Street Soldier 2 (9 page)
Authors: Silhouettes
“I'll give it back to you in a couple of weeks, Prince. You know I'm good for it.”
“Sorry, ma, I ain't got it. Not right now.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Prince. You know you got it. It ain't that often when I ask you for something. And as much as I give to you, money shouldn't be no issue with us.”
I was starting to dislike Francine more and more by the day. Some chicks always wanted payment for some pussy and Francine acted as if I owed her something. “What did I say?” I responded, while heading toward the door to the building. “Again, I don't have any money to loan.”
“Twenty dollars!” she shouted. “You can't give me twenty damn dollars? Okay, I'm good. The next time you want something from me, I'ma tell you no too.”
I shrugged, not really caring that Francine would hold back on having sex with me. It wasn't like I couldn't get it anywhere else, and quite frankly, sex was the last thing on my mind. Getting to Kansas City was the priority and I was sure Mama had made it back from the store by now.
Finally, I was on the road, frowning at times from my thoughts, and then rapping to the lyrics that were coming through my speakers. I was almost in Kansas City, and according to the GPS tracking device, I would reach my destination within forty-five minutes.
For some reason, I started to think that Mama was playing a game with me. Was she that mad because I hadn't brought those items to her when she wanted them? Then again, if getting away from Raylo was her reason for disappearing, I was all for it. It was about damn time, and all I needed to do was hear her say so. I needed to see her, just to make sure everything was okay. After that, I didn't give a damn who she was with. As long as she wasn't with another abusive man, I was cool.
I parked in front of a small brick house that looked to be dead smack in the hood. Niggas were lurking around, watching me from afar. I was skeptical about getting out of my car, but had to get out to see what was up. I noticed trash was piled up on the side of the house and debris from the trash was on the grass. The porch was leaning and the screen door with holes in it wasn't even necessary. I couldn't believe that Mama would come all this way to spend time with a broke-ass fool. Even though Raylo wasn't working a nine-to-five, he still managed to keep money in his pockets. It was obvious, by the look of this place, this brotha didn't have much.
I opened the screen door, knocking several times before I heard the volume from the music inside go down.
“Who is it?” the man inside shouted.
“Prince!”
“Who!”
“Shante's son! Is she here?”
There was silence. I waited for a minute or two, then banged on the door again. “Ay, what's up? Is my mama here or not? I need to get at her about somethin'.”
No answer. I didn't know what kind of games this damn fool was playing, but whatever it was, I wasn't in the mood for it. I banged again, shaking the door and causing the windows to vibrate. Finally, the man pulled on the door, looking at me with red, fiery eyes. The aroma of marijuana filled my nostrils, along with the funk that was seeping outside from the inside of his house.
The man's wrinkly face twisted. “I told you yo' mama wasn't here, didn't I?”
“Where is she then? You said she went to the store and would be right back.”
“Well, she ain't made it back yet. Now get the fuck off my porch with all this attitude and go home.”
I took a few steps back, knowing damn well that this was not going to be a wasted trip for me. Reaching in my pocket, I touched the tip of my Glock, thinking about when to make my move. “Monroe, you have only a few minutes to tell me where my mama is. If not, this shit about to get ugly. Do you know where my mama is, or is this some kind of game yo' ass playin' with me?”
Monroe looked me over with his beady eyes and sucked his teeth. I could tell he was thinking of a lie, but I damn sure wanted to hear it. Before I knew it, though, he stepped back and tried to slam the door in my face. That angered me, and before he could close the door, I pushed on it. My finger got slammed in the crack, and burned as I felt much pain.
“Shit,” I yelled, as the door did not close. I had already reached for my gun with my other hand, and after Monroe saw it, he rushed away from the door. My first instinct was to shoot, but what good would that have done if I needed some answers?
Before I knew it, Monroe was standing in the long hallway with his gun aimed at me at the front door.
My gun was aimed at him.
