Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (7 page)

There was no more looking back. Everything from this point on would be for TJ. and Tee, not for Li'l Man's son and Li'l Man's baby mama. I was gladly willing to pass down that crown.

T
alk about a way to end a party!
Thump, thump, thump.
With every stroke of my manhood her head hit the bottom of the table. Hungrily, Paula sucked and licked and hit her head, sucked, licked, hit her head, all to a perfect rhythm. Paula was giving me dome like I'd never had it before, and I moaned and groaned through every lick. Good thing everybody else had left for the night; otherwise, they'd all have been getting an earful from the City of Richmond's new commonwealth's attorney, Christian Hall. Not only was I the new commonwealth's attorney, but I was also the youngest person ever to be voted into this position. At thirty-five, I was still in my prime, eager to take on the thugs and criminals who had taken over the streets of Richmond. Paula, my executive assistant, felt that this phenomenal day shouldn't end without a bang, which was just about what I was going to do in
her mouth until she pulled away. I came all over the front of her blue dress. She rose from beneath my new oversize mahogany desk and sat on top of it with her legs spread open, revealing her blond pubic hair. She probably wanted me to reciprocate, but I never planned on going down on her. Not that I would have ever told her that.

“So?” she said, questioning me as if today might be her lucky day.

“Paula, you know I'm not quite ready to go there yet,” I said coyly.

“Come on, Chris. When are we gonna … well, you know?”

“When it happens, it won't be on top of this desk, that's for sure. Be patient, sweetheart. When we take this to the next level, it's definitely going to be worth the wait.”

I kissed her on the cheek as I zipped my pants. Paula sucked her teeth, grabbed her hot pink thong from my in-box, and hopped down off the desk.

“Chris, I think I've been more than patient. This is ridiculous. I want you so bad. I need to feel you inside me. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, it's not too much to ask. And yes, you have been patient. But just give me some time. It'll happen. Trust me,” I replied with a sincere look in my eyes.

She flashed a smile that told me she believed me.

“Okay. I'll see you later then,” she said.

“Bye, sweetheart,” I said as she left my office. I made a note to go to a jewelry store to pick her up a token of my appreciation. Nothing big, just something to keep her off my back with that sex talk. See, sleeping with Paula wasn't part of my agenda. Paula was a nice girl and everything, but she was nobody I'd ever consider getting serious with. Getting blow jobs in the office is every man's
fantasy, but that was about all she could offer me. Don't get me wrong—Paula gave good head, but number one, she was definitely not my type, and number two, she was dumb as dirt. Even if number one and two weren't an issue, there was still number three: my grandmother. She always said, “If she can't use your comb, you can't bring her home.”

Even though I dated a white girl or two in high school, my grandmother never knew about them. Since my grandmother is my pride and joy, I always do what I know will make her proud of me. My mother was a strung-out crack addict who left when I was ten, and I haven't seen her since. My father, a two-bit hustler who introduced my mother to crack, disappeared after he found out he was wanted by the police for the rape of two thirteen-year-old girls who lived in our neighborhood. So, at the age of ten, I was forced to pack my things and move in with Grandma Lucy. My grandfather had recently died of liver cancer, so Grandma Lucy was all alone and happy to have me move in with her. She reared me the best she could, instilling in me the idea that nothing was impossible.

After watching how my mother and father lost their souls to the streets, I vowed to become a lawyer and help clean the streets of drugs and drug dealers so that other kids wouldn't have to grow up without a mother's and father's love. I made Grandma Lucy proud when I graduated from Hermitage High School in 1987 as the valedictorian with a GPA of 4.0. I went to the University of Richmond on a full scholarship, graduated, and went straight to law school at the University of Virginia. After graduating from the UVA, I took the state bar and passed it on the first try. I worked at a couple of law firms until I was given the opportunity to work as an assistant commonwealth's attorney, with a concentration on criminal felony cases. After assisting in several high-profile
cases and helping to convict some of Richmond's most notorious criminals, I finally became Richmond's commonwealth's attorney, aka HNIC (Head Nigga in Charge).

