Harlem Girl Lost (35 page)

“And yo’ dumb black ass thought his older brother was long dead.”

“All right, man. I'll continue working for you as long as it takes,” Chance offered.

Silver shook her head. “Chance, no!”

Stickbroom laughed harshly. “You know goddamn well that you're hotter than a Park Avenue whore's pussy! You ain't no good to me anymore. Chancellor Haze's name is in the FBI
and DEA files forever. You're damaged goods—you can't sell a loose joint without them knowing about it!” He reached inside his coat pocket, pulled out a silencer, and screwed it to the gun. “Nigga, you know the game. No witnesses, no snitches!”

“Come on, Stickbroom,” Chance said. “Just let her go and fuckin’ kill me, motherfucker!”

“Stop showin’ yo’ skirt, nigga. Y'all dead already.” Chance looked at Silver while she stared back in numb fear. “If you're finished crying like … How dat Snoop Doggy motherfucker say it? Crying like a beeeiiitch. I got ta hurry up kill both you asses—I got some papers that has to be delivered!”

“How about I give you—”

Stickbroom stopped him. “Nigga, don't try dat negotiation shit on me! I know everything you thinkin’ before you think it. Who da fuck you think taught Adrian?” Seeing Chance's confusion, he added, “Oh, that's A.O.'s real name—Adrian Olsen.” Stickbroom shrugged and aimed at them. Silver couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, Chance sprang for Stickbroom's gun, but he was no match for the bullet that ripped through his flesh, knocking him off his feet. Silver screamed and ran toward her fallen husband. Stickbroom smiled. “Ya know what, lil’ girl? I always like ya mother. I wanted ta fuck her real bad.” He smiled. “Damn, I getting a hard-on thinking ‘bout her ass. Anyway, say goodbye!” He pointed the weapon at her head, but suddenly Birdie's huge hands grasped Stickbroom by the ankles and yanked him off his feet, causing the gun to slip out of his hand. Birdie used his weight to hold him down.

“Silver, run!” he gasped. “Run!”

Silver leaped quickly to her feet and flew out of the room,
but when she reached the front door, she stopped and turned around, watching Birdie battle viciously with Johnny for the gun. Infuriated, she let out a banshee-like yell and ran over to join the brutal battle. She picked up the nearest weapon she could find, a thick glass ashtray, and began pounding Stick-broom repeatedly over the head until blood flew everywhere. Still full of rage, Silver beat him until he showed no signs of movement. Exhausted and bloodied, she looked down at the unconscious man and then rolled Birdie over in her arms.

Birdie opened his eyes and stared up at her. “Silver … you came back for me?”

“Yes, Auntie, I came back for you. You just hold on, okay?”

Tears began to fall from Birdie's eyes as he shook his head. “No, baby, Auntie Birdie not gonna make it.” Silver attempted to argue, but he stopped her. “It's okay, baby. I'm ready.” Silver remained silent as trickles of blood began to flow from his mouth. He gripped her hand tighter. “Silver, you and your mama was the best thing that ever happened to me. Y'all was the only ones who ever … loved a big old faggot like me.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes. “No, Auntie, you can't leave me. We're all going to Atlanta and—” Birdie stopped her in mid-sentence with a smile. “Silver, what's the worst word in the world?”

Silver frowned.
“Can't.
But you—”

“What is
but
?
“

Silver smiled wanly.
“But
is a self-defeating word used by procrastinators.”

Birdie smiled back. “My baby!” And just like that, he was gone.

Silver gently closed Birdie's eyes and kissed him on the
forehead. “I love you, Auntie,” she said softly, and then slowly rose to her feet.

She stepped toward Chance, who was writhing on the floor in pain. Blood streamed from his upper chest and back. She had just started to help him up when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to see a battered and bloodied Stickbroom Johnny standing and pointing his gun at them.

He sneered and without a word, moved the barrel of his gun and calmly unloaded three shots into Birdie's dead body. Shocked, tired, and bloodied, Silver couldn't move. She accepted her fate and stared down at Chance. Knowing it was truly over, Silver and Chance embraced, saying good-bye with a simple kiss.

Suddenly a loud noise from behind Stickbroom startled them all. In growing disbelief, Silver watched a yelling Mitts charge into the room and tackle Stickbroom from behind. His forward momentum propelled the two of them toward the window, and they crashed through it. She rushed toward the window and saw Mitts hanging tightly to the window sash. Stickbroom's lifeless body hung limply on the spiked gate below, where he had been impaled. Mitts desperately struggled to climb back in.

“Hold on, Mitts!” she urged him. “Take my hand, I'll help you. Just don't look down!” As she reached for him, he lifted his head, and that's when Silver noticed that she was seeing him without his dark glasses on for the first time. A sudden and indescribable feeling overcame her as she stared into his bright hazel eyes. She snapped out of her momentary trance and stuck her hands out. “Grab my hands!”

Mitts looked up at her and spoke gruffly. “Silver,” he said sadly, “I'm sorry I was never there for you.”

Silver gasped in disbelief as past encounters with Mitts flashed before her mind's eye. It was then she realized the man hanging from the window was none other than her father, Kenny.

“Daddy?” she said timidly. He nodded in shame. Grabbing one of his huge hands, Silver valiantly tried to pull him back in, but it was useless—he was much too heavy for her. Wide-eyed, she stared down at him and realized that he also knew it.

His voice cracking, he said, “I think Jesse can finally forgive me for what I've done to you and her.”

“Daddy,” Silver cried, “hold on. I'm gonna go get some help.”