“I don't want to go out like this with you, bro,” he said. “But you can't be comin' up in here throwin' no tantrums 'cause you can't find yo' mama. I will kill yo' ass, then call the police and claim you were an intruder. The choice is yours. Either you leave now, or you leave this motherfucker in a body bag.”
“I will leave, once you tell me what's up with my mama. That's all I want to know, man, and we can squash this shit right here and right now. Ain't nobody got to die over no bullshit like this. If your mama was missin', you'd want to know where the fuck she was too, right?”
Monroe stood silent for a while, then spoke up again. “I don't know where she is. She came here for a day or two and left. Hasn't called me since.”
“What did she come here for? And why you lie to me about her still being here then?”
“'Cause I don't tell strangers everything I know. I didn't know who the fuck you were calling. She came here to have a good time with me. I told you we sometimes hook up, didn't I?”
I lowered my gun, feeling a bit more at ease and wanting him to feel the same. “Well, why haven't I ever heard her mention your name before? It's kind of odd that this is the first time I ever heard of you. Your name, number, and address just popped up on a piece of paper today.”
Monroe lowered his gun and took a few steps forward. He sat on the couch and picked up a blunt that was in the ashtray. “I don't know why yo' mama never mentioned me. I've been around for a long time. You'd have to talk to her about that but, unfortunately, I don't know where she is right now. She came here upset about somethin', but didn't want to tell me what was wrong. We hung out, had sex, drank a li'l ... and then she went on her way.”
I let out a deep sigh, not feeling a word this brotha was saying. He was trying too hard to convince me that Mama was here, but he had no proof. “When she came, what was she drivin'? I suspect she didn't come all this way on foot.”
He took a few hits from the joint, then passed it to me. Feeling as if I needed something, I took the joint from his hand and took a couple of hits from it too. I moved back to the chair behind me, waiting for Monroe to answer.
“She came here in a taxi. When we got done, she called one to come pick her up. Said she'd call me once she got back home, but that hasn't happened yet.”
I sat, smoking up the blunt and realizing that I had wasted my time. “Monroe, my mama just colored her hair. Tell me somethin'. What color is it?”
He shrugged, then twisted his lips to the side. “Shit ... I'on know. I believe it was dark brown or something like that. She looked good though. Real good.”
“Did you see how short she'd cut her hair?”
He crossed his leg and looked down at the floor. “Yeah, yeah, I noticed that. Got one of those cuts those young gals be wearing.”
I chuckled and took one last hit from the joint. I then stood to give it to him so he could finish it off. He took it, and inhaled to calm his rattled nerves.
“By any chance, did you see any bruises on her,” I asked. “I mean, just in case she didn't tell you, she and Raylo argue a lot. The day before she disappeared, they got into an argument. I think he beat her up real bad, and the last time I saw her, her face was swollen. Her cattish gray eyes were like fire, and she didn't even look like my mama anymore.”
Monroe dropped his head and shook it. “Yep, I told her about messin' around with that nigga. Her face must have healed, but those pretty gray eyes she got always melts my heart. I sholl be glad when she leave that fool alone. I told her she could come stay here with me, if she wanted to.”
I sat back in the chair, touching the minimal hair on my chin. My Glock was still by my side, and as Monroe picked up the joint to take his last long hit, I lifted my gun and fired off two shots from a distance. The bullets pierced the air, landing right into the center of his chest. He didn't even know what had hit him, and as his eyes shot open, they shortly thereafter closed. His hand trembled and wiggled on top of his chest and I stood glaring at him, waiting and watching as he took his last breath.
“Gray eyes, short hair my ass,” I said, tucking the gun inside of my pants. Obviously, this fool had never met or seen Mama before. He had been trying to play me for a fool, and too bad I was unable to pump more information from him about how his name, number, and address just somehow mysteriously appeared on Mama's dresser. I truly believed that Raylo was behind all of this shit, and he'd soon have to answer to me about what the fuck was really going on.