So, I had the career that I had dreamed of all my life. The only thing missing was a woman in my corner to share my successes with. Unfortunately, Paula wasn't that woman. By the time she'd realize it, though, I'd have promoted her and moved her to a job making more money, in a bigger office, and with a supervisor with an even bigger appetite for sex. The way I saw it, she'd find a man in the same skin she was in and would forget all about me.

I grabbed the
Richmond Times Dispatch
newspaper. Front and center was my photo, with a headline that read, “Youngest Commonwealth's Attorney in the History of Richmond.” But then, just below my front-page article was a story about the city's most recent homicide, which appeared to be drug related. The body of an unidentified young black male was found over in Creighton Court, one of Richmond's housing projects. It sickened me every time I read a story like this. Drug dealers appeared to be running this city, and as the commonwealth's attorney, I planned to get rid of as many of them as possible, if for no other reason than for the sake of my mother. As far as I knew, she could still be out there, getting high, continuing to poison herself to death. Maybe in some way I could get some relief, knowing that I helped get rid of the culprits responsible for keeping my mother addicted and put them away for a long, long time.

“You know what, nigga? It ain't even about you. It's about me. See, I sent you to do a job that should've been simple and easy. But no, you got the police coming around my restaurant asking me questions.
I can't have that. I've come too far for too long to get caught up,” said Tank.

I was standing outside of the two-car-garage door listening as my man, Tank, decided the fate of this dude who had double-crossed him. See, Tank was the big man around Richmond. He controlled Creighton Court, Gilpin Court, Fairfield Court, Whit-comb Court, and Mosby Court. The only housing project he didn't run was Hillside Court, which he and I were working on.

I walked to the front of Tank's colonial-style, three-story brick home, which sat on ten acres in New Kent County, right outside of Richmond, and leaned against a tall column to wait for Tank. I knew Tank wasn't going to do the dude in the garage, because it would be too messy. He was giving the dude one last opportunity to redeem himself, maybe offer up some information on the competition or something. He was definitely going to kill him, though. The only person who knew about this place was me. Then there were those who knew but wouldn't have the opportunity to tell anyone else about it. The garage door opened, and I realized this dude was taking his final walk down the green mile. He was whimpering and begging Tank to spare his life.

“Tank, man, please! My girl just had a baby and shit. She don't have nobody but me. Please, Tank, listen to me for a minute!” the dude pleaded.

“Can't do it, nigga. Just keep walkin'. I promise you, it's going to be quick and painless,” Tank said without emotion.

“But, Tank, I need you to understand, the shit didn't go down the way you thinkin'. Give me a chance to explain. …”

Their voices drifted as they got farther away. Tank took the dude to the woods behind the house. The woods seemed to go on for miles, but Tank had certain “hot spots” where he did his dirty work. These hot spots consisted of open graves six feet deep. He forced his victims to jump down in the hole, shot them, then
buried them. Only in extreme cases did Tank resort to this, since he normally had his boys handle all of his dirty work. In fact, I could count on one hand the number of situations where Tank had to take care of business himself.

I headed inside to wait for Tank, and before I could make it through the foyer I heard a single gunshot. The sound was so deafening that it startled me, and I dropped my keys. At that moment I realized the dude was dead. A chill went up my spine at the thought of someone being murdered right outside the house.

I proceeded through the minimansion to the stainless-steel kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of water, I sat on one of the bar stools, slid up to the granite counter, and waited for Tank. It's not like I didn't have any work to do. As the executive director for Richmond Redevelopment and Housing Authority (RRHA), I stayed pretty busy. But I just was not in the mood to check e-mail, approve vouchers, review proposals, or anything. I just wanted to sit and be lazy all day.

Of course, Tank would have other plans. He probably wanted to sex me all up and down this big house while he had the chance. We rarely had time to spend alone anymore. My schedule was always hectic, and Tank … well, his business kept him busy. There was no telling what could happen from one minute to the next, so anytime we got an opportunity to be together, we used it to the fullest. There were only a few people who even knew about our relationship, because we kept it private.

