Harlem Girl Lost (31 page)

She escorted them to their seats and offered them a drink. Hollis declined, but Butter asked for some Hennessy Silver nodded and went to the bar to fix the drink while Birdie stared at them without blinking. After handing Butter his drink, Silver spoke.

“Mr. Santos will be with you in a moment.”

After nearly thirty minutes, it was obvious that Hollis and Butterfly were growing bored and restless. This was done on purpose, because Chubbs said this showed prospective buyers who were in charge, and that the visitors were there on their time. It couldn't have worked more perfectly, because as soon as the bedroom doorknob turned, the two jumped to their feet, just like Chubbs had said they would do. Birdie did what he'd been told to do. He immediately pulled out his cannon and aimed it at both men while Diego walked out with a king's swagger, Missy hanging on to his arm.

“Oh,
papi,”
Diego chided. “Put that away. You don't pull that thing out on our guests.”

Birdie put the gun away, and both men breathed easier.

A charismatic Diego shook both men's hands and fell lazily onto the expensive sofa. Wrapped in a silk robe, Missy reached inside her pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it for Diego. After taking a puff, she put it into his mouth. He took a pull and blew it out, looking at Missy. He kissed her on the cheek, and she blushed and giggled. Silver stood poker-faced but thought they played their roles a little too perfectly, knowing what they had really been doing behind that bedroom door.

“Missy here tells me some good things about you,” Diego said to Butter. “Where she know you from?”

Butter began to stumble over his words, and glanced nervously at Hollis.

Picking up on it, Hollis jumped in. “She don't. All she know about us is that we know how to handle business.”

Diego smiled. “Good answer.” He motioned to Birdie, who reached into his pocket and pulled out an electronic instrument. He walked over to both men and motioned for them to stand up.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Hollis demanded.

“That,
amigo,”
Diego said, “is a debugger. It picks up on every kind of listening device or tape recorder.”

“Man, I ain't come here for this bullshit!” Hollis snapped.

“Then leave.” Diego shrugged. “I don't fuck with no narcs.”

“Man, I ain't no fuckin’ cop!”

Hollis glared angrily as Birdie checked him, gesturing for him to lift his arms.

Butter attempted to play the peacemaker. “Yo, fam, it's for our safety too, and it ain't gonna take but a second,” he told Hollis.

After screening both men, Birdie nodded to Diego.

Diego smiled. “Now that we got that over with, it's time you told me who you work for.”

In one swift move Silver, Missy, and Birdie pulled out pistols and aimed at them. Diego kept his smile as Silver and Birdie collected the men's guns.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Hollis again demanded.

Diego stood up and grabbed the detecting instrument from Birdie, then showed it to Hollis. “When this red light comes on, it means okay.” He whistled and gestured with his hands. “No problem.” He walked over to Butter and scanned his pocket. The instrument light turned green. “But when it turns green, that means that we are receiving some type of frequency.”

Hollis turned his glare on Butter as Birdie patted him down. Birdie ripped open his jacket, reached inside his inside pocket, and pulled out a Walkman with the dial glowing red. The radio was on. They lowered their weapons while Hollis continued to stare at Butter. Suddenly, Hollis punched him viciously in the mouth.

“Motherfucker, you almost got us killed over some stupid shit!”

Birdie returned their guns while Hollis apologized for his lieutenant's mistake, promising that it wouldn't happen again.

Diego smiled. “Good, I believe you.” Hollis said nothing.

Diego sat back down, his eyes not leaving Hollis. “I'm going to be blunt with you. I don't like you.” He paused. “But … I
going to do business with you because I had you checked out. You and King Papone are in bed together.”

Still Hollis said nothing.

“I don't like that fat fuck either, but I try to keep my personal feelings aside from business. Still, I'm not going to do long-term business with you.”

Hollis frowned, obviously confused.

“What I will do is offer you a one-time deal, in bulk.” Diego snapped his fingers. Missy stood and walked back into the bedroom, returning moments later with a fancy shopping bag. She handed it to Hollis. Diego urged him on. Hollis pulled out a bundle of cocaine wrapped in thick plastic. He examined it and handed it to Butterfly, who pulled out a knife and made a small incision in one end. He stuck his pinkie finger inside and then lifted his white-tipped finger to his mouth to taste the coke.