When I left Monroe's house, more niggas were standing around, trying to see what was up with me. I hated to be stared down and the looks on their faces implied that they wanted to say something. I didn't want to get into no shootout with the brothas, so I held my mouth shut and kept it moving. Got in the car and cautiously drove away. Thoughts about those sly-ass police officers were in my head, and I thought about the man back there who I had just put to rest. More than anything, I wondered... where in the fuck was my mama!
Chapter Seven
Deal, Or No Deal ...
On Wednesday morning, I got a visit from Raylo that was completely unexpected. I was at the liquor store, working for Nate, who had taken the day off. While I was in thought about my decision not to pursue Poetry who, by the way, I hadn't heard from since Fair St. Louis, Raylo knocked on the door. I was just about ready to open up and there he was.
“I got somethin' real important that I need to get at you about,” he said in a whisper. “And, when I tell you some of my partners want you dealt with, I mean it. They want me to lay you out right now, but you like my son, and we ain't got time to be goin' after each other. Besides, Kenny should have minded his own damn business that day at the pool hall. My opinion ... he got what he deserved, and this other shit I need to get at you about is way more important.”
I let Raylo inside, but locked the door after him. I was never one to admit what I'd done, so I played dumb. “Don't know what you're talking about with Kenny, but what's so important?” I asked. “Did you find out where Mama is?”
“So ... somethin' like that,” he said. “But what I found out ain't good news.”
My heart dropped to my already tightened stomach. I knew Raylo hadn't come here to tell me something bad had happened to Mama. He seemed to be stalling, and that caused aggravation to show all over my face. “Go ahead and spill it. What do you know?”
“I got a call early this mornin' from somebody who told me yo' mama was with him. Said he wanted to talk to you about some shit you did to his brother, and that he wasn't goin' to let yo' mama go until you came to see him. I told him that I wasn't about to give him yo' info, but I would take his number and have you get at him. I also told him that if he did or had done anything to hurt Shante, that I would find out who he was and kill 'im. I suspect this has somethin' to do with that mess you got yourself into with those so-called friends of yours. And I'll repeat what I said to him, and say it to you. If anything happens to Shante because of this, somebody gon' get hurt. You'd better hope it won't be you, so do whatever you gots to do to fix this. Get back with me later on to let me know the deal.”
Raylo gave me the nigga's number who called him this morning. I waited until Raylo had pulled off until I called to see what was up. When I did, the person who answered didn't say anything.
“Ay, this Prince. Somebody lookin' for me?”
“Yep. And, if you want to see yo' mama again, nigga, you need to make a move to come see me. Soon.”
“Who is this? And, if you got my mama, let me speak to her.”
“I call the shots, not you. You need not worry about who I am. All you need to know is we need to make some shit right. Take down my address and meet me within the hour. If you're late, I'll assume that you don't want to see your mama again and I'll also pretend as if this conversation never happened.”
“What's the address?”
He gave it to me and hung up before I could ask any more questions. I was so in a rush to find out what was going on that I didn't have time to open the liquor store. I jumped into my Camaro, making sure my Glock was by my side, then took off down Union Boulevard to Lindell. I arrived at my destination several minutes later, noticing that the address I had written on the paper was a high-rise loft near the Central West End. I had to key in the code that somebody gave me, and when I did, I was buzzed to come in. I took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, then looked down the long hallway for door number 1432. When I found it, I knocked and stood for a moment with my hands in my pockets. I wasn't nervous at all, because I felt if anybody wanted to do away with me, it wouldn't be done in no upscale place like this. My only concern was finding out where Mama was.
Without asking who I was, a 300-pound nigga resembling Rick Ross opened the door. His shirt was open and his belly was hanging down low. Beard looked as if it hadn't been shaved in decades, but when I entered the loft, it was off the chain. Everything was black, including the fuzzy black rug that covered a portion of the shiny hardwood flooring. Tall black columns surrounded the spacious living room and the view from the huge picture window was breathtaking.