Tank and I had been together for twenty years. We'd known each other since we were five. We grew up in Gilpin Court together, went to elementary, middle, and high school together. By the time we were fifteen, we decided to take our friendship to the next level. So, one summer night, behind the Calhoun Community Center, at the bottom of a steep hill, I lost my virginity to Tank. I believe we were in love way before then, but just didn't
know it. However, that night, for sure, we fell in love. To commemorate our big night, Tank engraved,
Tank loves Renée 4 ever, 4 always
on the big tree we lay under after having sex for the very first time.

As we got older, Tank became more and more drawn to street life, while I, on the other hand, took a different path. In the evenings after school I worked for Gilpin Court's RRHA office doing menial work, filing, answering phones, etc. By the time I graduated from high school and went away to college at Old Dominion University, Tank and I were serious. Sure, Tank had his freaks on the side, doing whatever while I was away, but I made sure that when he came to visit me on the weekends, I served him up hard enough so those freaks’ jobs wouldn't be easy. I realize it was all part of his image, but I caught on quick in the bedroom and made sure Tank was and continued to be satisfied. So those tricks he dealt with while I was away were just a technicality, giving Tank something to do while I was getting my education.

During summer vacations I worked at the RRHA office while Tank was in the streets making a name for himself. When I graduated from ODU in 1991, RRHA offered me a job as a specialist approving Section Eight applications at their main office on Chamberlayne Parkway. I had access to all records pertaining to the different housing projects. I worked my way through several other positions with RRHA; then in 2000 I was promoted to executive director. See, Tank had a vision. When he first mentioned it, I thought he was crazy.

“Renée, what would you do if I told you you held the key to our future?” Of course, at the time I had no idea what Tank meant.

“You approve those Section Eight applications, right?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Look, what if I was to send some females to you that needed an application approved for a specific housing project; could you
hook it up?” By now, I'm pissed, assuming Tank is talking about one of his tricks. I give him the I-can't-believe-you-parted-your-lips-to-ask-me-that look.

“It's not what you think, baby. See, all my boys, they on the come-up right now. But I hate that they have to be out there on the corners without safety. I figure if I send you some of their girlfriends, get them set up in a project nearby where they do their slinging, shit, I'll have the projects on lock in no time.”

The first thing that came to mind was that I would be risking my job. But once Tank put it all in perspective, it all made sense.

“Renée, nothing illegal—all these broads need a place to stay anyway; may as well set them up where they can be the most use,” Tank said.

See, Tank had a vision. He knew that he wanted to be the sole drug supplier for all of the housing projects in Richmond. With me as his eyes into each project community, I could make sure that certain Section Eight applications were filled first, and that the applicants always stayed up-to-date on inspections and so forth. By the time I was promoted, Tank's heroin business was booming; plus he'd even opened a restaurant and bar to make everything look legit, all thanks to his “plan.”

So really, we had always been a team. But because of the nature of the business he was in and the nature of the business I was in, we had to keep everything private. Every now and then I might run into someone from our old neighborhood who asked what was up with Tank. Since Tank was into the street life, he was more visible on that scene. The people I came in contact with on a daily basis had no idea that I was even affiliated with someone as treacherous as Tank. So on a business level our worlds were separate, but on a personal level we shared one world. Sometimes I would feel sad because I couldn't flaunt our relationship around others. But I know how hard it is to find a good man, and Tank
was always good to me. Always kept me in a nice ride—all rimmed up, of course—bought me diamonds on the regular, and the shopping sprees to Tyson's Corner … well, let's just say he always spent at least ten grand each time. Material things can't define love, but I knew Tank loved me because of the future we planned to have together. I was also very proud of Tank for all that he had accomplished. He was a street-sawy, intelligent brother. No, he hadn't gone to college and gotten a degree on paper, but he was able to get out of the projects and open his own business. He was equally proud of me for all I had accomplished, so together we made a great team.