Authors: Silhouettes
Street Soldier 2 (10 page)
“Morning, handsome,” she said, showing her snow-white teeth. “I thought you were goin' to call me. And have you given any consideration to offering me a job yet? I sure could use one.”
“I can't call you if I don't have your number. As for the job, haven't given it much thought at all. But, uh, I need to go across the street to open my store. I'll check back with you later.”
Surprised by my attitude, Poetry backed up and moved out of my way. I opened the door to my office, got another set of keys from my drawer, and left. I hurried across the street to open the liquor store for business.
All throughout the day, I waited on customers, trying my best to clear my thoughts. I kept picturing Mama somewhere tied up and being beaten. I saw her pleading for someone to spare her life, then I visualized her dead. I wanted to go kill somebody, but I was so unsure how all of this was going to pan out. Yet again I felt at fault for bringing hurt to the ones I loved and cared about the most. Now I was glad that Nadine's mother had left with my son. He didn't need to be around me and my mess. Eventually, he'd wind up paying for my mistakes. No matter where he was, he was damn sure better off than being with me.
“Seven dollars,” I said to the woman on the other side of the window who had just purchased some lottery tickets.
She put her money on the revolving tray and I gave her her tickets. Some kids were in line behind her, and right behind them was Poetry. The kids wanted some pickles, soda, and a whole lot of candy. I rang up their items, and after they paid, I put the items in the tray. When Poetry stepped up to the window, she was not smiling. She placed a piece of paper on the tray, and when I swung it around, her phone number was written on it.
“Now you have my number, again, and I hope you plan to use it,” she said. “Are you? And let me know about the job thingy.”
I shrugged, looking at the growing line of customers behind her. “I don't know if I'm goin' to use your number yet. We'll see.”
“We'll see? I need a yes or no. I don'tâ”
I quickly cut her off and nudged my head toward the door, buzzing it. “Come inside. I need to tackle my customers behind you, if you don't mind.”
Poetry walked over to the door and opened it. I told her to have a seat. “What can I get you?” I asked the old woman who stood at the window.
“Do you have any Spam?”
“No, ma'am. But I do have some packs of bologna.”
“Well, give me a pack with a loaf of bread.”
I got the bologna and bread for the woman and rang up her items. Poetry sat quiet until I got a break after waiting on the last customer in line.
“So, what's up with you, Prince? Am I wasting my time with you or what?”
I didn't want Poetry to think that she was wasting her time, but her timing was off. I had too much shit going on right now, and the last thing I needed was a chick with demands. I didn't know how to say that to her without her feeling as if I was trying to be a pain. “This ... this thing with you and me ain't good for me right now. I got some shit goin' on that I need to take care of, and it ain't nothin' against you. I think you fine and sexy as hell. Any other time I would get with you in a heartbeat, but not right now. Can't do it.”
“Are you involved with somebody? I see you working all the time, Prince, and I'm trying to offer my help. Besides that, I ain't never seen a chick by your side. What's up with that? If you say the timing ain't right, tell me why.”
I really didn't want to get into details, and was saved by the bell when Jenay walked in looking scrumptious as ever. The short skirt she had on showed all thighs and her breasts peeked through a V-neck halter that she wore. She came up to the window smiling. I couldn't help that I was all smiles too.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
Her pretty, round, seductive eyes stared at me through the glass, and not once did she take her eyes off me to look at Poetry. “Let's see,” she said, finally shifting her eyes to the goods behind me, then back at me. “Okay, now I see what I want,” she teased in a soft and seductive tone. “What happened to you the other night? I was surprised that you didn't show up. We had so much fun without you.”
“Somethin' came up. Too bad I missed out, but maybe next time.”
“Maybe so. Give me a Diet Pepsi, a stick of Juicy Fruit gum, and two Powerball tickets. Maybe I'll get lucky tonight.”
“I hope so,” I said, trying not to show my enthusiasm because Poetry was watching my every move. See, this was the kind of mess that I didn't want to have to answer to. I was so sure that Poetry would have something to say, and as soon as Jenay waved good-bye, and blew me a kiss on her way out the door, Poetry got it in.
“At least I now know why you be acting all funny and shit. She got you wrapped around her finger. How old is Miss Cougar?”
“That ain't the reason. Jenay is not my woman. She's my neighbor.”
“I couldn't tell she wasn't your woman. Your face been flat all day, and as soon as she walked through the door, you would have thought Jesus stepped up in here or something. I guess I need to hike my skirt up a little higher, weave my hair all down my back, and get some breast implants in order for you to notice me.”