“Take a seat on the couch,” the man said. “I'll be with you in a minute.”
I took a seat on the black leather sectional that filled most of the room. Contemporary art covered the walls and a crystal light hung from the high, vaulted ceiling. The kitchen to my left had all stainless-steel appliances and it was spotless. A blond white chick with a robe on came from one of the rooms. She poured herself a glass of wine, then smiled at me.
“Would you like some?” she asked.
“No. Do you know where what's-his-face is? If you would go tell him that I have somewhere else I need to be, I'd appreciate it.”
Just then, the dude who answered the door came back into the room. All he'd done was change his shirt to another one that was left open, showing his fat gut.
“Peaches, I need privacy,” he said to the woman. She carried her drink into another room and closed the door. The man came over to the couch, causing it to sink as he sat across from me.
“Prince Perkins,” he said with a sly-ass smirk on his face. “I can't believe I've come face-to-face with the nigga who murdered my li'l brother. I should be jumpin' over that table and beatin' yo' ass, but I'm not gon' do that unless you prompt me to. Besides, I have a better solution for this li'l problem you and I seem to have.”
I played dumb. Again, the last thing I ever did was admit to murdering anyone; whether it was justified or not, my lips were sealed. “Don't know what you're talkin' about. The only problem that we seem to have is the one you may catch if you don't tell me where my mother is.”
The man laughed and slapped his leg. “Boy, you are a tough li'l motherfucka, ain't you? You got balls and I sure as hell could have used you on my team. But I can't make friends with someone who did what you did. You slaughtered my brother in that bathroom that day, and even though he was guilty of killin' your girlfriend, he didn't deserve to die like that. My mama was distraught, and whenever you upset my mama, well, I have to upset yoursâif you know what I mean.”
I felt myself about to lose it, but was doing my best to remain calm. “This chitchat is real nice but, please, tell me why I'm here. I have business to tend to and, if you have news about my mama, you need to say somethin'.”
“Your mother is fine. She's missin' you though, so the quicker you cooperate, the better off we all will be. She's safe, for now, but she won't be unless you chalk up one hundred fifty Gs. That will help minimize my pain and sufferin', and maybe I can go buy somethin' nice for my mother to help calm her nerves. She's been messed up ever since and money always has a way of changin' people.”
“I don't have that much money, and what would make you think that a youngster like me got that kind of money floatin' around? It would take me forever to come up with somethin' like that, but if you let me speak to my mother, and she tells me that she's okay, then maybeâ”
“Maybe my ass, Prince. You got it. I know you got some money stashed away and you know it too. See, a little birdie told me that you did some mad shit back in the day. I heard you blew your own daddy's fuckin' brains out, then took some of his money. That's some cold shit, man, and word on the street is you are not the li'l nigga to fuck with. Then, how you got at my brother and his friends ... That was some straight Street Soldier shit. Don't you know there are consequences for doin' shit like that? You need to pay up and let some of your problems go away. One hundred and fifty thou is chump change for what you've done, and at least I'm not tryin' to break you.”
“For the last time, I don't have that kind of money. Never have, never will. Now, you need to tell me where I can find my mama. If not, your mother gon' be down two sons, instead of one. And that ain't no threat, that's a promise.”
I stood up, feeling as if this conversation was over. I wasn't going to be tricked into giving this nigga no money, and he wasn't even willing to let me speak to Mama. This was a waste of my time and it seemed as if this fool needed me more than I needed him. I made my way to the door, but was stopped when I heard Mama's voice on a tape recorder. “Prince gon' get you, nigga! Let me go!” she shouted. The man turned off the recorder, then walked toward me.
“That's all you gon' get for now,” he said. “You think about what I said. You got five days to come up with my money. If you don't, your mother will be sharing space with my brother real soon.”