All eyes were on Butterfly as he worked the powder around his mouth. His mouth twitched. Hollis then tapped Butter, who reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small testing kit. Butter poured a little solution inside a small bottle and handed it to Hollis. Hollis scooped out more powder and added it to the contents of the bottle, and in an instant the solution turned dark blue.

Hollis nodded in satisfaction. “How we gonna do this?”

Diego nodded in approval, but then he glanced at Butter, and an expression of concern crossed his face.
“Amigo
, you okay? You seem to have a twitch in your mouth.”

Butter tried to control the twitch, but it was obvious to the others in the room that his mouth had grown numb.

“Here what I'll do,
amigo.
I'll sell you, say, two hundred
keys, at, say …” Diego purposely stalled to build anticipation. “Say two mil for the entire shipment.”

It wouldn't take Hollis long to see the numbers, for he stood to make over ten million off this shipment alone. Hollis coughed.

“Cool.”

“Good.” Diego smiled. “Good!”

Hollis attempted to give him back the key, but Diego shook his head. “No,
amigo
, that's my gift to you.”

For the first time since he entered the apartment, Hollis smiled. “How will I be able to contact you?”

Diego snapped his fingers again, and Silver passed Hollis a cell phone.

“I'll get in contact with you. If you receive a call, you will automatically know who it is from.” Hollis pocketed the phone as Diego continued. “Don't use it to call anyone, and keep it on you at all times—even in the shower, if you have to—'cause I'm only gonna call you one time.
Comprende?”

Hollis nodded, then moved to shake Diego's hand. Birdie instantly stepped between them and stared at Hollis menacingly.

“Don't mind him.” Diego shrugged. “He is just, how do they say, overprotective.”

Hollis looked up at the towering Birdie and backed off. He tapped Butter to leave, but paused when Diego spoke again.

“Amigo. “

Hollis and Butter turned around.

“Are you sure you can handle that much coke?”

Cocky and arrogant, Hollis smirked. “I wouldn't be here if I couldn't. I run Harlem, Bronx, and Brooklyn!”

Diego nodded. “Not bad, not bad, but I hear you might be
stepping on someone else's toes … a guy named Chance. I have heard he is the real kingpin in Harlem, and you are just his sidekick.”

Hollis looked at Butter and then turned back to Diego. “Chance ain't running shit, and he never did run shit. All he was was a fucking messenger, but you won't ever have to worry about that nigga, ‘cause I already took care of his ass.”

“Okay,
amigo.
You the boss now. Just have the money ready at a moment's notice.”

Hollis nodded, then walked out with Butterfly, closing the door softly behind him. As soon as he closed the door, they all collapsed into their seats in relief. Silver was the first one to her feet to check to see if everything was still being recorded.

YOU'RE FORGIVEN

A
t Hollis’ club uptown, about twenty patrons were inside partying when out of nowhere the entire place turned into the Wild West as five men in ski masks barged in, pumping shotgun blasts into the roof.

“Get the fuck on the floor!” Chubbs yelled. He pumped a shot into the bottles of liquor behind the bar, just missing the bartender.

One man, who apparently ran the place, shouted back, “Motherfucker, do you know who I am? Do you know who I am? I'm John motherfuckin’ Dough, and y'all niggers are dead niggers!”

Chubbs and his brothers looked at the man and then sprayed his ass with a slew of bullets. Chubbs pumped his shotty again. “Which maafucka in here wanna die next?”

Nobody made a move.

“Now I ain't gonna say this but one time! Strip! And I'm talkin'butt fuckin’ ass naked!” The people in the crowd grumbled, unmoving. “The last one with their clothes off, I'm gonna turn their ass into change like John Dough here!”

With that, they quickly stripped. Chubbs nodded to one of
his brothers, who exited the club and brought back a masked Beasley, carrying a briefcase. Beasley was led straight to the back office and started working on the safe while the others ushered everyone behind the bar so they could not see them hooking up the equipment.