“You ain't got to do all that, and I have noticed, all right? Just chill out for a while, and let what's gon' happen, happen. I got your number and I won't throw it in the trash. I'll call you as soon as I can and we can talk about us, as well as that job. You have my word that I will call. Soon.”
“I hope you keep your word. I'm going to get out of your hair and go holla at my friend across the street. You be good and don't go getting yourself in no trouble, if you know what I mean.”
Poetry left. All I did was smile, knowing that she was referring to Jenay. And after seeing her, I did want to get myself into some trouble. Jenay knew how to relax me and put my mind, body, and soul at ease. There was something about being with older women that made me feel that way. Just like the attraction I had for Patrice, I felt the same way about Jenay. Needing a quickie, and craving some relaxation, I put the
OUT TO LUNCH
sign on the door and headed upstairs. Jenay's apartment was directly across the hall from mine, so I lightly knocked on her door. She opened it, wearing a fishnet black shirt that revealed her bare breasts underneath and black thong that rested between her juicy pussy lips.
OUT TO LUNCH
sign on the door and headed upstairs. Jenay's apartment was directly across the hall from mine, so I lightly knocked on her door. She opened it, wearing a fishnet black shirt that revealed her bare breasts underneath and black thong that rested between her juicy pussy lips.
“I knew you would come, but not this soon,” she said. “I was getting ready to take a shower and wash my hair. Give me about thirty minutes and I'll be ready for you then.”
My dick had already shot up from looking at her. I eased one of my arms around her waist, bringing her body close to mine so she could feel my hardness. She leaned in for a kiss, and as our tongues slow danced, I moved my hand down to get a squeeze of her fat ass. I was about to explode.
Jenay moved her head back, halting our kiss. “Twenty minutes,” she said. “I'll hurry.”
I didn't want to let her go, until I heard talking and turned my head. Poetry was walking down the hall with a chick whose apartment was three doors down from mine. Both of them stopped in their tracks to look at Jenay being tightly held in my arms. She lifted her finger, turning my head to face her.
“Fifteen minutes. Now let me go shower and don't keep me waiting.”
When she leaned in for another kiss, I couldn't back away. I did make it short, though, and backed away as she closed the door. I looked down the hall as Poetry turned her head, waiting for her friend to unlock the door. Afterward, they both went inside and I went into my apartment as well. Don't know why I felt bad that Poetry had seen me with Jenay, and why I even cared. I brushed it off, anxiously waiting for the fifteen minutes to go by. Wanting to check in to see if Raylo had any new news, I called his cell phone, only to get voice mail.
“Ay, holla back soon. I know it hasn't been long since we talked, but you know I'm anxious for you to find out what you can. The clock is still tickin'.”
As soon as I hung up, there was a knock at my door. I pretty much knew who it was, so I skimmed my studio apartment, making sure the open space wasn't too junky. A few dishes were in the sink, the kitchen table had some crossword puzzle books on it, and some of my video games were on the floor. I quickly picked them up, then hurried to turn my sofa sleeper back into a couch. The plug-in Glade air freshener was working magic, so I was good with the way my apartment smelled. I opened the door, barely able to look Poetry in her eyes. Basically, I had just told her that I didn't have time for women, and minutes later, there I was with my arm wrapped around one and kissing her. I didn't feel as if I had any explaining to do, but Poetry didn't see it that way.
“I feel like a complete fool,” she said, walking inside while I dropped back on the couch and put my hands behind my head. “I don't know what made me pursue you like I did, and if you had a woman, all you had to do was say so. You didn't have to deny it, Prince. Why let me continue to make a fool of myself, knowing that your resisting had everything to do with that tramp across the hall?”
“It doesn't have nothin' at all to do with Jenay. I told you that I'm not involved in a relationship with no one. Truthfully, all we do is have sex every now and then, and it ain't really no big deal. Why you sweatin' me like you're my woman or somethin'? I'm confused by all of this and I barely know you.”
“I didn't come here to get in your shit about who you're with. All I'm saying is you should have told me to back the fuck off.”
“I have been tellin' you that, but you ain't hearin' me. I told you all I was interested in was sex and nothin' else. That's all Jenay or any other chick that I'm down with will get. I suspected that you wanted much more than that, but if you don't, hey, take a number.”
“Why take a number when I'm already here?” Poetry said, pulling her stretch dress over her head. She dropped it on the floor while standing in her matching turquoise lace bra and boy shorts. “All you men ever think about is sex. Don't no damn body know shit about love and relationships anymore! So come on and get some, Prince. I'll give it to you and you can have all the sex you want.”
