled. “See, Anshon, she'll live on. She will.”

Anshon called Triple Crown and spoke on behalf of his departed sister. They expressed their sympathy and were happy to be the ones to help keep Tammy's memory alive. For the first time since Tammy had died, Anshon was able to smile.

He stood outside on his patio and tipped his forty-ounce over the ledge. “This one's for you, big sis.
Hood Legend
is gonna be on the streets after all.”

Monica went to grab the phone to call and tell his Aunt Rosa the good news. As she picked it up, a woman was already on the line.

“Ah, yes, may I speak to Anshon Green?”

“Who is dis?” Monica asked, wondering who in the hell this woman was calling her man. She looked at the phone and the caller ID was marked private.

Oh, hell naw! Fe-Fe is one thing, but another bitch? Oh, hell no!
she thought.

“I'm not at liberty to say that,” the woman said.

“Look, bitch!” Monica stood up. “Don't be fuckin' callin' my man, 'cause—”

“Gimme the phone!” Anshon held out his hand. “Yo, who dis?”

“Anshon, we need to talk.”

Monica ran to the back room to pick up the phone. It wasn't Fe-Fe, so Anshon didn't care about her picking up the line. As a matter of fact, he didn't start talking until he could hear Monica breathing on the phone.

“I'll talk when I find out who the hell this is!”

“You may not remember me, but this is Larrisha Maynard. We used to date in high school.”

“High school? Larrisha Maynard? Don't even play ya self, home girl. Sorry I stood you up for the prom, but goddamn, you should be over it by now. So, Larrisha, I don't know how you got this number, but I'ma kindly ask you not to call here no more.”

“Damn straight!” Monica added. “Stank pussy bitch!”

“You the stank pussy bitch, ho!” Larrisha snapped. “And, Anshon, don't flatter yourself. I'm calling because I work here at the bank with Fe-Fe, and she was too upset to tell you what we found out today, so I'm calling to fill you in.”

“Speak,” Anshon said. Monica was silent.

“I need to talk to you face to face.”

“Larrisha—”

“I know who killed your sister.” She cut him off.

“I'll meet you at the Burger King on New Bern Avenue at eight. I drive a blue Porsche.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” he yelled, but she had already hung up.

When he called Fe-Fe, she was crying so bad that he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

“What's going on?” Monica asked, following Anshon around the house. He went into the living room to search through the phone book for the number to the bank. He tossed the phone on the couch when he was informed that Larrisha Maynard no longer worked at the bank. His temper continued to rise.

“Let's call the police,” Monica said softly.

“Hell no!”

“Baby, please don't go see her. What if she's trying to set you up or something?” she pleaded with him.

Anshon wasn't hearing a word Monica was saying. As far as Anshon was concerned, Biggie said it best: “Kick in the door, waving the four-four.” Scratch that and fuck a .44. Anshon had a gorilla under the bed: a gold-plated four and a half pound, eight and a half inch barrel, five shot Smith & Wesson fifty-caliber Magnum revolver.

“Monica, listen to me.” He turned her face toward him, pointing to the gun.

Monica jumped to the floor. Anshon looked at the gun in his hand and laid it on the bed.

“My fault, baby, but listen, princess. I swear I'm not losing nobody else that's close to me. My momma gone. My sister gone. I never knew my coward-ass daddy.... You all a nigga got.”

Fe-Fe crossed his mind, but he didn't call out her name.

“Baby, if the wind fuckin' blow hard, I'ma stand in front of you. Don't try to change my mind on this. But if I ever . . . ever find out who took my big sis away from me, I'ma kill 'em.”

Anshon picked up his cell and called Wood C and Deck. They agreed to go with him.

Anshon turned to Monica. “I'm leaving.”

Monica knew there was nothing she could do. “Please be careful, baby.”

“I will. I'm pickin' up Wood C and Deck on my way, and I'll call you as soon as I get there.”

She threw a kiss at him through the window, then stood in the front yard to watch him leave.

Since the sun was setting, it was a little dusky as the streetlights slowly came on. Monica wiped her eyes then went to lock the door. A few seconds later, she pulled out in her Nissan.

* * *

50 Cent's “I'm Supposed to Die Tonight” filled Anshon's cruising Chevy as he headed toward Raleigh. Anshon made sure he drove the posted speed limit because right now was not a good time to be handing out his license and registration to the police . . . not with his gorilla sitting heavily in his lap.

Wood C was sitting in the front passenger seat, smoking a big head with two Glock .40s under his arms in leather holsters, as Deck sat quietly in the back with a pistol-grip, 32-round clip U.S. Ingram MAC-11.

“Niggas think this is a game,” Anshon shouted, pulling into a Burger King parking lot. “They think I'm fuckin' playin'.”

Wood C took a pull off his big head. “Niggas think they goin' home, but they're not.”

“'Cause they gon be sittin' up in the trunk, startin' to rot,” Anshon rapped a little.

Anshon backed into a dark parking spot. It was dark outside, so as Anshon cut the headlights off, his car faded into the night.

“I'ma go in and order somethin'.” Wood C pulled out his twin .40. “These clowns might call the police thinkin' we plottin' to rob the joint.”

“Nah,” Anshon said, “I'ma go in, just in case she's inside but drove another whip, 'cause I don't see no blue Porsche.”