Lloyd, one of Chubbs’ brothers, reached into John Dough's pockets and pulled out a set of keys to the bar. He tossed them to Chubbs, then, seeing the discarded clothes and purses, and being the thief that he was, Lloyd decided to do the right thing and make it looked like a robbery. Chubbs gave the keys to Beasley, who expertly duplicated each and every key. After he finished, he set up bugging and video devices.

With phase three completed
, Silver went to retrieve the two hundred and fifty thousand from Ms. Geneva to buy the kilos from Diego's uncle. Just as Chance said, she didn't have any problems. The older woman gave her the money with no questions asked. She was, however, still broken to pieces about Chance getting shot, and cried the entire time Silver was there. Silver didn't tell her that he was locked up, only that he was doing fine and would be out of the hospital soon.

Ms. Geneva slowly shook her head. “We gon’ pray for that boy, okay? You just be strong.”

Silver gave her a hug and a kiss, realizing why Chance trusted the woman so much. She had such a motherly personality that Silver didn't want to let go. She had to force herself away, wiping tears from her eyes as she left.

Outside, Diego waited in his car. Everything had been arranged. They dropped off the money at his uncle's supermarket.
A few hours later a moving truck delivered furniture with the drugs stashed inside to Missy's apartment. After the furniture was dropped off, Silver left Missy and Diego at the house, telling them she had something very important to do and that she would return the following day.

Diego stayed for a while, but after he left, Missy had trouble falling asleep. She walked to the refrigerator to find something to eat, but as she passed through the living room, she stared at the new furniture. She glanced through the refrigerator but didn't find anything she felt like eating. Irritated, she slammed the door shut. She cursed as she found herself staring at the furniture again, and with another oath, she ran into her room and slammed the door shut. But the call of the drugs was too powerful for her to handle. Finally she left her room and went straight to the kitchen, where she pulled out a cooking pot, filled it up with water, and set it on the stove. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a box of baking soda, then turned the flame all the way up until the water in the pot boiled. Missy then stepped to the new sofa and slit an opening in the back. With a defeated sigh, she reached in and pulled out a package.

Silver had found
the nursing home where her grandmother was staying. Since it was upstate and the visiting hours were only in the morning, she decided to check into a nearby motel and stay the night.

The morning of the visit, Silver felt butterflies forming inside her stomach as she was led to her grandmother's room. Silver stood at the door for a moment, then found the courage
to open it and step slowly inside. “Hello?” Not hearing a sound, she proceeded into the room. She peered behind the curtain shielding the bed and saw her grandmother lying on her back, headphones over her head.

The woman pulled them off and smiled. “Oh, Jessica, you startled me.”

Silver forced a smile. “Hi, Grandma. It's me, Silver. How have you been?”

Adjusting her glasses, the woman spoke in a sad, regretful tone. “Oh, Silver, it's you.”

It was several minutes before they both felt more relaxed in each other's presence. Silver found out that her grandmother had been on her way home from the grocery store one day when she felt a slight pain in her hand and wrist. Then she had stiffened and passed out. The next thing she knew, she was in the hospital.

After about an hour, there seemed to be nothing left to discuss. Silver stared at the now shrunken and feeble woman. She had done her duty as a granddaughter—what was there left to do? But deep down, she knew there was plenty that needed to be said. They said their good-byes, but as she bent down to give her a hug, she thought,
Speak now or forever hold your peace.
So, without hesitation, Silver threw it out in the open.

“Why, Grandma? Why?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Just tell me why you treated me like you did. I would like to know.”

The old woman did not seem to be surprised. She was no longer in control, and was now the weak and vulnerable one, without an ounce of fight in her. All she could do now was to cleanse herself of the sins that had been haunting her for years.
She gestured for Silver to sit down near her, sighed heavily, and then proceeded to tell Silver everything.

“Years ago, before me and your grandfather bought the brownstone in Harlem, we lived in Bushwick over in Brooklyn, in one of those old-fashioned railroad flat apartments. Well, it was me, my husband, Jessica, and Jesse.”

Silver frowned in confusion.

“Jesse was your mother's older brother. Jessica was only six months old at the time. Jesse was four.”

The old woman's eyes seemed to sparkle every time she mentioned her son's name.