Poetry was being sarcastic, but she looked mad sexy in her skin. She had taken off her bra and when she lowered her boy shorts to her ankles, my dick was swollen. Those thoughts of Jenay went right out the window, and Poetry's shaved pretty pussy made me want to dive into it face first. But as much as I said it was all about sex, I didn't want to get down with her like that. There was something about her that I genuinely liked, but didn't have time to pursue.
“Don't sit there staring at me,” she said. “Take off your clothes and let's break the damn ice. I'm sure I'll get you to call me after I suck your dick; then again, maybe not. We gotta start somewhere, and if it starts with us fucking, then let's.”
I couldn't say nothing, and when Poetry came closer, I got up from the couch. I pulled the sheet off of it, trying to cover her naked body. She snatched the sheet away.
“What you doing?” she asked. “Ain't this what you want? You said you wanted sex, so why you trippin' and running like a scared chicken when I'm trying to give it to you?”
“'Cause I don't want just sex from you,” I said with a sigh. “One day I'ma tell you all that's goin' on with me, but not right now. You gotta be patient and stop tryin' to rush this. I do like you, a lot, but give meâ”
My cell phone rang, interrupting our conversation. As soon as I answered, a knock was also at the door. “What's up?” I said, seeing Raylo's number on the caller ID.
“McDonald's. Kingshighway and Natural Bridge. In thirty minutes, be there.”
He hung up and so did I.
“Listen, I gotta go,” I said, looking at Poetry. When I opened the door, she covered herself with the sheet. Jenay was at the door, and she could see Poetry standing behind me.
“Sorry, but I need to go make a run,” I said to Jenay. “I'll stop by later.”
“Don't forget,” was all she said, and went back to her apartment.
I turned to Poetry, trying to speed things along so I could go. “I do not want to hurt your feelings, but I need for you to put your clothes back on so I can go. Somethin' urgent came up, and if you give me a chance, I'll explain it to you later.”
Poetry slipped her dress over her head, put her bra and boy shorts in her purse, and looked at me while at the door. “You told her you'll stop by later, and you said you'd explain it to me later. I wonder which one of us you'll keep your word to.”
I didn't respond. My mind was elsewhere right now, and I hoped Raylo had some good news for me.
Chapter Eight
Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Poetry Wright ...
As usual, McDonald's on Kingshighway and Natural Bridge was the hangout. I spotted Raylo in the far corner, eating some fries and licking the salt from his fingers. I hurried to join him at the table.
“So, what's the word?” I asked.
“Word is you got yourself and yo' mama in some deep, deep trouble. I found out who that fool was who you met today and his name is Geronimo. They call him G for short and his brother was the one who you killed at the lounge that day. One of my partners who know G says that he got some connections with some important people in St. Louis, includin' the chief of police. Don't know if he's tryin' to set you up, but G is money hungry. Him and his brother really didn't get along, so in a sense, you really did do him a favor. I don't think he's trippin' off his brother as much as he says he is, but it's his way of gettin' some of your dough. As far as Shante is concerned, my partner, Carlos, is one hundred percent sure that G has her somewhere. G's posse is real tight, so Carlos don't think nobody will slip up and tell where she is. He suggest that we get as much money as we can together, and take it to G. Says he's not the kind of nigga who will turn down no money, and the best we can do is get someone like this fool off your back.”
I frowned the whole time Raylo was talking. “At this point, all I care about is Mama. Can somebody just tell me if she's alive? That's all I want to know, and as soon as I know that, we can work out the money thing.”
“Prince, I know how you are, but you can't be callin' the shots all the time. Sometimes you gotta play by other people's rules, especially if they're the ones holdin' all the cards. We don't want nothin' to happen to Shante, and since we're workin' with five days, I'd say a li'l cooperation is needed. Now, I got some ideas about gettin' some more money, and I'm willin' to do whatever I gotta do to come up with somethin' on my end. I know you said that you wasn't workin' with what his demands were, but with niggas like G, word is ... one must do their best to come correct.”
“I ... I can swing about seventy-five ... maybe a hundred. After that, I'd have to start diggin' deep, sellin' and pawnin' some things to get the rest.”
Raylo looked around, making sure that no one was watching us. He took a chunk out of his Big Mac, then wiped his mouth. “I know where I can get the money from, but I may need your help. Can I count on it?”
“I guess it depends on what it is. I'm not gon' rob no banks or nothin' like that, but what you talkin' about?”