Just as Anshon went to pull the latch on the door, a stunning Carolina blue Audi A8 pulled up and stopped in front of Anshon's Chevy. When the tinted window slid down, Deck simultaneously raised the MAC-11, hoping and praying that whoever was in the Audi tripped.

Wood C and Anshon pressed their bodies against the door in case Deck made up his mind to bust off through the front windshield.

“It's a bitch,” Deck said, slowly lowering the MAC-11.

Anshon rose up and saw Larrisha sitting behind the wheel. She had changed a little over the years, but for the most part, she still looked the same. He picked up his .50 and got out. It was hard as hell to hide the gorilla in his pants.

“Where dey at? And how the fuck you know about my sister?” Anshon fired his questions before Larrisha could even get all the way out of the car.

“Anshon . . . we have to sit down and I'll tell you all this from the start. I know you are upset, but please,” she said, slightly above a whisper.

“Yo, you don't want it wit' me, kid. For real you don't.” He was tempted to pull that gold .50.

Larrisha remained calm. Anshon heard a car pulling up, so he stepped closer to Larrisha, never taking his eyes off her.

“Please, Anshon, follow me back to my house.”

“Where's Fe-Fe?” Anshon asked. “I thought you said she knew.”

“She does, but she doesn't know everything.” His gut instinct told him not to go, but he needed to find out what Larrisha knew about his sister's death.

Anshon rode with Larrisha to her house, while Wood C and Deck followed behind in his car.

Once inside, Larrisha asked if anyone wanted anything to drink. They all declined. Larrisha sat down and looked at Anshon.

“So, what's up? I ain't come here to flirt,” Anshon said sarcastically.

Larrisha crossed her legs, clearing her throat. “I'll start from the very beginning. You already know that I work at the bank—or I used to. Fe-Fe caught the tail end of everything going on, but I was there from the beginning. There's a teller at the bank who I believe is tied up in your sister's murder.”

“Who, how, and why?” Anshon asked.

“Please let me explain. Your sister made a four hundred dollar withdrawal, but a glitch in the system said it was four hundred grand. Fe-Fe checked the account and saw that it was wrong. When she left that day in a panic, she dropped the bank slip. I picked it up and checked the account behind her.”

“And?”Anshon said, wanting her to hurry up and get to the point. “Fuck all that. Who the fuck killed my big sis?”

Larrisha sighed, uncrossing her legs. “See, I started to notice how after every big withdrawal being made that the teller, Kristi, would leave. And the next day, somebody would end up robbed, shot, or found dead. Well, the day that Tammy came into the bank, Kristi made up a lie about her daughter being sick and needing to leave.

“I know I should not have, but I followed her. First, she went to the Crabtree Valley Mall. I thought I was wasting my time until I saw Kristi park and get into a white Mercedes truck. That's when I started paying close attention. Forty minutes went by, and then she pulled out. I was right behind her, and she never noticed me.

“Five minutes after she pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that Kristi was making the same turn that a motorcycle was making.”

“She was driving my sister's truck.” Anshon swallowed hard. His blood pressure was starting to rise. Deck and Wood C remained silent.

“I stayed on Kristi's tail,” Larrisha continued, “but I lost her on a back road in Nashville. As I sat waiting for the light to turn green, I noticed her cross back over the street and turn down a dirt road. When the light changed, I followed the skid marks.

“The same guy that was on the motorcycle was waiting there for Kristi. Then Kristi dumped the truck and hopped on the back of the bike. They looked around and then took off.

“When I pulled alongside of the truck, I saw the car registration and driver's license on the front seat. That's when I saw that it was your sister, Tammy, so I called the police with an anonymous tip.”

“So it's that bitch Kristi? I'ma kill her! And the bike . . . that's Wallo. I swear to God they're done!” Anshon felt like breaking down crying, but he was determined to hold it together.

“What the fuck you trying to do?” Larrisha snapped. “Go to jail? Just chill for a minute. You can't always show your hand.”

Anshon shot her a look. The last time he heard that, it was when Wallo said it. “Go on and finish,” he said.

Larrisha took a deep breath. “I don't think it's just Kristi. I believe I know who else is involved, but I need to be sure before I give you a name.”

“Why the hell are you telling me all of this?” Anshon clenched his jaw. “Why the hell you ain't tell the police?”

Larrisha looked dead into his eyes. “I have a brother, Anshon. My brother, Von, was in the pool hall that night with Doughnut's baby mother. Doughnut could have killed my brother, so I know if I was in your shoes . . . let's say this: Don't let my feminine looks fool you. I'll kill for my brother and still put my lip gloss on straight.”

Anshon's eyes started to fill up with tears. Larrisha knew that his pain was hurting him deep. She felt like crying herself.

Anshon realized that his sister was tortured for money she didn't have. Tears rolled down his face. His vision blurred as Deck and Wood C stood there trying not to cry.

“Yo,” Wood C spoke for the first time. “How you livin' so large? I know these cribs out here cost 'bout three hundred Gs or more. And my man said you had a Boxter and now you pushin' an Audi. Your clown-ass brother ridin' in a Volvo with spinners. How we know you ain't followin' peeps and doin' your thang? Answer that.”