He opened the door and I walked out. I was fuming inside, and so unsure about what to do. The tape recorder with Mama's voice on it wasn't enough to let me know she was still alive. I needed to hear from her, now! My mind was going a mile a minute. Yes, I had the money, but giving away one hundred and fifty Gs would break me. I would surely have to live off of the money from the liquor store and the laundromat, but that money wasn't enough to make me comfortable. I knew that getting Mama back was worth every single penny, but this nigga seemed as if he had it out for me. He couldn't be trusted, and no matter how hard I looked at this situation, it didn't seem like it was going to turn out pretty.
I zoomed down the street, dialing Raylo's number at the same time.
“Where you at?” I asked.
“At yo' mama's house. Did you call to see what was up with ol' boy or what?”
“Yeah, I did. I'm on my way to holla at you about some things.”
“Sure,” was all Raylo said, and hung up.
I hated Raylo, but I needed his help on this one. Maybe I was wrong about him being involved in Mama's disappearance, and there was no way for me to deal with this situation alone.
The front door was open. Raylo was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me when I arrived. I leaned against the counter and folded my arms.
“Here's the deal,” I said. “One of the niggas who I shot up at the lounge that day had a brotha. He was the one who reached out to me, saying that he kidnapped Mama. He wants a hundred and fifty Gs and he'll let her go. I don't know if I can trust him, and I really don't know if he has Mama because he didn't let me speak to her. All he did was play a recorder where I heard her voice. I need your help, because I don't know if this fool being truthful with me.”
Raylo stared at me, then sucked his teeth. “You mean to tell me that you got Shante caught up in your bullshit, and now you're here askin' me for help! If you have the motherfuckin' money, yo' ass betta pay up so she can get her ass back here where she belongs! Do you not think she is worth it, or do you have another plan to go shoot up some more niggas and make more trouble for yourself? If so, you can count me out. My shoot-'em-up days are over. I only kill niggas who fuck with me, not ones who want to make you pay for what you did. I don't know what you wantâ”
“What I want is for you to shut the fuck up and listen. Okay, so I knew some shit was gon' eventually swing my way, but Mama ain't have nothin' to do with this. If you love her so much, then you'll put all that other bullshit aside and help me figure this out. I mean, what would you do? I have some of the money, but not all of it right now. If I deplete all of my funds, I may have more, but that's gon' leave me high and dry. Then, the biggest thing is I haven't talked to Mama. This fool could be settin' me up. How do I know Mama is still alive when haven't spoken to her?”
Raylo put his hands behind his head, giving me a stern look. “You do need to speak to her before you up anything. Give me that nigga's phone number and address. I'll do some investigations to see what I can come up with. Do not give him one red cent until I let you know what I find out. I may even pay him a visit myself, and I'll find out, for sure, if he has Shante.”
“He says I got five days to bring him the money. After that, I don't know what he's goin' to do.”
“Just calm down and let me handle this. Don't do nothin' until I tell you to. I'll call you later on today, and we'll go from there.”
I stepped forward, slamming my hand against Raylo's and thanking him. “I know we've had some beef between us lately, but you need to know that I love yo' mama and I miss her too. I'm in this damn house goin' crazy, and the sooner she comes back to us, the better.”
“I agree,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I gave Raylo $500, only because I felt bad for accusing him of doing something to Mama, and for being stingy with my money. “That's all I have on me. And you know it will put a dent in my pockets if I have to come up with this money, so work with me, all right?”
Raylo looked at the money, then gave it back to me. “Don't worry about it right now. Let's see what we gotta do to get yo' mama back here, then we'll go from there. Go cool out and I'll get at you soon.”
I nodded and left, hoping that Raylo could help me with this. Got in my car, and as soon as I got to the laundromat, I saw Poetry's car parked out front. This chick's timing was always off, and yet again, hooking up with her was the last thing on my mind right now. I walked inside, looking straight ahead and doing my best to ignore her. That in no way worked for her. As soon as I stopped to get a soda, she came over to the machine and stood next to me.
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