“This nigga I know, Ernie Wells, won the lottery. He got 25.5 million and still lives in the same house. He real tight with his money, and from what I know, a lot of it be kept on him and in his house. I'm just sayin' that maybe we can swing by to see what's up. Nobody got to get hurt, and this way you can keep all the money you got, and we can take G the money we get from Ernie. Besides, he won't miss it. With all that jack he's got, a li'l dent in his pockets won't hurt nobody.”
I rubbed my hand down my face, really and truly not wanting to go this route again. My entire life had been about robbing, shooting, fighting, and killing. I was tired of that shit, but I knew these cats that had Mama wasn't playing. “Why can't we just take G a hundred grand and see if he'll roll with that? I ain't feelin' that robbery shit, and with that kind of money lying around, you know that brotha got a li'l somethin' for protection. What if we get up in there and get our damn heads blown off? That just seems like a big risk, and when we're so close to havin' all of the money, I don't know if that's a good idea.”
“So close? If we go by what you say you got, we still need fifty or seventy-five Gs. Where in the hell do you think we gon' get it from, the sky? And if you use all of yo' money, then what you gon' do? Close the laundromat and the liquor store? You have to keep up with the rent, don't you? You'll be takin' every dime you got to pay the rent. What you gon' have for yourself? All I'm sayin' is Ernie trusts me. I can get us on the inside, and you can handle it from there. He doesn't know you, and I can say that you're my long-lost son from California.”
I still didn't like the plan, but maybe it was my only way. I reached for one of Raylo's fries and put it into my mouth. “Let me sleep on this and get back with you. I just don't know about this, Raylo, I seriously do not know what to do.”
“Don't sleep on it for long. Again, time is runnin' out and the next time you go pay that fool G a visit, we go together. He needs to know that you're not in this shit by yourself, and if he thinks about playin' any games, this shit can turn on him in a flash.”
I stood up, nodding my head. I told Raylo I would call him early in the morning with my decision.
By the time I got home, I didn't feel like opening up the liquor store, or chilling at the laundromat. I went upstairs, and as I started to knock on Jenay's door to finish what we'd started earlier, I changed my mind about that too. I stuck my key in the door, removed my clothes, and took a long, hot shower. Afterward, I wrapped a towel around my waist and sat on my weight bench. I started to pump iron, growling out loudly each time I strained to raise the heavy bar. I couldn't help but think about what I'd gotten myself into, and about what more was coming my way. Either this thing with Raylo would go smoothly, or there was a possibility that it could all blow up in our faces.
I debated almost all night, doing the math in my head and trying to figure out how much cash I had on hand, and what I could sell to come up with the rest. Truthfully, I had enough, but it would leave me with a couple of thousand that wouldn't go too far after rent was paid on my apartment, the liquor store, and the laundromat. I even thought about selling the laundromat, since it brought in less money than the liquor store. Still, it was money that I needed, so giving up on it didn't make much sense. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, and as it got later, I put on some clothes and sat up on my couch. I rolled a fat-ass joint, sucked in the smoke, and did my best to get high. My whole apartment was infused with the smell of burnt weeds and my eyelids were getting heavy. The heavier they got, my mind started moving in another direction. I closed my eyes, thinking about Poetry standing naked in my apartment earlier today. Daaaaamn, she was sexy, and what in the hell was wrong with me for turning down a chick that fine? She was so sweet in her own little way, and from the first time that I laid eyes on her, I wanted her. Not just sexually, either. I liked that toughness about her and I needed a chick like her who could stand up when something wasn't right. She proved how brave she could be when she confronted fatso that day, she proved how bold she could be when she stepped up and kissed me at Fair St. Louis, and she also proved to me that she was a fighter; that when she wanted something she had no problem going after it. I liked that about her, and even though my life was fucked up right now, maybe she was what I needed.
Then again, maybe it was this fire-ass weed talking for me. I was filling my head with a bunch of nonsense, wasn't I? A woman would run if she knew about what I'd done or what I was capable of doing. There were times that I had no mercy for people who fucked me over, and that included women. Poetry wouldn't dare want to be a part of my life, but she really didn't have to know about all of it, did she?
With that in mind, I reached for my phone and pulled Poetry's number from my pocket. I dialed her number, assuming it was she who answered.
“Poetry,” I said.
“Who is this?”
“Prince.”
“Who?”
“You heard me. Where you at?”
“At home. Are you coming over?”
“If you still want me to.”
“I want you to, only if you didn't make it your business to hook up with Jenay when you got back home. I wouldn't be down with that, and you can forget coming over here if you got your rocks off with her tonight.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I didn't go there tonight. When I got back, all I did was shower, lift some weights, and think about you.”