But Kenny shook his head. “No, I can't hold on much longer. Just let me look at you one last time.”

He stared up at her while Silver continued to shake her head. “Hang on!” she urged.

He smiled, rubbed her hand with one of his fingers, and then let go, falling to the same grisly death as Stickbroom.

CLOSURE

S
ilver held Birdie's and her father's funerals on the same day. Both were buried beside her mother. After Chance recovered from the bullet wound, it was time for them to leave New York forever. But before they left, Silver told Chance that she had two important things to do before she could hope to have some closure in her life. Chance asked her if she wanted him to go with her for support, but she declined, knowing it was something she had to do on her own.

Silver waited inside
the dank visiting room at notorious Sing-Sing, the penitentiary in upstate New York. As she sat before the Plexiglas window that separated prisoners and guests, patiently awaiting his arrival, she was totally surprised by her sense of confidence, because she had thought about this day for many years and she often wondered how she would react when it actually arrived.

Suddenly, the steel door clanged open, and a tall, lanky man with a thick mustache entered in front of a guard. He hobbled as he walked because of the chains connecting his ankles to his
wrists. As the officer escorted him closer, Silver rose to her feet in nervous anticipation. The officer showed the prisoner his seat, and he sat down. As the officer walked away, the man reached inside his pocket and lit an unfiltered cigarette. He stared at Silver and then spoke in a harsh voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

Silver's eyes glistened with tears as she stared at the aging, leather-skinned man. He took a huge pull from the cigarette, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Did that fat bitch of a wife send you here for me to sign them dang divorce papers?”

Silver stared at the man who had taken her mother's life in a motel room almost nine years earlier.

“Well, what the hell do you want?” he demanded.

Silver simply kept her eyes on him and remained silent.

The man waved her off. “I ain't got to take this shit from no bitch.” He turned his head and yelled, “Guard!”

Silver remained unmoved and continued to look at him, but this time with a smile. He turned away from her as he waited for the guard and reached inside his pocket to pull out another cigarette. He lit it and then glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. She could sense his questions, his uncertainty. Surely he knew the date—not only was it her birthday, but it was the anniversary of her mother's brutal murder, September 18.

He fidgeted and grew impatient, calling for the guard once again. Sweat formed on his forehead. Unable to take the pressure, he snapped at her again.

“What is it that you want, lady?”

Silver remained calm. Staring deep into her eyes, the man
dropped his shoulders and sighed. He lost his bluster and suddenly looked like an old man.

“I know who you are. I'm sorry I took your mother away from you,” he said slowly. “I … I couldn't control myself. I was sick.” He paused. “You got every right to hate me, but you don't have to worry, ‘cause I'm already gonna burn in hell for the things I did.”

The guard arrived and placed a hand on the prisoner's shoulder. He rose to his feet and walked somberly away with the guard. Suddenly he stopped and turned toward Silver again.

“I don't know if this means anything,” he said, “but your momma bought you a Barbie doll and jump rope for your birthday.” He lowered his head and disappeared through the doors with the guard.

Driving down south
on the interstate and leaving New York behind, Silver and Chance stopped off in Bayonne, New Jersey, to complete her final closure mission.

When the morgue had released her father's body to her, they'd also given her the items that were on his person at the time of his death, including his wallet. After he was buried, Silver had looked through his wallet and found a picture of him when he was younger and beardless. To Silver's surprise, she'd discovered she was the spitting image of him. She'd come across other small pictures and some telephone numbers, too. Curious and quite nervous, Silver had decided to call them and inquire about Kenneth Duboise, but to no avail—the people
who answered knew nothing about him. The very last number that she'd found had a New Jersey area code. She'd called it, and after the second ring a lady had answered.

“Hello,” Silver had said nervously. “My name is Silver Jones, and I'm calling about Kenneth Duboise.”

The lady on the other end had been silent. Silver was unsure if she had hung up. “Hello?”

“May I ask who's calling about Kenny?” the woman had asked.

Chance pulled up
in front of a large, Victorian-style home in a beautiful suburban neighborhood. He looked at her. “Well, this is it. You ready?”

Silver looked at the house, took a deep breath, and nodded. They got out of the car, and Chance gently took her hand as they headed up the walkway. Silver looked at Chance one final time and then rang the front bell. Almost immediately, the door opened and a fair-skinned woman in her sixties appeared. She lifted her hands to her mouth as she stared at Silver, then extended her arms and walked toward her, tears slipping from her eyes. As they hugged, the door opened wider and a man about the same age with radiant white wavy hair appeared. He took off his glasses, revealing bright hazel eyes. He looked as if he couldn't believe it, and gave her a tearful, loving hug as well. Silver looked exactly like their son, Kenny, who'd left home years ago after he became strung out on drugs.

Silver looked at Chance, unable to believe the loving welcome she received. These were her real grandparents!

“Welcome home,” her grandmother said. She took Silver by
the hand and led her inside the house while her grandfather hugged Chance. “Come on in, son.”

Inside, about thirty family members had gathered to greet them. Her grandmother introduced them to everyone, and each member welcomed them into the family. Silver felt goose bumps cover her body, because as she stared at them, their bright hazel and silver eyes stared right back at hers. This was definitely family!

Silver was surprised to find out that in addition to having two grandparents, she also had three younger sisters, a younger brother, three aunts, two uncles, and a slew of cousins, nephews, and nieces. Later that evening, Chance, who was having a conversation with his grandfather-in-law, looked over at Silver, who was smiling and talking to her sisters. She winked at him. Chance knew one thing for sure—she would never, ever have to be lost again.