She laughed, then went silent. “Bullshit. You wasn't thinking about me. And if you were, swear it. And when you get here I'ma make you pinky swear it, too. You better be telling the truth.”
I blushed a little, knowing that she was smiling on the other end. “I was, ma. You know I was. Now, stop talkin' so much and give me your address.”
“I will, once you swear it.”
“Okay, I swear I didn't go to Jenay's apartment tonight and I've been sitting here thinkin' 'bout you. Now, stop playin' and up the directions.”
Poetry gave me her address. I told her I'd be there within the hour.
Deciding to drive my motorcycle that was parked in my landlord's garage, I weaved in and out of traffic down Union Boulevard and on to Page. Poetry's house was to my left. It was an old red brick house that had a big porch. A swing was on the porch and the concrete steps were painted gray. Dressed in my pressed Levi's and a blue tank shirt that hugged my muscles, I removed my helmet and stepped up to the porch. The screen door was hanging off the hinges, so instead of opening it to knock, I rang the tiny doorbell next to the door. Poetry opened the door wearing her faded, torn jeans and a yellow spaghetti-strap top that showed her midriff.
“This is a miracle,” she said, blushing. “I can't believe you're here for real. Let me pinch you to make sure it's really you.”
I cracked a tiny smile, cocking my head back. “I told you to stop playin', didn't I?”
Poetry squinted, then moved her face close to mine. She lifted my tinted shades and shook her head. “You high as hell, ain't you? Your eyes are red as fire. I should have known that you were on something when you called me.”
“Are you goin' to invite me in, or make me stand outside?”
Poetry came outside, closing the door behind her. It was almost eight o'clock, and even though the sun had gone down, it wasn't completely dark yet.
“I would invite you in, but my grandmother just went to sleep. She don't like to be interrupted by people talking, and if we pass by the living room, we'll wake her up. We can stay out here on the porch, but I can go inside to get you something to drink if you want something.”
“Nah, I'm good,” I said, sitting on the swing. “I guess this way I can keep an eye on my bike, and make sure nobody don't try to steal it.”
Poetry looked at my bike, then sat on the swing with me. “That's a really nice bike, but I like your Camaro. What year is it?”
“2010. I bought it brand new, but I didn't feel like drivin' it tonight. My motorcycle is much better, though. And you'll think so too, after I take you for a ride.”
Poetry pulled her head back. “You won't be taking me for no ride. I'm scared of those things. They make me nervous.”
“I can't believe you're scared of anything, and even if you are, you'll be safe with me. Come on,” I said, standing up and putting on my helmet. She hesitated, but agreed to let me take her for a ride.
I helped Poetry straddle my bike, then took my helmet off and put it on her head. “What you gon' use for your big head?” she said, laughing. “Don't you need a helmet too?”
“I do, but I'll be all right. Just hang on tight and don't let go.”
I got on my motorcycle, and as soon as I started it up, Poetry grabbed me tight. “Prince, don't be driving all fast and stuff. Go slow, all right?”
“Sure,” was all I said. I revved up the engine, doing a U-turn on Page Boulevard, heading west. At first, at the request of Poetry, I went slow. But when her grip loosened up, I started flying down Page. The wind was hitting us with a mild force, and as I weaved in and out of lanes, Poetry squeezed tighter.
“Oh my God,” she yelled. “Prince, slow the hell doooooown!”
I took off, breezing through the green lights that gave me the go ahead, and ignoring Poetry's screams. “Damn it!” she yelled. “Look ... look at that caaar coming! It's not gon' stooooop!”
I saw the car, but I had the green light, so I kept it moving. Poetry wasn't about to loosen her grip, but she kept pressing her head against my back and screaming. She got so mad at me for going so fast that she bit the shit out of me. That made me go even faster, and as we reached a red light on Skinker, that's when I finally stopped. “I'm getting off of this thing and walking home,” she shouted. “You are going too damn fast and I'm not trying to die on this thing with you. This is too much and I'ma bite yo' ass again if you go any faaaaaaster!”
I took off, zooming down the street so fast that if you blinked you missed us. “Prince, this shit ain't funny!” Poetry yelled at the top of her lungs. “I'm going to throw up, and when I do, I'ma do it right on top of your head!”
I still didn't slow down, as going this fast was fun and gave me one hell of a rush. Yeah, it was dangerous, but I liked living on the edge. And whether Poetry was willing to admit it or not, I could tell she was enjoying herself, or, at least, I hoped.
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